Gone Girls

Other books by FM

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Short Stories

The Loan

Stories from the Village

Last Minutes

The Nameless Wanderer Series

Homecoming

Collateral

The Harvest

Judge Chen Series

The Temple of Yongzhou

The Elixir of Immortality

Casebook of Judge Chen

SCD Series

Killing Under Duress

Gone Girls

Novels

Past, Present, No Future

The Man Who Thought He Was An Assassin

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

In other words, nothing is real.

Prologue

1994

Yu Jingui hadn’t eaten for three days.

He lay on his back on the iron-framed cot, listening to his parents’ voices next door.

The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. Birds sang an angry song outside. He could hear the roar of rock crushers and agitation tanks from two kilometres away. The ground vibrated as eighteen-wheelers rumbled past.

Jingui didn’t pay any attention to the noises outside. He was too hungry, too tired, and too angry.

At mom.

Ever since she’d brought him back from the big city six months ago, it was like she had all but forgotten him. He was left to the care of a man whom she said was his father, though Jingui had no memory of him. She’d disappear for days, then return from whichever town she claimed she was working at, all dressed up in fine blouse and bright red scarf, riding on the back of a motorcycle clutching the waist a man in his sixties. Jingui once saw the old man give her a pat on her bottom as he smirked at the boy. Dad was at work.

Maybe that was what mom and dad were arguing about.

Raised voices, stools being thrown against the walls, which were pretty thin. If he put his head against the headboard, he could feel the vibration coming from the other side of the wall. Dad said things about mom, called her names that Jingui didn’t quite understand. He would be going to primary school next year, when he turned six. All he knew was, dad was angry, and that was bad. Mom talked back, said something about dad, called him names: limp dick, sicko, wittol, pansy, yellow-belly . . .

Then the sound of dad crying. A thud—dad had gotten down on his knees.

Jingui was too hungry to fall asleep. He rolled out of bed, waddled out of his room to his parents’ bedroom. The door was closed. Light streaming through cracks in the wooden planks that made up the door. A hole just big enough to put his eye to. He saw dad kneeling in front of mom, hands around her waist. He was crying and shivering, begging her not to go. She was tossing things into a suitcase, her clothes and makeup. She tried to shake him off.

I don’t want to die here like the others. I should never have come back here. It’s too late for you, but not too late for me. Let go of me!

What about Jingui? Don’t you want to stay for him? He needs his mother.

He’ll be fine. He doesn’t need me.

Jingui wanted to disagree, but he kept quiet.

But I need you!

I was tricked into marrying you. They only told me you had money, they didn’t tell me everyone here’s sick! Now that someone else wants me, I’m not staying with you. Let go of me! She kicked him in the stomach. Dad went down on the floor, curled up into a ball.

Mom unlocked a wooden chest, bent down to retrieve something.

Dad got up, grabbed the splintered leg of a stool, brought it down over her head. Mom fell forward, cracked her head against the lid of the chest. She didn’t make a sound.

Dad stumbled up to her. With a shaky finger, he checked her breath. The brown spots on the back of his hands seemed darker than the last time Jingui had seen them. He knew dad had those spots all over his body: armpits, thighs, chest, back. Sometimes there would be blood and pus coming out of the spots. Dad slept with a towel under each armpit to prevent staining the bedsheets.

He scratched his hands, moved to the table where a box of matchsticks lay. Dad lit up one stick, put the burning tip over his left hand. A small puff of smoke rose in the air.

Mom was unmoving. Dad knelt next to her, for what seemed like an eternity. He then moved her onto the bed. He took out some bedsheets from the open chest, tied mom’s hands and legs to the four bedposts. Mom lay spreadeagle, like a human sacrifice.

Then dad turned around, looking straight at the door.

Jingui scrambled on all fours, away from the door, back to his own room and pretended to be sleeping. Dad had asked him to stay in bed. He didn’t want to be punished again. Dad didn’t come in. Jingui heard his heavy footsteps go into the tool shed in the backyard. Something metallic clanged. Chains, and something else.

Jingui waited for the bedroom door to close, got out of bed, tiptoed up to the peephole. Dad was bent over mom. He’d replaced the bedsheets with the iron chains. He pulled down her pants, then her panties. Her flesh was milky white even in the dim yellow glow. Jingui strained his eyes to see more.

Dad’s hand reached between her legs, then he shrank back as if bitten by a snake. He took out a big pair of scissors in the chest. Mom had used it to cut threads when she made the blue shirt Jingui was wearing now.

Dad’s hands shook. He was crying. You can’t abandon me like this. You can’t do this to me. I don’t want . . . I don’t want you to sleep with other men. Please, don’t leave me. I’m going to make sure you won’t leave me, ever again.

