Why Don't We Call the Police?

Around 2 PM, the winter sun seemed weak, and a thin layer of gray-white clouds covered the sky. Lin Feng changed into a set of dark clothes suitable for going out and followed his parents out. His mother, Zhang Fen, was wiping away tears the whole way; her eyes were terribly red and swollen, and she was walking unsteadily. His father, Lin Jianguo, walked ahead without saying a word, his face ashen and his lips tightly pressed together.

When we arrived at my aunt's building, a somber and oppressive atmosphere had already permeated the building. The stairwell was quiet; the sounds of televisions and mahjong that usually emanated from the neighbors during the New Year were gone, and only the footsteps of the three of them echoed in the empty stairwell.

When I knocked on my aunt's door, a strong smell of smoke and suppressed sobs immediately filled the air. Several people were already sitting in the small living room, the smoke obscuring their faces.

Second Aunt Wang Guifang slumped on the old sofa, her hair disheveled, her face streaked with tears, her eyes swollen like peaches. She was constantly blowing her nose and wiping away tears with a crumpled tissue, letting out suppressed, intermittent sobs. Third Aunt sat beside her, one arm around her shoulder, the other gently patting her back, whispering words of comfort, but her own eyes were also red.

My second aunt's husband was squatting on a low stool in the corner of the living room, his hair disheveled, and he was still wearing the ill-fitting jacket he wore for the New Year, with the collar open.

He kept his head down, puffing on the cheapest cigarettes one after another. Seven or eight cigarette butts lay scattered at his feet. He looked like a frozen statue, shrouded in sorrow and smoke. The other relatives in the living room—his eldest uncle (Zhang Fen's older brother), his third uncle, and two other cousins who were closer to him—sat in silence, some with their heads down, others looking out the window. No one spoke; only his second aunt's suppressed sobs and the faint hissing of burning tobacco could be heard.

When Lin Feng and his family entered, everyone merely raised their eyes and nodded as a greeting, without even bothering to exchange pleasantries. The air was so heavy it seemed as if you could wring water out of it.

Zhang Fen immediately went to sit down next to her second aunt, took her hand, and tears welled up in her eyes again. "Guifang... don't cry, don't cry... let's think of a solution together..."

When Wang Guifang saw her sister, she cried even harder, grabbing Zhang Fen's hand so tightly that her nails almost dug into her flesh. "Sister... my Penghui... if anything happens to him, how can I live... it's all my fault... it's all my fault for not keeping a close eye on him... for believing his nonsense..."

Lin Feng found a corner against the wall and stood quietly. His father, Lin Jianguo, walked over to his second aunt's husband, squatted down, and silently offered him a cigarette. The second aunt's husband numbly accepted it, and the two men squatted in the corner, puffing away.

After waiting a while longer, most of the relatives who had made the appointment arrived. The small living room was crammed with about ten people, making it feel even more cramped and the air thick with tension. The crying gradually subsided, leaving only heavy breathing and occasional coughs. All eyes, whether open or hidden, were focused on my second aunt's husband, who had finally raised his head from the corner.

My second aunt's husband stubbed out his cigarette, vigorously wiped his face with his rough hands, and stood up stiffly. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his lips were chapped, and his gaze swept over every familiar face in the room. His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding:

"Everyone... elder brothers, elder sisters, younger brothers, younger sisters... you all probably know about Xiaohui's situation."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, as if he were using immense effort to continue speaking:

"The call... came yesterday afternoon. It was from Xiaohui's phone... The person on the other end said... Xiaohui broke the rules, embezzled money... He's in their hands now."

At this point, his voice began to tremble, and he could barely continue. He took several deep breaths before finally managing to say in a shaky voice, "We need 500,000... 500,000 in cash, transferred to their designated account... Once the money arrives, they'll release him. If the money doesn't arrive... they'll... they'll kill him."

The words "kidnap the ticket" were like two icicles, piercing deep into everyone's hearts. Several women couldn't help but sob softly again.

Uncle's eyes reddened even more. He lowered his head, unconsciously rubbing his hands together. "Everyone knows our family's situation... Guifang and I are just two ordinary workers. The factory isn't doing well, and we can't save much money at the end of the year... Xiaohui went out, saying he'd make big money, but... but he hasn't brought back much... 500,000... even if we sold the house, we couldn't raise that much in a short time... Besides, they... can't wait..."

