Mad Dog

Some things, even when you know they will hurt others, still need to be done.
In Jiang Qi’s memory, the night Jiang Quan died was the shortest night of darkness.
It seemed that daybreak arrived particularly quickly; soon, sunlight streamed in through the window.
That was the most exhilarating night in Jiang Qi’s heart.
He watched Jiang Quan’s body gradually grow cold, a faint smile playing on his lips, his blood-dried fingers toying with the knife in his hand.
Before long, the police arrived.
He was the one who “turned himself in.”
At the police station, Jiang Qi sat quietly like a mute gourd.
The officer questioning him asked him various questions, to which he nodded, appearing like a soulless puppet.
But after a long silence, he still raised his head and said in a hoarse voice, “He was going to kill me first.”
The several police officers in the room were momentarily speechless; after all, the bruises on Jiang Qi’s neck and the many wounds on his body were all too evident.
Logically, after Jiang Qi turned himself in, the case should have been straightforward, but there was a point of doubt in the coroner’s report—Jiang Quan’s fatal wound was on his back. According to the police and forensic experts piecing together the scene, Jiang Qi was restrained and abused by Jiang Quan in front of him; how could he have stabbed him from behind? The human arm could hardly twist into such a position.
Despite repeated questioning, asking if there were any other suspicious characters involved, Jiang Qi only said one thing: “He was the one who killed him.”
“There’s no one else.” The boy kept his eyes downcast. “It was me.”
The motives for murder, the fingerprints on the weapon, his confession, and the unambiguous evidence… the police could only close the case.
However, the question of why Jiang Quan’s fatal wound was on his back, along with the chaotic footprints on the floor from the struggle, remained an unresolved mystery.
The coroner also examined the wounds on Jiang Qi and found that there were numerous old and new injuries, some dating back several years, indicating that the boy had been subjected to long-term abuse.
Moreover, considering he was a minor and Jiang Quan had a criminal record, combined with the psychiatric evaluation from the hospital… in the end, with the lawyer’s defense, Jiang Qi was sentenced to three years for “excessive self-defense resulting in death.”
The “crime” he committed wasn’t serious, and if he behaved well in prison, he might even have his sentence reduced.
But in the end, everything Jiang Qi did in prison only made it fortunate he didn’t receive a harsher penalty—thankfully, he had the excuse of being a minor.
Everyone in this world thought Jiang Qi was the murderer, but only he knew that the one who killed Jiang Quan wasn’t him.
He once believed he would take this secret to the grave, never telling anyone… but now he was sharing it with Zhi Qi.
The light bulb in the dilapidated house flickered precariously, and under the dim light, Zhi Qi stared at Jiang Qi in disbelief, her voice low and hoarse: “So, so… you didn’t commit a crime at all?”
So Jiang Qi wasn’t even guilty of “excessive self-defense”? Yet he spent three years in prison?
Zhi Qi felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, her mind going blank, and she even stumbled slightly—thankfully, Jiang Qi caught her by the arm.
“Why?” The girl stared at him with wide eyes, nearly grinding her teeth as she asked, “Why didn’t you say you were wronged?”
Seeing the expression on Zhi Qi’s face, Jiang Qi closed his eyes and forced a bitter smile.
He knew that his greatest fear had finally come to pass.
Why had he never told Zhi Qi the so-called truth? Because he was afraid she would think it was too absurd, that he was being irresponsible and capricious, violating their promise.
It was just that in this world, some things, even when you know they will hurt others, still have to be done.
Jiang Qi was such a person.
He raised his eyes to look at the clearly dissatisfied girl and simply said, “Because there’s nothing unjust about it.”
Zhi Qi was taken aback.
“Even if that old man from next door hadn’t come, I would still have killed him.” Jiang Qi sat down on the steel bed, resting his elbows on his knees as if muttering to himself: “He kept my hands clean; I spent a few years in prison for him. Seems fair enough.”
To be honest, he was indeed being fair.
Unless pushed to the edge, who would willingly become a true “murderer” by taking another’s life?
He had once been a step away from hell, and it was that old man who pulled him out.
Jiang Qi didn’t know the old man selling rice cakes next door’s name, but he knew he was over seventy and wasn’t sure if he was still alive. So, he turned himself in and went to prison willingly.
Moreover, he wasn’t “taking the fall” for that old man; he was atoning for himself.
Because when he saw Jiang Quan’s corpse, Jiang Qi felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction—this was a devil’s thought, and he had to pay a price for it.
“But…” Zhi Qi still felt confused, her head aching and swirling, her fingers unconsciously rubbing her temples. “But why did that old man want to kill your father?”
Jiang Qi looked down at the ground, a glint of fierce determination flashing in his eyes: “Because of Nuan Nuan.”
That was the name the old man had been muttering after killing Jiang Quan.
Jiang Qi knew why.
Jiang Quan had been incarcerated for manslaughter after committing robbery when he was a minor, and the victim was that old man’s daughter.
