Mad Dog

Chapter 40: The Truth – Itll be fine when we grow up.

Many years ago, Zhi Qi had visited this so-called “home” of Jiang Qi’s, but unfortunately, that encounter with the boy ended unpleasantly, and they hadn’t seen each other for three years since.

This time, she was brought here by Jiang Qi.

The shantytown in Chen Kong Alley hadn’t been renovated or maintained for many years; it remained a foul-smelling mess.

It had rained yesterday, and the ground was muddy. After just a few steps, both of their shoes were already dirty, but neither paid any attention to it.

Before long, Jiang Qi led Zhi Qi to the door of the place where he had lived for over a decade.

The lock on the courtyard was gone, one of the windows was broken, and the low houses were covered in layers of dust. Even though the sky was dim and visibility was poor, an air of gloom was undeniable.

Zhi Qi remembered that when she visited before, she accidentally stepped into a puddle of foul water in the alley. Later, she developed numerous small blisters from an infection that itched unbearably, and she couldn’t help but scratch until she broke one, leaving a tiny scar that remained to this day.

This place seemed to harbor a malevolent aura; anyone who came into contact with it would have bad luck.

In the dim light, there was a glint of something sinister in Jiang Qi’s eyes.

He then lifted his foot and kicked open the creaky wooden door in front of him, which looked so old that it seemed it could crumble at a touch, ready to collapse in the wind.

Zhi Qi involuntarily shivered as he pulled her into the courtyard.

Logically, even the most dilapidated house should have a lock that would prevent others from entering, but for some reason, Jiang Qi found a piece of iron wire on the ground and managed to pick the lock. Noticing the girl’s surprise, he whispered, “Old locks are easy to open.”

However, when he opened the door, a cloud of dust and a foul odor rushed out from the cramped space, nearly overwhelming Zhi Qi.

Jiang Qi confidently reached for the switch on the wall, and the rickety light bulb hanging from the dilapidated ceiling flickered to life, illuminating the small room—still the same mottled walls, the dusty floor, and the worn-out narrow steel bed.

His so-called “childhood” seemed to have stagnated along with this little broken house in Chen Kong Alley.

It felt as if nothing had changed at all.

Jiang Qi said nothing, merely stepping inside and surveying his surroundings until his gaze landed on a dark stain on the wall next to the steel bed, causing his expression to shift.

“Qi Qi, come here.” He turned his head to look at the girl, and when Zhi Qi approached, he pointed it out to her, saying, “This is Jiang Quan’s blood.”

Zhi Qi instinctively shuddered.

She knew that Jiang Quan was Jiang Qi’s father—after Jiang Qi’s incident, no one was willing to tell her what happened or what the truth was. Only later, when Zhi Qi had the means to hire a private investigator, did she learn a few scattered facts: Jiang Quan had died four years ago.

Could it be… Jiang Quan died in this house?

The already cramped and unbearable room suddenly felt like it was shrouded in an extra layer of sinister fog, enveloping them.

“Don’t be afraid.” Sensing the girl’s unease, Jiang Qi rarely, and with difficulty, managed a smile at her, and then in this dilapidated, eerie place, he asked her a completely irrelevant question: “Qi Qi, do you remember what you promised me after I was diagnosed with a disease in sophomore year?”

The so-called “oath” of an immature youth.

Zhi Qi was momentarily stunned, then nodded, lightly but firmly: “I remember.”

She had told Jiang Qi that when they grew up, she would marry him.

Thinking back, she realized how reckless that was; until then, they had always been friends, even friends who could not bear to part with each other despite the trials of life and death, yet she had said such a thing.

But she had never regretted it, nor did she feel embarrassed.

Zhi Qi recalled that after the diagnosis, during the last stretch of time at school, although Jiang Qi obediently took his medication, he always looked melancholic.

The rooftop of their school was spacious and vast, but due to the cloudy weather and heat on sunny days, it often felt empty. Still, they always went there to chat.

On the last occasion they visited, Zhi Qi saw the boy daringly sitting on the edge of the rooftop railing, the wind blowing gently against his oversized school uniform, which billowed like a flag because of his frail frame.

Zhi Qi was startled and rushed over to call him down.

At that time, Jiang Qi was taking medication, suffering from headaches and nausea, his face pale as a ghost, and he always seemed to carry the scent of illness.

It was as if he hadn’t heard the girl’s anxious calls; instead, he stared blankly down at the rooftop below—people looked like ants from that height.

“Qi Qi.” Jiang Qi asked, somewhat bewildered, “What would happen if I jumped down?”

If a person fell, was it considered high-altitude projectile?

“Jiang Qi, you…” A thin layer of sweat broke out on Zhi Qi’s forehead, her palms dampened. She forced her trembling voice to sound calm as she tried to persuade him: “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The girl quietly crept up beside him, gripping the edge of his school uniform tightly, afraid to provoke him.

Jiang Qi turned to see Zhi Qi’s eyes red from holding back tears, and after a moment of surprise, he couldn’t help but curl the corners of his mouth slightly.

“Silly girl, I won’t jump.”

As long as he was alive, there was hope; he wouldn’t take such a step. His earlier question was merely out of curiosity.

With that, Jiang Qi jumped down from the railing and stood next to Zhi Qi at the edge of the rooftop.

Although Jiang Qi had no suicidal thoughts, Zhi Qi couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable sense of ‘surviving a catastrophe’ wash over her, and she couldn’t hold back her tears.

