Translator: Lynn
Cheng Ke’s persistent question revolved around “them,” a topic that Jiang Yuduo had deliberately avoided discussing since their previous fight. Cheng Ke couldn’t help but wonder if Jiang Yuduo had some sort of mental issue. Even when Chen Qing pointed a finger at him and scolded him, doubts continued to plague Cheng Ke’s mind. From his perspective, there were too many unexplained uncertainties.
However, Cheng Ke had always been reluctant to dwell on these matters, especially when it came to Jiang Yuduo, who still held a special place in his heart. He didn’t want to confront these questions. When Jiang Yuduo remained silent in response to his inquiries, Cheng Ke chose not to press further.
Nevertheless, Jiang Yuduo’s protective behavior, surpassing the boundaries of friendship, overwhelmed Cheng Ke. He expressed gratitude towards Lin Xu for not revealing the true situation to Xu Ding. Perhaps Lin Xu felt it was inconvenient to disclose, or perhaps he didn’t know what to say. At least Cheng Ke was spared from explaining the perplexing dynamics between him and Jiang Yuduo to Xu Ding.
Cheng Ke found himself caught between not wanting to delve into these thoughts too deeply and fearing the repercussions of an explanation. Even when facing eviction from his own home, he refrained from providing extensive explanations.
After Cheng Ke posed his question, Jiang Yuduo remained silent, simply gazing at him. Cheng Ke had the entire night to patiently probe Jiang Yuduo. If Jiang Yuduo couldn’t provide a reason that Cheng Ke could comprehend… he wasn’t sure what his “feelings” towards Jiang Yuduo would lead him to do.
He couldn’t fathom what might have transpired if he hadn’t just exited the restroom moments ago. If Jiang Yuduo had spiraled into madness like last time and refused to listen, refusing to release Lin Xu. The sight of the cup pressed against Lin Xu’s carotid artery and the murderous glint in Jiang Yuduo’s eyes still sent shivers down Cheng Ke’s spine.
“You must have seen them,” Jiang Yuduo softly stated, “It’s just that you may not have recognized them.”
“For example?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“That day, when you were standing across the street,” Jiang Yuduo recalled, “Did you truly see nothing? Look to your left.”
A chill ran down Cheng Ke’s back as he recollected Jiang Yuduo posing this very question before. However, he hadn’t realized that he had actually turned his head to the side, thinking it was a random motion.
“I genuinely saw nothing,” Cheng Ke insisted. “Tell me, who are they?”
Jiang Yuduo furrowed his brows, and after a prolonged silence, he replied, “They have been following me for many years, I see them…almost every day.”
“Are they human?” Cheng Ke cautiously asked.
“Who?” Jiang Yuduo appeared perplexed.
“Are the ones following you human?” Cheng Ke inquired further, “Or…are they ghosts?”
“You’ve watched too many ghost movies,” Jiang Yuduo remarked. “Of course, they are human.”
“Who are they, then?” Cheng Ke pressed on, “And how many are there?”
Jiang Yuduo hesitated, lowered his eyelids, and remained silent for a while before murmuring, “They are…my parents’ people.”
Cheng Ke was taken aback, recalling Jiang Yuduo’s earlier mention of the “old puppy” and other puppies.
“You mentioned it before, you called them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’…” Cheng Ke probed, “Are they, relatives?”
Jiang Yuduo kept his gaze lowered, his eyelashes trembling slightly
Cheng Ke lit another cigarette, placing it between his lips. After smoking half of it, he posed another question, “So why did you have people follow you on behalf of your parents?”
Jiang Yuduo flicked the cigarette, causing ashes to fall on his pants as he shook his finger.
He stared at the small pile of soot for a moment, then took two deep breaths.
“Because I ran away,” Jiang Yuduo admitted.
Run away? Perhaps he had escaped from somewhere when he first met Chen Qing?
“But you’ve been running for a long time,” Cheng Ke remarked. “Why do they still…?”
“You can’t escape,” Jiang Yuduo interjected, his words rushing out anxiously, barely audible. “They said no matter where I go, they will find me. They will always find me.”
Cheng Ke remained silent.
“So they found me,” Jiang Yuduo continued, rolling down the car window and flicking the cigarette butt away. He turned to look at Cheng Ke. “They have been following me.”
