Lin Xirou sighed helplessly, “Why are you being so stubborn? What happened this time has nothing to do with you. It was Gouya who did something unforgivable and dragged you into it.”
Yan Tuo’s hand withdrew from the doorknob. “Gouya?”
Lin Xirou nodded with a grim expression, “It’s complicated. I’ll explain it to you later. The point is, it wasn’t your oversight at all. You shouldn’t burden yourself with it.”
After a long pause, Yan Tuo spoke, “If that’s the case, Aunt Lin, I should seek my revenge. If you handle everything for me, others will look down on me.”
Lin Xirou couldn’t help but laugh, “Child, what’s this about being looked down upon? Why separate whose revenge is whose? Do you remember when Xiong Hei set the fire, and a woman was burned?”
Yan Tuo maintained a neutral expression, “That Sister Hua? Has she woken up? Did you get information from her?”
Lin Xirou smiled contemptuously, “Wake up? She’s already dead.”
Yan Tuo’s heart sank.
Sister Hua was indeed one of the people who had wronged him, but no matter how resentful he felt, he never wished for her death.
Lin Xirou continued with hatred in her voice, “Ban Ya’s people disappeared too thoroughly, leaving only Sister Hua. I had Xiong Hei’s men watch her constantly—from hospitalization to death, to cremation, to burial. After the burial, I had them watch her grave…”
Yan Tuo felt chills down his spine.
“…Finally, Xiong Hei just told me that on the eighteenth night after the burial, an old man with a limp came secretly to burn paper offerings. I instructed him that this old man must be brought back to me, without losing a single hair.”
As she spoke, a picture message came through.
Lin Xirou smiled as she opened it, “Look, isn’t this the limping old man you mentioned…”
She suddenly fell silent. Without exaggeration, Yan Tuo watched as the color drained from her face in an instant, her lips taking on an ashen hue.
He had never seen her like this before—it was unprecedented.
She stared intently at the photo on her phone screen, her fingers gripping the device turning white at the knuckles, revealing the intensity of her grip.
Yan Tuo looked at the screen.
Indeed, it was that limping old man. Usually, people’s features soften with age, becoming more benign, but not him. With his furrowed brows and stern eyes, his aged face carried a kind of taut, confrontational energy.
He said, “It’s this person, Aunt Lin. You know him?”
She must know him because Lin Xirou still hadn’t recovered from her initial shock.
Hearing Yan Tuo’s words, she jolted as if waking from a dream, muttering a confused “ah,” then, as color rushed back to her pale face and her breathing grew rapid, she stammered, “Xiao Tuo, get me… get me some water…”
As she spoke, she stumbled back two steps and collapsed into an armchair.
Yan Tuo poured her a cup of herbal tea from the health pot and handed it to Lin Xirou. She took it with trembling hands and gulped it down entirely, completely lacking her usual elegance when drinking tea.
The limping old man was just a minor figure in Ban Ya, even less prominent than Que Cha, let alone comparable to the top leader “Old Jiang.” Why did Aunt Lin react so strongly to his photo?
Though filled with doubts, Yan Tuo kept them hidden, showing only concern in his eyes.
Lin Xirou finally calmed somewhat, though her words were still disconnected: “Xiao Tuo, you must be tired from your journey. Go… go rest. Aunt Lin just remembered some matters to attend to.”
Yan Tuo acknowledged and deliberately walked slowly. After leaving, he closed the door gradually—
Through the narrowing gap, he saw Lin Xirou already on the phone: “Can he be delivered to the farm tonight? Yes, this person.”
At Jiang Baichuan’s house, evening lights began to shine.
It was dinner time, and the cooking aunt was bringing dishes to the table one by one—large plates and bowls filled with meat dishes and clear soups, all looking very appetizing.
However, none of the people around the table touched their chopsticks. Jiang Baichuan’s face was dark with barely contained fury. Datou sat awkwardly, occasionally glancing at Shan Qiang—who was frantically trying to make phone calls, redialing when calls wouldn’t connect, sweating profusely from anxiety.
Only Que Cha seemed detached from the situation, busy playing a game: she felt her managed city was too peaceful and prosperous, so she needed to introduce some thugs and bandits to enhance the citizens’ crisis awareness.
After the last dish was served, Jiang Baichuan waved his hand, indicating the aunt need not come again, while barking at Shan Qiang: “Why keep calling? It’s been a whole day—ninety percent chance something’s happened!”
Shan Qiang was startled by the sudden shout, nearly dropping his phone. He carefully placed it back on the table: “It’s not Father Que’s fault…”
Jiang Baichuan could barely contain his anger: “We told everyone not to wander around during this period! We invited him to stay here, but he refused, insisting he could take care of himself. And now look what’s happened!”
