Every Woman Had Fantasized About the Future

I looked at the phone number on the card and was confused.

Why was the mystery number Adeline's phone number?

In that case, why didn't she just tell me?

No. If that were the case, she wouldn't have had the chance to call me. Did she know she was going to be in danger, just as she knew I was going to have a car accident?

But her voice didn't sound like the one on the phone. I didn't know if she had used some voice-changing software.

I shook my head, trying not to think so much.

The more I thought about it, the more I got confused. I needed to prioritize everything and figure them out one by one.

The most important thing right now was obviously Paul's death. I was a little worried about the blood-stained towel I had thrown away. If it was found, it could be used against me. I had to find a way to get it back.

I didn't think I could do it today. It would be a problem if I went back and ran into those workers again. It shouldn't be noticed if it was left there for some time. William asked me out for dinner, and now it was about time. I had to go home and tidy myself up, then get a haircut in case he noticed anything unusual.

Mojo poked its head out from the back seat and cocked its head at me, panting.

I reached out and gently touched its head.

"Another man who deserved to die met his doom," I said softly.

Mojo didn't understand what I was saying, but it nicely lifted its head and rested it on my hand.

It was a game my wife liked to play with Mojo. Whenever my wife made a circle with her hands, Mojo liked to put its head in and stuck out its tongue as if it was laughing.

I knew Mojo was begging me to play the game with it, but I was not in the mood, so I drove home.

When I got home, I carefully examined my clothes and even the soles of my shoes for fear that William might find anything suspicious.

Then I took a shower and threw my clothes in the washing machine.

I got dressed and went to the place where William and I had arranged to meet. William was already waiting there for me.

It was our favorite food stall. William always seemed out of place there.

He liked to sit solemnly on a small stool with his back straight and his hands on his knees. He looked like a freak compared with the other diners.

I sat down beside him and asked, "Have you ordered yet?"

Embarrassedly, he said, "I asked you out to dinner, but can we change it to a midnight snack? Something happened while we were waiting for you. Ava got mad at me and left, so I'm going to make her feel better."

"Why was she mad at you?" I asked.

Suddenly, someone said, "His girlfriend slept with me. She got mad at him for his impotence after comparing us!"

The voice was hoarse, high-pitched, and unpleasant to the ear.

I looked in the direction of the sound and saw a group of people sitting at the table next to ours. A man was speaking.

He was bald and big, wearing a vest, and had the word "filial" tattooed on his big arm.

None of the dishes at their table had been taken, so they must have just sat down.

William frowned at the sight of the man. "Matthew, you just got out of jail, and you're looking for trouble again?"

I asked William, "Who is he?"

"He's Matthew Clark, an annoying gangster. He used to live in the suburbs. Whenever a wedding car passed by, he would sit on the ground and get in its way. Or when there was a funeral procession, he would cause trouble and say the deceased missed his family so much that he would take them with him. He wouldn't leave until he got some money," William said.

I couldn't help asking, "People don't beat him?"

"He dreams of getting beat up," William said. "Think about it. How much would he get for a minor injury? Some called the police to arrest him, but the amount of money he demanded was not large by law, so he wouldn't be detained for long. Some gave him money to avoid trouble."

I nodded. The man was indeed a rogue.

"He's the one who pissed Ava off? What's his grudge against you?" I asked.

William sneered, "I happened to run into him when he couldn't extort money from people and was pickpocketing. He looks strong but is actually weak. I chased him for five blocks before he was on the ground gasping for air."

Matthew said to his friends at once, "You know what? Someone runs as fast as a dog. I'm a human being. I can't run five blocks without panting."

William's face darkened. He was always gentle when Ava swore at him, but that didn't mean Matthew could insult him like that.

"Are you going to lose your temper?" I asked.

"No." William shook his head. "We'll just leave him alone. I'm used to it."

Somehow, what he said made me feel sorry for him.

Matthew went further and further. His friends laughed, and the nearby diners understood that he was cursing us. A newcomer heard it and couldn't help but whisper to his friend, "What a coward! I would have hit the man if I were him."

I suddenly found it funny.

William had done more meritorious service than any of his colleagues in recent years.