“Are they your parents?” Cheng Ke inquired, referring to the people who followed Jiang Yuduo.
“No, no,” Jiang Yuduo impatiently shook his head. “They are people I don’t know.”
Cheng Ke observed him for a moment, then hesitated before asking, “So you have no connection with the people who follow you. You don’t know them?”
“Yes,” Jiang Yuduo affirmed.
“For all these years, there have been people following you, yet you’ve never seen them before,” Cheng Ke furrowed his brow. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yes,” Jiang Yuduo confirmed.
Cheng Ke looked at him, falling into silence.
“Are you finished?” Jiang Yuduo asked softly.
“In the beginning,” Cheng Ke lowered his head, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. “Did you think I was one of them?”
“…Yes,” Jiang Yuduo replied.
“Why not anymore?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“Because you can’t even light the gas stove,” Jiang Yuduo replied. “You can’t do anything.”
Cheng Ke chuckled and turned to face him. “So why do you think they would harm me now?”
“We eat together. We grow closer after sharing meals,” Jiang Yuduo responded.
“But Chen Qing is closer to you, isn’t she? And your little brothers,” Cheng Ke pointed out. “Why are they unaffected?”
“You are different from those people,” Jiang Yuduo stated.
“Not the same,” Cheng Ke muttered.
Perhaps, indeed, they were different.
Cheng Ke lit another cigarette, noticing a slight numbness in his hands. He pressed the lighter multiple times before successfully igniting it.
He stole a glance at Jiang Yuduo.
Jiang Yuduo appeared somewhat anxious, yet his body seemed unaffected by the cold.
“How am I different from those people?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“They don’t want to ask me these things,” Jiang Yuduo replied.
‘You don’t believe me.’
The image of Jiang Yuduo saying those words remained vivid in Cheng Ke’s mind—the expression on his face, the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice.
Cheng Ke felt his thoughts spiraling. Jiang Yuduo seemed capable of providing answers to his inquiries, but these responses only served to deepen his confusion.
As a child, Jiang Yuduo found himself in a certain place, accompanied by his “Mom and Dad” and other children, enduring unspoken pain. Eventually, he escaped from there, and in the years that followed, “Mom and Dad” would send different people to follow him—strangers he had never seen before.
Initially, Jiang Yuduo believed Cheng Ke to be one of those strangers, but after realizing he wasn’t, Jiang Yuduo became aware that these individuals intended to harm him.
According to Jiang Yuduo, it was Lin Xu who desired to cause him harm.
Cheng Ke’s thoughts jumbled. He still vividly remembered the scene where Chen Qing pointed at him and screamed.
“How do you determine… who they are?” Cheng Ke struggled to find the right words.
“I can see it,” Jiang Yuduo turned his head to look at him. “I can feel it too. If I see them, they will flee.”
“What about Lin Xu…” Cheng Ke paused, interrupted once again by Jiang Yuduo.
“I can see it,” he replied. “I’ve seen too much.”
Cheng Ke remained silent.
“At times, I get hurt,” Jiang Yuduo gazed out the window. “It’s not severe, just enough to make me aware.”
“Aware of what?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“That I can’t escape,” Jiang Yuduo stated. “I can never escape.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Cheng Ke questioned.
“It’s futile,” Jiang Yuduo swiftly responded.
“Have you reported it to the police?” Cheng Ke fixed his gaze on him. “If you haven’t, how can you say it’s futile?”
Jiang Yuduo furrowed his brow, remaining silent.
“Have you contacted the police?” Cheng Ke pressed further.
Jiang Yuduo continued to frown, seemingly oblivious to Cheng Ke’s words.
Cheng Ke no longer knew what else to ask or what else he wanted to know.
Right from the start, perhaps all his questions had already been answered within himself. He had adopted an ostrich-like mentality, not caring too much, refraining from asking too many questions, and even relying on a bit of luck. He didn’t have any “expectations” of anyone, and if he didn’t know something, he could continue in a daze.
Even if they were just “friends.”
He had even informed Jiang Yuduo of his whereabouts to prevent him from worrying.
If it weren’t for today’s events, if it weren’t for him having to face the reality that Jiang Yuduo might genuinely harm someone completely unrelated…
Now, these questions seemed irrelevant as if they were never asked. Answering them or not made no difference. The sudden conversation jolted him awake, engulfed in fear.
