Chapter 001: Morning After the Rain

This story is purely fictional.

The alarm clock on the bedside rang incessantly. Wu Zhengzhe rubbed his eyes and, upon opening them, saw that it was already half past six in the morning.

Wu Zhengzhe, about fifty years old and standing over one meter eighty, wore his hair short. His skin was tanned, his face strikingly handsome yet cold, marked by a certain resolve, and his eyes shone with a keen brilliance.

Wu Zhengzhe was born restless. As a child, everyone claimed he was hyperactive. Perhaps because of this, his athletic abilities far surpassed those of his peers. When he joined the army, it was alongside three childhood friends. His second brother, Chi Zhaoming, had an artistic gift and attended the PLA Academy of Arts. His youngest brother, Qu Wenkai, driven by his interest in medicine, was admitted to the Military Medical University. As for Wu Zhengzhe himself, loving physical activity, he enrolled in an army officer school.

There was a fourth friend—almost forgotten. The eldest, named Dacheng, had gone to the Laoshan front and heroically sacrificed his life for the country.

Later, during the second major military downsizing, Wu Zhengzhe was transferred to a civilian post. Thanks to his skills in grappling and hand-to-hand combat learned in the army, he was fortunate to be assigned to Dahe’s public security bureau as a police officer. In less than two years, he passed the bar exam with ease.

Wu Zhengzhe knew he was confident—so confident that some called it arrogance, even self-importance. But he paid them no mind. In truth, his eyes were as sharp as an eagle’s; nothing ever escaped his notice. In the police force, Wu Zhengzhe quickly distinguished himself, serving as a squad leader in Dahe’s major crimes unit.

Don’t underestimate this position—squad leader was a section-level post, which, given the circumstances of the time, was a respectable achievement.

Because he was single and had no time to tidy up, his apartment was a bit untidy.

Wu Zhengzhe’s apartment was small, about seventy square meters, a two-bedroom unit allocated by his work unit—supposedly the last of such welfare housing. Perhaps you envy his good fortune.

On the bedroom wall hung a panoramic photo from police academy training. On the coat rack beside his bed was a police officer’s peaked cap. The bedside was messy, with several empty metal beer cans toppled over on the nightstand and floor. This bad habit had developed after Wu Zhengzhe was falsely accused and forced to leave the police force; he could only fall asleep after drinking two or three cans of beer each night.

His second brother had spent ten years in prison, and Wu Zhengzhe had endured that time as if it were a lifetime. The year his brother was imprisoned, Wu Zhengzhe was falsely accused and had to leave the police. Afterward, he worked as a boxing coach at a local gym. People had to survive—when you lose your livelihood, you must find a suitable job to support yourself.

By day, Wu Zhengzhe worked at the boxing club; at night, he strove to fulfill his brother’s wish. This wish was a challenge for him, but his brother’s wish was his own: he needed to organize his brother’s entire journey of the heart, according to the diary his brother had given him.

His brother was soon to be released, and though the manuscript was nearly finished, Wu Zhengzhe had to keep up the pace. To meet the deadline, he wrote day and night, often into the late hours.

Because he went to bed late, Wu Zhengzhe always felt he hadn’t slept enough.

His body ached with fatigue. Covering his mouth, he yawned, then stretched and walked to the balcony.

He pushed open the glass window. Dawn was just breaking. The fresh morning air still carried the earthy scent left by last night’s rain. From the flower-filled groves of the nearby park came the cheerful songs of birds, their calls bright and melodious.

At long last, he had survived the endless ten years. In those years, each day felt like an eternity for Wu Zhengzhe; every tick of the clock seemed to push the limits of his endurance. The weight of despair made his life seem pale and powerless.

He was a little excited. Clenching his fists, he raised his arms and shouted into the dawn—a primal, thunderous cry, as though all his pain and loneliness had vanished with the coming of this new morning, his outburst tearing through the thick morning clouds, soaring to the heights of the sky...

Today was the day his second brother, Chi Zhaoming, would be released from prison.

Wu Zhengzhe packed up several new sets of underwear and two changes of clothes he had bought at the store, a Philips electric shaver, and a steel plate about twenty centimeters in diameter, placing them in a light travel bag. He then drove to Dahe City First Prison.

Over the past ten years, Wu Zhengzhe had visited the prison more times than he could count. Each time, he made sure to talk with his brother for as long as possible, until the guard announced that time was up, and only then would they part reluctantly. Every time he left, he would look back and see his brother’s eyes red and streaming with tears. Visits from family had been rare over the decade. But when Wu Zhengzhe visited a month ago and told his brother something, Chi Zhaoming did not cry again. He only asked that Wu Zhengzhe not tell his family or wife the date of his release.

