Chapter Zero: The Boy

This year, the temperature dropped especially early.

Just after the Beginning of Winter, the plane trees on both sides of the road in front of Songting Detention Center, in the northern suburbs of Xinhai City, had already shed almost all their leaves, and the streets were covered with yellow foliage.

A thin boy stood at the bus stop, his face slightly pale, his features delicate. At this moment, he looked up through the sparse branches at the overcast sky. The leaden clouds hung low, as if pressing right above his head.

The boy had just come out of the detention center, wearing only a jacket. In his yellow backpack, which held his toiletries, there were also some clothes to change into, but they were all thin summer and autumn garments.

He didn’t want to take out another jacket from his backpack and put it on to look bulky. Shivering as he faced the cold wind, he was every bit a stubborn youth.

Today didn’t seem to be a lucky or auspicious day; even the number of people released from the detention center was very few.

The freshly painted bus stop sign stood alone by the roadside.

An old-fashioned sedan was parked across the street, separated from the boy by the asphalt road, as if they were two completely unrelated existences.

From the boy’s angle, he couldn’t see the car’s logo. The body had sharp lines, giving it a strong sense of age, but its long silhouette showed that, in its era, it had an extraordinary and distinguished status.

Yet now, the old sedan was covered in dust, with grayish-white marks of dried mud splattered along its side. It clearly hadn’t been cared for in a long time.

If not for the window being cracked open, with wisps of smoke drifting out from time to time, the car would have seemed like a fallen old aristocrat, curled up in isolation on the street, ignored by all.

For a long while, not a single bus passed by, nor did any other cars. The sense of loneliness was overwhelming.

Perhaps it was the long silence, or maybe the person in the old sedan lost patience first. The passenger door opened a crack, but just then a police car approached from the distance, and the door was quickly closed again from inside.

The boy was already standing on the curb. Seeing the police car approach, he recalled the scene of a group of officers breaking in and pinning him to the concrete floor, and instinctively took a step back.

The police car didn’t turn directly into the detention center, but stopped in front of the boy.

The window slowly rolled down, revealing the thin, resolute face of a middle-aged man in police uniform. The boy, however, turned his head to look at the bus stop sign, showing even more disdain for the middle-aged officer than for the sedan across the street.

“Route 19 had a scrape with a car at Kanjiawan Station, so the next bus won’t be here for at least half an hour. If you don’t want to go back to the detention center with me, just wait here for a few minutes. I’ll have Little Clark drive you home. Here, put this coat on first—you look frozen…” the middle-aged officer said, taking a coat from the car and handing it out.

The boy ignored him, making no move to take the coat, just kept his hands in his pockets and shrank his body slightly, feeling a bit better that way.

“Not feeling great, are you?” the middle-aged officer asked.

“If you were locked up for four months after being arrested, and then told you were innocent, would you feel good?” the boy bit his bloodless lips and demanded, “You shouldn’t be asking if I feel bad, you should be asking if this is fair!”

“……” After a while, the middle-aged officer sighed, took the coat back, lit a cigarette, and said, “Your case wasn’t that complicated to begin with, but because it involved your father’s case, the prosecution twice requested supplementary investigation. That’s why it dragged on until now for a conclusion. I know you’re angry, but one day you’ll understand—having rules is better than having none.”

For a moment, the boy’s expression twisted with rage, but then he turned his face away.

He still couldn’t feel at peace, but four months in the detention center had taught him not to argue or resist needlessly.

“By the way, when you got out, did you ask to see your father? You should know he’s also being held here awaiting trial, right?” the middle-aged officer asked again. After waiting a while and seeing the boy just staring at the ground, never looking up again, he started rambling on his own, “So I guess you didn’t see him—your father’s trial is coming up in a few days, and he’ll probably get a heavy sentence. I came by a few days ago and talked to him. He deeply regrets his impulsive crime, not only dragging you into it, but now he can’t even take care of Grace or your grandmother. He figured you’d resent him and wouldn’t want to see him, so he asked me to pass on a message: missing one college entrance exam isn’t a big deal, just treat it as repeating a year. My Henry is still hoping you’ll apply to Xinda again next year, so she can be your senior. Your dad also asked me to give you and Grace living expenses every month—consider it a loan from him, so you siblings don’t have to worry about it, and don’t go looking for that woman. Here’s a bank card, keep it safe. I’ll deposit money into it every month…”

The middle-aged officer rambled on for a long time. The boy, annoyed, glanced at the bank card he was offering, then turned and walked east.

Since the Route 19 bus was stuck near Kanjiawan Station due to the accident, the boy decided to walk three or four extra stops and take another bus home from Qinghong Road.