Shadow of the Past

Joaquin continued to feel the presence following him as he walked toward Zhang's residence. Every footstep and every shadow created by streetlights made his heart pound. He hardly dared look back again, fearing that his act of recognition would make whoever was behind him aware of it.

He hurried it along, his thoughts racing. Who might be following him? Was it someone sent by Lianhua's father? Or, worse yet, someone who would know the truth about Adrian Mendoza and would want to stop him?

At the gate to the Zhang residence, he hesitated. If he went in now, he might very well lead the pursuer directly to the family. Instead, he turned to the side of the house and finally snuck through a small space in the garden wall toward the back entrance. He put his hand on the doorknob, when a voice stopped him.

"You should stop asking questions, Joaquin."

His breath seemed caught in his throat. He turned around, but there was no one there-the whisper had come from the dark, and whoever it was had disappeared.

Joaquin stood still, heart racing. Somebody wanted him to not find out the truth.

Morning came, and with it an unrestful Joaquin. He had hardly slept, tossing and turning all night about the warning. A voice inside him screamed to back out, to leave the business alone lest he end up truly in danger.

Yet something deep inside him would not listen. He needed to learn the truth. Not for himself, for Adrian. He could not just stand by and ignore it if something had happened to him.

At breakfast, tension hung thick in the air of the Zhang household. Lianhua hardly touched her food. Mei Zhang kept darting glances between her husband and daughter, as though she expected a row to break out any minute now. Wei Zhang, however, remained inscrutable, his eyes fixed on the newspaper in his hands.

Joaquin cleared his throat. "Mr. Zhang, may I ask you something?"

Wei Zhang looked over at him; "That depends."

The expectation made him hesitate; "Did Adrian Mendoza really leave Henan University of his own will?"

Nobody spoke for a moment. Then Wei Zhang folded his newspaper and set it aside. "That is not a matter for discussion," he said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Lianhua stood up with a jerk, her chair screeching loudly against the floor. "I'm done," was all she said as she walked out of the room.

The tightening of the jaw was the only gesture Joaquin made. If her father was not going to tell him the truth, maybe she would.

Joaquin found Lianhua at the lotus pond in the garden. She stood with her arms crossed and was staring down into the water, which was eerily calm.

"You know more about Adrian than you're telling me," was the first thing Joaquin said as he moved in closer.

She sighed, wrapped her arms even tighter around herself. "Joaquin...you don't understand how dangerous this is."

Then explain it to me!

She turned and faced him; for the first time, there was fear in her eyes, he realized. "I told you before; my father did not approve of Adrian. And when he disappeared… none asked questions. No one asked where he went. They accepted it."

The blood in Joaquin froze. "Are you telling me that your father had a role in it?"

"I don't know," she said. "But this I know: Adrian didn't just leave. And if you keep investigating, you might be next."

Joaquin drew his breath sharply; he had suspected as much, but hearing out loud from Lianhua made it staunchly real.

Now he ought to have felt frightened; he should have recoiled.

But he would not, not now.

Frustration would fill his days for the next couple of days. Again, Joaquin searched through the archives of the university for anything more on Adrian Mendoza, but nothing else came up; it looked as if someone had just wiped him off the face of this earth.

But then, he remembered something. The old janitor, Mr. Han. He had been there for decades. If anyone knew what had happened, it would be him.

Joaquin waited until the late afternoon, when most students had filed out, to find Mr. Han sweeping, with a broom at the library entrance.

"Mr. Han," he greeted respectfully.

The old man looked up, a short smile growing on the wrinkles of his face. "Ah, the Filipino student. What can I do for you?"

A moment's doubt passed through him, and he decided to take the plunge. "I need to know something about Adrian Mendoza."

Mr. Han's smile faded. He looked nervously around, then beckoned Joaquin to follow him into a dark corridor.

"Why are you asking me about him?" he whispered.

"I think something has happened to him," Joaquin said, "something that people are trying to cover up."

Mr. Han sighed heavily. "Adrian was a good student, smart, and kind. He made a mistake."

"What mistake?"

Mr. Han hesitated for a moment, then said, "He fell in love with Lianhua."

Joaquin felt as if he had just been punched in the gut. He had expected that answer, but hearing it confirmed was something entirely different.

Mr. Han continued barely above a whisper, "Mr. Zhang warned him. He told him to leave Lianhua alone. But Adrian didn't listen. One night... he was taken."

"Taken?" Joaquin demanded. "By who?"

Mr. Han looked around again before leaning in. "Nobody knows. But people saw men in black suits waiting outside the university. The next morning, Adrian was gone."

"A sick feeling washed over Joaquin. 'And nobody did anything?'

Mr. Han shook his head. 'The Zhangs are powerful, Joaquin. And power makes problems disappear.'

Joaquin clenched his fists. He couldn't let that go. He had to find out the truth about what happened to Adrian.

But little did he know how much trouble he was getting into.

As he made his way back toward the Zhang residence, Joaquin started to feel it again.

He was being followed.

He turned sharply, his heart pounding, and ducked into a shadowy alley. There, with his back pressed against the cold brick wall, he held his breath.

Footsteps. Slow and measured.

Then nothing.

