The Hunt

Wu Ximei began avoiding him.

When he entered the room, she would leave. When he spoke, she turned her head away. When he bought food to mend their strained relationship, she claimed she wasn’t hungry and went to bed early, drawing the floral-patterned curtain to shut him out on the other side of the room.

An awkward tension lingered between them, but Cao Xiaojun soon found himself too preoccupied to dwell on it. A few days later, Dongzi seemed to have gotten himself into some serious trouble, his behavior growing increasingly bizarre.

He remembered that night—the moonlight was like water, yet the air was stiflingly hot. Tossing and turning on the bamboo bed, swatting at mosquitoes, he suddenly heard a loud thud outside the courtyard, as if something had slammed against the gate. Then came rapid, urgent knocking.

Movement stirred on the other side of the curtain. Wu Ximei threw on her clothes, slipped into her sandals, and hurried out to answer the door.

Dongzi had returned, standing in the courtyard reeking of alcohol and cigarettes, clutching a bulging black leather bag—one he hadn’t left with.

Wu Ximei touched his arm, finding it cold and slick. Assuming he’d gotten drunk and fallen into water somewhere, she turned on the light—only to realize it wasn’t water but mud mixed with blood.

When he’d left, he’d only mentioned going to a street stall for drinks. No one knew who he’d crossed paths with afterward.

“What happened?”

Ni Xiangdong didn’t answer. His eyes were bloodshot as he laughed hoarsely, his body trembling with an unsettling excitement, shaking uncontrollably.

Wu Ximei hastily bolted the gate, fetched water, and urged him to wash up. She then retreated to a corner to burn the soiled clothes.

After cleaning himself, Ni Xiangdong seemed to snap out of his daze. He crouched on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, silent. Despite the sweltering heat inside, his teeth chattered as if he were freezing.

It was the first time Cao Xiaojun had seen Dongzi so terrified. He tried to ask quietly, but got no answers. Wu Ximei brought hot tea, but Dongzi didn’t take it—he didn’t even seem to notice. Instead, he clutched the blanket, staring wide-eyed at his shadow on the floor, trembling incessantly.

The next day, Cao Xiaojun tried to gather information on the streets, but no one knew anything. That night, it seemed Ni Xiangdong had gone drinking alone.

A few days later, whispers began spreading through the alleys—a man surnamed Bao had been stabbed to death in a remote area.

Cao Xiaojun’s heart lurched at the news, but he told himself not to jump to conclusions without evidence.

For one, Dongzi didn’t even know this Bao Desheng. No grudges, no reason to kill him. Besides, though he and Dongzi had dabbled in petty theft before, they’d never harmed anyone. Killing was different from brawling—when it came to taking a life, most people couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

But then he remembered the unfamiliar leather bag, the bloodstained money spilling out, and his stomach twisted.

He edged closer, listening more intently.

One person said the police were interrogating local troublemakers. Another remarked that a sudden downpour in the early hours had washed away all footprints and fingerprints, leaving no reliable clues. The case was a dead end—solving it would be tough.

For some reason, hearing this eased Cao Xiaojun’s mind. Though he pitied the man surnamed Bao for his violent death, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that his friend had escaped the worst.

That evening, he wanted to broach the subject, but Dongzi remained distracted, constantly peering out the window. Mid-meal, he’d freeze, chopsticks hovering, ears straining for sounds outside the door.Late nights were even worse. When he got up in the middle of the night to relieve himself, he saw a figure pacing in the yard. Upon closer look, it was Dongzi, cigarette in mouth, circling around while sighing, the ground littered with cigarette butts.

Wu Ximei also suffered. She had to work during the day and couldn’t sleep well at night. If someone suddenly knocked on the door, she would stiffen instantly, even more panicked than Dongzi. For days, every rustle in the alley made her restless, and she grew visibly thinner and more haggard with each passing day.

Cao Xiaojun grew increasingly troubled, his mind racing with thoughts. He even considered that if the police came knocking, he might as well take the blame for Dongzi. After all, Ximei was carrying Dongzi’s child—the baby couldn’t be born without a father. And he himself was alone, with no attachments.

As long as Dongzi could settle down afterward and live a proper life with Ximei, his sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

But a few days later, rumors spread that the killer had been identified—a man surnamed Xu, who had already fled, and the Bao family was in pursuit.

