Chapter 22: Rear Naked Choke

Seeing Zhou Zhihan emerge from the bathroom and begin to undress, He Ningyu was caught off guard and told him to turn away. Zhou Zhihan complied immediately. Behind him, He Ningyu walked past with a faint, fragrant scent, telling him, "Don't turn your head, don't look," as she entered the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of water began to flow.

It was so damp. Zhou Zhihan dried his hair with a towel and finished a glass of red wine. He poured another and opened the wine cabinet. It was filled mostly with red wines; judging by the vintages alone, He Ningyu’s family was very wealthy. Beside the cabinet stood a refrigerator. He opened it; it was cold and well-maintained. He opened the freezer compartment, took out an ice cube, dropped it into his wine glass, swirled it, and took a small sip—the taste was quite different.

In the 1930s, the vast majority of Chinese people did not even know refrigerators existed, yet here in America, He Ningyu’s family was already enjoying the comforts brought by modern technology. Wealthy families were indeed different; this single refrigerator of hers was leagues ahead of ninety-five percent of the wealthy in China. Zhou Zhihan’s own family was considered affluent, but that was only by domestic standards; compared to He Ningyu’s family, they lagged far behind. America was truly a developed nation; it already possessed household appliances like refrigerators in the twenties and thirties, while the popularization of refrigerators in China would not occur until the early 21st century.

He Ningyu had once mentioned that her parents had worked in banking and were now retired, and that their family was well-off—something clearly evidenced by her brand-new Ford. Although automobiles were gradually becoming common in America during the thirties, with one for every eight people on average, those who could afford a high-end car were still few.

Wrapped in a bath towel, he wandered around the villa. A few potted plants near the staircase looked withered, as if they hadn't been watered for a long time. Zhou Zhihan walked into the kitchen; it was clean and free of any greasy cooking odors. He reached for the thermos, but it was empty. He tested the gas stove—it ignited. He found a kettle in the cabinet but, after a moment's thought, put it back.

He returned to the living room and noticed several expensive, classical-looking sofas. A pure wool rug covered the floor between them, and a tabletop phonograph stood nearby, surrounded by many records. He entered the bedroom and sat at He Ningyu’s vanity, looking at his own handsome face and damp hair in the mirror. On the vanity sat a photo frame. In the picture, He Ningyu stood behind an elderly couple, her arms wrapped around their necks. It was a warm portrait of a family of three; she looked beautiful when she smiled, with clear eyes and white teeth.

Zhou Zhihan glanced at the back of the frame before placing it back. He Ningyu’s bed was large and smelled fragrant. A silk nightgown lay on the bed, its texture pleasant to the touch, with a set of undergarments folded beside it. She must have forgotten to bring them into the bathroom.

She had washed it. Wasn't it meant to be seen? Women were truly strange creatures. Zhou Zhihan shook his head to himself. He finished drying his hair, feeling entirely relaxed, and lay half-reclined on the soft bed. He was tall, lean, and young; his face looked well-defined under the lights.

"Zhihan..."
"What is it?"
"I forgot my nightgown. Could you pass it in to me?"
"Oh!"
"I'm coming."
"Don't you dare peek..."
"I promise I won't look!"
"You... you're bad, your eyes are open."
"How else would I be able to walk in?"
"You..."

Half an hour later, He Ningyu emerged from the bathroom wearing her nightgown. She went to the phonograph to select a record, and a moment later, soothing, tender music began to flow. She walked to the bar, poured another glass of red wine, and entered the bedroom.

"Zhihan!" He Ningyu placed the glass on the nightstand and rested her head on his shoulder. "From now on, you must treat me well."

Zhou Zhihan nodded, gently reaching out to take her hand. "It's so damp!"

A moment later, He Ningyu, still leaning against his shoulder, picked up a comb to brush her hair. "My hair is so damp!"

"So much water!"

Zhou Zhihan acted like a clumsy youth, fumbling with the towel and awkwardly drying her hair. Anyone watching would have known he was flustered and had never dried a girl's hair before. "There's so much water in your hair."

Looking back to see Zhou Zhihan as clumsy as a penguin, He Ningyu’s clear eyes seemed to speak as she said affectionately once more, "Zhihan, after tonight, you must treat me well! If you don't, I will have nothing left but to die."

Zhou Zhihan wrapped the towel gently around her shoulders, dried the droplets falling from her hair, and tenderly tucked a stray lock behind her cheek with his right hand. "I will always treat you well. I won't let you leave."

Before the words had even faded, Zhou Zhihan suddenly leaned back, pulling He Ningyu’s body straight. Simultaneously, his legs whipped around to form a tight lock around her waist and lower limbs. His right hand, which a second ago had been caressing her cheek, slid down into a "death coil." He hooked her neck, locked it against his own left elbow, and arched his back, tightening his arms with all his might in a rear-naked choke.

Six seconds later, He Ningyu lost consciousness. Her arms were pinned by the towel, leaving her no chance to struggle, and her waist and legs were firmly locked by his legs, rendering her immobile. The arteries in her neck were constricted, and she quickly fell into a deep coma.

It took only six seconds. He Ningyu didn't even have time to think before she slipped into a deep, unconscious state. Watching her body go limp like wet mud, a flash of pain and apology crossed Zhou Zhihan’s eyes. He inspected her feet for a few seconds and nodded.

Zhou Zhihan got off the bed, dressed, and went to the kitchen to fill the kettle, placing it on the burning gas stove. He returned to the bedroom, removed the nightgown from the unconscious He Ningyu, wrapped her in his own bath towel, and carried her to the bathroom doorway. He loosened the towel slightly and positioned her body to look as if she had stumbled out of the bathroom, collapsed, and was crawling toward the exit in a desperate attempt to seek help.

He walked to the wine cabinet, opened the freezer, took out all the ice, refilled the ice tray with water, and closed the fridge; in an hour, more ice would be ready. He returned to the bathroom; the scent of the woman still lingered. Zhou Zhihan paused for a few seconds, took a dry towel, wrapped all the ice cubes in it, and applied it to He Ningyu’s neck to prevent bruising.

He gathered her slippers, nightgown, and undergarments from the bedside and placed them in their proper spots in the bathroom, tossing the towel he had used to dry her hair between the shower and the bathroom door. He then cleaned away every trace of his presence, setting the scene to look like a seamless tragedy: He Ningyu had suffered carbon monoxide poisoning while bathing, stumbled out to call for help, and collapsed at the bathroom door due to the excessive gas inhalation.

Most people who are subjected to a rear-naked choke suffer brain death if not rescued in time. Zhou Zhihan did not want He Ningyu to suffer before she died. He believed that, in the moments before death, the brain is aware that it is on the path to the end, even if the body is unable to move to save itself. After a moment of thought, he unwrapped the ice pack from her neck, took out two ice cubes, and re-wrapped the rest to continue cooling her neck and preventing bruises.

He pinched her jaw open with one hand and used the other to slide the two ice cubes down her throat. Shortly after the ice entered her throat, He Ningyu’s eyelids flickered.