Zhou Yi drove over to pick up Qin Mu and went straight from the airport to the cemetery.
In the still black-and-white photograph, the old man smiled gently and kindly. The tombstone was piled high with fresh flowers and fruit. During the waves of exposure surrounding the Baolijian case, the media had reported on this humble lawyer who had always fought for the victims’ rights. This old man, who had lived his life quietly, changing the fate of so many people without ever seeking attention, had finally appeared before the public in this way. His integrity, persistence, chivalry, and tender heart were praised, respected, and remembered by the people.
Qin Mu stood before the grave for a long time. Zhou Yi saw that he had lost quite a bit of weight and feared he would catch a chill from the cold wind, so he found an excuse of ‘visiting their Teacher’s wife’ and pulled him away.
They went to the supermarket to buy some fruit and vegetables to take there, and then sat down to chat with her. Madam Xiao had recovered from the blow and was in fairly good spirits. She had hired a caretaker auntie who was excellent at cooking and insisted on having them stay for lunch.
In the afternoon, Qin Mu went to the law firm, but he didn’t receive any clients. Instead, he simply organised his current work. He had his legal assistant contact the legal aid centre, proactively requesting a case involving a left-behind girl who had been sexually assaulted, and spent a considerable amount of time studying it.
By the time he went home, it was already dark. Beiwei and Dongjing, who hadn’t seen him in a long while, stayed at a distance at first, watching him warily. After staring for quite a while, Beiwei recognised him first. Beiwei walked over with its cat’s light steps, rubbed its head against his leg, and gave a gentle meow. Qin Mu picked it up and petted it.
Dongjing watched coldly for a moment, then let out a reluctant ‘meow’. Its voice was deep and resonant; after meowing, it seemed to feel embarrassed, lazily rolling over and turning its plump backside toward him. Qin Mu laughed and stroked its back a few times.
Small animals always had a magical power, calming and soothing a person from the heart. The mess in his mind was quietly set down. Qin Mu lay on that long-unseen bed and slept his first peaceful sleep in many days.
Life returned to its proper track, rushing forward, and in the blink of an eye, it was Chinese New Year. The Chinese Lunar New Year was all about lively, joyous family reunions. Qin Aihua called two days in advance, saying Zheng Yan missed him very much, and carefully asked whether he could come home for the New Year. Qin Mu hesitated for a moment, then agreed. On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, he bought some holiday goods and returned to his parents’ home, which he had not visited in a long time.
The place was still as it had been. The old stairwell felt like some kind of time-travel passage; every step backwards pulled him back into the dreams he had long since lost. He knocked on the door and sat down amid Qin Aihua and Zheng Yan’s overly enthusiastic welcome, looking at their greying hair and busy figures. Suddenly, he felt out of place—as though he were some foreign intruder disrupting their peaceful life.
Ever since Qin Mu had left home, the couple’s relationship had actually softened. Zheng Yan had grown plumper over the years; ordinarily, she either knitted sweaters or danced square dance with her old friends. Qin Aihua’s eyesight had deteriorated significantly, so he didn’t dare watch TV too much and often went fishing with Old Wang from next door, getting tanned by the sun. The braised carp on the table was his catch.
Zheng Yan worked busily in the kitchen while Qin Aihua kept her company, chatting. Most of the time, it was Qin Aihua who talked; Qin Mu responded simply. The atmosphere was neither awkward nor relaxed.
Zheng Yan brought out the dishes and instructed, “Go take out the liquor and pour some—just sitting there like a fool.”
Qin Aihua quickly went to fetch it; he opened a bottle of Wuliangye.
“Since we knew you were coming back, we bought it specially.” Zheng Yan rubbed her hands against her apron, passed him the chopsticks, and said somewhat nervously, “I just made a few simple dishes, not sure if you’ll like them. Try them.”
Qin Mu took them and thanked her politely. The table was filled with dishes he had loved as a child, though now they no longer looked as enticing as before. He sat quietly, listening to Qin Aihua talk about funny fishing stories. The feeling was both new and strange that the person sitting beside him, drinking with him and chatting casually, was not his business partner, friend, client, or mentor, but his father. In his entire life, he had never had this experience—an equal, almost friendly conversation with his father.
Because she was happy, Zheng Yan had a few extra drinks. Her face flushed red, and she kept repeating that he should come home often. She said that the old worker dormitory of the electric cable factory was going to be demolished soon; they had drawn lots and gotten a three-bedroom one-living-room resettlement apartment. Renovation would begin next spring, and they would leave him a sunny room.