Dad picked up the scissors and leaned over mom.

Jingui couldn’t see what he was doing. He risked opening the door by a crack. Dad had forgotten to lock it when he returned.

Mom woke up suddenly, screaming. She thrashed, her head jerking, legs and arms straining against the iron chains secured to the bed post.

What are you doing? It hurts! Mom shrieked.

Jingui was afraid the neighbours would hear her, then he remembered that everybody was at work. Dad was supposed to be, too.

Dad gagged mom with a pillow case. Please, I’m doing this for you, for our family. It’ll be over soon.

Then dad picked up the thing he’d gotten from the tool shed.

It was a padlock. The kind used on doors. Yonggu, which meant forever secure.

He clicked the lock open, then straddle mom.

Mom struggled, her head banging against the headboard. Then she saw Jingui.

Her eyes were huge, so much bigger than they usually were. Blood trickled down her forehead. She was saying something to Jingui, but he didn’t understand the muffled words. Her eyes were locked on his.

Dad got off of mom. The padlock had disappeared from his hand. He was holding a single key, which he put in his pockets.

It’s okay now, you’re okay. I’ll buy you something from the pharmacist’s to stop the pain. Now you can’t sleep with anyone else. So, please, just stay. You must be hungry. I’ll bring some porridge.

Dad turned around, saw Jingui standing there in the doorway.

Son, got get your mom some porridge from the kitchen.

What’s wrong with mom? Why is she crying?

She’s fine. You’ve always said you wanted mom to stay home with you, right? Well, now she’s going to stay with us, forever.

Forever?

Forever.

Chapter One

1999

Today was the last day of the century.

But the villagers didn’t care. To them, the real new year was in another two months’ time, during Spring Festival. Dad was at work, like everybody else. He and almost every other able-bodied man in the village worked for the same company, that big mine that took up the entire mountain at the east end of the village.

Jingui had wanted to visit dad there, but dad had forbidden it.

There was no school today, but Jingui couldn’t go and play with the other kids in the village. He had to give up his favourite pastime, fishing, when the water in the river started boiling one day, emitting an odour that reminded him of dead crabs. He had chores to do. Barely 10 years old, he already knew how to cook meals, make his own bed, water the crops, tend to the pigs and chickens, and take care of mom.

Dad had kept his promise. Mom had not left the house since that day five years ago. Dad didn’t allow any villagers to come into the house. When neighbours asked, Jingui had been taught to say that mom had gone out for work.

With some effort, Jingui hauled up the bucket from the well and filled a porcelain bowl. The water was slightly yellow. It smelt of sulphur. He got a fire going in the stone stove. When the water started boiling, he added a handful of noodles, ripped some fresh potato leaves from the front yard. He brought the bowl of noodles into his parents’ bedroom.

Mom was lying in bed, as she always did. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, looking at nothing. Her hair was uncombed. Jingui set the bowl down on the table in the centre the room.

Food’s here.

Mom dint hear him. He took a step closer. She lunged at him, her long, untrimmed fingernails scarping his cheek. Her arms flailed as she strained against the iron chains. Dad had bolted them to the walls. She snarled at her son.

Jingui stepped back, out of harm’s range. Her unwashed face bore a crescent-shaped scar on the forehead. The same spots that had consumed dad’s body were starting to appear on mom as well. Some of them were bleeding. The smell was disgusting.

Dad took Demerol for the pain, mom didn’t. She’d stopped talking since that day. Maybe that was also the day she had gone out of her mind.

Jingui knew dad had tried to give him another sibling, a younger sister or brother—he hoped it would be a brother. He heard dad grunting on top of mom in the middle of the night, the rhythmic creaking of the bed. Two stillborn babies, and a third that had died while still inside mother’s womb.

Jingui was curious, and a fast learner. One day, when dad went down to the mine with the other villagers, he locked the front door of the house, went into mom’s bedroom. He took of his shoes, his pants, and his shirt, then he climbed into bed, lay on top of mother, face to face, like he’d seen dad doing. Mom’s skin was still fair and intact back then, no pus.

Mom stirred. When she opened her eyes and saw Jingui, she went batshit crazy, even crazier than usual. She bared her teeth at him, her body thrashing beneath his, her hands pulling against the iron chain so hard Jingui thought they were going to come out of the bolts on the wall. She made animal noises with her throat but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. It felt like that one time he mounted the young bull at Granny Liu’s house. The bull had tried to shake him off its back. It leaped up, spun around, bucked forward, kicked back, its legs so high Jingui almost flew off.

He held on. He was 10 years old, already as tall as mother, and more powerful than her emaciated form. He kept his knees planted on either side of her body. The buttons on her blouse came loose, one of them bouncing against his nose before falling off. He saw her breasts. He touched them.