With one final struggle, he looked at Jiang Yuduo and pleaded, “Can you tell me…”
“Don’t ask,” Jiang Yuduo interrupted.
Cheng Ke hesitated but still spoke, “I want to know…”
“Don’t ask,” Jiang Yuduo repeated.
Cheng Ke clenched his teeth and insisted, “Tell me, what are those mutts doing?”
Jiang Yuduo turned his head abruptly, lunged from the passenger seat, grabbed Cheng Ke’s collar, and shouted, “I told you not to ask!”
Cheng Ke tried to free himself but failed. Jiang Yuduo’s entire arm trembled, yet his grip was incredibly strong, rendering Cheng Ke unable to break free.
At that moment, fear washed over him like the darkness outside the car window, flickering but unable to provide any illumination.
“Jiang Yuduo!” Cheng Ke also yelled, “Let go!”
“I said don’t ask! Don’t ask! They will find out! They will find you!” Jiang Yuduo stared at him, his voice trembling, “They train like dogs! They fight like dogs! They’re hungry like dogs! They want to sleep like dogs! But dogs can’t cry, can’t speak…”
Cheng Ke felt his breath becoming shallow. He attempted to lift his leg and use his knee to push Jiang Yuduo away, but before he could, Jiang Yuduo suddenly stood up, pressing his knee against Cheng Ke’s leg.
“The dog is very scared,” Jiang Yuduo’s voice began to quiver, his eyes turning red, “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be afraid,” Cheng Ke struggled to say, “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you. No one can hurt you.”
“I’m scared,” Jiang Yuduo whispered, his voice trembling.
Cheng Ke reached his hand back and touched the car door, grasping the handle and pulling it, causing the door to swing open suddenly.
He stumbled backward, and Jiang Yuduo’s grip on his collar slipped away.
Cheng Ke’s legs were still inside the car as he fell onto his shoulders. As he struggled to get up, Jiang Yuduo had already exited the passenger side, circled around the front of the car, and approached him.
At the next moment, Cheng Ke felt that the knife in Jiang Yuduo’s pocket might be used against him.
But Jiang Yuduo didn’t reach for the knife. Instead, he grabbed Cheng Ke’s clothes, hoisted him off the ground, and forcefully slammed him against the car. “Do you know why I didn’t want to tell you?” Cheng Ke’s head hit the car, causing a momentary dizziness.
“Because you don’t believe me,” Jiang Yuduo leaned in close and said each word with emphasis. “Cheng Ke, you don’t believe me. You won’t believe anything I say!”
“Yes!” Cheng Ke shouted. “How can I believe you!”
Jiang Yuduo stared at him, breathing heavily.
“I believe that you want to protect me, I believe that you don’t want to harm me,” Cheng Ke said, his voice raised. “But you have brought danger upon me. If I were someone else, I would have distanced myself!”
“Then why don’t you distance yourself!” Jiang Yuduo growled, his face almost touching Cheng Ke’s nose.
“Do I need to explain!” Cheng Ke yelled, unsure whether the turmoil inside him was anger, fear, or confusion. “I told you I have feelings for you!”
Jiang Yuduo remained silent, staring at him for a long time. Finally, he released his grip and leaned against the car behind him. “Do you think I’m sick?”
Cheng Ke glanced at him but didn’t utter a word.
“Somebody said that before, but I haven’t seen him since,” Jiang Yuduo said. “You think so too, but you didn’t say it.”
Cheng Ke coughed twice.
“I know you don’t want me to follow you,” Jiang Yuduo’s voice gradually regained its composure. “I don’t want you to discover that I’m following you, but…”
Jiang Yuduo lowered his head, pausing for a long moment.
“No one should suffer because of me,” Jiang Yuduo said. “I’m afraid.”
As Jiang Yuduo uttered the word “afraid,” all traces of his previous emotions vanished. He appeared calm as if nothing had happened—so calm that it didn’t even resemble tranquility.
“Who suffered?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“He said, ‘You’re safe now,'” Jiang Yuduo looked at him. “You’re safe now… I don’t remember who told me that.”
“Do you remember now?” Cheng Ke asked.
“No,” Jiang Yuduo replied. “I remember that he’s dead… There is no safety, there can’t be safety…”
Cheng Ke felt his breath catch for a moment.
