I knew there must be a lot of secrets here. I tilted my head to listen, but Peng Gang stopped talking. He poured himself a cup of hot water and sipped it slowly.
Growing impatient, I urged, "What did Li Damin say to you?"
"Mr. Liu, can I trust you?" he suddenly asked.
I smacked my lips and put on a sincere expression. "Though we've just met and don't know each other well, I can assure you my character is absolutely trustworthy. I won't spread your business around. (Please forgive me; it's been so long, and I couldn't resist writing it down.)"
Peng Gang lowered his head, sipping water, and said, "This involves a lot of my family's private matters. I don't want people using our privacy as gossip over tea. Many in this society are cruel; their greatest joy comes from watching others suffer."
"That's just how society is, but there are still good people," I said, holding back my impatience.
"I know it's taboo to speak deeply with someone I barely know," he said, looking at me.
I almost burst out laughing. This kid even knows about "speaking too deeply with a stranger." But I couldn't laugh, fearing his fragile heart might not take it and he'd walk away. Honestly, I was itching with curiosity.
Just then, the rice noodles and side dishes we ordered arrived, steaming hot, diffusing the conversation's tension. I had to suppress my curiosity and eat with him first.
During the meal, we didn't talk. Peng Gang seemed weighed down by heavy thoughts. I figured he was wrestling with himself, debating whether to tell me. But I felt he'd already made up his mind; otherwise, he wouldn't have asked me to meet.
After eating, Peng Gang elegantly wiped his mouth and said, "I trust Mr. Li, and Mr. Li says you're trustworthy, so I choose to believe you, Mr. Liu."
"No need for 'Mr.'—I'm older than you, just call me Old Liu. That's what my friends call me."
"Then I'll call you Brother Liu."
"No 'Brother' either," I waved my hand quickly. "I've got this bad habit—I feel awkward with honorifics. Just treat me as an equal. I'm a simple guy."
This made Peng Gang laugh, lightening the mood. "Old Liu, here's the thing. Let me start with the changes in my dad after he came back from the dead."
I pulled out a cigarette pack and offered him one. He waved it off, saying he didn't smoke. I lit one for myself, settled into a comfortable position, and listened quietly.
"My mom was the first to notice something was off with my dad. You know I board at school, and though my family lives in the city, I rarely go home. Plus, at my age, there's a gap with my parents—different views, different worlds, you know, the generation gap. We don't talk much. One weekend, my mom called me, sounding urgent, asking me to come home. I thought something bad had happened. Ever since my dad came back from the dead, I've felt unsteady, like I'm walking a tightrope. I used to think death was far off, but now I realize disaster and misfortune are always lurking."
I exhaled smoke slowly. He looked like a baby-faced kid, but his words showed a maturity beyond his years.
"So I went home. My dad wasn't there. My mom pulled me into my room, locked the door, and asked mysteriously, 'Have you noticed anything different about your dad?' I was confused and didn't know what to say. After thinking for a bit, I said, 'Well, someone who's died and come back to life is bound to be different in spirit. Mom, just be understanding.' My mom shook her head and said…"
Peng Gang looked at me, seeming reluctant to continue.
I had a hunch about what was coming—call it my crude imagination. I coughed and said, "Your parents haven't… you know?"
Peng Gang nodded with a self-deprecating smile. "My mom said that since my dad woke up, they haven't had any marital relations."
Though I'd guessed it, hearing it still shocked me. Two things stunned me: first, how could a mother discuss her marital bed with her son? That felt awkward. Second, for Peng Gang to sit here and share such private family matters, Li Damin must have done some serious groundwork. I was impressed by how he got someone so guarded to open up.
Thinking of Li Damin, a thought struck me. Where was he? If Peng Gang could still reach him, he wouldn't be here talking to me, the backup.
Peng Gang was about to say more, but I raised a hand. "Hold on. Why didn't you contact Li Damin?"
Peng Gang blinked. "He's missing."
A chill ran through me, a cold sensation creeping up my spine. I pulled out my phone and dialed Li Damin's number.
"The number you have dialed is switched off."
"See? I told you, he's missing. His phone's off," Peng Gang said.
I grew agitated, dialing Li Damin's number repeatedly, always getting the same message. I opened WeChat, left him a message to contact me immediately, and did everything I could. I was at a loss. Where the hell was that guy?
Peng Gang noticed my bad mood and asked with concern, "You okay?"
