Chapter 47: The Unmaking of a Life

Liu Tianze remembered a line from a textbook he had read during his school days: life is a journey of self-discovery, a quest to find one’s true home.

Standing before a dilapidated single-story house that looked on the verge of collapse, his hand hovered over the peeling iron gate, hesitating to knock. He suddenly realized that sometimes, the so-called journey isn’t about finding a home, but about confirming a stark truth: that you are, in fact, utterly adrift.

Unwilling to dwell on such thoughts, he allowed his body to make the choice, much like the countless times in the past when he had alternated between evasion and confrontation.

“Bang bang bang.”

Loud knocks echoed from the iron gate, short and forceful, mirroring the frantic beat of his own heart.

He had come here, stood in this very spot, to demand an explanation.

After a brief wait, no one inside responded, prompting him to knock again, this time with more force, a hint of impatience in his actions.

Following the third series of knocks, the dragging sound of slippers against the floor, slow and hesitant, drifted from within the house. The iron gate creaked open, revealing an old man emerging from behind it, reeking of grease and the passage of time, their gazes locking simultaneously.

The old man presented a dishevelled appearance, his face unkempt, his frame gaunt. He wore a faded vest over his upper body and ill-fitting shorts below, his dark feet shod in a pair of flip-flops. The overall impression he gave was one of decay, much like his old house with its damaged walls and overgrown weeds, showing no signs of having ever been cared for.

In stark contrast, a young man stood before him, clad in a hoodie, its brim shadowing a weary face. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips chapped, and unruly strands of hair partially obscured his dark, bright eyes. He stood ramrod straight at the doorway, like a weary traveler, or a prodigal son far from home.

Liu Tianze stared at him, as if gazing upon a ghost lingering in an old dream.

“What do you want?” The old man leaned against the door, scrutinizing the unfamiliar face. This young lad had been staring intently at him ever since he opened the door, as if trying to pin him to the spot with his gaze, causing a primal sense of unease to stir within him.

Liu Tianze exhaled softly, his hands tucked into his pockets, and asked in a calm tone, “Are you Huang Jiaqi?”

Being addressed by name by a stranger right off the bat, the old man frowned, asking again about the young man’s identity. “Who are you, and what are you here for?”

Liu Tianze glanced around, confirming they were alone before speaking his name. “Liu Tianze. Have you heard that name before?”

“What nonsense are you spouting? Never heard of it. You’ve got the wrong person.” The old man waved his hand impatiently, already moving to pull the iron gate shut and retreat into the house.

Before he could finish speaking, the sturdy iron gate was violently shoved open. The young man, a whirlwind of anger and determination, burst into the house. Before the old man could react, a hard, conical object pressed against his waist.

“Don’t make a sound. Get inside.” As he spoke, the unwelcome visitor increased the pressure on his hand. The thin fabric of the old man’s clothes offered no resistance to the chilling sting, and a visible panic spread across his face.

“You, what do you want? I have no money, I truly have no money…”

“Hands up, get inside. I’m not interested in your money.”

Under the deadly threat, the two men moved stiffly and slowly into the house. Catching his reflection in a nearby mirror, Huang Jiaqi clearly saw that the object pressed against his waist was a flathead screwdriver. He swallowed hard, completely bewildered and terrified by this sudden turn of events.

“I came to find you to ask about something.”

“What do you want to know? I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you.”

Liu Tianze pressed his lips together, falling silent for a moment. He pushed aside a curtain inside the house, prodding the old man forward, step by step, into a room. What greeted his eyes was an old, round table covered with an astonishing number of scratch-off lottery tickets, beside which lay a small pile of scraped-off ink. Next to it, an ancient television set, a true antique by modern standards, sat on a coffee table. Its small screen displayed a lottery program on a financial channel.

Beyond these, the room contained few other decent pieces of furniture or appliances; it could almost be described as ‘bare to the bone’. This scene stood in stark contrast to the scratch-off tickets on the table, the sports lottery calendar on the wall, and the bed strewn with a stack of lottery tickets.