“Jiang Qi.” The girl’s voice was thick and muffled. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Jiang Qi sighed softly, “I won’t leave you.”

“I’m not talking about now; I mean forever.” Zhi Qi didn’t understand what was happening to her. The boy before her was dark and withdrawn, suffering from bipolar disorder, a ‘dangerous person’ that everyone avoided, yet she felt inexplicably drawn to him, unwilling to part.

As if her soul were controlled by the deepest obsession within her, Zhi Qi unconsciously said, “When we grow up, will you marry me?”

As husband and wife, they wouldn’t have to be separated for a lifetime.

Once she said it, Zhi Qi clearly saw a glimmer of light flash in Jiang Qi’s eyes, as if it was ‘hope.’

It was the first time she had seen that.

The girl was so naive, yet he genuinely liked her.

Jiang Qi smiled and replied, “Okay, when we grow up.”

Zhi Qi didn’t realize that her words at that moment were like a traveler in the desert who had walked for seven days and nights finally finding a water source, or like someone who fell off a cliff still alive, receiving a rope from above, or like… Cinderella’s glass slipper.

He might not be some bullshit Cinderella, but Zhi Qi was his salvation.

Unfortunately, salvation has an expiration date.

Once the clock struck twelve, everything would return to its original state; he would still be the sick dog with nothing.

Perhaps, there was no need to wait until twelve.

Jiang Qi remembered that night when Jiang Quan returned home just after eleven. He had been drowsy, not fully asleep, when he caught a whiff of alcohol—something he had been sensitive to for years.

He immediately opened his eyes, but the room was too cramped. Before he could get up, the drunken man spotted him and lunged forward with a grin.

“Son, son!” Jiang Quan hiccuped, the stench unbearable. He waved Jiang Qi away while grinning ferociously: “Didn’t you go to your uncle’s house? Why the hell are you back? You bastard born of a whore, you’re selling out your old man to outsiders; I should just strangle you!”

As he spoke, he grabbed Jiang Qi’s hair and slammed his head against the wall, throwing punches and kicks without relief, even unbuckling his belt to choke the boy.

The sensation of suffocation made Jiang Qi genuinely believe that he might die at Jiang Quan’s hands that night.

He had endured this kind of life for over a decade; perhaps liberation would be a good thing.

Because he, too, was gradually becoming tainted by malice. Jiang Qi would rather die than become a second Jiang Quan; he didn’t want to become the person he despised the most. The boy slowly closed his eyes…

But in that instant, Zhi Qi’s words, “When we grow up, I will marry you,” flashed like a light through Jiang Qi’s mind.

He suddenly opened his eyes again.

No, he couldn’t just die like this; Zhi Qi would be heartbroken.

Moreover, even if he died, he should take Jiang Quan down with him.

So, gasping for breath, Jiang Qi’s long fingers quietly reached for the Swiss Army knife hidden at his waist.

He had bought it intentionally, always carrying it whenever he returned to Chen Kong Alley.

Dying alongside Jiang Quan was indeed filthy, but at least his

life would no longer be filled with anxiety caused by that damned dog.

As Jiang Qi thought this, he couldn’t help but smile, his gaze fixed intently on Jiang Quan.

That wolf-like glare enraged Jiang Quan, whose face had turned a dark red from the alcohol. His features twisted as he shouted, “What the hell are you looking at? If you keep looking, I’ll gouge your eyes out!”

As he spoke, he loosened his grip on the belt and reached for Jiang Qi’s face. In the next moment, the sharp blade cut through half of his hand.

“Shit!”

In Jiang Quan’s shriek, Jiang Qi smiled coldly.

“You dare use a knife?! You want to kill your old man?” Jiang Quan was momentarily stunned, then suddenly covered his hand and laughed, “Hahaha, you actually dare to kill your father, you little bastard? Come on! Do it! Go on, you little shit!”

As he spoke, he gripped Jiang Qi’s neck tightly with his other uninjured hand.

The man had been working construction for years, his strength far beyond that of the frail boy Jiang Qi.

Jiang Qi’s face turned purple as he was choked. Just as he was about to thrust the knife he was gripping, with his fingers bleeding, into the man’s abdomen, the pressure around his neck suddenly eased.

Jiang Qi felt something warm and wet on the hand he pressed against Jiang Quan’s chest and abdomen.

Looking up, he was stunned to see Jiang Quan staring blankly at him, his expression devoid of anger, and in fact, it was… the look of someone who could not die peacefully.

Jiang Qi was taken aback and forcefully pushed the man away, standing up.

The boy’s white clothes were stained with blood, and he still held the knife, resembling a shura emerging from hell.

The real ‘shura’ stood behind Jiang Quan—an old man in coarse linen, his face expressionless.

It was the old man who sold rice cakes, living in Chen Kong Alley. His hair was gray, and though his face was wrinkled, there was a hint of satisfaction in his expression. He held the knife he had just used to kill Jiang Quan, his eyes gleaming with something unsettling.

Jiang Qi’s throat moved as he experienced a rare moment of ‘stunned silence.’

The sudden appearance of the old man was ghostly and enchanting, but… it seemed he vaguely knew the reason.

Jiang Qi stood there, staring blankly as the old man walked past him without sparing a glance, holding the knife and leaving. His footsteps were slow and lethargic, leaving without a sound—this was also why no one had noticed him enter.

As the old man walked away, he muttered continuously, “Nuan Nuan, Nuan Nuan.”