How dare a gangster eating barbecue on the street call a criminal cop on the front line a coward?

Matthew added, "By the way, Sir Turner, I hear your pretty girlfriend has a twin sister. Oh hell, you're so lucky. I wonder if you'll deliberately mistake your girlfriend's sister for her?"

A bum next to him immediately smiled and said, "His girlfriend is Ava White, and Ava's sister is Zara. I met them in high school. They're as beautiful as their names suggest. I used to dream about sleeping with them when I was at school!"

Those insulting words, like a sharp knife, stabbed into my heart!

I stared at them with my eyes wide open. Matthew said triumphantly, "But Sir Turner, you work all day. I don't think you have time for the twin, do you? How about I take care of them for you?"

The bum said at once, "It's too late. Zara died in a car accident some time ago."

Matthew was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Where is she buried? I'll dig her up!"

I stood up. William grabbed me by the hand and said, "Easy!"

I pressed my hand down and broke free.

Matthew couldn't help laughing when he saw me get up. "What do you want?"

His friends all pointed at me. "What do you want? Are you going to hit us?"

Matthew grinned. "Don't stop him. Try hitting me. I'll lie down if you do. Sir Turner, as a police officer, you wouldn't stand by and watch a violent man beat someone up in the street, would you?"

William roared, "Matthew Clark, don't mess with him if you don't want to die!"

I lifted my leg and kicked their table hard from the top down.

"Bang!"

My foot split the table in half, and bottles and dishes scattered all over the floor.

Those who had pointed at me were stunned and took two steps back in fear. I grabbed an iron skewer from the floor and jabbed it at Matthew!

Matthew was so frightened that his face turned pale. He froze and did not know what to do.

Suddenly, someone grabbed me.

It was William.

He grabbed my wrist tight and said in a low voice, "Be rational!"

I looked at him coldly.

I couldn't stay rational.

A worthless scumbag insulted the woman I loved the most.

"I was scared to death. The cop's friend was trying to hit me! Did you see that?" Matthew said, patting his chest.

"Shut up!"

William yelled angrily, but he could do nothing but pay the bill and drag me out. He said to me helplessly, "You're making things difficult for me!"

I didn't say anything.

He was right. At least I didn't have to put him in a pickle.

Matthew was shouting behind us. William pushed me to the parking lot next to the food stall. "Come on, you go back. I'll meet you when I finish coaxing Ava. We'll have a midnight snack then. Don't quarrel with such a jerk."

I glanced at Matthew again, ready to hit him, but William quickly came between me and Matthew. "I told you to be rational. If Zara were here, she'd tell you not to be impulsive."

The beautiful figure of my wife came back to me.

She always told me that momentary courage was not true courage.

She also said that a man's fists were for protection.

But...

What else could I protect without her in this world?

I felt bad. I bit my lip and got into my car at last.

William just stood there and watched me leave. He was probably worried that I wouldn't be able to take it. When I drove far enough, I could still see him standing there in my wing mirror.

I drove home with Matthew on my mind.

I was not tolerant. I couldn't forgive him for insulting my wife.

Back in my building, I went into the elevator because there was a camera. The camera caught me going back to the third floor, and then I went down the stairs.

I just wanted to teach Matthew a lesson, so he'd know he shouldn't talk nonsense.

Only the entrances and exits of my apartment complex were equipped with cameras, and there were no cameras on the garden paths. Sometimes, the property management company didn't even turn on the lamps to save money. I figured if I was going to teach Matthew a lesson, I couldn't let the cameras catch me. If I hit him, he would get more than just a minor injury.

I didn't panic at all. I just stood by the side of the road. Soon, a taxi came. I flagged it down, and it stopped.

...

I got into the taxi and said to the driver, "South Second Avenue."

Matthew was on South First Avenue, and I was on South Second Avenue. I had to approach him slowly so that he wouldn't see me in advance. And I was worried that William was still there.

South Second Avenue was actually a night market full of stalls.

Young people liked to go there, where all kinds of snacks, accessories, and clothes were sold.

Instead of going to stalls selling new clothes, I walked over to a big stall selling used clothes.

Rumor had it that such stall owners loaded clothes from donation boxes onto trucks and sold them elsewhere, trampling on the kindness of well-meaning people. Such things had been reported.

