The Child's Past Life

by Cai Jun

  “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t think so.” Yi Yu ducked into the shadows. “I know the art of invisibility.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Throughout 2010, Huang Hai had felt cursed.

  He stood in line for two hours for IMAX Avatar tickets during Chinese New Year.

  He’d asked He Qingying to the movies. He had always been calm and collected dealing with criminals, but he stuttered with her. Luckily his biggest worry didn’t come to pass—she never mentioned Si Wang. She must not have told him about the date.

  When he held her hand, she resisted a bit before giving in. Her hand was cold, like touching a corpse’s. They chatted amicably at first but then stopped. They didn’t look into each other’s eyes, but their shoulders inched closer and closer.

  For the past three years, Huang Hai had helped with He Qingying’s bookstore. He looked in on her daily. If anything went wrong at her house, he was the first one there. He even fixed her television.

  Si Wang’s relationship with him became strained, however.

  After the Chinese New Year, he took Si Wang to the Muslim temple. Someone was selling sliced fruitcake. He bought the boy a small piece and thrust it into his hand. Back in the car, he said, “I need to ask you something.”

  “A new case?”

  “No, all recent cases are solved. I wanted to ask you . . .” Huang Hai didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say so he just spit it out. “Si Wang, I don’t know when your dad will be back. Would you be OK with me being your dad?”

  The boy hit him and jumped out of the police car. He spit out the half-chewed fruitcake and ran toward the Suzhou River.

  It was so cold.

  Huang Hai didn’t see He Qingying alone after that.

  Fall arrived.

  Sunday. Light rain fell. The endless high-rises on Nanming Road made it hard to think of the murders fifteen years ago, even though Nanming High hadn’t really changed.

  “Kid, who told you there was anything?” Huang Hai gripped the steering wheel. Wipers swept away the water. A long road stretched ahead of them, making it seem as though they were heading toward a paranormal dimension.

  “A secret informant. I have to protect her identity.” Si Wang sat in the front passenger seat. “Trust me, I’m not a normal person. You know what I mean.”

  They were in an unmarked police car. Huang Hai had driven back yesterday after catching a murderer out of town. He’d only slept for three hours before Si Wang knocked on his door, claiming to know where Lu Zhongyue was. But he didn’t share any further details.

  “Your not being normal only makes sense to me.”

  The car stopped in front of the nameless DVD store. Tucked between a foot-massage place and a hair salon, it would be easy to miss if not for the movie poster for Leslie Cheung’s Happy Together.

  The rain fell harder.

  Huang Hai wore plain clothes. He told Si Wang to stay in the car, no matter what happened. He knocked on the door and pushed inside.

  The thick cigarette smoke suffocated him, making the lifelong chain-smoker cough. He held his breath to scan the store: He saw old Hong Kong movies on the right-hand side, and on the opposite side were posters for Japanese movies introduced to China in the eighties. The covers featured stars like Ken Takakura, Komaki Kurihara, and Tomokazu Miura.

  Huang Hai watched the only other man in the store turn around slowly.

  “Lu Zhongyue?”

  The man escaped through the back door.

  Huang Hai crouched and took out his QSZ92 handgun. He kicked open the back door. The rain was still coming down hard. He ran out, mud flying everywhere. Huang Hai chased the man. It was impossible to see his face clearly; even his back was blurry.

  In his low, booming voice, Huang Hai ordered the suspect to stop.

  The man ran into a construction site.

  Frantic footsteps echoed in the dark corridors. He followed the man to the sixth floor while watching out for exposed steel bars. He finally caught sight of the man again, and the guy actually jumped out of an unfinished window.

  There was another building across from the window. Huang Hai didn’t hesitate to jump, either.

  “Stop!”

  Where did the noise come from? The fifteen-year-old’s voice was hoarse, and swallowed by the rushing rain.

  Huang Hai didn’t make it. The forty-eight-year-old man disappeared into the space between the two buildings.

