Xiangzi's Visit and His Suppressed Confession

K turned to open the door. The heavy solid wood door slid open silently a crack, and he stepped out to the side. A few seconds later, a tall figure squeezed in somewhat hastily.

The bright lights in the living room instantly illuminated the visitor's features clearly.

The first thing that catches the eye is his height. The newcomer is a head taller than K, easily over 1.9 meters tall, and almost touches the top of the door frame when standing at the doorway. But he is not the lean or muscular type; rather, he is... stocky.

He had broad shoulders and a large frame. He wore a slightly bulky gray fleece jacket, which couldn't hide his slightly protruding belly. His skin was a healthy dark tan from long-term outdoor activities, even bordering on black, a far cry from the pale or refined look of the average international student.

Moving my gaze upwards, I saw a round, stubble-covered face. The beard wasn't neatly trimmed, but it wasn't unkempt either; it simply covered the lower half of his face, extending all the way to his temples. His hair, however, was quite long, loosely tied into a small ponytail at the back of his head, with a few stray strands falling uncontrollably across his forehead. His eyes weren't large, and at that moment they were slightly narrowed due to fatigue and some kind of tension, with noticeable eye bags, and his lips were dry and chapped.

Overall, he looks less like a PhD student immersed in academic pursuits in an ivory tower and more like a blue-collar worker on a dock or construction site, or a down-on-his-luck street artist. The contrast in his image is extremely striking.

The visitor was Kong Xiang, the "Prisoner A" who, in the consciousness connection, spoke in a calm, almost cold tone about a Seattle night, starving children, a father with a broken leg, and the "Kill Line" theory.

He saw Lin Feng sitting on the sofa, and his tired eyes lit up instantly, like a traveler who had finally seen familiar lights after a long journey. He took three steps at a time, almost running, across the living room to Lin Feng. He subconsciously wanted to reach out and grab Lin Feng's arm, but stopped halfway and instead awkwardly wiped his hand on his pants.

"Boss! You've finally arrived!" Kong Xiang said, his voice hoarse, filled with a relieved excitement and a slight, barely perceptible sob. "If you hadn't come, I really wouldn't have been able to hold on... This past few days has been absolutely terrifying!"

He spoke quickly, as if he had finally found the words he had been holding back for too long. "The people Mr. Jin sent were really capable. They kept a close watch on my little apartment like it was made of iron, not even a fly could get in. But... but I was still as nervous as if I had a rabbit in my stomach! Those people doxxing me online, those sneaking around asking questions offline, and those eyes that seemed to be cast my way from who-knows-where... I didn't even dare to go to the supermarket! I stayed indoors every day, living off my food reserves and takeout, I was practically going moldy! Now that you're here, I can finally put my mind at ease!"

As he spoke, he rubbed his hands together, his tall frame slightly hunched, his face a mixture of lingering fear, relief, and reliance on his pillar of support. This demeanor was completely different from the "Prisoner A" who calmly analyzed societal ills during the live broadcast and in the mental connection. The pressure, especially the pressure of facing the threat of death, was clearly on the verge of crushing this young man's nerves.

Lin Feng looked at him, his gaze calm, with a hint of barely perceptible softening. "Sit," he said, gesturing to the sofa opposite him.

Kong Xiang seemed to realize his lapse in composure, and quickly sat down on the single sofa next to him. His large body sank into it, and the sofa creaked under his weight. He took the water K handed him, gulped down more than half a bottle, and then let out a long sigh of relief.

K returned to the vicinity of the bar, like a silent shadow. Lü Yi, on the other hand, shifted to a more comfortable position on the sofa, looking at the legendary "Dr. Kong Xiang" with great interest, her eyes revealing surprise and curiosity that read, "So this is what he looks like."

After the initial excitement subsided, the atmosphere in the living room relaxed a bit. Kong Xiang began to talk intermittently about his life in the United States, of course, omitting the dark and dangerous parts. He talked about the bulky old-fashioned equipment in the school laboratory, the professors with strange accents, and the literature courses he took to get credits that gave him a headache... trivial, ordinary, with a touch of self-deprecation and helplessness unique to international students.

But somehow, the conversation veered in another direction.

"Actually... sometimes I can't sleep at night, or after finishing a live stream, I feel empty inside, so I go to help out at some of the church-run relief centers in the city." Kong Xiang's voice lowered, his fingers unconsciously stroking the water bottle. "Distributing food, tidying up the venue, and stuff like that... I don't get paid, I just... want to find something to do, to get some human connection."

He paused, his gaze unfocused, as if lost in memories. "Over there... there were all kinds of people. Some were truly homeless, some had just lost their jobs and couldn't afford rent, some were sick and had no money for treatment, dying from exhaustion... and some had lost their families, or their families didn't care, and they died alone in their rented rooms, only to be discovered much later, with the church helping with the burial, offering simple last prayers and cleaning..."

His speech slowed down and his voice grew lower, as if something was blocking his throat.

"I... went with them a few times too. Helped carry... carry people." He swallowed. "Some of those people... were very old, skin and bones, frighteningly light. Some were very young, about my age, I don't know what they went through, they just... just died like that. Sometimes they were very dirty, smelly... but we had to help them clean themselves up, change them into clean old clothes, so that they could leave with a little... dignity."