Seeing this, a surge of nameless fury welled within Liu Tianze. He cornered the old man, lightly prodding him with the tip of the screwdriver, causing the old man’s body to tremble violently once more.

“If you haven’t heard the name Liu Tianze, then what about these two names?” Leaning closer to the old man’s ear, he clearly spoke his parents’ names.

Upon hearing those two names, Huang Jiaqi’s face instantly turned ashen, and the look in his eyes shifted as he stared at Liu Tianze.

“No, I don’t know them…” He struggled to move his throat, shaking his head with all his might to feign ignorance, but his expression betrayed him, completely confirming to Liu Tianze that he hadn’t found the wrong person.

“I told you to tell the truth, you goddamn human trafficker!” Gripping the old man’s emaciated shoulders, Liu Tianze slammed him against the wall, his voice laced with a newfound ferocity. He tightened his grip on the screwdriver, desperately suppressing the urge to plunge it in.

“Every day, I’ve waited—waited for a day when I could ask you this: How could you do this?”

He couldn’t fathom how his life had been twisted into such an unrecognizable state.

Humans are said to find fulfillment through seeking, but why, the more he learned, did he find himself sinking deeper into this abyss of utter damnation?

Where had his life gone wrong? Or perhaps… had it been wrong from the very beginning?

Indeed, people had always said he didn’t resemble his parents much, but that hadn’t changed anything. He had a warm family, and his parents loved him dearly. Even after his younger brother was born and the family’s focus gradually shifted, he still believed this.

…That day had been an ordinary one. In biology class, he learned about genetics, a subject he always loved because he found the construction of human life incredible. Every organ and tissue, he thought, was a product of continuous evolution under nature’s rules of survival of the fittest. He aspired to become a doctor, to delve deeper into the human body, and to help people combat illness and pain to the best of his ability.

“Dominant and recessive traits, for instance…” He diligently copied the teacher’s words from the blackboard, finding it fascinating how one’s identity could be determined by subtle, often overlooked physical characteristics. So, upon returning home, he pondered the lesson and used himself and his parents as reference material to test his newfound knowledge.

If only he had laughed off his discovery that day.

The next day, as the biology class representative, he arrived with dark circles under his eyes and, for the first time, questioned the teacher’s lesson, posing a rather foolish question.

‘Teacher, if both parents possess recessive traits, can they still have a child with a dominant trait?’

He was met with the teacher’s patient explanation and the resounding laughter of his classmates. He forced a smile, a strained, unnatural grin. He spoke words he didn’t even believe himself, yet he desperately wanted to believe they were true, to cling to the possibility of a lucky exception.

Returning home, he scoured various sources for related knowledge, constantly verifying, comparing, and step-by-step arriving at an answer far removed from his hopes.

Everything he loved had betrayed him. His dreams had become his own grave. He was forced to realize that he was a superfluous part of this complete family, an incompatible fragment, a stranger with no blood ties.

For a period thereafter, he pretended he had never realized this truth. Life, seemingly, didn’t change because of his actions. His home remained warm, his parents still loving, his young brother adorable. He didn’t question the parents before him; he couldn’t bear to imagine their expressions, couldn’t imagine what it would bring to this family.

He tried to pretend nothing had happened, tried to continue being the good child, to share dinner with his family at the table, calling them “Mom and Dad,” laughing and playing with his mischievous, adorable brother. But each smile felt like swallowing a shard of glass, tearing at his body and soul, again and again.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, but the effort felt impossibly long, like burying himself alive beneath frozen earth.

Life hadn’t changed. Or had it? His life had fundamentally changed.

Then, one more day, another accidental coincidence: he had left home, only to realize he’d forgotten his homework and returned. While tidying his room, he overheard his parents talking about his brother’s schooling, and casually mentioned him.