  It was a fifteen-meter free fall. A twisted body lay on top of a muddy construction site.

  Si Wang screamed and ran down to his friend.

  The QSZ92 fell a few meters away.

  Si Wang fell upon the man. All of his limbs were broken. His hands were bent behind him like a puppet with broken strings. He lifted up Huang Hai’s head, which was covered with rain, blood, and mud. He was still alive.

  Si Wang shook the man’s head and slapped his face. “Don’t die! Hold on! An ambulance will get here soon!”

  The kid hadn’t even called 1-1-0 yet.

  Huang Hai was fading; his eyes were half-closed, blood spurted out.

  “Huang Zhiliang—”

  “I’m here,” Si Wang cried, shouting so as to be heard over the din of the rain. “Dad, I’m here.”

  Si Wang or Huang Zhiliang, what was the difference?

  The boy clutched Huang Hai’s hand, trying to pass on his own warmth. He pressed his ear to Huang Hai’s mouth. He heard some faint sounds.

  Huang Hai breathed out the boy’s name. His eyes were open under the steel-gray sky as the rain washed out his bloody eyes.

  Just before dying, Huang Hai faintly saw the fifteen-year-old boy trying to give him CPR. Si Wang swallowed the man’s blood. Burning tears fell on his face and blended with the thick rain.

  Huang Hai’s soul floated up and he saw his broken body, and the sobbing teenager.

  Si Wang wiped away his tears. He looked calmly cruel in the falling rain.

  CHAPTER 41

  Seven days later.

  Huang Hai’s martyr ceremony was held in the biggest hall at the funeral home. All city officials attended. This was the second line-of-duty death of a police officer that month. He Qingying wore a dark suit and held a bunch of white chrysanthemums, tears swirling in her eyes. She clutched her son’s hand and stayed in the back of the crowd. Some of Huang Hai’s colleagues had met her. They all tried to comfort her, treating her as the widow.

  The police chief finished his long-winded eulogy, and somber music played. Si Wang held on to his mom and they bowed together. Her hand was frozen. She could hear her son say, “Mom, I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have.”

  “Enough! Wang Er.” Her whole body shook. “It’s not what you think.”

  The mother and son straightened. Along with the rest of the mourners, they said good-bye to Huang Hai for the last time.

  His body was draped with a flag. Dressed in a perfectly pressed uniform, his hands and feet had been expertly reconstructed. It was impossible to tell that there had been numerous bone fractures.

  He Qingying reached out to touch the cold glass, as though touching his face. He’d passed away in Si Wang’s arms seven days ago.

  The physical intimacy she’d shared with this man had been limited to touches on the forehead and nose. She’d never experienced an iota of desire during the time she spent with the policeman—just a warmth, like a rebirth.

  Si Wang never shed a tear.

  She took her son’s hand and started to leave the hall. She turned to see the mass of policemen. She could feel a pair of eyes staring at her but couldn’t see him, or her.

  Every policeman at the funeral swore they would catch the criminal to appease Huang Hai’s soul.

  There were still no clues.

  The police repeatedly searched the DVD store. They extracted
DNA samples from the cigarette butts. The landlord also gave them a copy of the suspect’s identification card. There was no such person in the system. The store hardly had any customers, and the owner rarely socialized, so very few people remembered his face. The police managed to get a portrait of him from the landlord’s descriptions.

  They showed the illustration to Si Wang and He Qingying.

  Si Wang was sure it was Lu Zhongyue, especially because of the birthmark on the forehead. He’d been Lu Zhongyue’s adopted son and they shared a home for more than six months. He knew how to recognize the man.

  He Qingying insisted that her son stay away from the investigation. She forbade the police to contact him. She even wrote a letter to the police chief, saying Huang Hai had died and she didn’t want Si Wang to be next.