She pressed her lips together, holding back for a while, then finally couldn’t hold it in and asked whether Qin Mu had found a partner and whether he could bring them home to meet them sometime.
After speaking, a hint of unease crept in. She seemed to realise she had crossed a line and hurriedly added that she didn’t mean to meddle. It was just that no matter whether it was a man or a woman, having someone by your side was always a good thing.
Seeing Qin Mu remain silent, Qin Aihua immediately changed the subject. “Ahem, at his age, his career is just taking off; he’s already too busy with work. Where would he find time to date? You really have no foresight.”
Zheng Yan stopped pressing the issue and went to the bedroom to take out a red booklet1saving accounts and handed it to Qin Mu. She said haltingly, “All the money you sent us is in here. From the very first deposit you transferred after you started working, up until the six thousand from last month—I saved it all. I always wanted to return it to you in person someday. Back when you were in university, we didn’t even pay your tuition because we wanted to force you to come back… Thinking about it now, we really wronged you.”
Her eyes turned slightly red. She sighed and continued, “We both have our pensions, and we’ll get compensation from the demolition too; we have enough to live on. Your expenses are high, you’re taking cases and running a law firm, working day and night. With this money, things might be a little easier for you.” She placed the passbook gently beside him.
Qin Mu froze when he heard the words, ‘we didn’t even pay your tuition to force you to come back’.
He recalled the moment Shen Liu had thrown a stack of cash onto the table—how that man had curved his eyes and delivered the lie ‘your parents gave it to you’ so naturally and convincingly that Qin Mu had never doubted it for a moment.
That swindler had paid his tuition for him.
Now, Qin Mu understood why Shen Liu had told such a lie. It was to leave a thread connecting him to his parents, giving him the chance to reconcile many years later. And just as that man had predicted, he was indeed sitting here face-to-face with them now.
A tight, suffocating pressure built in Qin Mu’s chest, swelling but unable to burst. He stood up. “It’s getting late. I still have something to take care of. You should keep the money—I don’t need it.”
Seeing they couldn’t keep him, Zheng Yan hurried into the kitchen and packed smoked meat, braised snacks, and side dishes, insisting he take them.
Once the car door closed, Qin Mu let out a breath of relief amid the lingering aroma of food. He really wasn’t good at handling situations like this. The unfamiliar yet suddenly pressing parent-child relationship left him unable to advance or retreat, making him want to flee.
He looked up from the car toward the third floor. The window was empty. The prison that had trapped him for years now looked like nothing more than an ordinary, painfully ordinary window.
The older one grew, the more frightening the time became. Its cruelty lay not only in its endless forward march, but in how it blurred the past—like a cheap eraser with no real force. At first, it did nothing, so you paid it no mind. But after countless days of rubbing, the handwriting began to fade, quietly disappearing. By the time you suddenly realised it, only the indented marks remained on the paper.
The deep hatred of yesteryear had become blurred; the people he once vowed never to forgive no longer seemed all that intolerable.
Qin Mu didn’t know whether this was good or bad. Perhaps life was simply a path where one kept losing things—the important, the desired, the things you want to remember —until all were forgotten, including the person once buried deep in his heart.
He returned home, put the various containers of food in the fridge, opened a can of beer, and drank while watching a movie.
It was an award-winning one, ‘Green Book’, an interesting and thought-provoking movie. People divided themselves into types and hierarchies; race, skin colour, religion, hobbies, gender, and sexual orientation could all become traits to be discriminated against.
Discrimination itself was like a greedy snake, slithering along, swallowing little squares and making them part of its body, then using them to swallow other squares. Just as those who had once been discriminated against might, after joining the majority and gaining the power of speech, become new perpetrators of discrimination themselves. A cycle repeated endlessly, ceaseless in its regeneration.
The clock hand quietly touched midnight. Someone, ignoring the prohibition, secretly set off a firework, bursting into a spray of bright and glittering sparks outside the window.
Beiwei was startled. It jumped off his lap and ran to hide beside Dongjing. Qin Mu’s phone vibrated, flooded with New Year greetings—from his colleagues at the firm, alumni, and even his mentor’s wife.
