Chapter 45: Crying for the Zhajiangmian Noodle Shop

2022-05-20

Out of the six brothers, San was the first to die, his throat slashed. Lao Liu became the second, killed and left in the courtyard. Qian San was ambushed in the shadows. Dadan and Wei Changfeng ended up killing each other.

Lao Liu’s death seemed suspicious. Right now, we can’t be certain if that corpse is really him. As for Qian Er, he’s vanished—no one knows if he’s even alive.

I dug my fingers into my hair, trying to untangle the motives behind all these surface events.

Five years ago, these six brothers killed Lord Chu. Five years later, they were invited by Zhao Mingkun for a job and coincidentally visited Lord Chu’s tomb. For those five years, every time a ghost marriage took place, the organizer ended up dead—every single time, without exception.

But wait, when we left, Old Zheng was still alive. If there really was some sort of Chu Mei’s curse, did that mean Old Zheng would die tonight? Yet, according to Wei Changfeng, Chu Mei was still in the tomb. Could Chu Mei really be a ghost, able to kill in two places at once?

And if Chu Mei was Lord Chu’s woman—an orphan he took in as a child—then who were her parents, the ones who held her ghost marriage? Did they just appear from nowhere? Could they have been Lord Chu’s first wife?

Trailing behind Zhao Mingkun, I roamed the vast burial chamber in search of Qian Er. All the while, I replayed every detail of what had happened. By now, the fragments in my mind were starting to connect.

The scene of Chu Mei’s death five years ago—today’s truth of her revenge.

Everything was within reach. If I could just clear away this last haze, the truth would spill out before me.

Dead Chu Mei, six brothers, Lao Liu, dear friend Lin Daiyu.

It was like my mind had turned into a movie reel. Scene after scene flashed by. Just one missing clue and everything would link together.

So lost in thought, I didn’t notice Zhao Mingkun had stopped ahead. I bumped straight into her. Just as I was about to apologize, she motioned for silence. With her eyes closed, she tilted her ear, listening for something.

People are sharp yet dull creatures. We’ve got five senses to take in the world, yet our sense of smell is no match for a dog’s, our sight can’t beat a cat’s, and our hearing is weaker than a bat’s. But when we focus on just one sense, shutting our eyes and holding our breath, our hearing sharpens.

Sure enough, there was movement ahead. It was the faint, slicing sound of a dagger cutting through the air—sharp and thin. If you weren’t paying attention, you’d miss it.

There were people in the passage up ahead—and probably more than one.

“Turn off the flashlight. Let’s creep up and take a look,” Zhao Mingkun whispered in my ear.

I nodded and stuck close to the wall, creeping alongside Zhao Mingkun as we inched forward.

The airy whistle of the dagger faded away. Voices broke the silence.

“Lao Liu, why are you doing this?”

That was Qian Er talking!

He sounded shaky, breathless as if speaking took all his strength.

He was speaking to Lao Liu. So the body we found wasn’t really Lao Liu after all. Who was it, then? Was Lao Liu the one orchestrating Chu Mei’s revenge? Why kill the ghost marriage hosts, why his own brothers?

“Why am I doing this? You dare ask me that?” Lao Liu’s voice rang out across the silent tomb, so loud it bounced off the walls. “You all know what happens to those who betray the Master. I’m only doing what I want to do!”

Qian Er let out a cold laugh. “Lao Liu, you had a hand in killing the Master five years ago. Even if you stayed out of the Chu Mei mess, that’s on you, not us. Don’t act like you’re some saint. The first blade into Lord Chu—that was yours.”

“You know what kind of person Lord Chu was. He never wronged you. He treated us all like his own sons. You spent years, even decades by his side—but only to chase after his woman. Betrayal is the thing I hate most!”

Suddenly, I remembered. Back when Lao Liu was seven or eight, his mother was found dead by his father—she’d been gone for over ten days before anyone noticed. But listening to Lao Liu now, a different answer dawned on me.

Maybe, even as a kid, Lao Liu understood what happened. He chose not to tell anyone, burying it deep inside. To him, betrayal was a death sentence.

“But you still did it!” Qian Er’s tone was almost cheerful.

“Yes, I did.” Lao Liu’s voice was low, like a leopard ready to pounce. “But if I hadn’t, I’d be dead myself. I know that. The Master wasn’t stupid, he knew too. I was hesitating. He had to tell me to do it.”

He went on, “I walked over, nerves shaking. Even when the Master told me to do it, I couldn’t bring myself to strike. Do you know what he said to me?”

“He talked to you?” Qian Er sounded doubtful. “What did he say—about the other half of his money?”

“Money, women!” Lao Liu gritted his teeth. “That’s all you ever care about! The Master told me, ‘A gentleman’s revenge isn’t too late after ten years. For a villain, it’s not too late after twenty.’”

Qian Er was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Was Lord Chu really worth all this? You teamed up with Chu Mei, just to scare us? Now everyone’s dead but us. We split that bag of mingqi—wasn’t that enough? I followed the Master for two years, you only six months. I don’t think you can beat me with a dagger!”

“Is it worth it?”

Lao Liu didn’t seem ready to stop.

Lao Liu had done anything it took to survive. He’d worked as a security guard, a courier, but never stuck with anything, scared to deal with others and terrified of being forgotten the moment a new tenant moved in. He feared betrayal, feared being a name no one remembered.

If something never starts, it can never end.

They say people grow nostalgic when they grow old. Lao Liu didn’t think so. He’d been nostalgic his whole life. He never dared to look toward the future—he belonged to the past. Always the same brand of clothes, always the same corner store, always the same anime on repeat.

The first time he bought food, he stepped into a shabby noodle shop and ordered zhajiangmian, then sprinted home. For the next ten years, he got the same dish from that shop. If it was closed, he wouldn’t eat at all.

In the eleventh year, the old Zhajiangmian Noodle Shop closed its doors for good.

Lao Liu stood in front of the noodle shop and cried.

He didn’t cry when his mother died. He didn’t cry when his father was arrested. But when the noodle shop closed for good, he sobbed like he’d lost the world. People passed by, not one knowing why this young man was crying.

Maybe he’d lost his parents. Maybe a lover, a job. But no one would ever guess a grown man mourned for a noodle shop.

Lao Liu cried his heart out, utterly broken.

A stranger came and stopped in front of him.

Lao Liu ignored the presence, crying on. As if to mourn completely, to weep his soul out through his tears. He cried for a full hour, and for a full hour, the man stayed with him.

His throat raw, tears run dry, Lao Liu couldn’t weep anymore.

He turned to look at the guy who’d kept him company—just a middle-aged man, maybe forty. The uncle looked up at the emptied noodle shop, Lao Liu looked up at the uncle. They stood there for a long while, until the uncle finally broke the silence.

“It’s a shame. This was a good noodle shop. I heard the old owner passed away.”

“I’m not crying for him,” Lao Liu answered flatly.

The uncle grinned. “I’m sad about the noodles, not the old man. There are thousands of old men in this world, but only one Zhajiangmian Noodle Shop.”

Of course, there are thousands of old men, thousands of noodle shops. The uncle’s words sounded odd, but Liu understood. There was a strange sense of resonance for the first time in his life.

He realized he wasn’t alone in this world after all.

The uncle smiled, then spoke cheerfully. “Want to come with me?”

Lao Liu nodded and said, “From today, I’ll follow you for life.”

The uncle laughed, and the pair walked off together, crossing the street.

The uncle said, “They all call me Lord Chu.”