Mutual Disgust

Li Lan, you truly disgust me. Other people’s mothers were warm harbors, offering their children care and comfort. Yet with his own mother, from the very instant they met, Li Zhuiyuan felt the human skin over his face threatening to peel away. They were mother and son, but also fellow sufferers of the same affliction. In a sense, they should have been the pair of mother and son who understood each other best in the world. Yet precisely because of this, whenever they stood face-to-face, the facades they painstakingly constructed were rendered utterly useless—even as they both relied desperately on those very disguises just to survive. Because both of them were simply too clever. Li Zhuiyuan closed his eyes. Over the past half-year or so, his condition had been kept well under control; in recent months in particular, he hadn’t suffered a single relapse. He could clearly feel his own transformation. In the presence of outsiders, he no longer scrutinized every word and expression in an effort to play a flawless role before everyone. Around outsiders, he had gradually grown too lazy to put on a show. And around those close to him, he often made a deliberate point not to perform, taking quiet joy in experiencing every instinctive emotional reaction, no matter how faint it was. That, after all, was a tender sprout. He firmly believed that with careful nurturing, it would one day grow into a towering tree. Yet the higher a tower was built, the harder the fall usually was. How ridiculous that a single glance was all it took to shake the “therapeutic progress” of the past six months, and that loosening threatened to be followed by a full-blown landslide. For when facing Li Lan, every posture, movement, and expression was involuntarily mobilized. Even knowing disguise was useless, a person stripped bare would still instinctively clutch at anything nearby to cover themselves. Fortunately, this was no longer like taking that phone call at Aunt Zhang’s store back then, when he had to endure Li Lan’s venomous sneers while keeping up an act of warm mother-and-son intimacy before Li Weihan, Cui Guiying, and the others. He had come to the work-unit family compound to ask Grandpa Zhang to help him decipher the locations of the remaining sites. That had nothing to do with whether he was Li Lan’s son or whether their relationship was good. He understood the quirks of these old professors too well—for old comrades to puzzle over a new research subject together was a joy in itself. So he did not need to perform with Li Lan here; he did not need to care about the eyes of onlookers. This was Li Lan’s social network, not Li Zhuiyuan’s. The mother opened her arms, but no son came throwing himself into her embrace. Li Zhuiyuan calmly looked away. He didn't reach for Wu Xinhan’s or Teacher Yan’s hands, begging them to hurry and take him away. This was his home, and the woman before him was his mother; it was awkward for the two elders to intervene. Naturally, with some explanation, deception, and a firm stance, it could be done, but it was a bit too troublesome. Things could actually be quite simple. For example... running. Yet Li Lan was one step ahead. After all, they had been stage partners sharing the limelight for so many years; even after being apart for so long, the tacit understanding remained. The moment the thought of running crossed Li Zhuiyuan’s mind, Li Lan had already put hers into action. It all happened in a flash. The instant Li Lan realized her son wouldn't throw himself into her arms, she bent low and jogged over to him. The two motions flowed seamlessly, so fast that outsiders wouldn't detect the slightest hint of anything amiss. A son running into an embrace wasn't the only script; a mother rushing forward to hug her child was perfectly normal too. As for the child, being a bit timid and shy after not seeing his mother for so long was entirely understandable. Li Zhuiyuan was embraced by Li Lan. The boy wasn't surprised. A veteran was a veteran, after all. Tears glistened at the corners of Li Lan’s eyes, her expression calibrated to perfection. Her right arm wrapped around the boy’s back while her left cradled his head, planting a kiss on his cheek first. Li Zhuiyuan felt like laughing. She could actually force herself through visceral disgust to kiss him. Right now, he felt as if wrapped in the embrace of a dead-flipper. Yet what followed—a whisper in his ear right after that kiss—brought back that familiar sense of being dominated and forced into blind submission. Normal mothers and sons were each other’s soft spots; the two of them were daggers aimed straight at each other’s soft spots. She whispered, “Want to know about what’s under that seabed?” Immediately, she