Cao Xiaojun’s face lit up with rare relief. He approached the gossips, probing for details.

The man spoke of a dispute between Bao Desheng and this Xu fellow during a drinking session, speculating it might have been a crime of passion over a woman. The more the crowd talked, the more vivid the story became. Only then did Cao Xiaojun finally relax. He had reason to believe again that his brother wasn’t truly a bad man.

As for that suspicious sum of money…

He didn’t want to dwell on it.

Ni Xiangdong perked up at the news too, suddenly declaring he was starving. He wolfed down two big bowls of rice noodles Ximei made for him, combed his hair, shaved, and had her dig out the bundle of cash. He stuffed a handful into his pocket and swaggered out, not returning all night.

Cao Xiaojun and Wu Ximei thought Dongzi’s recklessness had its limits. He’d been wild before, but never too extreme. They each hoped that once the money ran out, he might settle down again.

But to their shock, in the months that followed, Dongzi grew even more outrageous, mingling with increasingly dangerous people, often coming home covered in blood.

Cao Xiaojun pleaded with him, saying they weren’t young anymore, had had their fun, and it was time to find honest work and give Ximei some stability. Ni Xiangdong just nodded absently with a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes full of disdain.

Later, Ni Xiangdong gradually distanced himself. He rarely spoke of what he was up to or who he was close to, only offering perfunctory words when they met, occasionally cracking jokes or spinning tall tales before hurrying off.

Eventually, when they crossed paths on the street, they pretended not to know each other. Cao Xiaojun watched as Ni Xiangdong strutted down the road with a gang of unfamiliar men and women, shouting and laughing, or roared past on a motorcycle, reckless and wild, sending pedestrians scrambling out of the way.

He understood—he and Dongzi had chosen different paths.

Ni Xiangdong began acting strangely. Sometimes he was hyperactive, staying awake for days, yelling and laughing, smashing things around the house. Other times, he was listless, unresponsive, sleeping like the dead.

Cao Xiaojun suspected he’d gotten into something he shouldn’t have—something he couldn’t turn back from.

Ni Xiangdong started spending money like water. He’d always cared about appearances, but never to this extent.When the money ran out, he shamelessly asked Cao Xiaojun for more, then Wu Ximei. Later, he started borrowing—from younger brothers, acquaintances, loan sharks. Eventually, he must have found another way to make money, because he not only paid off all his gambling debts overnight but also suddenly adorned himself with gold and silver, openly keeping multiple mistresses.

Dongzi had changed. No longer the spirited young man he once was, he now looked haggard, his face sallow and sickly. His mind grew increasingly unstable, spouting nonsense, his moods swinging wildly. Sometimes, just a glance from a passerby on the street would provoke him into throwing punches.

Cao Xiaojun knew the Dongzi he once knew was gone. The man before him was a bloodstained beast, never to return to his former self. He also knew Wu Ximei hadn’t aborted the child—but that child couldn’t be born into a family like this. He had to think of a way, had to protect Wu Ximei when Ni Xiangdong inevitably snapped.

But before he could figure it out, the nightmare struck first.

That night, past two in the morning, Ni Xiangdong had just fallen asleep when the phone rang. He muttered a few words under his breath, his brow furrowed, then rolled out of bed and dressed, barefoot as he frantically searched the house for money. Seeing him about to leave again, Wu Ximei seemed to sense something and got up to stop him, refusing to let him go out.

Ni Xiangdong, consumed by rage, shoved her aside. She crashed into the dining table, clutching her stomach as she moaned on the floor. Only then did Ni Xiangdong realize—her belly had swollen again.

"What the hell? Didn’t I tell you to get rid of it with Uncle Chen?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Why didn’t you go? What’s your game?"

"I want this child," Wu Ximei whispered from the floor. "Dongzi, this might be our last one. Uncle Chen said—"

He kicked her stomach. "Fucking liar! All of you, lying to me!"

Wu Ximei screamed, curling into a ball to shield her belly.

Ni Xiangdong wasn’t done. Jaw clenched, he kicked her again and again—until Cao Xiaojun suddenly charged at him.

He rammed into him, knocking him back—just like he had once done for him, rushing at that man years ago.

But they both knew the roles had reversed now.

Ni Xiangdong staggered back a few steps, stunned, eyes wide.