Why he no longer cried was obvious—he was about to leave behind ten endless years of suffering and was filled with a bittersweet joy. As for not telling the family his release date, Wu Zhengzhe guessed that, after so much, his brother simply wasn’t ready to face them yet.

When the guard unlocked the iron door that had confined Chi Zhaoming for a full decade, the metallic clang sent a chill through Wu Zhengzhe’s heart. Chi Zhaoming glanced at him and said weakly, “You’ve had a hard time, brother.”

“Don’t be so formal, brother. Today I’ll give you a proper welcome!” Wu Zhengzhe consoled him.

Hand in hand, the two brothers went to the office to complete the release formalities, which were quickly done.

Outside the prison, Chi Zhaoming stood, his eyes dull behind his glasses, his face sallow, the crow’s feet at the corners of his once-handsome face evidence of his hardship. The aura of a refined scholar was gone.

He stood there and gazed back at the gray prison walls in silence. His thinness made him seem taller, and he still retained an air of elegance and uprightness.

“What are you standing there for? Let’s leave this place of sorrow,” Wu Zhengzhe said with a smile.

Seeing Wu Zhengzhe smile, his brother managed a smile too, though beneath it lay an indescribable sadness.

Wu Zhengzhe opened the door of his Hummer jeep for him. His brother got in, lowered the rearview mirror, and looked at his face. “Wow, just a day without shaving and my beard is already this long!” At that, Wu Zhengzhe took the Philips shaver from the travel bag and handed it over.

“You even thought of this for me?” Chi Zhaoming exclaimed in surprise.

“Of course. Ever since you could grow a beard, you’ve had to shave twice a day, morning and night. Am I wrong?”

Chi Zhaoming picked up the shaver and caressed it. “Wow, it’s a triple-head! You really went all out—this is a great shaver!” His face lit up with a genuine smile.

“It didn’t cost much,” Wu Zhengzhe replied.

“In those ten years in prison, you have no idea what I went through. Those guys even assigned people to watch me, always looking for ways to make trouble. Getting beaten was routine. I didn’t even have the freedom to shave—someone always stood by, watching me, saying it was to prevent suicide. But if I really wanted to kill myself, would I have waited until prison to think of it? Slit my wrists? I didn’t have the courage, nor was I willing. There’s still so much I want to do, so many wishes unfulfilled. To die like that, I just couldn’t accept it!”

Wu Zhengzhe laughed heartily. “Even so, you couldn’t just die! Otherwise, what would all our years of friendship mean?”

As his brother requested, Wu Zhengzhe had booked a room at a five-star hotel in advance.

When they arrived, Wu Zhengzhe took the steel plate from the travel bag and said, “Wait a moment!” He stopped his brother at the door. He set the plate at the threshold, then pulled out a bundle of cotton balls in a plastic bag from his pocket, the smell of alcohol wafting forth.

“What are you doing?” Chi Zhaoming looked at him, puzzled.

“There’s an old custom back home: when someone gets out of prison, they have to step over a fire basin as they enter, to ward off misfortune and bring good luck.” As he explained, Wu Zhengzhe lit the cotton balls with a lighter. The flames glowed red and violet, illuminating the corridor outside the room.

Wu Zhengzhe opened the hotel room door. “You go in first.”

He quickly stepped over the fire basin and into the bright suite, dropping heavily onto the sofa. “Ah, today feels wonderful. Compared to the cramped space of a cell, this is heaven and that was hell!” As he spoke, Chi Zhaoming gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought, still wearing a bitter smile, clearly weighed down by cares.

The hotel room was spacious. The two men sat together—perhaps it was the years apart, or perhaps ten years in prison had utterly changed Chi Zhaoming’s character, for he was no longer as talkative as before. Sometimes, his words lacked the clarity and coherence he once had, even slurring at times.

Wu Zhengzhe chatted about his sister-in-law’s recent illness while he filled the kettle and started it boiling. Soon, the water was ready, and he brewed a cup of his brother’s favorite green tea and handed it to him.

He also took out the new clothes he had prepared and laid them on the bed. “Take a shower first—wash away the ten years of bad luck.”

Chi Zhaoming picked up a set of new underwear. “Then I’ll go shower.” With that, he entered the bathroom.

(To be continued...)