Chapter 29: Floded Time and Space
Cheng Zesheng brought back a portion of chestnut duck wings. Can he still be allergic to common poultry such as chicken, duck, fish, and meat? If he can’t eat these, it would be incredibly pitiful and inhumane. What joy is there in life?
Upon returning home, he looked up and noticed a freestanding whiteboard next to the TV in the living room, similar to the kind they use for meetings in the office. There were whiteboard erasers, whiteboard markers, and magnetic stickers below it. It seemed that the refrigerator door could finally return to its original purpose and wouldn’t have to double as a writing board anymore.
Cheng Zesheng placed the chestnut duck on the table, standing in front of the whiteboard, hesitating and not daring to touch it. According to the rules they had deduced for the exchange of items, if they touched things brought back by each other, those things would be transferred to their own worlds. So, if Cheng Zesheng touched the whiteboard that He Wei had bought, He Wei probably wouldn’t be able to see it. The refrigerator door was still more effective in that regard.
He Wei came downstairs and immediately noticed the takeout on the table. The aroma was trapped within the bag, but it couldn’t hide its enticing scent. It was the kind of scent he could enjoy.
Cheng Zesheng heard the sound of the plastic bag rustling as it was opened, so he walked over and passed a small note: “Can you eat this?”
By the time he received the note, He Wei had already picked up a soft and sweet chestnut and put it in his mouth. He couldn’t write conveniently, so he used chopsticks to make three strokes on the table, paused, then made another stroke, followed by a tap and another stroke.
“…” Cheng Zesheng was speechless. Why use Morse code for something as simple as eating?
Comparing the Morse code chart, the signals He Wei sent spelled out the letters “OK.” Realizing that he wasn’t allergic, Cheng Zesheng felt relieved. He went to the kitchen, heated up the remaining crayfish in the fridge, and sat across from He Wei. One was eating chestnut duck wings, while the other was nibbling on thirteen-spice crayfish.
He Wei slowly gnawed on the duck’s wing. He knew Cheng Zesheng was on the other side because the aroma of the crayfish with thirteen spices was truly irresistible. He freed one hand and used chopsticks to tap out Morse code on the table. Cheng Zesheng understood the message and was once again speechless.
He Wei said, “It’s too fragrant, let’s change places.”
Who was supposed to change places? It was definitely him. Cheng Zesheng had initially intended to stay put, thinking that He Wei wouldn’t be able to do much to him if he just sat there. But considering that he couldn’t satisfy his appetite with the tantalizing aroma around him, he felt a bit pitiful. He obediently picked up the small crayfish and moved to the sofa area.
The scent of the small crayfish wafted away, and the box appeared on the coffee table. He Wei’s lips curled up slightly, quiet obedient.
Half an hour later, He Wei wiped his hands clean, feeling content. He had never tasted chestnut duck wings this delicious—sweet chestnuts and well-flavored duck wings. He wondered if they had this restaurant on their side. He decided to ask Cheng Zesheng later, when he had the chance.
The table was now clean, and He Wei rolled up his sleeves, ready to do some chores and tidy up the house.
This was one of the reasons why Cheng Zesheng could tolerate living under the same roof with an unseen neighbor like He Wei. He Wei was a clean freak; whenever he had free time, he would do chores around the house. He would mop the floor until it was spotless, making it look as pristine as a model home in a sales office. Moreover, he never demanded Cheng Zesheng’s help. Instead, he set some rules, like not allowing wet slippers in the living room and making sure no leftover dishes were left in the kitchen.
Cheng Zesheng had always suspected if He Wei was a Virgo due to his cleanliness habits. After checking the information, he realized He Wei’s birthday was in January, making him a Capricorn. This revelation seemed quite reasonable to Cheng Zesheng. Being a hygiene-conscious Capricorn, it was fortunate that they didn’t meet in person; otherwise, they might have ended up arguing over such minor issues.
