Things between Shen Jianqing and me returned to how they were at the very beginning—actually, even worse than that. We couldn’t even keep up the illusion of outward civility.
Once he recovered from his injuries, he got busy again and went out every day. More and more people started coming into the stilted house below; I could hear their conversations from upstairs, but couldn’t understand a single sentence.
He was becoming more and more like a chief.
But no one was allowed upstairs. Once, someone tried to come up—I heard the stair creak—but Shen Jianqing barked at him so loudly he immediately backed away. Before, Shen Jianqing would at least have someone deliver food to me. Now he did everything himself—as if he truly feared I would get “too close” to someone again.
Laughable. He guarded me like a child hoarding candy, like a dragon guarding treasure—completely unaware that to others, this “treasure” might not even be worth a glance.
I didn’t know how long he intended to keep me locked up. Like he said—maybe forever.
The days dragged, agonizing and empty.
Every minute felt suffocatingly dull.
Sometimes I genuinely wished I could smash my head against the wall.
Of course I’d thought about dying. But the moment the thought surfaced, I rejected it.
I’d done nothing wrong. Why should I be the one to die? Why should I hurt myself because of someone else’s madness?
I firmly believed death solved nothing—it was only a coward’s escape.
And what then? Even my ashes wouldn’t be laid to rest—just locked away somewhere, unable to return to the earth.
The turning point came one afternoon.
I’d lost all sense of how long I’d been confined—maybe two or three days, maybe half a month. Time meant nothing inside this stilted house.
That day, Shen Jianqing had just left. I was sitting on the bed, bored out of my mind.
He had reverted back to that gentle, composed façade, as if none of our confrontations had ever happened. He even smiled at me with that familiar mix of helplessness and indulgence—as if we were simply bickering playfully.
For the past several days, Honghong had stayed with me to keep me entertained. It was surprisingly good at distracting me, waving its front legs in a silly, goofy way—much cuter than its owner. But today, for some reason, Shen Jianqing took Honghong with him.
With nothing to do, I lay down to sleep. Sleeping was the only way to kill time in this prison.
But shortly after I lay down, a faint, strange tapping sound reached my ears. It was quiet, controlled—someone trying not to be heard.
These days, the slightest sound put me completely on alert.
I sat up, listening hard.
Thump! Thump-thump!
Something hitting the wooden bars of the window.
I looked over—and sure enough, a small stone appeared, tapping the slats with a soft thunk, hovering for a second before dropping out of sight.
Someone was down below.
I rushed to the window, gripping the bars, peering straight down.
The gaps between the wooden bars were tiny—far too small for me to stick my head out. All I could do was press my face against them as hard as I could and look down.
Outside my window was a dense patch of forest. I spotted a flash of blue—a slender, delicate figure bending down to pick up a pebble.
“Wanying!” I recognized her instantly.
She looked up, her pretty face brightening. “Li Yuze! Are… you… okay?”
Seeing someone—anyone—who wasn’t Shen Jianqing felt like a gift. I forced a weak, pale smile. “I’m okay!”
Wanying said worriedly, “A few days ago, A-Song… came running back, crying. Said he… met Shen Jianqing… in the woods. His face was dark, very scary. He frightened A-Song badly.”
She must’ve been talking about the confrontation from a few days earlier. I hadn’t expected A-Song to run back crying.
Wanying continued, “I’ve been so… worried about you. Shen Jianqing… didn’t hurt you… right?”
I nodded, then paused. Telling her what really happened wouldn’t change anything. I shook my head.
“I’m fine. Really.”
Whether she believed me or simply didn’t want to expose the lie, she let out a relieved sigh, patting her chest. “Good. These days, Shen Jianqing… kept watching. I didn’t… dare come. But since you’re okay… I feel better.”
“Today… he had something to do, so he isn’t here. Only then… I dared come see you. You’re alright, so I’ll… go now.” She turned to leave.
I didn’t want the conversation to end so quickly. And she had once said she could help me escape. I couldn’t afford to let this slip away—who knew when the next opportunity would come?
“Wanying—wait! Don’t go yet!” I called urgently. “You—you said before you could help me get out. Can you still help me?”
Wanying frowned slightly. “I thought you… fell in love with Shen Jianqing, so you didn’t want to leave.”
Her words hit my throat like a stone. I didn’t know what to say.
She wasn’t wrong—she had urged me to leave before. I was the one who’d chosen to stay.
Do I regret it?
Of course not. I don’t regret my decisions. But I do think more carefully about the future now.
Seeing I didn’t respond, Wanying shrugged. “If you still want to go… you have to hurry. Once Shen Jianqing officially becomes chief… everyone in the village will obey him. Then… you’ll never get out.”
So—my chances were running out.
I nodded. “Thank you. I’ll find a way to get out soon. But if I do—how do I find you?”
Wanying answered without hesitation, “I live… just above Uncle Luqi’s. You know… his house, right?”
I’d been there when Shen Jianqing fell off the cliff. I remembered it clearly.
“Yes.”
“You helped Uncle Luqi. He’s… grateful. When the time comes… light the uzi grass in front of his house. My gu worms… love that smell. They’ll tell me.”
I finally had a thread of hope—thin, fragile, uncertain, but hope nonetheless. I didn’t know if I’d succeed, or what would happen if I failed. But I couldn’t think about that now. I just had to try.
After making our plan, Wanying glanced around anxiously. “Shen Jianqing… is coming back. I have to go. You must… hurry.”
I watched her vanish into the woods. Sure enough, just a few minutes later, I heard rustling under the house as someone returned.
Now I had to figure out how to get out of this sealed room.
Shen Siyuan hadn’t managed it in his entire life—but I wasn’t him. I had to at least try.