If fear causes you to hesitate and you feel you must prepare perfectly before taking action…
Then no matter what you do, success will be impossible.
“Hoo…” Zi Yan took a deep breath, gripping the ruler tightly and pressing it firmly onto the wool fabric he had bought a month ago.
Rustle.
The pale blue chalk line marked the fabric, cutting through it with a faint sound.
He needed to cut twenty centimeters here.
But when Zi Yan’s hand reached seventeen centimeters, he suddenly stopped, and the pleasant rustling sound ceased.
“Ugh!”
A muffled groan escaped, rising from his lower abdomen and piercing straight through to his cerebral nerves with sharp pain, causing Zi Yan to furrow his brows tightly.
It was happening again.
Afraid of staining the wool, Zi Yan quickly tossed the pale blue chalk block aside.
“Ah…!”
He hunched over, pressing his waist against the chair back, forehead resting heavily on the fabric laid out on the desk.
It was late October now, and Zi Yan had to endure this routine monthly pain again.
But…
“Why is it getting worse…” Gritting his teeth against the pain, a few drops of sweat trickled down his cheek and fell onto the wool.
The wool absorbed the moisture silently.
A year ago, at the end of each month, Zi Yan only felt a strange sensation in his lower abdomen.
Even a few months ago, the pain was mild and tolerable enough not to affect his daily activities.
But now…
His lower abdomen throbbed spasmodically with pain, forcing Zi Yan to curl up, clearly unable to continue sewing.
“Is this just another excuse to avoid working on clothes…”
Zi Yan gave himself a self-mocking smile.
His body weakened by pain, Zi Yan kicked his legs to push the chair aside, then collapsed sideways onto the nearby bed.
His left hand clutched his belly, while his right hand grasped randomly upward, grabbing a corner of the blanket and pulling it close.
It’s okay, nothing will happen, just endure a little longer and it will pass…
Closing his eyes, Zi Yan silently comforted himself.
But the pain only intensified.
Even with the blanket wrapped around him and his hand pressed inside his pajamas to warm his abdomen, no relief came.
“Ah…!”
Unable to hold back, Zi Yan cried out.
But the room was pitch dark, and no one answered him.
It was eleven at night.
Not long ago, Zheng Quan had called Zi Yan to say he was on a research trip in a nearby township and wouldn’t be home tonight.
So now the room was dark except for the desk lamp in Zi Yan’s bedroom.
Silence surrounded him, broken only by the ticking of the clock and his increasingly heavy breaths.
It’s okay, nothing will happen, just endure a little longer and it will pass…
Zi Yan kept repeating to himself.
Repeating to himself…
——————
Friday morning came, but Zi Yan still didn’t show up at school by the end of Second Class.
In the two months since Zi Yan started attending Haizhou No. 3 Middle School, he had never been late, nor had he ever asked Big Sister Yanli for leave.
This unusual absence worried Yanli Teacher so much that she called Zheng Quan.
“Hello, is this Committee Secretary Zheng?”
“Zi Yan hasn’t come to school yet—has something happened?”
At that moment, Zheng Quan was inspecting a food manufacturing factory in a township under Haizhou, his phone handed over by his secretary.
Seeing it was Yanli Teacher calling, Zheng Quan took the phone to his ear.
“Not at school?”
His expression changed instantly.
His son was always obedient; there was no way he would skip school. Could something have happened?
Hanging up, Zheng Quan hurriedly called Zi Yan.
“…beep beep.”
All he got was a long busy tone, followed by “The number you dialed is temporarily unavailable, please try again later.”
He tried three times with the same result.
Zheng Quan’s face drained of color.
He remembered Zi Yan saying last night that he was going to Wanda Plaza to eat dumplings and buy some cheap clothes for the time being.
Could something have happened on the way?
Panicked and flustered, Zheng Quan was at a loss.
Mayor Li noticed Zheng Quan’s anxious expression and asked, “Committee Secretary Zheng, what’s wrong?”
“My son is in trouble,” Zheng Quan said abruptly, then told Mayor Li, “You handle things here for now. If anything happens, call me. I’m heading back to Haizhou.”
Zheng Quan’s Volkswagen Magotan was parked not far away.
This car had been his official vehicle years ago, but after the government’s policy to abolish official cars, it was auctioned off and he had bought it himself.
Although the money spent was about the same as buying a secondhand Magotan with similar specs, Zheng Quan had grown attached to this car after so many years and didn’t care about the price.
Now he didn’t need a driver either.
He pressed the car key, yanked the door open, got inside, turned around, and floored the accelerator toward the expressway leading from the township back to Haizhou.
Yesterday, he had stayed up late reviewing the enterprise’s reports.
This morning he had woken early, eaten a quick breakfast, and then rushed to work.
Now, sitting behind the wheel, Zheng Quan felt exhausted, eyelids heavy, his mind buzzing with endless chaotic thoughts growing wildly like untamed weeds.
His phone sat on a mount to his right hand.
One hand steadied the steering wheel, the other opened his contacts and scrolled.