Even when Jiang Yuduo mentioned the puppy, Cheng Ke wasn’t as shocked as he is now. He never expected that Jiang Yuduo’s experiences would involve death.
The person who once wanted Jiang Yuduo to believe in his safety had passed away.
Cheng Ke didn’t believe in those “others,” but for some reason, he believed in Jiang Yuduo’s untold past.
“How did he die?” he inquired.
Jiang Yuduo didn’t answer directly, but simply repeated, “He’s dead.”
Cheng Ke didn’t pursue further questioning. He felt exhausted and uncertain if he had any remaining “feelings” towards Jiang Yuduo.
“Are you going to move out?” Jiang Yuduo asked.
Cheng Ke remained silent.
“Yes?” Jiang Yuduo looked at him. “You’re scared.”
Cheng Ke glanced at him and replied, “No.”
“You’re scared,” Jiang Yuduo insisted. “I can see it. I know what specifically frightens me.”
“It’s natural to be scared,” Cheng Ke said. “But right now, I’m just tired.”
“Then are you going back?” Jiang Yuduo asked.
Cheng Ke hesitated for a moment, then turned and opened the car door.
He didn’t know why he stayed with Jiang Yuduo under such circumstances, but he still entered the driver’s seat.
Once the car started, a sense of relief washed over him with the warmth from the heater.
After a long pause, he drove the car away.
Throughout the journey, Jiang Yuduo didn’t say a word, but reclined the seat and lay down.
Cheng Ke remained silent as well. His mind was filled with countless questions, but he knew that asking them one by one would likely take all night.
Yet the questions lingered, even though he lacked the courage to pose them anymore.
Ultimately, all he wanted was evidence that there was nothing.
He simply wanted Jiang Yuduo to prove his initial judgments wrong.
But deep down, he had known all along that Jiang Yuduo couldn’t provide that proof.
The ones unseen, the ones who will never return, the ones destined to remain strangers—everything hinged solely on Jiang Yuduo’s declaration of “I can see it.”
Cheng Ke felt his entire body sinking, making it difficult for him to grip the steering wheel.
Upon arriving downstairs and finding a parking spot, he looked at Jiang Yuduo lying in the passenger seat.
Jiang Yuduo’s eyes remained closed as if he were asleep.
Initially, Cheng Ke thought he had become somewhat numb and lacked the strength to feel fear. However, the moment he attempted to wake Jiang Yuduo by speaking, he realized that fear still consumed him.
He feared that Jiang Yuduo might suddenly spring up and seize his collar.
While Cheng Ke believed that Jiang Yuduo would never harm him, he wouldn’t be shocked if Jiang Yuduo were to stab him.
“Have we arrived?” Jiang Yuduo softly asked, his eyes still shut.
“En,” Cheng Ke replied, and just as he was about to open the car door, he paused.
Something seemed off in Jiang Yuduo’s voice—feeble and unsteady.
“What’s wrong with you?” Cheng Ke switched on the light.
“Nothing,” Jiang Yuduo still kept his eyes closed, lying motionless.
With the light illuminating the car, Cheng Ke could clearly see Jiang Yuduo’s face—pale, furrowed brows, and large beads of sweat adorning his forehead.
“Jiang Yuduo?” He quickly approached and touched Jiang Yuduo’s forehead. “What’s the matter?”
“I feel dizzy,” Jiang Yuduo softly replied.
“Dizzy again?” Cheng Ke was taken aback, hesitating for a moment. He gently tugged at Jiang Yuduo’s arm. “Shall I carry you to bed and help you lie down?”
“Don’t,” Jiang Yuduo said. “I can’t move.”
After uttering those words, he frowned and fell silent, maintaining his previous stillness.
Cheng Ke stood there, stunned for a while, then opened the car door. “Wait here for a moment. Just lie here, and I’ll bring down the blanket.”
“Leave me alone,” Jiang Yuduo’s voice was barely audible, barely a whisper.
Without saying a word, Cheng Ke exited the car.
After fetching two bottles of water from home and bringing a quilt, Cheng Ke returned to the car, only to find Jiang Yuduo in the same state as before.
Carefully draping the quilt over him, Cheng Ke cracked open the car window slightly, started the engine, and activated the heater.
He couldn’t comprehend why Jiang Yuduo had suddenly fainted again—perhaps it was a mere coincidence or could be attributed to emotional factors.
