Long reprint: The Road to Love Exchange, Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-One:
The text messages on my wife's phone were almost all junk, the kind you could delete at a glance, with no real content. But this number seemed special because he had sent her over a hundred messages in two days.

I clicked on it and read through them one by one, like browsing chat history.

"Hello, sister, I'm the delivery guy who delivered your food. I'm so sorry for offending you that day. Thank you for not giving me a bad review."

This one was normal.

"Hello, sister, people say Shanghainese are bad, but I think you're a beautiful and kind-hearted Shanghainese. You're so pretty, your life will definitely be happy."

What was that all about? But it was still normal enough. Then the abnormal ones started coming.

"Sister, I haven't been able to sleep since I saw your beautiful figure that day. You're so beautiful, like a fairy."

"Sister, I've been having trouble sleeping lately. Every time I can't sleep, I think about you, and it gets so swollen down there, so I have to take care of it myself."

"Sister, I just masturbated again, still thinking about you."

"Sister, I feel like I'm going crazy. I went to your neighborhood again while delivering food, and ended up getting a bad review because I was too late."

"Sister, I wandered around outside your neighborhood for a long time last night, just to see if your lights were still on."

"Sister, I saw your lights were off. Are you going to sleep with your husband? Are you going to have sex?" "

Sister, I feel like I can't take it anymore. I'm going crazy. I want to kill myself. I think I'm madly in love with you."

"Sister, I just had a dream. In the dream, we had sex. I wish my dream could come true."

...

I looked up at my wife; she could sense a hint of worry in my eyes.

"What should I do? Will he do anything to hurt me?"

"Don't panic. Don't upset a young boy just experiencing his first love. Let me reply."

I took my wife's phone and started typing a message, while she peeked over.

"Hello, I couldn't help replying. You said you like me and want me to be happy, but do you know what? All these messages you sent have scared me. I'm afraid to go out now. Is this what you wanted?"

"Sister, you replied! That's wonderful! I'm so happy and excited!"

We exchanged a helpless, bitter smile.

"Answer my question, is this what you want?"

"I don't mean you any harm, really, believe me, I just like you, I really like you."

"Okay, then I accept your feelings. We can chat in the future, but please don't do anything out of line, okay?"

"But sister, I really want to see you again, okay?"

"What's the point of us meeting? We can continue texting, I'll reply when I have time, but please don't send me any more messages that scare me."

"But I really, really want to see you, even just a glimpse from afar."

"I'm a married woman, this is very disrespectful to me and my husband, do you understand?"

"But I just want to see you, this has nothing to do with your husband, he has no right to stop my love for you."

Sigh, this kid's watched too many trashy idol dramas, I shook my head.

"What should I do?" my wife asked with a pained expression.

I sighed and continued typing the message.

"Okay, calm down first. If you really want me to be happy, then stop texting for now."

Sure enough, no more messages came.

This was a tricky situation. In a society like Shanghai with a well-established legal system, it's easy to deal with openly criminals, but these hidden threats lurking in the shadows are often much harder to handle.

"It's okay, maybe it's just a keyboard warrior. Let's not scare ourselves. You can go out and go to work as usual these next few days. Just make sure the door is locked when you're resting, and check the peephole if anyone knocks."

But things didn't seem as simple as I thought.

The next day, when I got home from work, my wife handed me her phone with a terrified look on her face.

He had sent several picture MMS messages that day. In one of the pictures, a hand was holding a not-so-large penis, the tip of which and the hand were covered in a white liquid. I knew what it was without even asking.

"Sister, look, I shot a lot, it's all for you."

Another picture was a selfie, probably of him. He was thin and small, looking like an ordinary passerby, not wearing a deliveryman's uniform, but the background of the selfie was our building entrance. I don't know how he got into the community.

"Sister, am I mistaken?"

To be honest, I was a little scared too. His behavior was becoming increasingly abnormal, and today's text messages were more threatening than the previous two days.

"Should we call the police?" my wife asked.

I was caught in a dilemma. If we called the police, since he hadn't done anything to threaten us yet, it would be difficult for the police to intervene. At most, they could give him a warning, but that wouldn't have any real deterrent effect. Even without any aggressive behavior, his mere presence was already causing us a lot of trouble and putting us under immense psychological pressure. And if he had any potential aggressive behavior, I didn't even want to think about it.