Thus, he indirectly confirmed the truth from his parents’ mouths: he was indeed not their biological child. Moreover, he hadn’t even been adopted; he had been bought. A single character altering its meaning entirely, twisting it into something far more sinister.

After a long silence, he waited for his parents to leave again, then quietly packed his things. For the first time, he skipped school.

Memories flew through his mind like a kite whose string had snapped. He wanted to scream, to flee, to tear everything to shreds, but ultimately, he could do nothing.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t carry such a heavy secret and pretend nothing had happened. The more he endured, the stronger the sense of imbalance grew within him. He gradually became unable to adapt to his surroundings, unable to discern what was real and what was false. He no longer dared to look at his family, because his parents’ love for his brother would now sting his eyes with unbearable intensity.

A child’s self-perceived secrets never escape a parent’s eyes. After he skipped class again and was temporarily suspended, staying home, he met his parents’ gaze. It was then he realized: this was no longer a secret. They had long understood his thoughts during this process, yet they had said nothing, done nothing. Both sides maintained a superficial calm, preserving their daily lives.

Like the broken clock in their home, still ticking away every day.

“…”

Snapping back to the present, Liu Tianze slightly lessened his grip, but still held the old man by the collar, pressing him against the wall. He had come this far; there was no turning back.

“I’ll ask you one more time: have you ever been involved in child trafficking?” Seeing the old man about to speak, he added, “Don’t think I came here without any evidence.”

Evidence referred to factual basis for proof, and he certainly had such a thing. But it was not the piece of paper found under his parents’ bed, covered in a thick layer of dust, with someone’s information, address, and contact details. That couldn’t be evidence. The true evidence was himself.

Seeing this, the old man fell silent once more. After scrutinizing Liu Tianze for a long time, a look of burnt-out dejection appeared on his already haggard face.

“You are—”

“Who I am isn’t important. Just clearly explain what you’ve done.”

“…”

The culprit, who in Liu Tianze’s eyes had forged all this suffering, moved his throat, finally uttering a sentence that, to Liu Tianze, was tantamount to an attempt to shirk responsibility: “I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”

With a sharp “Zzzt,” the metal flathead bit into his skin, shallowly, but enough for a trickle of crimson to well up nearby.

“Hah… hah…” The aggressor panted, his bloodshot eyes glaring as he fought to control himself. “I don’t want to hear your bullshit. If you still want this rotten life, answer my question.”

“…Follow me.”

Thus, Liu Tianze led the old man into another room. This one was equally cluttered, with all sorts of items strewn carelessly on the floor. The aging man slowly bent down, extracting a plastic bag from a wooden cabinet with a missing door, and from it, produced a notebook whose cover was beyond recognition. The moment Liu Tianze saw the notebook, he understood the kind of sins recorded within.

Holding the notebook, Huang Jiaqi didn’t open it immediately. Instead, he asked Liu Tianze a question. “How old are you this year?”

“Eighteen.”

“Your birthday is—”

“December eighteenth.”

The old man nodded, then opened the ledger. Although Liu Tianze couldn’t clearly see the contents from where he stood, he was certain that each page contained information about people—victims whose lives, like his own, had been deceived from the moment of birth. At this thought, Liu Tianze’s head buzzed, and he felt as if he might collapse.

“I’m not a human trafficker.”

“Then what the hell are you, you piece of shit?!”

“…”

The prolonged silence caused Liu Tianze to lose patience. He snatched the notebook, his attention completely fixated on its contents.

That particular page contained only three entries. The first two were marked “female,” so Liu Tianze quickly skimmed past them, until he reached the last entry.

‘December tenth, male, Jingping City, twenty thousand yuan, sold son to save wife,’ followed by a name and an address.

“—”

There was no sense of relief from having found the truth, of reaching an end. Instead, confusion now overwhelmed Liu Tianze’s mind. He stared at those last four characters, as if they were an unholy incantation, forbidden from existence.

“What is this… What does this mean?!” His voice was broken, like shards of glass grating against his throat. “Tell me! What does this mean?!”

