Chapter 268: The Kindhearted Girl

2022-05-20

When the villagers saw us being thrown out, they all struggled to hold back their laughter, though none dared actually laugh out loud. One guy’s face even turned purple from holding it in—seemed like he wasn’t worried about suffocating himself. I took a big bite of the steamed bun in my hand. Angry or not, I still had to fill my stomach.

Zhao Mingkun couldn’t help but laugh a little, even as he was annoyed. “Given the situation, you can still eat?”

I shrugged. “Can’t blame my stomach for someone else’s rudeness, can I?”

Just then, an old woman emerged from the watching crowd. She looked at least seventy or eighty, her hair completely white and her face wrinkled. Leaning on a cane, she walked slowly up to us and spoke in a grainy, gentle voice. “I’m Granny Huang. If you don’t mind, come to my house for a meal. Look at this young man—he’s starving.”

After running around all night, I was honestly starving by morning, so I quickly agreed.

Back at Granny Huang’s place, she prepped breakfast at her own pace while chatting with us from the edge of the heated brick bed. We learned as we talked—her husband had passed away decades ago, and she’d never had kids. She lived alone and managed herself just fine. In fact, she was the oldest person in Damian Village and still in good shape.

Rice porridge bubbled on the stove as Granny Huang brought out homemade meat sauce and a pile of steamed buns.

“I get a government stipend,” she said. “I’m old now and don’t need much, so there’s always extra. Eat as much as you like, don’t be shy.”

Hearing her words, I couldn’t help but compare her with Lü Zhiqiu’s mother—those two were worlds apart. I could really believe now that Lü Zhiqiu’s parents would throw a tantrum at the construction site just to wrestle a million out of someone. From what Zhang Denghui said, they probably got a fat insurance payout from Hu Pei too.

I couldn’t help sighing. “Granny, Lü Zhiqiu’s parents really are something. They kicked me out before I could even grab a bite—all I did was say Lü Zhiqiu’s name.”

As soon as I brought up Lü Zhiqiu, Granny Huang shook her head and sighed deeply.

“That girl,” she said, “I pretty much watched her grow up.”

“But you’re not even neighbors, right? Their house is kind of far from yours,” I asked, confused.

She handed me a bowl of porridge and slowly sipped her own. “Lü Zhiqiu’s dad is Lü Fengwei, her mom is Guo Gaimei. They may be younger than me, but they’re old-fashioned to the core. From the start, they favored sons over daughters. Their firstborn was a girl—Lü Zhiqiu—and they almost abandoned her.”

As Granny Huang dug into her memories, she became more and more animated, drawing us into the story.

“Back then, everyone in Damian Village knew about it. Those two were seriously tough customers. And Guo Gaimei’s mouth—no one could win an argument with her. If you think only men favor sons, she was even worse, like she forgot she’s a woman herself!”

I nodded. “So how come the siblings are more than ten years apart?”

She snorted. “Lü Fengwei heard some folk remedy guaranteed to bring a son if you stick with it for ten years. So for a decade, he and Guo Gaimei ate all sorts of strange stuff and tried every old wives’ tale. By the time Lü Zhiqiu was in high school, they finally had a son—Lü Xiangyang.”

“Once Lü Xiangyang was born, he was spoiled rotten,” she went on. “Their son-only mindset just got worse. Guo Gaimei already didn’t want her daughter to stay in school, but since minors couldn’t work, and Lü Zhiqiu was a good kid—she not only paid her own way but even sent money home—Guo Gaimei finally let her be.”

I took a big gulp of rice porridge, munching on a bun while I asked, “So what kind of person was Lü Zhiqiu?”

“Good! She was a good, good girl!” Granny Huang stuck out her thumb, repeating “good” three times. “Lü Zhiqiu was kind from the start. Even when she got bullied she never held a grudge. And if she saw others being picked on, she always stepped in to help. There used to be a lot of unruly kids in the village, but she was never bothered by them and often helped the younger ones.”

I nodded. That matched what her college advisor had said—Lü Zhiqiu had even supported a struggling female student. She really was kind through and through.

“With my husband gone and no children, life got lonely. So I’d often invite kids in, feed them snacks and chat with them. Lü Zhiqiu would come by a lot. She was a sweet, adorable girl—pretty too. She’d help massage my legs, clean up the house, always so considerate.”