Due to his age, Jiang Quan was sentenced to only a little over a decade before being released, continuing his indulgent lifestyle of drinking and gambling without remorse, while the former victim was left alone and waiting for death.
Jiang Qi had been neighbors with that rice cake vendor for over a decade, knowing only that the old man was elusive, dull, and solitary.
It was only by chance that he learned about the old man’s past with Jiang Quan.
For decades, the old man had lived as a neighbor to his sworn enemy, suffering silently, solely focused on revenge.
Indeed, revenge—because the old man believed that the ten years Jiang Quan served were hardly a punishment. Why should someone who ruined another family live comfortably?
Ten years wasn’t enough.
What the old man wanted was Jiang Quan’s life.
Over the years, Jiang Qi had often heard the old man’s “warnings,” such as the grating cries of “rice cake—rice cake,” which were actually telling Jiang Qi that Jiang Quan had returned.
So, the year he graduated elementary school, when Zhi Qi came looking for him, he heard the old man’s hints and hurriedly chased the girl away.
For so many years, that old man had actually been kind to him.
Besides, revenge was a natural right, so Jiang Qi wouldn’t say anything; he would let the old man enjoy a peaceful old age fulfilled by his wishes.
After all, he was still young and a minor; he would be given leniency, and going to prison wasn’t a big deal.
Though the boy appeared cold and indifferent, he was someone who deeply understood the principle of “a drop of kindness should be repaid with a fountain of gratitude.” Perhaps due to receiving too little kindness as a child, Jiang Qi always wanted to repay others tenfold for even a small kindness.
So he could act in “Pride and Prejudice” for Shen Lei’s appreciation.
So he could, after earning money, gift it to Jiang Shi and Guan Yue.
But the only person Jiang Qi felt he owed was Zhi Qi.
The young girl was the kindest person in the world to him, yet not only could he not repay her, but he also repeatedly left her, even… parting ways under circumstances that shouldn’t have required separation.
He slowly peeled back the layers of mystery from years ago, revealing the most basic, real, and even bloody truth.
The truth was like a hedgehog that suddenly sprang forth, piercing the girl’s soft body, leaving her covered in wounds but bleeding none.
“Jiang Qi, what am I to you?” Zhi Qi asked, her eyes red and watery, unconsciously. “Did you ever think of me?”
Four years ago, on an ordinary school morning, when she couldn’t find Jiang Qi no matter how hard she looked, knowing he was ill, she feared for his life and was anxious to the point of desperation.
It wasn’t until almost a month later, when Zhi Qi’s already slender frame had lost even more weight, that she received news about Jiang Qi.
Amidst the vague rumors, it was said that Jiang Qi had committed a crime and was imprisoned.
Naturally, she didn’t believe it and rushed home to plead with Zhi Minglin, Mei Ran, and Zhi Yu to help her investigate; she even desperately sought out Jiang Qi’s uncle and asked classmates she was close with for help…
But it was all in vain; nothing worked.
Zhi Qi couldn’t see Jiang Shi and received no news about Jiang Qi.
Even Zhi Minglin and Mei Ran, fearing she would be affected, forcibly transferred her to another school—San Zhong in the east district of Lin Lan, while Mei Ran transferred her to the west district, accompanying the girl through her senior year of high school and blocking her from all external contact.
The despair she
felt at that time was still vivid in her memory.
A person could be lost, but not helpless. Yet, she felt completely helpless, small, and powerless, to the point that just finding out about one person was so difficult, it seemed impossible.
Later, when she went to university, she had grown a bit and became more resolute.
Zhi Qi discovered where Jiang Shi sold vegetables, but still couldn’t get a word about Jiang Qi from the taciturn man; she only vaguely learned that Jiang Qi had indeed been imprisoned and sentenced to three years.
It was only at that time that Zhi Qi finally managed to come to terms with it and let go.
But letting go didn’t mean despair; instead, she felt she had a clear “hope.”
Wasn’t it just three years? By then, a year had already passed; she just had to wait for the rest.
Waiting wasn’t terrifying; what was terrifying was not knowing if the wait was worth it.
To this day, Zhi Qi had begun to waver in her long-held “belief.”
It turned out that Jiang Qi hadn’t needed to go to prison back then; he didn’t need to part with her, but he left just as decisively as he had at thirteen without even saying a word… so what was she to him?
“I’m the one who should apologize to you.” Jiang Qi’s gaze shifted away from her question, his throat moving slightly, his light-colored eyes obscured and unclear. “Qi Qi, you can break your promise.”
Although every time he felt he couldn’t hold on any longer, the girl would be his spiritual support, he felt unworthy of her.
The naïve promise made in their youth was inherently simple and foolish, and he felt he owed her.
Thus, he would keep the promise of only loving her in this lifetime… but Zhi Qi could break her promise.
Jiang Qi believed he was a person who deserved revenge, just like his name, that life was a mistake.
And if the girl were to be utterly disappointed in him, that would be the cruelest “revenge.”