  The tears she cried during those days were for Huang Hai, and also for her unruly son. She blamed him for his impudence and impulse, and she blamed him for Huang Hai’s death.

  He didn’t dispute this belief and kept mumbling, “I got him killed.”

  Over the last six months, Si Wang had truly become a teenager. He started paying attention to his appearance, being very picky about what he wore and how he looked. Even if he just wore a school uniform, he’d check himself in the mirror. He’d also joined the Youth League.

  He helped his mom open a Taobao online store called Demon Girl Zone. Bookselling had become harder and harder, but with both an online and a brick-and-mortar store, they could make ends meet. The Taobao store also sold textbooks, which generated most of their earnings. He Qingying tried hard to be a great online retailer, even asking customers to please give her a positive rating online. Every weekend, Si Wang would help his mom with customer service, packing, and sending for delivery.

  Si Wang faced the high school entrance exams in another six months; he wanted to go to Nanming High.

  He Qingying strongly opposed the idea. She didn’t want him to board after all these years of just the two of them. Plus, the elite high school was known for its intense pressure. Students committing suicide was common these days. She was worried her quiet son wouldn’t adjust, even with his genius intellect. She really wanted him to live a peaceful life. It was easier to apply to a technical secondary school or trade school. Jobs would be easy to find.

  “Wang Er, are you going to listen to me?”

  The room was dark. He Qingying’s hair fell on her shoulders. She still looked much younger than her age. It was no wonder that male students sometimes gave her one hundred yuan to change so they could linger. Si Wang always stared at them and his mom would signal him to calm down.

  He flipped over in bed and said to the wall, “Mom, why did you give me this name?”

  “Didn’t I already tell you? When you were in my belly, I looked out every day and thought I heard someone calling me. So I named you ‘lookout,’ Si Wang.”

  “People at school gave me a nickname. They call me Death.”

  He Qingying grabbed her son and stared at him. “Why?”

  “Si Wang . . . siwang . . .death.”

  She covered his mouth. “We’ll go to school tomorrow and tell the teacher that no one can call you this!”

  “Mom, the nickname doesn’t bother me. I like it.”

  “Why? Why would you?”

  “I think I am like death. I haven’t had maternal grandparents since birth. Dad went missing when I was in first grade. Who knows what happened to him. My paternal grandparents died when I was in third grade. I found a dead body in that jeep. Then I went to the Gu family and they died. I met Huang Hai; his home was a museum of death. Now I just saw him die. Are they all coincidences?”

  He seemed so calm—like he was reading a lecture.

  “Don’t think that way. No matter what, I will protect you.”

  “Mom, I’ve grown up now. I should protect you.”

  “You’ll always be a kid in my eyes.”

  “Don’t all moms want their kids to get into good high schools? If I can get into Nanming, then why stop me? Didn’t you name me look out so you could look out at success?”

  He Qingying stroked her son’s back, her voice soft as silk. “Believe what I say. You’re an incredibly smart kid. You have many special secrets. But your dad is Si Mingyuan, and your mom is He Qingying. We were all born poor. This is our fate.”

  “I never minded us being poor.”

  “If I die, go look for a rich family.”

  “Don’t die!”

  Si Wang held her so tightly she thought she would suffocate.

  CHAPTER 42

  Three weeks later. It was both the coldest and shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere.

  The man looked no older than thirty. He had a tall, lean build and was handsome. His hair was on the longer side, especially for a cop. His eyebrows seemed permanently furrowed above his steely gaze. He rarely displayed any discernible facial expressions, but people liked to avoid making eye contact with him nonetheless. Having transferred to the precinct just three months ago, he hadn’t known Huang Hai very well. They’d only met a handful of times. But the bureau chief assigned Huang Hai’s old cases to him.