Shan Qiang defended Father Que stubbornly: “But Sister Hua was so badly injured—it’s understandable he didn’t want to leave.”
Que Cha’s ears perked up: was there something between Sister Hua and Father Que? She hadn’t been with Ban Ya long enough to notice.
Datou cleared his throat: “Uncle Jiang, Father Que, and Sister Hua were young lovers who got separated. A widower and a widow, they were an old pair of love birds. Father Que already showed restraint by not visiting when Sister Hua was burned. Now that she’s dead, it’s only natural he would visit her grave. He was even cautious enough to go in the dead of night. We didn’t expect Yan Tuo’s people to still be watching after so many days.”
Jiang Baichuan knew this was true. Emotionally, he also felt Father Que’s grave visit was reasonable, but now that something had gone wrong, he could hardly praise him for it.
The atmosphere grew tense. Que Cha paused her game and leaned toward Shan Qiang beside her, asking in a low voice, “What’s this about young lovers getting separated?”
Shan Qiang glanced at Jiang Baichuan and also spoke quietly, giving Que Cha a brief explanation.
It turned out that over twenty years ago when Father Que was in his prime, he and Sister Hua were deeply in love. However, Sister Hua’s family looked down on him, considering him poor and without prospects.
This wouldn’t have been a major issue—if the daughter was stubborn enough, parents couldn’t do much in modern society where marriage and love were free choices. But Father Que was a proud man who couldn’t bear others’ contempt. He told Sister Hua he would go seek opportunities and return triumphantly in a car to marry her.
However, an accident occurred, costing him half a leg and leaving him disabled.
Feeling ashamed and unworthy of Sister Hua, Father Que hid away and never saw her again. Later, Sister Hua married someone else, and Father Que also married through family arrangement, each living their separate lives.
Unfortunately, neither of their spouses lived long. Twenty years later, when they met again, both were alone. However, contrary to others’ expectations, they didn’t rekindle their romance. Instead, they lived near each other, looking after one another—their relationship transcended that of lovers, not quite family, but closer than family.
Que Cha listened in stunned silence. Reflecting, she had quite disliked Father Que, with his fierce manner and crude behavior, every bit the old troublemaker. She never imagined he had such a history with Sister Hua.
Looking at Jiang Baichuan now, Que Cha felt particularly disturbed: he had set up this trap, and he could have warned Sister Hua. What was the point of letting her die needlessly? To make the trap more convincing?
Just as she was feeling frustrated, Jiang Baichuan’s phone received a message. He glanced at it without raising his head and instructed Que Cha, “Xing Shen and the others have arrived. To help open the garage door and welcome them.”
Hearing “Xing Shen’s” name, Que Cha’s heart suddenly quickened. She casually responded with an “oh” and unhurriedly went out.
Xing Shen certainly didn’t come alone—he was blind and couldn’t drive.
Lao Dao was driving. These days, he had been constantly by Xing Shen’s side. After the Qing Rang journey was unexpectedly cut short, everyone returned to Ban Ya to recuperate. Later, when the interrogation of Yan Tuo yielded no progress and returning to Qing Rang seemed unlikely, most people gradually left. Only Xing Shen proposed returning to the depths of Qin Ba to complete the unfinished Jin Ren gates.
Jiang Baichuan obviously couldn’t accompany him but wasn’t comfortable letting him go alone, so he assigned Lao Dao, one of the most skilled among the younger generation, to accompany him.
…
Que Cha had just gone out to welcome them when she met them. She remotely opened the garage door, helped check both sides and guided the car in.
The windows were half-open. As the car passed by her side, she saw Xing Shen sitting in the back seat. Perhaps because his blindness freed him from the distraction of colors, he remained calm and gentle at all times, as deep and quiet as still waters.
Beside him sat… a child?
Though the car quickly entered the garage, Que Cha was certain she hadn’t seen wrong. Judging by the size, it was a child of about ten, wearing a blue and yellow hoodie with the hood up. Perhaps due to poor health, the child wore a mask and sat quietly beside Xing Shen with their head lowered.
Why bring a child along on business?
Before she could think further, the car had parked. Lao Dao and Xing Shen got out and locked the doors, heading outside.
Que Cha blurted out, “Isn’t the child getting out?”
Lao Dao glanced at her, “Don’t worry about it.”
Que Cha wisely kept quiet. As Jiang Baichuan’s longtime companion, she knew bits and pieces over the years, but never the complete picture. Jiang Baichuan expected her to be just a charming companion, not someone to share business with.
The dining table was large enough to accommodate two more people without crowding. Seeing Xing Shen and the others enter, Jiang Baichuan stood up smiling, “Perfect timing, we haven’t started yet, the dishes are still hot.”
Xing Shen said, “Uncle Jiang, could we talk privately for a moment?”