raised her voice: “Come, son, let’s go home with Mommy. Mommy wants to have a good talk with you.” An innocent smile broke across Li Zhuiyuan’s face, and he raised both hands, taking the initiative to embrace the “dead-flipper” before him. A moment later, Li Lan stood up and apologized to Principal Wu and Teacher Yan, explaining that she wanted to spend some time with her son. Her deference left Principal Wu and Teacher Yan somewhat flattered, and they waved their hands in haste, signaling there was no need to ask their permission. Several retired professors originally from Jiangsu nearby invited them for tea and chess, and Principal Wu and Teacher Yan readily agreed. Li Lan took Li Zhuiyuan’s hand, and mother and son walked toward home. Along the way, many elderly grandfathers and grandmothers called out greetings, and mother and son responded naturally. No matter what questions were asked, their answers and coordination were impeccably polite, without slowing their pace in the least. When they opened the courtyard gate and stepped inside, mother and son still seemed tender and warm. Because the yard was small and part of a row of townhouses, someone standing on the steps next door could still see in. Opening the inner door, Li Lan stepped inside. Li Zhuiyuan came in after her and closed the door behind him. The moment the latch clicked shut, the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. It was no illusion. For both mother and son had shed all semblance of humanity at the same time. Li Lan was probably hungry. Sitting down at the dining table, she retrieved several small packets from a box underneath and slid one across to the boy opposite her. Li Zhuiyuan picked up the packet and opened it. Inside were compressed ration biscuits. Having come straight over after finishing his exams in the afternoon, he was indeed hungry by now. But he didn't want to eat this. He set the biscuit down to save his appetite; tonight, he had to accompany Principal Wu and Teacher Yan to eat Quanjude roast duck. In truth, he didn't care much for greasy duck, but right now, he looked forward to it immensely. The boy didn't ask how Li Lan knew “that seabed” was connected to him, because it was easy enough to investigate. He was Zheng Haiyang’s classmate, Tan Yunlong had visited Zheng Haiyang’s mother at the psychiatric hospital, and he had bought tickets to Shancheng with Tan Wenbin. For a long stretch at the dining table, the only sound was the woman chewing alone. Li Zhuiyuan turned his head to look at the thermos sitting nearby. A layer of dust covered it; there was no hot water inside. He glanced toward the sink. Traces of reddish-black residue still clung to its edges; when a tap sat unused for a long time, the first water to come out would carry rust, requiring it to run awhile to flush clean. Li Lan had only just returned home as well. Li Zhuiyuan rested both hands on the table, idly fiddling with his fingers while pulling a few games of weiqi he had lost to Ah Li from memory to review them. Li Lan rose from the table and walked into the study on the first floor, whose door had been shut. When she emerged, she carried a briefcase. Pulling out a file folder from within, she tossed it to the boy. Then she took a cup, filled it with tap water, and began to drink. Li Zhuiyuan unfastened the folder. Inside was an investigation report titled “Investigation Report on the Freighter 841 Incident.” The very ship Zheng Haiyang’s parents had worked on. Li Zhuiyuan read through it page by page. Some sections were redacted, likely containing information even Li Lan had no clearance to access. The report detailed the ship’s past history, its crew, its smuggling background, and the subsequent collective mental breakdown of the surviving crew members. For a long stretch at the dining table, the only sound was the boy turning pages alone. Once finished, Li Zhuiyuan gathered the pages back into the folder, wound the string clasp shut, and pushed it toward Li Lan. To Li Zhuiyuan, this report was important, yet also quite useless, because it recorded nothing about what happened beneath the sea. Li Lan was in no rush to take back the file. Instead, she drew another from the briefcase and set it in the middle of the table, along with a small stack of blank report paper and a pen. Li Zhuiyuan stood up, pulled the second folder in front of himself, opened it, and glanced at the title: “Investigation Report on Bizarre Phenomena in Fengdu.” Portions had been removed; it wasn't very thick, and the varying shades of the paper indicated a compilation spanning multiple eras. Li Zhuiyuan didn't turn to the second page. Setting the file aside for the moment, he rose again, dragged the stack of report paper before