Joaquin waited in silence; sweat trickled down his forehead. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

Then—

A hand clamped over his mouth, and everything went dark.

Joaquin woke up in a dimly lit room. His head throbbed, and his wrists were tied behind his back.

A figure stepped out of the shadows.

Wei Zhang.

'You should have listened,' his voice was cold. 'Some questions are best left unanswered.'

Joaquin struggled against the binding. 'What did you do to Adrian?'

Wei Zhang just looked at him for a long moment and then came close. 'You'll find out soon enough.'

Then he turned and walked away, leaving Joaquin alone in the dark.

His pulse raced as he forced himself to walk briskly down the dim street. The nagging feeling of being followed refused to leave him. He turned his head slightly, scanning the area. No one was on sight. Occasional humming of flickering streetlights only contributed to his growing paranoia.

Just then, when he felt he was about to dismiss it as mere overthinking, he saw a shadow flickering at the edge of his vision. He was not the only one.

For a moment, fear gripped him, but he could not afford to be scared. He opted instead to carefully walk into a narrow alleyway next to a convenience store that had already been closed. He was pressed against the cold brick wall while holding his breath, waiting.

Footsteps.

Quiet yet certain. One by one, inching closer. Joaquin tightened his fists, ready for anything. But before he could process what he was going to do, an apparition came from the shadows.

Lianhua.

Gasping for breath, she turned a furtive glance back over her shoulder from side to side. "Joaquin," she whispered, "you need to leave right now."

"What's wrong?" He frowned. "What is it?"

"No time to explain," she said and then got interrupted by her own words, clenching his wrist and pulling him further into the alley. "I told you before; this isn't a simple story from the past. You are in danger."

Joaquin halted her with a backward tug. "I need to know the truth, Lianhua. Who is after me?"

She hesitated, clearly conflicted about whether to tell him the truth or lie. Eventually, her shoulders slumped along with a sigh escaping her lips: "My father."

Joaquin felt his stomach churn. It was something he had two years ago surmised with reference to Mr. Zhang; however, that realization sent a tremor down his spine. "And why?"

"Because he doesn't want history to repeat itself," she said in a whisper. "What happened to Adrian wasn't just a disappearance. He was...taken."

Joaquin absorbed that. "Taken? By whom?"

"By my father," she said. "And if you keep poking your nose in this, Joaquin, they will come after you as well."

It felt like the ground beneath him had disappeared. It bore down on his chest, but with this, he was unwilling to back down. "I can't just walk away from this."

"They're not going to lose you, too," Lianhua said, pitying him, but fear glimmered behind her gaze.

A silence stretched interminably, and finally Joaquin said, "Then help me. If Adrian's out there, I have to find him."

Lianhua bit her lip and nodded. "We have to be cautious. My father is already watching you."

Joaquin gulped. He didn't have any doubts anymore; this was not going to be just about an old mystery; it was a matter of survival.

The next morning, he had walked into class like any other day, but every second felt dragged through the mud under the weight of consciousness. He felt eyes on him. Was one of Zhang's men? Or was he imagining things?

They were supposed to meet behind the library at lunchtime. She handed him a piece of folded paper. "Tonight, meet me here," she whispered. "We can figure out what to do next."

Joaquin nodded and pocketed the note. He turned to leave and just caught a glimpse of someone familiar by the administration office: Wei Zhang's assistant. He was watching him.

His heart leaping with every other step, he hurried away, trying to mask the tremor beneath his skin. He had to hurry. If Zhang already knew this much, it meant he was running out of time.

Tonight, at the appointed spot, which lay in a corner of the garden of the university, he met up with Lianhua. The notebook was old with worn and slightly torn pages.

"This was Adrian's journal," she said as she handed it to him. "I found it hidden in one of the old dorm rooms before my father could destroy it."

The interview has almost thrust the student notebook to the very brink of destruction. The writing on the pages was the usual fare of student letters, but there were some hastily scribbled scrawls within:

"They warned me. They told me to stop. But I can't. I have to know the truth."

Some more lines down:

"If anything happens to me, it will not be an accident."

Joaquin's hands trembled as he raised his face, saying, "He knew."

Lianhua nodded. "And now you do too."

Footsteps interrupted whatever would have been said next, suddenly halting them into silence.

Mr. Zhang had forced his way out into the garden, on a direct pathway toward them, with two men dressed in black behind him, and blood froze in the veins of Joaquin.

"Step away from her, boy," came a low growl.

Lianhua stepped in front of Joaquin. "Father, please—"

"Enough. I told you to leave him alone, Joaquin, and there you are, stirring up the past."

Joaquin stood his ground. "I only want the truth."

Mr. Zhang then grunted, in a manner that looked almost like thunder, and pointed commandingly. "You have made a mistake."

The men poured in around him, breaking him away from Lianhua. He hardly had time to put up a struggle before his body was yielding under the strength of their grasp.

Lianhua yelled at them, trying to pull them away. "Stop! Let him go!"

"Get rid of him," Mr. Zhang shouted. "Make sure he learns his lesson."

Joaquin was taken away into a blur of darkness. The last thing that stood out in his memory was the face of Lianhua, drenched in tears.