Jiang Baichuan was prepared—with so much happening, and Xing Shen receiving messages one after another since leaving the mountain, a conversation was inevitable. He stepped away from his seat, not forgetting to tell the others, “Start eating, don’t wait for us, or the food will get cold.”
Though he said this, they couldn’t leave just leftovers for the two. Que Cha brought out some food containers and transferred small portions of each dish, waiting until the two went upstairs before turning to ask Shan Qiang, “Hey, how come Xing Shen doesn’t need anyone to guide or support him when walking and climbing stairs, even though he’s blind?”
Shan Qiang looked puzzled, “How would I know? Maybe he’s adapted to the world after being blind for so long.”
Datou, however, spoke proudly while crunching on a sauce-dipped cucumber, “The Dog Clan people are… extraordinary, of course.”
…
Jiang Baichuan led Xing Shen to the top floor, where there weren’t many high-rise buildings around and the view was decent. On the streets below, cars flashed past, interspersed with numerous delivery electric bikes.
New industries were truly flourishing and unstoppable. Jiang Baichuan felt emotional—if he had invested in express delivery or food delivery back then instead of manufacturing, he wouldn’t be facing old age with depleted resources.
Xing Shen got straight to the point: “I heard Father Que can’t be contacted. Could he have been…”
Jiang Baichuan finished the thought: “Most likely. But Father Que isn’t too worrying. We have thirty years of friendship—he’s loyal, tough, and tight-lipped, so it shouldn’t be a major problem.”
“But we can’t do nothing. Is there no way to track Yan Tuo’s side?”
Jiang Baichuan smiled bitterly.
They could track some things—the company, address, license plate, phone number—all could be found.
But the crucial point was that while the company operated normally, the house was empty, and the car and phone had been destroyed in Ban Ya. The person had perfectly “evaporated.”
Not just Yan Tuo—even that “Lin Ling” who had appeared once had vanished without a trace.
After that day’s “counter-scheme,” he had arranged for people to secretly follow Yan Tuo’s accomplices, but they were shaken off quickly. The recorded license plates were all fake. The opponent’s level of vigilance far exceeded his expectations.
He had also considered using Yan Tuo’s bedridden mother as a weak point, but firstly, it was a high-end care center where ordinary people couldn’t enter. They’d managed to steal a client card to get in but triggered security alarms, and now the facility had completely changed its system. Secondly, he’d heard Yan Tuo rarely visited once or twice a year, and he didn’t have the manpower for such long-term surveillance.
Xing Shen said, “I’m worried about A Luo. She’s different from us. Haven’t you arranged anything for her?”
Jiang Baichuan sighed helplessly, “I tried, but she refused, thinking she’s tough enough to handle everything. I couldn’t very well have people watch her—with her sharp instincts if she found out, it would get ugly. I gave her a phone number to call for emergencies.”
Xing Shen felt this wasn’t reliable: “If it’s something even she can’t handle, the people you arranged probably can’t help either. Why don’t I go over there?”
Jiang Baichuan was silent for a while, then chuckled, “Xing Shen, let it go. You two can’t go back.”
“I’ve watched you both grow up. With Nie Er’s temperament—what she wants, she takes; what she doesn’t, she won’t pick up even if it’s thrown at her feet. She’s moved on long ago, why are you still standing? Listen to Uncle Jiang, she’s not worthy of you. You deserve better.”
Xing Shen remained silent for a while: “Uncle Jiang, you’re overthinking it. A Luo and I have a history. Now Sister Hua is dead, Father Que is missing, and A Luo is a clear target. I don’t know how they might deal with her. At a time like this, how can we worry about old grievances? Of course, I should help however I can. At the very least, I can still help her detect scents and give warnings?”
Jiang Baichuan forced a laugh: “Up to you. I’ll help send a message to ask about her later.”
Xing Shen hesitated: “Maybe better not. She’d probably reject a message outright. I think going there directly… might be better?”
Jiang Baichuan’s first reaction was absolutely not, but then he thought letting Xing Shen face rejection might be good: among the younger generation, he admired Xing Shen the most, just disliked how he fussed over a woman—though this wasn’t a major issue. Men often spend a year or two being sentimental about love in their youth. Once past that, the world is wide open for career pursuits.
He said: “Whatever you want, it’s your decision… By the way, did you bring Grasshopper back?”
“Yes, he’s in the car.”
“How was he on the journey?”
“Very good, obedient, and eager to please.”
Jiang Baichuan nodded: “It comes down to affinity—he’s particularly attached to you. What does he prefer eating now, raw or cooked?”
“He prefers cooked food, barely touches raw anymore. He even gets angry if you throw him bloody meat.”
Jiang Baichuan was surprised: “Really?”
Then he laughed heartily: “Good, we’ll serve him braised ribs tonight. This little beast is becoming more and more human-like.”