him, picked up the pen, and began writing down the scenes beneath the sea as described to him by Zheng Haiyang’s mother. Li Lan’s secretary, Auntie Xu, had gone to question Zheng Haiyang’s mother first, but had departed before getting any results. Therefore, only he knew this part. Li Lan was clearly not a fool like Auntie Xu. When he finished, Li Zhuiyuan tore off the two sheets of report paper and pushed them across the table. Then, at the table, the woman held the sheets of paper while the boy held the file, both reading rapidly. Li Lan finished first. Setting down the papers, she closed her eyes, her fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop. Li Zhuiyuan finished as well. So it turned out Fengdu had witnessed so many bizarre incidents throughout history—events that otherwise only survived in scattered fragments of local gossip or the hazy recollections of the elderly. Time was the finest tool for erasing traces; even if an investigation were launched anew today, one could never compile such a solid, detailed report. As the saying went: one might get a name wrong, but never a nickname. Ghost City—there was indeed a reason it was called the Ghost City. The supernatural phenomena surrounding it seemed to adhere to a distinct set of laws. Li Zhuiyuan had presided over Yin Fuhai’s funeral as the adept sitting the rites himself, and he had witnessed with his own eyes the spectacle of the four ghosts carrying the coffin. Whether Yin Changsheng, as recorded in Baopuzi, and the “Daoist friends” he spoke of still existed, Li Zhuiyuan could not say for sure. What could be confirmed now was that the Ghost City still retained a unique... Call it a ritual, call it rules—or, to put it more coldly, an operating logic invisible to the living. He had an excellent memory. If he returned to explore the core of Fengdu Ghost City once he reached adulthood, the records in this report would save him a tremendous amount of time. Brother Liangliang had said that not much time remained for the Ghost City. Li Lan drew yet another file from her briefcase and tossed it across to the boy once more. Li Zhuiyuan opened the folder. The title on the first page read: “Investigation Report on the Ji’an 572 Civil Air Defense Project.” The boy gripped the document tightly, the composure he had maintained until now finally shattering. Fear and bewilderment began to creep over him. The heavily leaking civil air defense works near Ji’an, the Goguryeo phantom encountered during the investigation... These were the stories Engineer Luo had told them over late-night snacks in Wanzhou County. Why had Li Lan deliberately thrown this report to him? The reports on Freighter 841 and the Fengdu phenomena had concrete leads pointing to him—either he had encountered the people involved or had visited the places, both easily traceable. But their chat over late-night snacks, sipping soybean milk and eating grilled fish—how could that have leaked out? Did Luo Tingrui speak of it? Or had Luo Tingrui been investigated and submitted a report? No. Given Luo Tingrui’s standing, Li Lan couldn't possibly manage that. Besides, Brother Liangliang had said they had only recently wrapped up that project in Wanzhou, and Engineer Luo had been overseeing progress on-site the entire time. If the leak hadn't come from Engineer Luo, it could only be someone else present that night. Xue Liangliang, Tan Wenbin, Runsheng. Li Zhuiyuan’s breathing turned rapid, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He tried to analyze who could have leaked the information, but doing so required discarding all emotional attachments and subjecting everyone equally to cold, detached rationality. Under normal circumstances, this wasn't such a catastrophic issue; one could even call it a minor matter. The trouble was, he was facing Li Lan right now, holding himself taut with every ounce of willpower. At a moment like this, any tiny crack could burst the dam. The affliction that hadn't flared up in so long began slipping beyond his control. Watching her son’s face blanch in agony, Li Lan showed not the slightest concern; instead, the corner of her mouth curved into a faint arch. It was as if she were watching a clown desperately draping clothes over himself while remaining essentially stark naked. She spoke—their very first verbal exchange since returning home. Because they shared the same disease, she knew best how to trigger a complete relapse. She said, “It was the person you are closest to and trust the most.” Ah Li instantly surfaced in Li Zhuiyuan’s mind. He had shared everything with Ah Li. Instantly, he calmed down. Li Lan’s eyelids drooped slightly. The boy opened his right hand, gazing at scars long since faded. He remembered how five