He raised his head again, his eyes filled with humble pleading and utter despair. "This time... I called everyone here... for no other reason than... I just want to ask you all, relatives, for the sake of us being family... to help us out, to give us a hand..."

The meaning couldn't be clearer: it's about pooling money. Each household should contribute what they can to reach the life-saving 500,000 yuan.

The living room was deathly silent. Only the occasional muffled sound of children setting off firecrackers in the distance from outside the window made the atmosphere in the room even more stagnant.

This is no small sum. For most of the relatives in this county who live on wages, tens of thousands of yuan might be a year's savings, or even more. With the New Year just over, every household has considerable expenses. Taking out this money means they will have to tighten their belts for a long time to come, and may even have to use their emergency savings.

But we couldn't leave them unsaved. It was a living, breathing life, a nephew or niece we'd watched grow up.

There was a silence that lasted for about a minute, but it felt like an eternity.

Finally, Zhang Fen's eldest brother, who was also Lin Feng's maternal uncle, spoke first. He was a straightforward retired worker whose words carried weight in the family. He cleared his throat, his voice not loud, but very clear:

"Guifang, brother-in-law, don't be too anxious or upset. We, as elders, can't just stand by and do nothing about what's wrong with the child."

He paused, as if calculating something, then uttered a number. "My family... can only afford 50,000. We really can't come up with more than that; my grandson still needs to go to school..."

Fifty thousand. The first number landed, like breaking through a solid ice barrier.

Auntie and Wang Guifang immediately looked up with tearful eyes at their eldest brother, their lips trembling as they repeatedly expressed their gratitude.

With someone taking the lead, the rest seemed to fall into place. As if some invisible pressure had been released, others began to express their opinions one after another.

"My family... just bought a car for our son, and we're a bit short on cash... could you lend us 30,000?"

"I'll contribute 25,000 yuan; this is to pay for my child's tuition next semester..."

"I'll offer 18,000..."

"My family will also contribute 20,000..."

The numbers were read out one by one, the voices rising and falling, some cheerful and some strained. My second aunt's husband pulled out a small notebook and a ballpoint pen from somewhere, his hands trembling, nodding and thanking as he crookedly wrote down the promised amount and names of each family. My second aunt's crying turned into intermittent, grateful sobs.

The atmosphere in the living room shifted from a despairing silence to a complex mix of sorrow, helplessness, and the pull of family ties. The smoke still lingered, but seemed to carry a warmer sense of shared destiny.

Lin Feng's father, Lin Jianguo, whispered a few words to his mother, Zhang Fen, before saying, "Our family... will contribute 30,000." This amount wasn't small for their family, but it was within their means. Zhang Fen nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

Almost everyone's gaze turned to the few who hadn't yet spoken. Finally, the focus fell on the third uncle, who was sitting on a small stool by the door.

My third uncle was an honest and hardworking truck driver who drove long distances year-round, his skin tanned dark by the sun. He kept his head down, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his old cotton-padded jacket, and had barely spoken since he came in, nor had he paid much attention to my second sister and brother-in-law, who were crying so bitterly.

Seeing everyone staring at him, he became even more uneasy, lowering his head further and unconsciously shuffling his toes on the ground.

The living room fell silent, waiting for him to make his statement. Everyone knew that Third Uncle's family wasn't actually that bad off; his income from driving a car was relatively stable. But he had a formidable wife, a notoriously henpecked one. She firmly controlled the family finances, and Third Uncle himself probably didn't even have a few hundred yuan of pocket money.

Time ticked by, second by second. Third Uncle remained silent, fine beads of sweat even forming on his forehead.

Aunt Wang Guifang stopped sobbing and looked at her younger brother with expectant eyes, yet also a hint of barely perceptible resentment—everyone else has spoken up, so why is your own brother silent?

My second aunt's husband stopped writing in the accounts, looked at my third uncle, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he held back. However, the pressure and anxiety in his eyes were almost overflowing.

Finally, after enduring nearly half a minute of suffocating silence, Third Uncle seemed to have mustered all his courage and suddenly raised his head. His dark face flushed slightly, and the veins on his neck bulged out.

He didn't look at his second sister and brother-in-law, nor at anyone else. His gaze was fixed on the mottled cement floor in front of him. His voice was dry, carrying a resolute air of desperation, as he uttered a sentence that instantly stunned everyone:

"How about... we call the police?"