  Six murders remained unsolved. Three were deaths from June 1995, fifteen years ago: Liu Man, a Nanming High student; Yan Li, the teaching director; Shen Ming, the one-time suspect and former teacher. There was also He Nian, Erya Education Group’s executive, missing since 2002 and later found in 2004, rotting in a jeep; he’d been Shen Ming’s college classmate. In 2006, Shen Ming’s fiancée, Gu Qiusha, was killed, and her father, Gu Changlong, was killed by Lu Zhongyue. Lu Zhongyue was Shen Ming’s high school classmate and had married Gu Qiusha after Shen’s death.

  Huang Hai died while chasing after Lu Zhongyue.

  The new cop had also inherited a set of keys. He unlocked Huang Hai’s apartment door. Someone must have been there recently. Wind howled and the room was as cold as a refrigerator.

  The usually locked small room was open.

  The cop could smell the scent of someone else being in the apartment. He took out his gun and crept to the doorway of the small room, aiming his weapon. Sometimes really daring and perverted criminals would break in to policemen’s homes.

  He saw a young man’s face.

  “It’s you?” The man’s voice was crisp and bright. He put away his gun, recognizing the fifteen-year-old boy.

  “Who are you?” Si Wang said.

  Even though the man wore a uniform and had a gun, Si Wang was still cautious. The boy crouched by the metal cabinet and tucked something under him.

  The cop took out his department identification and showed it to the teenager. He had the same rank as Huang Hai. The photograph matched the face in front of Si Wang. The name next to the embossed photo said the man’s name was Ye Xiao.

  “Si Wang, you finally came.”

  “Were you watching me?”

  Ye Xiao pulled him up. He’d been sitting on copies of case files for the 1995 Nanming Road murders. He put the files back into the cabinet. “I noticed you at the funeral. You were the one who found the body six years ago by Suzhou River. Huang Hai died on the job because of you, too, right?”

  “You’re saying I killed Huang Hai?”

  “No, not at all. But I’m curious. Why do you have his keys?”

  “I came here often, so he gave me the keys to make it easier.”

  Si Wang looked calm, but Ye Xiao detected something. “For this small room, too? Si Wang, you’re lying!”

  One of Ye Xiao’s colleagues had told him that Huang Hai kept a small office in his apartment, which contained tons of copies of case files and all of his notes. The room was always locked.

  After Huang Hai died, the police didn’t find any personal keys on him. Now it was clear that Si Wang had taken them in order to access the apartment. The young man was willing to steal fro
m a dead man to find out about the old cases. Why?

  Ye Xiao saw the wall, still plastered with shocking photos and files. Another wall had Shen Ming’s name written in red letters, with nine thick lines around it. One of the newest lines actually went to Si Wang’s name.

  Ye Xiao studied the young man carefully, slowly piecing together the case’s intricate and confusing details. Si Wang was born after Shen Ming’s murder, but for a time he’d been Gu Qiusha and Lu Zhongyue’s adopted son, so he had a relationship to the case.

  The cop looked at one of the files Shen Ming has been sitting on, which was filled with Huang Hai’s messy handwriting. It outlined Shen Ming’s background and had taken Huang Hai six months to piece together. Ye Xiao knew most of it, but there was one very puzzling new piece of information. The file contained details of another murder—one from before Huang Hai was a policeman. This case had happened on Serenity Road.

  On a rainy fall night in 1983, on the old mansion-lined Serenity Road, a little girl ran into the street and cried for help. Neighbors responded to her shouts, and the cops soon arrived. They found her father murdered.

  The dead man was a department chief for some government agency, last name Lu. Someone had used broken glass to slash open his throat. There were a lot of weird things about the case. The victim had had a lot of enemies. During the Cultural Revolution, he’d ruined many people’s lives. Everyone was glad to see him dead; the case was closed.

  At that time, a thirteen-year-old Shen Ming also lived on Serenity Road, right across the street.

  Ye Xiao put away these files and took Si Wang out of the room. He stared at the young man. “Tell me, why are you so interested in Huang Hai’s cases? Did the victims have anything to do with you?”