He stopped at Director Wang’s name and tapped, but after a few seconds hesitated and didn’t make the call.
Just now, he had remembered calling Zi Yan around ten last night to say he would be out in the township and wouldn’t come home.
At that time, Zi Yan was still home.
So it was unlikely something happened on the way to the mall or returning home.
Then what was it?
Did he leave the gas on after cooking noodles? Did he fall and hit his head? A break-in?
Images of terrible scenarios flashed through Zheng Quan’s mind, his heart pounding wildly.
Impossible—the Cadre Dormitory had security. How could there be a break-in?
Or had his son gone out again at night?
No matter how many times Zheng Quan called, there was no answer.
He felt like he was engulfed in darkness.
Yes, the night had fallen.
This morning the sun had just risen, shining brightly.
Now the sky over Haizhou was filled with thick clouds, heavy gloom, lightning flashing, thunder booming—the storm was coming.
Zheng Quan grew anxious.
If the storm hits, the expressway from the township to Haizhou would close.
Then he’d have to take the old road.
The old road was full of potholes and slow-going, and Zheng Quan couldn’t afford to waste a moment.
He pressed the accelerator, keeping the car speed steady just below 120 km/h.
“Boom!”
A thunderclap cracked the sky, jolting Zheng Quan’s nerves.
At the same time, heavy raindrops began pelting the car like a hail of bullets, drumming fiercely against the vehicle, shattering Zheng Quan’s heart.
Approaching the junction between the expressway and the old road, a policeman in a raincoat waved Zheng Quan to stop.
Recognizing the car and license plate, the officer approached as Zheng Quan rolled down the window.
“Secretary Zheng, the rain’s too heavy. The expressway is closed. You’ll have to take the old road from here.”
“Maybe wait here a bit until the rain lets up?”
“No need,” Zheng Quan waved him off, rolled up the window, and turned onto the old road.
No matter how rough the old road or how heavy the rain, Zheng Quan was in a rush.
Even if the heavens poured fire and knives, he had to get back to Haizhou quickly.
“Hello, Uncle Chen?” Zheng Quan called the head of the dormitory security team.
The captain was in his sixties, kind and conscientious, and Zheng Quan respectfully called him “Uncle.”
“Hello, Committee Secretary Zheng,” Uncle Chen answered amid the sound of pouring rain.
“Uncle Chen, could you please go knock on my door? I think something might have happened to my son.”
“What?!” Uncle Chen’s voice sharpened.
“Alright, I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up.
Zheng Quan exhaled heavily, feeling a slight relief.
Though it was still daytime, before noon, outside the sky was gloomy as if dusk.
Zheng Quan turned on his headlights, briefly illuminating the road ahead.
Suddenly, a white flash of lightning cut through the sky, lighting the road as bright as day.
Ignoring the potholes that might scrape his car’s undercarriage, Zheng Quan pressed the accelerator hard, racing every second toward Haizhou.
Finally, he reached Haizhou Toll Station.
By then, the rain had eased to a light drizzle, and the thunder and lightning ceased.
“Beep beep.”
Zheng Quan’s phone rang—it was Uncle Chen.
“Committee Secretary Zheng, I can’t get the door open. Maybe call a locksmith?”
“Alright,” Zheng Quan replied straightforwardly.
But no sooner had he said that than a headache hit him.
Earlier this year, he had cracked down on all locksmith companies in Haizhou.
Now, without witnessing it themselves, they wouldn’t open doors—even if Uncle Chen called them.
Looks like he had to trouble Director Wang after all…
As Zheng Quan was thinking this, cars ahead began moving, clearing the toll booths.
The road into Haizhou City was now unobstructed.
At most twenty minutes, Zheng Quan could be home.
Within the city, speed limits were 60 km/h or 45 km/h, and Zheng Quan drove exactly at the limit, racing along.
Arriving under the Cadre Dormitory building, Zheng Quan got out and headed straight to the fifth floor.
There he saw Uncle Chen arguing heatedly with a middle-aged locksmith.
“There might be an emergency inside. Committee Secretary Zheng is on his way. The rules say you don’t open if the occupant is alive, but can’t you make an exception this once?”
“If someone’s hurt, call the police or 120. I have no credentials; I can’t open it.”
“…” Zheng Quan said nothing, walked over, inserted his key into the lock, and opened the door.
It wasn’t locked from the inside.
His son must be at home.
“Son? Son?”
Zi Yan’s small white shoes lay quietly on the floor by the door.
His son was definitely home.
But Zheng Quan called again with no response.
Ignoring the mud on the soles of his shoes, he didn’t take them off and strode to Zi Yan’s bedroom.
The door was ajar.
As soon as Zheng Quan entered, he saw Zi Yan curled up on the floor, pale-faced, brow furrowed tightly, clutching the blanket close.
The bed sheets and duvet were all pulled down onto the floor with him.
There was even a faint trace of dried bright red blood at the corner of Zi Yan’s mouth.
“Son?!”
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