Granny’s face bloomed with a smile. “When her brother wasn’t born yet, her family never treated her well, so she’d come to see me instead. Sometimes I couldn’t stand how her parents acted, but Lü Zhiqiu would just say it was nothing—she believed, as their child, she should honor and understand them.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Hearing that, even I felt ashamed for Lü Fengwei.”

From all this, it was clear that Lü Zhiqiu had a gentle heart. No matter how badly she was treated, she never seemed to resent anyone. Sometimes she even stood up for those who hurt her. When you thought about it, she really was kind to the core.

Granny’s smile faded and her voice slowed. “Back then, I was still pretty active, so I kept some puppies and kittens around to keep me company. Every time Lü Zhiqiu came over, she’d help feed them. She loved dogs especially—never wanted to let go once she picked one up.”

“I like dogs too,” I chimed in.

She smiled and carried on. “Later one of the dogs got sick, and Lü Zhiqiu cared for it day and night. But it was old, as old as me in dog years, and it eventually died. Lü Zhiqiu cried her eyes out, swollen from tears—she just couldn’t stand seeing anyone or anything die.”

Granny’s own tears welled up as she spoke. “But fate is cruel. The gentlest souls seem to leave first. I remember when Lü Zhiqiu was in high school, she was only home one day a week, but she’d always come visit me if she could. When she got accepted to a top university, the village even gave her ten thousand yuan. But how could someone so good just… vanish like that?”

Listening to Granny Huang, I was filled with emotion and couldn’t figure out what to say. Lü Zhiqiu’s advisor had described her much the same way: sweet, diligent, good-looking—and if only she’d had a different family, she would’ve been one of those rich, beautiful girls you see on TV.

Even Zhao Mingkun looked moved. After a moment, he asked, “So how did Lü Zhiqiu and her brother Lü Xiangyang get along?”

Granny Huang answered, “During summer break, Lü Zhiqiu would often take her little brother out to play. There’s a big age gap, so she had to look after him. After she started college, she still sent money home each month, and whenever she came back, she bought him new clothes and toys.”

Talking about this, Granny started to wipe her eyes again. “Sometimes she even brought me snacks. But whenever I saw her, she wore the same old clothes, year after year. She’d spoil her brother and even me, but never spent a thing on herself.”

“Later on,” she shook her head sadly, “I just heard Lü Zhiqiu died. No one knew how she died, but Lü Fengwei rounded up a bunch of relatives and rushed to the city. When they came back, it was in a car. The word was they went for money. They got it too, but didn’t even bring her body home.”

“Such a sin!” Granny Huang let out a long sigh. “I never even got to see Lü Zhiqiu one last time. But I did see her brother, Lü Xiangyang, crying and asking for his sister—he wanted her to take him out to play. He was only about ten then, so I doubt he knew what really happened. At least you could see he truly loved his sister.”

Granny finished the last of her rice porridge and set down her bowl. “You know, it’s been about seven or eight years since Lü Zhiqiu died. Lü Fengwei used the money to buy his son a home and a car in Dongxing City. The boy goes to school there now. I haven’t spoken to him in years—not like I did with his sister.”

It seemed, unlike his parents, Lü Xiangyang and his sister were close, and she really cared for him. Could he have learned something about her death and wanted revenge? But for a high schooler to commit such strange, untraceable murders—was that really possible?

That’s a question we still have to answer.

After a pause, Granny Huang asked, “I heard Lü Xiangyang’s gone missing. Is that what you’re here about?”

I nodded and added, “We’re also looking into Lü Zhiqiu’s death from seven years ago. It seemed suspicious—we need to find out the truth.”

“Exactly!” Granny shot to her feet, fired up. “You must get to the bottom of this. I heard back then the whole thing was murky. If a death isn’t resolved, the soul can’t move on—you know that, right? The living and the dead both need closure. Promise me you’ll find out the truth.”

“Don’t worry, Granny,” I said. “We’ll get to the truth.”

“By the way,” I asked, “I heard Lü Xiangyang went off with a classmate named Wang Ang? Do you know anything about that?”

Granny shook her head. “I don’t, but I know they’re both seniors at Dongxing City No. 1 High School. If you need Wang Ang, go ask at the school. That’s really all I know.”

I glanced at Zhao Mingkun, then at Granny Huang. “Alright, then. We’ll go for now, but we’ll get to the bottom of Lü Zhiqiu’s case, and once we know the truth, we’ll come back and tell you.”

“That’s wonderful!” Granny Huang gripped my hand tightly. “There are still good people in this world, I see. I don’t have many wishes left in this life—just this one, really…”