According to Chen Qing, they had no choice but to wait. It could take an hour or two, or maybe they would have to wait until the next morning.
The process didn’t matter; whether he stayed beside Jiang Yuduo in the car or lay on the bed, the outcome would remain the same—he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.
He retrieved his phone, intending to call Chen Qing, but upon reflection, he decided to put it back.
While he could vent his frustration to Chen Qing, now that Jiang Yuduo had fainted, Chen Qing would undoubtedly rush over and end up squeezing inside the car together… Cheng Ke simply didn’t have the energy to face Chen Qing once more.
Contemplating Chen Qing, Cheng Ke became slightly perplexed again.
Chen Qing sometimes seemed dense, but Cheng Ke knew that he wasn’t a complete fool. They had spent ten years with Jiang Yuduo, yet Chen Qing never doubted him and even grew furious at Cheng Ke’s suspicions.
If Chen Qing, and even those little brothers who hung out with Jiang Yuduo, weren’t aiding Jiang Yuduo in concealing something…these individuals didn’t possess the necessary acting skills or motives for such secrecy…which could only imply that apart from “them,” Jiang Yuduo’s interactions with Chen Qing and the others held no other suspicious elements.
During the last altercation when Jiang Yuduo attacked him, Chen Qing mentioned that it hadn’t happened in many years.
Cheng Ke furrowed his brow, unsure if he could interpret it as such—that due to his presence, due to the existence of a “different” individual, Jiang Yuduo began experiencing these frequent abnormalities.
Previously, Jiang Yuduo had stated that Chen Qing and the others were “fine,” indicating that only he would be unaffected.
Feeling frustrated, Cheng Ke rubbed his face, then vigorously ran his fingers through his hair a few times. Holding his head, he remained motionless.
The night passed swiftly, although Jiang Yuduo claimed that time moved slower as it went by.
Disregarding the concept of time itself, it seemed to fly.
When Jiang Yuduo shifted slightly beside him, Cheng Ke glanced at the clock and saw that it was already past four o’clock.
“How are you feeling?” Cheng Ke inquired.
As he uttered the words, he was taken aback by the sound of his own voice. It sounded as if it was being squeezed out from between sand-covered stones, dry and resembling a whistle.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jiang Yuduo turned his head, teasingly remarking, “You sound like a screeching chicken.”
“Shut up,” Cheng Ke retorted, his voice still carrying a whistle-like quality, “Are you still feeling dizzy?”
“It’s much better,” Jiang Yuduo replied, slowly sitting up and wrapping himself in the quilt, “I don’t feel like throwing up anymore.”
“Do you want some water?” Cheng Ke asked.
“Yes,” Jiang Yuduo nodded.
Since he could nod, it seemed that his dizziness had subsided. Cheng Ke took a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to him.
Jiang Yuduo tilted his head back and drank half the bottle, then wiped his mouth, turned his head, and smiled at Cheng Ke.
Cheng Ke returned the smile, although Jiang Yuduo’s smile made him uneasy.
“Are you hungry?” Jiang Yuduo inquired.
“Not hungry,” Cheng Ke replied.
“Feeling sleepy?” Jiang Yuduo asked again.
“I don’t feel it. I suppose I’m just not tired,” Cheng Ke responded.
“Oh,” Jiang Yuduo nodded, hugging the quilt, as if at a loss for words.
Cheng Ke didn’t know what to say either.
He was someone who simply got by in life. Once danger and troubles were over, he wouldn’t dwell on the why, what to do, or how. He had grown up in a haze, often navigating through life in a muddled manner.
However, in this moment, cramped inside the car with Jiang Yuduo, feeling weary yet at ease, he couldn’t help but contemplate.
“Cheng Ke,” Jiang Yuduo called out to him.
“Hmm?” Cheng Ke turned his head.
“Can I still consider you as a friend?” Jiang Yuduo asked.
Cheng Ke felt his breath catch in his throat.
“We’re friends,” he assured him.
Jiang Yuduo appeared relieved, smiled, and posed another question, “Then, do you still want to move?”
Cheng Ke fell silent for a moment, gazed at Jiang Yuduo, and softly replied, “If those people… those individuals you associate with… if they find out that we’re not getting closer, or… not in contact, will you… stop worrying about my safety?”
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