The air in the living room seemed to grow stagnant and heavy with his narration. The warm air from the central air conditioning seemed to carry the chill of the basement and the acrid smell of disinfectant. Lü Yi, who had been leaning to one side, unconsciously straightened up a little, his brows furrowing slightly. Even K, who had been expressionless the whole time, shifted his gaze almost imperceptibly.

Kong Xiang seemed oblivious to the change in atmosphere, or rather, he was immersed in his own narrative. The images and feelings that had been suppressed for too long and could not be shared with others finally found a relatively safe outlet and poured out.

"There was an old lady... I remember her very clearly. She was probably Latina, very thin, and died in a government-provided low-rent apartment. It took at least two weeks for her to be discovered... When we went in..." He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly, "The smell... indescribable. The room was piled high with scavenged bottles, jars, and old newspapers, leaving almost no room to step. She was lying in the middle of that pile of garbage... like a withered leaf."

He stopped, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, as if he were seeing that scene again.

"When we were cleaning, we found a heavily rusted tin box under her pillow. We opened it... There wasn't much of value inside, just a few crumpled old photos, a faded plastic hair clip, and... a letter, written in Spain with crooked handwriting, addressed to her son in Mexico, saying she wanted to go home and told him to take good care of himself... The letter was unfinished and never sent."

Kong Xiang's voice choked for a moment, and he blinked hard to suppress the sudden surge of emotion.

"Following procedure, we packed her belongings and... we took her to where she belonged. No relatives came to claim her; in the end, it will probably just be... an unmarked grave."

He gave a bitter smile, a smile more painful than a grimace. "Sometimes I feel that everything I've learned—anatomy, pathology, cytology...—is still somewhat useful in those cold drawers. At least I know how they 'died.' But in those relief centers, in those empty rooms where people have died... I can't do anything. I can only watch, help clean up, and then memorize."

The living room was silent. The only sounds were Kong Xiang's slightly heavy breathing and the soft crunching of the plastic water bottle in his hand, which he unconsciously squeezed.

It was a silent yet incredibly heavy sense of oppression, like a damp quilt enveloping everyone present.

Lü Yi felt a tightness in his chest. The descriptions of hunger, death, and loneliness, like cold insects, burrowed into his ears, making him very uncomfortable. He had always been used to solving problems with his fists and direct actions, and this sticky, helpless sorrow made him irritable.

Just as Kong Xiang seemed about to sink into deeper memories, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something more—

"Hello!"

Lü Yi suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but it sounded particularly abrupt in the silence. He leaned forward, staring at Kong Xiang, his brows furrowed, his face showing undisguised irritability and impatience.

"Hey, Xiangzi," he pointed to his head, "You little brat, if you dare to keep babbling on about these... these 'sanity-dropping' little stories here again, believe me, I'll really beat you up?"

He used a gaming term, but the meaning was crystal clear—stop talking about this shit that's driving my sanity crazy!

Kong Xiang was startled by the sudden interruption, jolting him out of his reverie. He looked at Lü Yi's face, which seemed to say "Don't mess with me," and then at Lin Feng's calm but clearly unencouraging gaze. He suddenly realized what he had just said.

The sorrow and confusion on his face quickly faded, replaced by a belated embarrassment and awkwardness. He raised his hand and vigorously wiped his face, as if trying to erase all the bad emotions, and then forced a somewhat stiff smile, clearly intended to lighten the mood.

"Cough... yes, yes, Brother Lü is right." He coughed twice, his voice regaining some of its usual crispness, though still a little hoarse. "Look at me, the boss just arrived, and I'm already talking about these unlucky things... so disappointing, so incredibly disappointing!"

He straightened his back, trying to make his tall frame appear more energetic, and looked at Lin Feng, his tone carrying a deliberate, even slightly exaggerated, ease:

"Hey! That's all in the past! Now that you're here, boss, our 'righteous judge' has arrived! With you here, in command, I bet all those monsters and demons, that ' Kill Line,' are doomed! The United States people are saved!"

This statement was half true and half false, clearly intended to flatter and lighten the mood.

Lin Feng looked at him, his face expressionless, only the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, and he uttered two words:

Stop flattering me.

There was no blame in his tone; instead, there was a familiar ease that one would show when speaking to close friends or family.

Upon hearing this, Kong Xiang's smirk immediately became much more natural, and he even grinned broadly, revealing a set of teeth that looked exceptionally white against his fair skin and dark stubble. That smile dispelled the lingering weariness between his brows, finally giving him the vitality that a young man his age should have.

"Hehe, boss, I'm telling the truth!" He rubbed his hands together, his eyes darting around, looking at Lin Feng with a hint of flattery and expectation. "Um... boss, you see, I've been living like a 'caveman' for almost half a month now, and I'm really getting restless. You've just arrived, so how about... we go out for a walk? Find a place to have some fun? I know a bar with amazing craft beer and a live band, it's really lively! If I don't eat and drink something normal soon, my tongue will practically atrophy!"

His eyes sparkled with anticipation, like a big kid who had been eagerly awaiting his parents' return from a business trip and wanted to go out and have some fun.

Lin Feng did not answer immediately. He leaned back on the sofa, his gaze lingering on Kong Xiang's longing face for a few seconds, then seemingly penetrating him to look out the window at the deep, yet still shimmering, Seattle night sky.

A moment of silence.

Then, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Can."