I remembered when the news first came out, I was indignant and told my wife to stop donating because she liked to give away her old clothes. However, she was not angry at all. She said to me, "Should we give up our goodwill just because someone else tramples on it? Why should we stop doing good when others are doing wrong?"

At the moment, I didn't really care where they got the clothes, because that was what I wanted.

The clothes were of different styles and had no labels. Basically, no two pieces of clothing were the same. Stall owners could not remember what they had sold.

That was great for me.

I bought a top, trousers, shoes, and a hat.

Then I went into a public restroom, locked the compartment door, and changed my clothes in there. After making sure no one was outside, I quickly walked out, leaving my original outfit in the compartment.

I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt that I was quite good at doing something like that.

When I returned to South First Avenue, William was no longer there, but Matthew was. Matthew moved to another table and ate and drank with his friends.

I watched them quietly from across the street and did not go forward. There was a camera at the intersection. I hoped Matthew would come over to me after he finished his meal.

It took patience to wait. I waited calmly for nearly 30 minutes before I finally saw them stand up.

Matthew's friends tried to pay the bill, but Matthew yelled at them not to. Eventually, he pushed his friends away, accused them of looking down on him, and settled the bill himself.

His friends shouted about how awesome he was. He said happily that he would take them to a bar, but they couldn't go.

They all said it was too late and that they had to work the next day.

So they left one after another.

Instead of going my way, Matthew turned and walked into the back alley.

I didn't rush after him. Instead, I took a detour to avoid the camera, then crossed the street into the alley.

Matthew didn't walk very fast, and I soon caught up with him.

He seemed to be drunk, staggering and humming.

I followed him, looking for the right moment to strike.

It was an alley, but residents there still had their lights on. I knew it was a bad time to strike. If Matthew yelled something, it would get people's attention.

After following him for some distance, I suddenly heard a loud noise ahead.

"Bang, bang!" It sounded as if someone was banging on the door.

Hearing the sound, Matthew suddenly quickened his pace. I followed him in confusion.

Halfway through the alley, I saw a group of people blocking the door of an apartment, making a lot of noise.

An old lady stood at the door in fear. Matthew walked up to her and called her mom, while I hid in a corner and watched them quietly.

"They came banging on the door in the middle of the night and said they wanted you. Did you stir up trouble again?" said the old lady when she saw Matthew.

Matthew, who had been so arrogant and domineering in William's presence, suddenly forced a smile when he saw those people. "Why are you here, bro?"

The leader looked impatient. "Don't try to cotton up to me. Are you going to pay us back the money you owe us?"

"Didn't we agree that I would pay it back in a couple of days?"

"That would be fine if I didn't hear you lost 700 dollars at poker yesterday. What should I do if you run out of money in a few days and shamelessly refuse to pay it back?"

Matthew smiled obsequiously. "Trust me! I won't break my word!"

"I want my money back now."

"Bro..."

"You think I'm joking with you, don't you? You think I came to your place with my men in the middle of the night and banged on your door just to hear you say you'd pay it back in a few days, don't you?"

Matthew clearly did not want to offend the gang. He said to the old lady, "Mom, take out your bank card. I want to borrow some money from you."

The old lady didn't move, and like a child, she pursed her dry lips tight. A whine came out of her mouth.

"Don't make a fool of yourself. My friends are here. Don't embarrass me," Matthew said.

At last, the old lady burst into tears. She wiped her eyes, panted, and said weakly, "You couldn't get a job after you got out of jail. Your uncle got you a job after I begged him hard and you promised to work hard. You didn't get paid, and you lost 700 dollars in one night. Where did you get the money?"

"Well, that's just a rumor. Why do you believe that?" Matthew grew impatient. "Would you believe it if someone said I was president?"

The old lady turned to cry, her voice cracking. "How much do you owe them?"

"Not much. Give me your card."

"That's the money I saved up to buy myself a grave. Your aunt was buried in the same cemetery as your father last month. A grave there costs 4,000 dollars, but I only saved 3,000 dollars. I can't count on you. I told your uncle I wanted a job, whatever it was, but he said I was too old. You know I'm 68 years old. I'm too ashamed to tell him I can't even afford a grave. I was hoping you could save some money for me."