The WeChat groups were lively as well—especially the “East Coast Elders Council,” which flashed nonstop. For some reason, Xu Ye and Fang Mingyan were competing with middle-aged tacky emoji packs—one glittering golden rose after another, truly an assault on the eyes.
Qin Mu was just about to reply when another message popped up.
Call me gege and I’ll give you candy: Happy New Year.
He stared at it for a moment, took a screenshot, and tapped ‘Add to Blacklist’.
After the Spring Festival, the weather gradually warmed. A timely rain knows its season; when spring arrives, life begins to grow. When the Rain Master fell silent and lonely, summer called upon the Thunder God.
In June, K City was stiflingly hot; thunderstorms rolled in one after another, with a kind of boldness that seemed intent on either striking you dead or drowning you.
Qin Mu stepped through the rain into East Coast and shook off the water on his umbrella. Ever since he had begun doing pro bono law work, he had been constantly busy. Cases lined up one after another, flights back and forth, barely any free time. Today’s gathering had been arranged by Chu Yu, who said they hadn’t hung out in a long while and should have some fun.
East Coast was a discreet, high-end BDSM club, members-only, with strict entry requirements and rules. Chu Yu, Fang Mingyan, and Qin Mu were not only the founders and shareholders of the club but also the guardians of the community’s norms.
They required that all members’ BDSM play adhere to the principles of safety, sanity, informed knowledge, and consent, while offering maximum protection of members’ privacy. Most people here used pseudonyms; for example, Chu Yu was ‘The Earl’, Fang Mingyan was ‘The Lion’, and Qin Mu was ‘The Pharaoh’.
It wasn’t that he had any special fondness for Egyptian mummies; Fang Mingyan had chosen the name for him, saying that since he worked in law and lived like an old man, the name suited him perfectly. Qin Mu didn’t care what he was called and simply adopted it.
It was Friday night, and the club had a performance. A Dom on stage demonstrated how to use toys to spark a sub’s desire while forcing them to obey commands and endure their desire.
Qin Mu walked through the main hall toward the VIP section, chatting a bit with a familiar female Dom along the way. Her female submissive wore sexy lace lingerie, her blue eyes quietly fixed on her mistress, kneeling on all fours without moving.
“Your slave is very well-behaved,” Qin Mu said.
“To receive praise from the Pharaoh is no small thing,” she laughed, then noticed the red leash in his hand and blinked. “Looks like you have someone tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Then I won’t disturb you.” She made a gesture inviting him to go ahead.
Qin Mu reached the built-in sofa area; Xu Ye and the others were already there.
A half-naked man stood near the window, not far away. When he saw Qin Mu, his eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over and kneeled, calling softly, ‘Master’.
It was Lu Cheng.
Qin Mu patted his head. “Waited long?”
“Not long, Master.”
Qin Mu gently lifted the man’s chin and clipped one end of the leash onto his collar, giving the command, “Stand up. Follow me.”
“Yes, Master.”
Lu Cheng’s face was slightly flushed from shame and excitement. He obediently followed Qin Mu into the seating area and knelt by his leg once Qin Mu sat down.
“Long time no see,” Fang Mingyan said, with Zhuo Yue leaning against him. “What’ve you been busy with lately?”
“A case involving a left-behind girl who was abused,” Qin Mu answered.
“I heard you’ve been taking one pro bono case after another?” Xia Ran sat beside Sima Jun, biting into a piece of watermelon as she asked.
“Mm.”
“There’s too much injustice in this world,” Xu Ye sighed, then added, “All right, since we’re out to have fun, stop thinking about work. Relax.”
Qin Mu smiled and told Lu Cheng, “Go open a bottle of wine.”
Lu Cheng chose a low-alcohol sparkling wine from the table, poured it into a tall glass, and brought it over to Qin Mu. Just then, Chu Yu arrived.
And there was someone beside him.
That person was tall, wearing a dark-blue short-sleeve polo shirt and jeans. His slightly long, wavy hair was casually tied back behind his head. The sharpness hidden in his gaze was softened by the faint smile at the corner of his lips, giving him a lazy, unruly air.
The wine froze at Qin Mu’s lips as he stared at the man approaching step by step.
There was something almost like sympathy in Chu Yu’s eyes. He cleared his throat lightly and said, “Let me introduce—this is Shen Liu, a new member who just joined.”
T/N:
I also recommend watching Green Book, it’s a very well-made movie in my opinion (ദ്ദി ๑>•̀๑)
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