Soft, saggy, a bit bumpy, the nipples were dark circles. He could feel her heart beat underneath his palm. He lowered his head and licked her nipples. It tasted of sweat and years of unwashed dirt. Mom’s struggle had brought her body closer to his.

Jingui felt a sensation he’d never felt before. The place where urine came out of was getting hard, like it sometimes did on its own in the morning. He pulled down her trousers, fastened with an elastic band. The bushy black pubic hair repulsed him. They tangled together, some of them had bits of off-white, yellowish flecks that looked like dried egg whites. It smelt bad, worse than the pigs in the pen, or chicken shit.

He saw the chastity lock. The brass had lost its burnish. Part of it was rusted over. Yonggu, forever secure. The U-shaped loop of shackle linked her labia together, just like a lock on the front door.

He didn’t have the key. Jingui played around with her inner thighs, flicked the little red nub just above her vagina. Stuck a finger past the padlock, into the opening.

Mom arched her back and head-butted him. He fell off of her, onto the floor.

She’d stopped eating since that day.

The bowl of noodles had gone soggy. Jingui sat at the table, picked up strands of noddle with his hands, then tossed them back. Dad had forbidden him from drinking the well water, or eating anything made from it.

He fed the noodles to the pigs.

When the first bout of explosion sounded, he didn’t pay it any heed. They used dynamite to blow holes through the mountain all the time.

But this time, something was different. The sound was much louder. It kept coming.

Was someone setting off fireworks? Jingui rushed out of the house so fast he almost tripped and fell. The ground shook beneath him. It was almost night, but the eastern sky was lit up red, orange, and yellow. The smell of sulphur and cordite, which had always permeated the village, was now an impenetrable blanket. Jingui felt like he was suffocating.

The explosion had come from the direction of the mine.

Dad!

Jingui rushed towards the mine. He saw a few women ahead of him, running, shouting, crying.

He was pulled back by Auntie Zhou. Her husband worked at the mine with dad.

Look!

The mine had disappeared. Where the mountain used to be, there was now nothing. Smoke, dust, debris rained down from the sky.

They’re gone, they’re gone. Auntie Zhou’s voice trembled.

The explosion had killed everyone in the mine, all 1,589 of them.

Chapter Two

The terrorist had a square jaw, bushy eyebrows, acne-free, and a smirk.

Yunlong memorised his face.

Follow me! he led Fangjun and Li Chao, weapons drawn, approached the one-storey building in single file.

Their steps were slow, light, cautious. Yunlong knew his team members were tired, so was he. The 2-km dash was just yesterday. Bearing 20 kg of tactical gear and rushing up a slope with a maximum 60 degrees slope had taken a lot. He and his team were one of the handful in the hundred participants who’d managed to get to the destination within 10 minutes, earning themselves a chance to the next round.

They scaled the stone wall, dropped into the backyard silently.

Yunlong waited for his breathing and heartbeat to come back to a semblance of normal. His arms were still a bit sore from the climb this morning. Holding 95 automatic rifle, climbing a 15-metre wall on a rope in under 50 seconds, then shooting five targets 80 metres away. Instructors who’d designed the training exercise had modelled it after Hell Week of the army.

Shooting the target wasn’t a problem. He’d proven himself with a 7.62 mm high-precision sniper rifle. At a distance of 180 m, with the target hidden behind a camouflaged net, he’d gotten a kill shot within 25 seconds.

But now, there was an unknown number of hostages inside, and armed officers playing the role of terrorists.

With hand signals, Yunlong told Fangjun to go left, Li Chao to go right. He kicked down the door, tossed a stun grenade, waited for two seconds, went in, eyes following the scope of his rifle. Found the target, pulled the trigger.

One terrorist down. Four to go.

They swept the other rooms one by one, found the hostages, neutralised the remaining terrorists without getting themselves killed in the process.

When the training exercise ended, Yunlong’s team was fifteen seconds faster than the team that came in second.

Twenty minutes of rest. The afternoon was just getting started.

Rolling an 80-kg tyre for a 100 metres. Climb up a 30-metre wall. Abseil down. 300 metres of obstacle course: tyre wall, pond, single-plank bridge on fire, high-low wall, sewage pipe, A-frame cargo, traverse rope, plank balance, scaffold ladder, grilled platform, high shuffle bars, aerial slide, balance beam, low wire entanglement, high hurdle, mud pit, pontoon bridge, ramp. The dropout rate at the obstacle course was over eighty percent.

At the end of the obstacle course, the few who’d made it lay on the floor, panting.

Yunlong got up. He’d come in fourth, not bad, considering most of his competitors were a decade younger than him. It was a training exercise for the officers of SCD, as well as a recruitment drive. The other participants were handpicked by Captain Zhao from various departments: detectives, patrol, traffic police, armed police force. Those who came in the top ten would be invited to the next round of tests. Eventually, one or two of them might make it to the SCD.