He Wei’s cleaning routine was straightforward—top to bottom, from the living room to the kitchen. When he finished tidying the upstairs rooms, including Cheng Zesheng’s room, he came downstairs with a cloth and noticed the remaining small crayfish were unfinished, with their shells haphazardly piled on the coffee table, which annoyed him.
Walking over to take a look, he found there were only a few left in the box. Decisively, he reached out, cleaned up the crayfish shells, and swept them into the trash bin with swift and efficient movements.
Cheng Zesheng was simply looking at his phone, contemplating changing the video program. When he looked up again, the box and crayfish were nowhere to be seen.
…Well, he had almost finished eating anyway, and it’s not like he would be heartbroken over not finishing them. Cheng Zesheng wiped his hands and felt a bit awkward having the neighbor do all the housework alone. With good intentions, he wrote a note asking if he needed help.
He Wei replied promptly: “You can mop the floor.”
As the cleaning neared its end, only the mopping was left. Since someone was willing to help, why not?
He Wei went upstairs and tapped out a Morse code message on the wooden staircase railing with his fingers. He informed Cheng Zesheng that he needed to use the bathroom first and would be taking a shower soon.
During He Wei’s shower time, Cheng Zesheng mopped the entire house. Looking at the glossy, newly-shined ceramic tile floor that gleamed in the light, he felt a significant sense of accomplishment. He had rarely done household chores from childhood to adulthood, and voluntarily offered to help was even rarer. Occasionally doing it made him surprisingly content.
The “swoosh” of the shower glass door opening was followed by He Wei slipping slightly as he stepped out, quickly grabbing onto the door to steady himself. When people are startled, their heartbeats instinctively quicken. This happened to He Wei; his heart seemed to have jumped into his throat due to the sudden fright.
The ceramic tiles throughout the living room reflected light to the point of glossiness. He Wei’s lips twitched, suspecting that maybe he hadn’t slipped by accident. He wondered if Cheng Zesheng deliberately mopped the tiles so wetly to make him fall.
Helpless, He Wei had to get another dry mop and redo the areas that were obviously watermarked and overly shiny.
Cheng Zesheng sat on the sofa, eagerly anticipating He Wei’s praise. The bathroom door had already closed and opened fifteen minutes ago; why wasn’t there any movement yet?
In just three seconds, the small note that Cheng Zesheng was hoping for appeared.
[Don’t mop the floor in the future; you’re not suited for it.]
———
After they had each finished their respective tasks, it was already past ten o’clock, and it was time for the case analysis.
He Wei held a stack of documents and began by placing individual photos and photocopies on the whiteboard using magnetic stickers. With a whiteboard marker in hand, he meticulously wrote down the tangential ideas and speculations sparked by the materials. It was as if he were conducting a case analysis with a specialized team.
He had bought this whiteboard in the afternoon with Chong Zhen’s help and set it up at home. It was considered an item brought in by Chong Zhen. This idea was born out of necessity. Since they belonged to different worlds and were limited by the rules of item exchange, items purchased by others were exceptions. Both of them could touch and interact with those items, and they wouldn’t disappear.
Chong Zhen was surprised and couldn’t fathom why He Wei wanted a whiteboard at home. He suggested he should work overtime at the office, where there were plenty of whiteboards. He also mentioned that they had blackboards if the whiteboards were all taken.
He Wei told him not to waste words; it had its purpose. Chong Zhen persistently asked what the purpose was, only to receive a cold smile from He Wei. “To chat with Cheng Zesheng.”
“…” Chong Zhen’s body was covered in goosebumps, and without hesitation, he pulled out money, saying, “I’ll buy it, I’ll buy it.”
Cheng Zesheng came downstairs, holding a small notebook and wearing a pair of frameless reading glasses. He looked like he had come to attend a lecture. The whiteboard was densely filled with content. Cheng Zesheng pushed up his glasses and carefully read the information written on it.
