Chapter 3

As she slept heavily, I used her finger to unlock her phone.

I found yesterday's late night call number and looked at it for a while until something clicked.

I had seen this number before.

Three months ago, after Arianna was hospitalized for her hiking injury, I asked the police for the contact information of the first person who found her and called for help, wanting to express my gratitude.

This was the number the police gave me.

I have an excellent memory, especially for numbers.

I couldn't be wrong.

I called the number in front of the police officer, and a man answered.

His voice was steady, his manner gentle.

He said there was no need to meet, and thanks were unnecessary. He said this was what any normal person would do.

After hanging up, the police officer smiled and told me that while others might ask for a reward, he definitely wouldn't.

I asked why.

The officer said he recognized the man during questioning - he had been in the news as the "Most Devoted Husband".

"He's had a hard life too. His wife became completely paralyzed from a sudden illness at their wedding, leaving behind a 7-year-old son from her previous marriage. He didn't abandon her, taking care of her day and night for thirteen years, while also raising that child alone. His wife passed away last year, and he finally got through it. Now he runs a small food stall selling lamb soup at the entrance of the suburban park."

"How could someone with that kind of moral character accept your reward money!"

I nodded in admiration at the time, "My wife was lucky to have met him."

Now, in the dead of night, I held the phone for a long while, then opened the photo gallery.

I don't know if Arianna was confident in herself or trusting of me, but she had hardly hidden anything.

What greeted my eyes was a screen full of photos of a man.

The same man.

A small stall lit by warm lamps under the starry night sky.

The man had handsome features and a warm smile. He was either cutting ingredients, ladling soup, or chatting with customers.

Every scene exuded warmth and an air of peaceful contentment.

In the hundreds of photos, the man's clothing changed from short sleeves to thick cotton jackets.

The time span was half a year.

The third day, I went to the suburban park and sat down at the small stall with a sign that read "Zack's Lamb Soup".

I watched Zack from a short distance away.

He was crouched in front of a flower bed, speaking softly to a stray kitten.

Two women stood in front of his stall, joking:

"Zack only has eyes for these cats and dogs. He's not even trying to make money anymore."

Zack hurriedly stood up, explaining apologetically in a gentle voice:

"I'm sorry, I just felt bad for them and got too absorbed. I didn't see you there."

One of the women waved her hand, "You're doing a good deed. These strays treat this place like home. They know you're soft-hearted and all come to you for food. It's a heartwarming scene - we enjoy watching it too."

After the two women left, I walked over.

"One bowl of lamb soup, please."

Zack responded with an "Ah" and smiled as he ladled the soup for me.

Across the rising steam, I quietly observed him.

About 35 or 36, tall and well-built, with handsome features. Dressed simply but neatly, with gentle eyes and a friendly smile. His whole being exuded the warm and steady charm of a mature man.

"It's your first time here, friend. I'll add some extra lamb lung for you to try."

I sat at the small table, slowly savoring the flavor.

My mind kept wrestling with one question.

Would someone like Zack, with his background and character...

Would he do something like interfere in someone else's marriage?

Would he?