Matthew was anxious. "What's the point of saying that? Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friends?"

"Are you afraid of embarrassing yourself? What kind of friends are they, banging on our door in the middle of the night and asking for money? I want to be buried next to your dad, but I don't have the money..."

"I told you I'd borrow some money from you. I'll pay you back as soon as I get my paycheck!"

"How much on earth do you owe them?"

"Not much, just 300 dollars. Don't cry. Give me your card."

The old lady went into the apartment, wiping away her tears. The men drew near Matthew, and the leader said, "What do you mean by 300 dollars? You think I won't hit your mother, do you? Did you cry to my face so I could sympathize with you?"

"Bro, you can rest assured that I'll pay you back tonight."

Matthew liked to bully the weak and feared the strong. When he met someone who dared to hurt him, he would ask his mother to give him the money for her grave.

The old lady walked out with her card. I followed them to an ATM.

Matthew grabbed the old lady's card before she went into the glass door. "Just wait here. You can't see well anyway. I'll get the money."

Matthew went near the ATM. His mother foolishly believed him and waited outside the door, clutching her hem uneasily.

But soon she realized something was wrong.

Matthew's arm, tattooed with the word "filial," kept moving across the interface. He first withdrew 700 dollars. He put the money aside and continued operating the ATM.

The old lady panicked. She went near the door and asked, "How much do you want? Didn't you say 300 dollars?"

"Don't worry. I'll pay you back."

Matthew withdrew another 700 dollars. One could withdraw a maximum of 700 dollars at a time and a maximum of 3,000 dollars per day from the ATM.

The old lady was so anxious that she kept banging her wrinkled hand on the glass and telling her son to come out.

In the silent street, she cried her heart out but couldn't utter a complete word. Again, she wailed like a child. Not knowing what else to do, she banged on the glass again. The leader suddenly said coldly, "If you break the glass, you'll have to pay hundreds of dollars and you may go to jail."

The old lady stopped what she was doing.

She had lived through 68 winters.

She had struggled and had been young.

When she was a big girl, she might have followed the fashion. When she owned her first house, she probably lay in bed and imagined the future with her love. When she had her baby, she might have looked at him, expecting him to call her mom.

...

At that time, she was in high spirits. How could she have imagined that one day she would not even be buried next to her husband and that she would even have to see if she had enough money before venting her grief?

She seemed to have lost all her strength. She sat on the ground like a three-year-old, kicking her legs and wiping her eyes with clenched fists.

I thought she used to be a stubborn girl because she liked to purse her lips when she cried.

Every woman who liked to cry that way didn't want to be seen crying unless she couldn't hold back her tears.

Matthew ignored his crying mother. He succeeded in withdrawing 3,000 dollars. He opened the door and handed the money to the leader. "Bro, I paid you everything I owed you."

The leader nodded. Without looking at the mother and son, he turned and left with his men.

Matthew tried to help his mother up, but she refused to get up. She beat her chest, crying and panting. "Why should I raise you? Why on earth did I give birth to you?"

Matthew tugged at his mother's sleeve with his arm tattooed with "filial" and grew impatient. "Why don't you just cut it out today? I'm so sleepy. I'm going back to bed."

"Give me my money back! Give it back to me! I'm disowning you. I'm not your mother anymore," screamed the old lady. "Give me my money back! I'll leave you alone if you get beat up or shot in the future. I don't want you as my son anymore!"

Matthew was annoyed and snarled, "Fine! Just you wait! If you're so ruthless, I'll give it back to you tonight! I'm going to jail tomorrow!"

With that, he walked angrily toward me.

I immediately pretended to pee and lowered my head so that he could not see me.

He passed me, and I glanced at him and continued to follow him.

He looked like he was gonna do something tonight.

Before I left, I looked back at the old lady. She was too weak to cry.

What a dutiful son!

It was really ironic.

I followed Matthew and looked at his back coldly.

Since evildoers could only be punished by worse men, I didn't mind being a worse man. Whether Matthew lived or not depended on what he was going to do tonight-If he was good, he could live; if he was bad, he had to die!