[The whiteboard and materials can be touched, but not the photos. They’re original documents.]
These were the first few words at the top of the board, followed by the formal heading: “Case Analysis of the Deceased Cheng Zesheng.”
“…” After an entire evening, Cheng Zesheng was left speechless for the third time. He didn’t describe him as “the deceased He Wei”, right? Seeing his name juxtaposed with the words “deceased” did feel strange.
On the other hand, He Wei didn’t share the same sentiment. The one who died on his side was indeed Cheng Zesheng, but the pianist Cheng Zesheng. How else could he describe it? Was he supposed to write “Analysis of the Death of Cheng Zesheng #1”?
What made Cheng Zesheng feel even more peculiar were the photos of the deceased’s body. The man, who looked just like him, had a pale complexion and a hole in his chest. The body was shown from various angles, depicting the condition of the deceased beauty in a vivid and detailed manner.
Underneath the photos of the body were pictures of the crime scene. The mansion where the shooting took place was exactly the same as the scene he had surveyed. The shattered glass windows were identical in shape. The body of “Cheng Zesheng” was also in the living room, and at first glance, the position of the footprints in the crime scene matched closely with their own scene. Looking at the autopsy report, an idea started to form in Cheng Zesheng’s mind.
He asked He Wei to take out the photocopies of the crime scene photos he had brought back yesterday and placed them beside the photos of the body. He Wei complied, attaching the photo of the “He Wei” body and the images of the two sets of footprints below. Cheng Zesheng stroked his chin, calculated the distance based on both sides’ crime scene reports, and gradually widened his eyes.
Could it be… He quickly checked the time of death and found that both deaths were estimated within the same time frame—between 3:00 a.m. and 3:30 a.m. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, and he dropped his pen on the floor.
“Snap!” The crisp sound echoed conspicuously in the silent apartment. He Wei heard it too, but he had no time to pay attention because, at that moment, he was furrowing his brows, realizing the gravity of the situation.
[You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?]
[Yeah.]
They stared at the positions of the footprints and the bodies, both silent, seemingly finally understanding who the elusive third party that was always untraceable might be.
According to the crime scene data from both sides, the body of “Cheng Zesheng” was found close to the broken footprints discovered in the living room on Cheng Zesheng’s side, the distance between them being less than a meter. The body of “He Wei,” on the other hand, was located near the group of footprints found at the entrance on He Wei’s side, the distance between them being less than half a meter.
Several minutes passed, and Cheng Zesheng finally picked up his pen again, slowly writing on the whiteboard: [In the first set of broken footprints, there’s an unknown shoeprint that might be mine.]
As he wrote these words, his throat felt dry. He thought it was too abrupt and bizarre, yet upon careful consideration, he found that there was a trace to follow, something that made sense.
The corner of He Wei’s lips curled into a rare bitter smile as he gazed at the group of footprints and the body of his parallel self. He couldn’t help but sigh at the incredible incredibility of it all.
When they had extracted Cheng Zesheng’s footprints along with an unidentified set from that group of footprints, he had always believed that there was a third party present with Cheng Zesheng, someone who had cleaned up the scene, leaving everything spotless, including the body. However, he couldn’t understand why they hadn’t done anything about the bloodstains.
Now he realized, it might not solely have been the work of a third party; the uniqueness of that mansion’s environment played a role in this scene as well.
Now that the details of both sides’ cases were clearly laid out, both of them felt a sense of confusion. The traces of their respective scenes seemed to have become intertwined and chaotic.
In an instant, He Wei felt a touch of perplexity. Was this a test by the god of deduction or some sort of magic within the universe’s spacetime?
[There is no third party; the third party is ourselves.]
He Wei put down his pen, sat on the sofa, and pressed his forehead with his fingers, remaining silent for a long time.
On that night, it was unknown what kind of story unfolded, causing the two separate time-space dimensions within that mansion to somehow fold and overlap.
C O N F U S E D