Chapter Twenty-Two: Zhang Hu’s Past

Yang Liu gently massaged her temples with her hand and spoke softly.

“It must be because you’ve been working night shifts and staying up late lately. You haven’t been resting properly. Your health is the foundation of everything. You can’t be careless about it, girl,” Zhang Hu said, pretending to scold her.

“I’ve always been in good health. I haven’t felt unwell before. I don’t know what happened today,” Yang Liu replied, puzzled.

Cui Yue got up, poured some water, and prepared a warm towel, bringing it to Yang Liu and speaking gently.

“Here, this towel is new. Quickly, use it to wipe your face.”

“Thank you. Sorry for the trouble,” Yang Liu said, a little shy as she accepted the warm towel, her heart fluttering.

Cui Yue noticed Yang Liu’s confusion about the wine and incense ash on her face and hurried to explain, “That’s a folk remedy from Director Zhang’s hometown. It’s especially effective at treating dizziness and fainting.”

Zhang Hu quickly chimed in, “Yes, yes! We always use that back home. It works every time.”

After all, girls care about their appearance. Yang Liu quickly washed her face clean with the warm towel, looking at the two men with a hint of embarrassment.

“Oh, right. I’ve already called your supervisor from Workshop Two. Sister Gao will take you home to rest in a little while,” Zhang Hu interjected.

“Thank you, Uncle Zhang,” Yang Liu said as she tried to get up, but her legs gave way and she nearly fell.

Not long after, Sister Gao arrived and took Yang Liu home. Before leaving, she thanked Zhang Hu and Cui Yue, saying that if it weren’t for the two of them noticing, Yang Liu might have fainted somewhere else alone, and who knows what could have happened.

Zhang Hu joked that saying thanks wasn’t enough—old Zhang should treat him to a good drinking session.

Without looking back, Sister Gao called out, “Drink my foot!”

Drink… my… foot…

Zhang Hu rolled his eyes and thought to himself that the women in this factory were all something else.

Zhang Hu then dragged Cui Yue around the factory for another inspection, and by the time they returned to the security office, it was already past midnight.

There had been too many people in the factory earlier—it wasn’t the right time to talk. As soon as they stepped inside, Cui Yue could no longer hold back; he didn’t even bother taking off his coat before blurting out his question, as if he had a stomach full of things to say.

Zhang Hu, however, was calm and unhurried. He casually took out a pack of Da Qianmen cigarettes, tossed one to Cui Yue, lit one for himself, and spoke slowly.

“You want to ask me why I lied today, telling Yang Liu she fainted on her own, don’t you?”

Cui Yue nodded eagerly.

Zhang Hu exhaled a smoke ring before speaking deliberately.

“You really are young. What happened tonight must stay between us—no one else must know. As for why I stopped you from telling the truth, there are two reasons. First, people who encounter malevolent spirits are usually weak in their vital energy. After such an event, they tend to fall seriously ill. If you tell her what really happened, it would only add to her mental burden, making her anxious and fearful, which would only worsen her condition and prolong her illness.”

Cui Yue found this very reasonable. Sometimes knowing too much does more harm than good. Better to remain blissfully unaware and preserve one’s health.

Cui Yue didn’t smoke, so he returned the cigarette to Zhang Hu and urged him, “What’s the second reason, Uncle Zhang?”

Zhang Hu chuckled, “The second reason is, encountering a ghost is nothing to be proud of. Others will only avoid her if they find out. Yang Liu is still so young, not even married yet. If word gets out, who will want to marry her? How is she supposed to find a husband in the future?”

Suddenly, Cui Yue understood. He hadn’t expected Zhang Hu, who appeared so rough, to be so considerate and meticulous in his thinking.

“Of course, Xiao Cui, if you fancy Yang Liu, I know you wouldn’t mind. I’ll play matchmaker for you two. Next year, you’ll have a big, healthy boy, and the Cui family will have another…” Zhang Hu teased.

Cui Yue quickly interrupted, “Enough, Uncle Zhang, stop it or soon you’ll be talking about grandsons!” His face flushed red in embarrassment. “Please, don’t joke about that.”

“All right, all right. A grown man getting shy at this—honestly,” Zhang Hu said, shaking his head.

“Uncle Zhang, I have another question,” Cui Yue said, looking at Zhang Hu earnestly.

“Go ahead,” Zhang Hu replied carelessly.

“It’s just… that ghost was so fierce when fighting me, but when she saw you, she was like a mouse seeing a cat—she didn’t dare come near. Why is she so afraid of you? It can’t be because I’m younger and weaker, right? And what’s so special about your belt? It had that ghost howling and wailing,” Cui Yue asked, pointing curiously at Zhang Hu’s waist.

At this, Zhang Hu smiled mysteriously. He took out the remaining Laobaigan liquor from the cupboard, poured two glasses, and gestured for Cui Yue to drink.

“If you want to know so badly, drink this. Once you do, I’ll tell you.”

He raised his own glass and downed it in one gulp, watching Cui Yue with a smile.

Cui Yue looked at the glass before him and said, one word at a time, “Fine, I’ll drink. But Uncle Zhang, you have to keep your word and not bully me.” As soon as he finished, he drank it all in one go, not even blinking. He didn’t flush or skip a beat, appearing completely unfazed.

Zhang Hu was slightly taken aback. “Kid, you’re not bad—you must have been sneaking your father’s liquor,” he said in surprise.

Cui Yue blushed but neither admitted nor denied it, instead urging, “Tell me, Uncle Zhang! What’s really going on?”

Zhang Hu refilled their glasses before speaking slowly.

“It’s really nothing much. I’m not some master of the occult, nor do I have skills in catching ghosts. I was a soldier. I’ve stood guard, fought in the Vietnam war, and have been through countless gunfights. Compared to that, this sort of thing is nothing. One year, I went home on leave and saw the neighbor’s child possessed by a ghost. Nothing could help, but as soon as I appeared, the ghost ran off. I reached out and grabbed him, and he fainted on the spot. Later, the elders said those who carry a murderous aura—the more intense, the more powerful—are people whom demons and ghosts avoid. Back then, I was in the reconnaissance commando unit, and on the battlefield…”

As he spoke of his military days, Zhang Hu’s face glowed with pride, as if he had returned to those years of bullets and bloodshed, reminiscing about his glorious youth. Carrying a rifle, defending the country—those were the proudest and most unforgettable years of his life.

With two glasses of liquor warming him, Cui Yue found himself swept up in Zhang Hu’s fervor, imagining himself holding a Type 81 rifle and guarding the border. Perhaps, being a soldier is a dream shared by every young man.