He showered and changed.

Going out? Fangjun came out of the shower after him.

Our part of the exercise is done. I’m getting a drink, or two, then I’m going to enjoy the crap out of life. Coming?

You go ahead, I’m staying behind.

For what?

Tomorrow’s exercises involve bomb disposal, police canine, and anti-hijacking, I want to watch.

You know, other people watch period dramas in their free time, are you sure you’re not staying for the sniper competition?

Sure, I’d like to see how the best of the best perform. Rumour has it they’re bringing out the 260,000 yuan sniper rifle CS/LR4.

Oh, I thought you’re staying not for the rifle, but the sniper. Song Daili and Guo Zirui are the only two female officers participating in the competition.

Is that right?

Yunlong punched him in the shoulder. Fangjun winced.

Nobody’s getting any younger, you know. If you don’t make a move soon, one day you’re going to come to me with a bottle of umeshu and a tear-stained face, the day of her wedding.

As a reply, Fangjun wiped his body and tossed the wet towel over Yunlong’s head.

Chapter Three

Yunlong lost the bet.

To the cheering of guys and catcalls from the girls, Yunlong took off his shirt, swaying to the beat of the music, then removed his jeans. He was wearing white briefs, but no one laughed at him. The guys were busy being jealous of him as the centre of attention, the girls were preoccupied with counting his six-pack and admiring the view from behind.

Stretching, Yunlong stood on the edge of the swimming pool. Emerald water shimmered under the purple and blue lights cast from plastic trees on both sides and a disco light hung above the pool.

Yunlong jumped.

Water rushed up to meet him, cool and tasting slightly of chlorine. He let himself sink to the bottom, motionless. Water molecules vibrated with the noise and the lights, getting further away from him.

Peaceful.

Then splash! Two girls had joined in the fun, jumping into the pool after him. One swam up to him, running her manicured hand across his chest. The other playfully hugged him from behind.

Yunlong let himself be carried to the surface by the two girls, to the loud cheering and woo-hooing from the others in the party. A girl in a fiery red bikini was kneeling near the pool. She tousled his wet hair, handed him a glass of daiquiri.

Yunlong was about to get out of the water when a girl cannonballed herself at him, pushing them both back into the pool. He grabbed her waist, turned her body slightly so she wouldn’t hit the ceramic ledge of the pool. The frills of the girl’s yellow bikini top floated upwards in the water, waving invitingly at Yunlong.

Hello handsome, she wrapped her legs around his waist, both their bodies bobbing gently in the current.

More guests joined them in the pool, splashing water everywhere.

Yunlong responded to her enthusiasm. She had an A4-waist, so narrow that one piece of A4 paper could cover it up completely. The tiny bikini top seemed to be struggling to hold up the impressive weight of her chest, even underwater. Her kiss was moist, passionate, heat-seeking.

Yunlong lifted her out of the pool with her legs still wrapped around his waist. He walked her past the crowed of revellers, grabbed two drinks from a passing waiter, fed her one. He had the presence of mind to locate his shirt and pants.

Do you know whose house this is? he whispered. They were in the living room, party hats, shot glasses, rainbow streamers everywhere. Colourful buntings over a mantel announced it was someone’s birthday. Her face was flushed from the drink, which she’d downed in one gulp. It looked like she might have had one or two drinks in her already. Or maybe ten.

Friend of a friend, I guess. I came with a girlfriend who got invited. She breathed into his ear. How about you?

Same. Technically not the whole truth, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Looks like fate threw us together.

He had to laugh at that cheesy line. Do you want to go find your friend, or continue our private chat?

She was less demure. Grabbing his hand and copping a feel of his briefs-clad buttocks, she led the way deeper into the living room, where a winding staircase stood. Come on, they’ve got to have a bedroom upstairs.

What’s your name? he had no more articles of clothing to remove, so he started to work on hers. The room they’d stumbled into was painted a gaudy shade of blue. A dressing table with a lit-up vanity mirror stood against one wall. The queen-sized bed was unmade.

Come on, you know the rules of 419.

For one night.

No names, no awaked morning afters.

She threw herself onto the bed, back first, pulling him towards her. She licked his lower lip, jawline, Adam’s apple, down to between his nipples. Are you up for it?

Yunlong replied with a tug of the knot holding her bikini top together. She gave a tiny squeal, then pressed herself to him.

She must be at least a D. Yunlong tasted rum and lime juice on her tongue. Her hair was long, wavy, wet. As she worked her way down his body, Yunlong wondered, distractedly, about her waterproof makeup. She’d reached his abs