wounds once gouged his palm from digging his fingernails in. That night, the girl had pried open his palm, seen the self-inflicted wounds, and turned away resolutely. The next day, she had sat inside the doorway once more, her feet resting on the threshold. The person I'm closest to and trust most leaked the news? Ah Li told Liu Yumei, and Liu Yumei reported it upward through her connections? Logically, it seemed plausible—provided Ah Li could speak. “Heh... heh-heh-heh...” Li Zhuiyuan began to laugh. A puzzle he had assumed to be deep and complex ground to a halt on something as simple as one plus one. Well-reasoned groundwork, the stifling atmosphere of mother and son alone together—the sharpest dagger in the world was a lie wrapped in truth. Li Zhuiyuan lifted his head and looked at Li Lan across the table. You shouldn't have added that extra sentence. You thought it was the straw to break the camel’s back, but you actually handed over a lifeline. That line just now exposed your hand. The report on the Ji’an civil air defense project was a card you played on a gamble of probabilities. You couldn't subject Engineer Luo to an interrogation or demand a report from him, but you could review his resume, and through his subsequent actions, see that he harbored a deep obsession with the Goguryeo phantom in the civil air defense works. You must have also seen the report on the State of Yong underground palace, and figured there was a high probability Engineer Luo would mention this matter to us, since I am still his student. As for whether he actually told us, you had no idea. With this card you gambled on probabilities, if I had truly plunged into wondering who had deliberately leaked and reported the story, I would have fallen right into the trap of second-guessing myself. Li Zhuiyuan didn't rush to speak. He simply tore off a sheet of report paper and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then, picking up the pen again, he began writing down what had happened regarding Zhu Changyong. Tan Yunlong had likely reported that part long ago, but Tan Yunlong didn't know about the earlier incident where turtles crawled from the mouths of Zheng Haiyang’s family of three. Pushing the completed pages across to Li Lan, Li Zhuiyuan picked up the “Investigation Report on the Ji’an 572 Civil Air Defense Project.” Indeed, Engineer Luo had said he submitted a report, but superiors never followed up with him—because the “dream” Engineer Luo reported appeared quite ordinary among the pile of accounts. Before Engineer Luo and the others arrived, before the structure flooded, people had already died. Even after Engineer Luo’s team arrived, quite a few were left behind and never made it out; that Engineer Luo himself survived was extraordinarily fortunate. Something had truly been excavated in the mountain. Not a tomb, not an altar, not an underground palace, but... The final concluding section of the report was missing. Not because Li Lan had withheld it for herself, but because even Li Lan didn't know—or rather, a complete report was something she couldn't bring home. Yet whether he saw the concluding section hardly mattered; it was ultimately guesswork based on a process of elimination anyway. He could simply go see for himself in the future. He had no interest in Goguryeo culture, but he was very curious about Engineer Luo’s “white moonlight.” That night, when Engineer Luo related that experience, he could tell Luo had concealed part of the story; combined with this report now, his suspicion was thoroughly confirmed. Alright, the trade was over. Li Zhuiyuan rose from his seat. He didn't head for the door. Instead, he stepped over to the counter, picked up the kettle, took it to the sink to rinse the inside, filled it with water, set it back on its base, and plugged it in. While the water boiled, the boy rinsed a rag by the counter, thoroughly wiped away the grime around the sink’s edges, and finally washed the cloth once more, folding it neatly beside the basin. By then, the water in the kettle had boiled. Li Zhuiyuan walked over to Li Lan, reaching out to take the cup she had used to drink tap water. Li Lan watched his movements the entire time, her expression impassive. Yet her hands had already receded into the sleeves of her trench coat. Li Zhuiyuan poured the boiling water into the cup, then cupped it in his hands, holding it before his face to blow on it gently: “Whoosh... whoosh... whoosh...” Finally, the boy offered the cup to Li Lan, an innocent, caring smile on his face, and said in a crisp voice: “Mom, drink some hot water.” Li Lan’s body began to tremble faintly, her breathing turning ragged, veins bulging at her neck. Come on then. Let’s see who can disgust the other more.