I stared at him, lost in thought, making him a bit uncomfortable. Then it hit me: Li Damin disappeared after talking to Peng Gang. Did he find some lead about the underworld?
"Keep going?" Peng Gang asked.
"Yeah, go on." I pulled out a notebook and pen from my bag. Though it was night, the streetlights and shop's bright lights made it clear as day. I wanted to jot down everything Peng Gang said to analyze later and find clues.
Seeing me prepare to take notes, Peng Gang panicked. "Old Liu, you better not spread my family's business around."
This kid was too cautious. I patiently explained, "If I wanted to gossip, I could just memorize it. I'm writing it down to analyze properly. This isn't just about your family—I need to find my friend."
"If you ever share this, I hope you'll use fake names," Peng Gang said deliberately.
Looking into his eyes, I felt a chill. Why? I saw a hint of menace in his gaze! I knew he couldn't do anything, but that feeling from deep within him was eerie.
Honestly, I was a bit scared!
I quickly promised, "Don't worry, I won't leak your family's matters."
Peng Gang sighed in relief and said slowly, "Don't you think it's weird that my mom told me this stuff?"
"A bit, yeah."
"When a woman has a husband and a son, she naturally trusts her husband most. If her husband's gone, who's the man she trusts next?"
I answered slowly, "Her son."
"My mom doesn't just see me as a kid or her son anymore. I'm her pillar now. Honestly, I'm not the most responsible guy, and this feeling sucks. But I have no choice—I've got to step up." He took a sip of water. "My mom's a middle school teacher with a heavy workload. The environment at her school is toxic, with teachers backstabbing each other. She doesn't have many friends. When she faces a big problem, it's natural she'd turn to me first."
"Yeah, normal," I said, at a loss for words.
"When my mom brought up the lack of marital relations, honestly, my first reaction was like yours—super uncomfortable. I awkwardly told her, 'Men at Dad's age, over fifty, it's normal to lack energy. Plus, he just went through a life-and-death ordeal. Don't be too hard on him.' My mom said, 'You're a kid, you don't get it. The feeling between a husband and wife is subtle. I feel your dad has changed.'"
Peng Gang let out a long breath, scratched his head, and continued, "My mom said it's not just the lack of intimacy. In daily life, he's cold to her, barely touching her."
I couldn't even write this down. I tossed the pen aside, lit another cigarette, and listened.
Peng Gang's parents had a great relationship. His mom was a teacher, his dad ran a company—both educated and refined. They treated each other with respect, never arguing, with that unspoken understanding couples share. But according to his mom, since his dad came back to life, that understanding was gone.
When his mom tried to be affectionate, his dad would push her away like he was scalded, finding excuses to leave. Fine, he'd say he was busy at work during the day, but at night, he had to come home to sleep, right? In the bedroom, Peng's dad would wait until his wife was asleep before going to bed. He'd sit with a book under a lamp, smoking, looking gloomy and burdened. They used to share one blanket; now it was two blankets, two separate spaces. One night, his mom got fed up, pretended to be asleep, and made a move when he got into bed. But Peng's dad exploded, shoving her off, jumping out of bed, and pointing at her, saying, "If you touch me again, we're sleeping in separate beds! I'll sleep in the living room!"
According to his mom, Peng's dad was terrifying—panting, hair disheveled, his eyes venomous. Their family was strict about manners; Peng's dad always taught his son not to point at people, saying it was rude. Yet there he was, jabbing his finger at his wife's forehead, his tone vicious beyond words.
His wife sat cross-legged on the bed, tears streaming down. Peng's dad looked at her with utter disgust and barked, "Who're you crying for? It's annoying as hell. I've got a ton of work during the day, and I come home to deal with your attitude. Can you sleep or not? If not, get lost!"
Peng Gang said that final "get lost" was like a steel needle stabbing into his mom's heart, piercing her with excruciating pain.
To this day, they still share a bed but are like strangers. And according to his mom, Peng's dad didn't seem to breathe when he slept.
I jumped at that. How could someone not breathe?
Peng Gang said, "My mom said that even when someone's deeply asleep, you can feel their warmth, their breathing, their life. But when my dad sleeps, his eyes are shut tight, his breathing barely noticeable. He feels like a cold corpse. The scariest part is, when he's asleep, he seems to give off a chilling aura, a coldness that makes you shiver, like you're in a morgue."