"Xiaojun, what the hell?"

"I—I—" He was never good with words, and right now, he didn’t even know what he was trying to do.

Ni Xiangdong looked at Cao Xiaojun’s flushed face, then at Wu Ximei sobbing on the floor, and narrowed his eyes.

"I get it. I get it. I’m out there busting my ass to make money, and you two are screwing around behind my back?" His lips twisted into a sneer, the scar above his left eyebrow twitching. "The kid’s yours, isn’t it?"

"No!" Cao Xiaojun snapped. "After all we’ve been through as brothers, you think that of me?"

"Brothers? If you were my brother, you wouldn’t be eyeing my woman! Don’t think I don’t know what’s in your head!" Ni Xiangdong’s face darkened with fury as he roared, "No wonder you never looked for a wife—you like sloppy seconds, huh—"

"Don’t you dare say that!"

"I’ll say it! She was no saint before me—you know her past? You know she was married before?"

Wu Ximei stopped crying, staring at Ni Xiangdong in horror. She had trusted him with her darkest secret, never imagining that honesty would one day turn into a poisoned arrow aimed straight at her heart.

"Let me tell you the fucking truth—she’s been with more men than you can count. Don’t think you’re special. You’re just another john!"She stared at him, watching his lips part and close—those same lips that had once sworn undying love, now wounding her so deeply.

What did those words mean? Were they spoken in anger? Or were they his true feelings?

Then what had all these years between them been? What did she mean to him?

A pastime? A servant? A free whore?

Ni Xiangdong remained oblivious to Wu Ximei's anguish, still taunting Cao Xiaojun relentlessly.

"Cao, you're nothing but a dog by my side. Hell, a bitch suits you just fine—"

Before he could finish, Cao Xiaojun lunged at him. The two men tumbled into a violent brawl, sending pots, pans, and dishes crashing to the floor. Cao held back from delivering fatal blows, and soon found himself pinned beneath Ni, who reached for a knife.

"I've got blood on my hands already—bound to catch a bullet sooner or later. One more won't make a difference—"

But Ni Xiangdong suddenly froze, his expression twisting in pain. The next moment, he clutched his side, howling as he rolled off.

Cao Xiaojun saw Wu Ximei standing there, gripping a knife with both hands, its tip stained red.

Trembling, she seemed to snap back to reality. With a clang, she dropped the knife and rushed to Ni's side.

"Dongzi, are you okay? I didn't mean to, I—"

Ni kicked her away and seized her by the throat. Wu Ximei's face flushed crimson as her legs flailed wildly, her slender arms thrashing in the air.

"Damn bitch!" He leaned down, putting all his strength into his grip. "I'll kill you, then him! I ain't scared of shit! Try to screw me over? Both of you? Damn you!"

"Xiaojun—" Her voice came in broken gasps. "Xiaojun... save me..."

Cao Xiaojun stood frozen.

Before him, the two people he loved most were locked in a deadly struggle. He'd never imagined facing such a choice.

The enraged man kept roaring, but the woman's voice grew weaker, until only the faint thuds of her kicking legs remained.

Tears welled up, blurring his vision as Cao Xiaojun was suddenly transported back to that summer over a decade ago.

A young man stood by the shore, smiling and waving at him.

"Come on, Xiaojun."

They'd relied on each other for survival. That young man had looked after him, taught him how to wield a knife.

Your heart must be hard. Never hesitate. The timid one always loses.

Dazed, Cao Xiaojun drew his knife and staggered toward the man.

When you use a blade, be ruthless. In and out—clean and decisive.

He raised the knife and drove it deep into the man's back. The figure before him turned his head in terror.

Once the blade is drawn, finish it. Never give your enemy a chance to strike back.

Following those long-ago lessons, Cao Xiaojun wrenched the man's shoulder and stabbed—once, twice—mechanically, his face splattered with blood.

Like this?

He remembered his younger self, pausing after each motion to seek approval.

Like this?

Years had passed, and he'd grown skilled—knowing where to cut for maximum pain without killing.

Yet he still habitually sought that young man's guidance.

Dongzi, am I doing this right?

Dongzi, is this the way?

Dongzi—

He jolted back to reality as the memory of that young man merged with the bloodied figure before him.

The one who'd taught him to wield a knife now lay dying by his blade.