"I'll take tomorrow off and stay home with you."

The next day, I took the day off from work. I ate breakfast at home, carefully looked at his photo, and then went out for a stroll in the neighborhood. I was trying to find him, but I hadn't figured out what to do if I found him. Should I yell at him? Beat him up? Would that cause me trouble and also provoke him? If I were stuck with such a persistent pest, I wouldn't be afraid. I believe in my abilities. In terms of intelligence, I've outmaneuvered two young men who bullied my wife; in terms of strength, I've taught Da Gang, who also bullied my wife, a lesson. I've never been afraid to face my opponents head-on.

But this time, I was afraid because the one directly threatened was my vulnerable wife, the woman I care about most. Faced with this almost invisible opponent, I felt powerless, like a dog trying to bite a hedgehog.

I wandered aimlessly around my neighborhood like a headless fly, bumping into several neighbors along the way. I could only nod and smile, explaining that I was off work and taking a walk because of the nice weather.

I spent the whole morning wandering around without finding anything, and ended up covered in sweat. I had to go home and shower. When I got home, I found my wife cooking. She'd been so scared these past few days that she'd even cured herself of her laziness, staying home every day as a housewife, afraid to order takeout anymore. While I was away, she'd prepared stir-fried vegetables, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and pan-fried salmon—all looking and smelling delicious.

"Did you get any texts this morning?" I asked while eating.

My wife shook her head.

"Looks like she went to deliver takeout. I'll go out for a walk again this afternoon."

"Honey, if he doesn't show up today, will you still come with me tomorrow?"

I thought for a moment. "I can always use up all my annual leave this year."

"But what if he's still haunting me after that?"

I fell silent. "

Maybe I should think of something."

"What can you do?"

"I... I want to talk to him."

"No! Absolutely not!" I slammed the bowl on the table, startling her.

I grabbed her hand and said softly, "Don't be silly. Protecting you is my responsibility. Don't act on your own anymore. Listen to me, okay?"

My wife looked at me, smiled, and nodded.

In the afternoon, I expanded my patrol area to outside the residential area, braving the scorching 38-degree heat that others avoided, and became the community's volunteer security guard.

I couldn't stand it for more than an hour in such weather. The clothes I had just changed into after showering at noon were soaked again, and I had finished my salt water. I thought about going back to hide for a while until the hottest part of the sun went down before coming out again. When I entered the residential area and reached a pavilion, I saw someone inside, a young man, who was looking down at his phone.

My spirits immediately lifted. I wiped the sweat from my face and strode confidently toward the pavilion.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The young man was startled and hurriedly looked up at me. He did look somewhat familiar, but I wasn't sure. Although I had seen him twice that night, it had only been for less than three seconds in total, and the selfie made his face look distorted and unclear.

"I...I'm not doing anything...I...I'm texting."

"I've been looking for you for a long time. It's you who's been harassing my wife these past few days, isn't it?" I demanded sharply.

"Wh-what? Your wife?" The young man looked bewildered.

"Give me your phone!" I reached out to snatch his phone.

"Why should I? Why should I give it to you?"

The young man struggled desperately, but his momentum and determination were far inferior to mine, and most importantly, he was no match for me physically. I grabbed his phone in no time. I noticed it wasn't locked; it was still unlocked. This saved me the trouble of forcing him to unlock it. I used one hand to block his attempt to take back the phone and the other to open the text message page. The recipient of the top message was "Wife."

I was furious. Did he have no shame? I glared at him, then turned back to read the text message.

"Honey, I was wrong. I was drunk that night and acted impulsively. Please forgive me."

"This is really the only time. Please forgive me."

Huh? Something's not right.

Before I could react, the young man snatched my phone back, and this time it was his turn to glare at me.

"Are you crazy?" the young man shouted, sounding somewhat intimidated.

I knew I'd mistaken him for someone else.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else. I'm sorry." I said, hastily retreating from the pavilion.

Then I heard the man's voice behind me, "Hey, I'm in your neighborhood. A man just said he was your husband. Now it's your turn to explain to me what's going on?!"

I could only stick out my tongue and slink away.

A whole day of staking out yielded nothing. He seemed to have been loitering around our neighborhood for half the day before, but today he acted as if he knew I'd be looking for him, completely ignoring me, like he was playing guerrilla warfare.

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Long reprint: The Road to Love Exchange, Chapter Sixty-One

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