The old man took a step back, his lips moving as if to speak, but no words emerged.

‘Sold son to save wife.’

The four words hammered down upon his heart like a gavel, shattering eighteen years of his entire belief system. It wasn’t just a phrase; it was a nail, pinning him to the refuse heap of fate, from which he could never rise again.

Liu Tianze slammed his fist onto the table, sending the scratch-off tickets flying, raining down before his eyes like a cheap, pathetic snowfall.

He felt dizzy, a sudden warmth flooded his nasal cavity, followed by the metallic tang of rust—but he lacked even the courage to confirm if it was blood.

He thought he had found the “truth,” yet he never imagined that the “truth” could be even more sickening than a lie.

“Explain—what the hell does this mean?!” His voice was hoarse, uncontrolled, like a caged beast thrashing against its bars.

“Bang—!”

Liu Tianze, caught mid-sentence, collapsed with a heavy thud. Fully absorbed in the notebook, he hadn’t noticed the club swinging towards him from his side. The entire world tilted violently with the impact, and a deafening roar exploded in his ears, as if the very air had detonated.

The second strike.

The club descended from above, his eyelids trembling violently. Through his blurred vision, he saw a frayed edge on the rough club, like the kindling he used to burn when he was a child.

He heard breathing, not his own, but that of his assailant. He heard the man’s words, his voice distant, as if echoing from the depths of a well.

“I’m sorry, young man, but this cannot be seen by anyone, and what you’ve seen cannot be known by others.”

Liu Tianze opened his mouth, but could only manage a cough choked with blood and froth.

Life was never a journey to find a home; life was merely a process of being discarded.

Retrieving the secret from the young man’s hand, a secret that could sentence him to death multiple times over, a shadow flickered in the old man’s murky eyes.

****

Heat, dryness, and suffocating hot winds merged with blinding crimson before the eyes of onlookers, illuminating everything.

Flames licked hungrily at the crumbling walls. With a ‘crack,’ a roof beam collapsed, kicking up a cloud of dust amidst thick smoke. Flickering embers shot out of broken windows, teasing the night and devouring the secrets held within the house.

The Magic Surveillance Department’s vehicle idled at the end of the dust-choked alley. By the time the relevant personnel arrived on the scene, the dilapidated old house was burning fiercely before them.

“Captain, the body just discovered has been identified as the homeowner, Huang Jiaqi, male, fifty-seven years old. Although an autopsy hasn’t been performed yet, the preliminary cause of death, however, was not suffocation, burns, or smoke inhalation, but a severe penetrating wound near the chest.”

“According to nearby residents, he lived alone in this flat and was known to be a man prone to gambling and obsessed with lotteries.”

“Also, we found this near the body…”

A notebook, its cover scorched black and most of its contents incinerated, was handed to the man. Donning white gloves, he carefully took the notebook, flipping through its pages, his sharp gaze searching for clues.

A tear mark between the pages caught his attention, indicating that several pages had been deliberately ripped out of the notebook.

“Good work. Get this to the Magic Surveillance Department as soon as possible for fingerprint analysis. Also, pull up the homeowner’s personal file again and cross-reference it with any verifiable information in this notebook.”

“Understood, I’ll get right on it.”

After giving his orders, the man’s gaze swept over the old house, now being taken over by firefighters, then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Hello, it’s me. The situation here is temporarily concluded. What about your end? Have the magical girls found him?”

“…Engaged in combat? He escaped? What happened? Which team encountered him?”

“…Mm, mm, I understand.”

Hanging up the phone, the man’s face turned ashen. To deliberately create chaos in a densely populated area to make his escape from the magical girls—even though, fortunately, no civilians were harmed, this was no longer a situation that could be handled conventionally.

The house, now on the verge of becoming ashes in the flames, and the body discovered within, reminded him and the Magic Surveillance Department that the boy they were searching for was no longer merely a rescue target worthy of immediate communication and assistance, but had become a threat capable of inflicting serious harm upon the populace.