When Yu Kaixuan led his family in a grand procession back to Wendu Water Palace from the restaurant, all the livestreams had ended. The crowd surged, gazes clamored. As soon as he entered, he called out in a low voice: “Xu Ming!”

Xu Ming, who was busy at the front desk, quickly came over upon hearing. He glanced at Brother Erkai’s gloomy face and hastily explained: “Bro, I really didn’t anticipate this. Originally the livestream process was all coordinated, Sister Hong knew about it too. Who would’ve thought that bastard would damn well…”

Yu Kaixuan walked toward the stairs, interrupting him: “Where are they?”

“I didn’t let them leave. Dali is watching them—in the conference room.”

“That internet celebrity too?”

“All of them.”

Yu Kaixuan pointed at Xu Ming, then said to Meng Huihong beside him: “The three of us go up.” Then he turned to look at Xiao Jiu who was loosely supporting Wen Wen. “You take your mom to my office for a bit. I’ll come find you when it’s done.”

Yu Jiuqi said okay.

But Wen Wen gently objected: “I want to go too.”

“You drank so much alcohol, don’t go.” Yu Kaixuan was slightly serious. “I’ve got this handled.”

Wen Wen broke free from Yu Jiuqi’s hand, standing straight and thin, as if going to join excitement that had nothing to do with her—she actually smiled: “I really didn’t drink much.”

Xiao Jiu knew Wen Wen was determined—no one could dissuade her. Usually in this situation, only she could stabilize her, so she said: “Dad, then I’ll go too.”

Yu Kaixuan frowned, still hesitating. It wasn’t that he worried that idiot internet celebrity would say something to upset Wen Wen, but rather feared Wen Wen would truly lose her mind and sense of proportion, instead giving others ammunition. He naturally wouldn’t let that bastard off—Wen Wen didn’t need to step forward.

Meng Huihong glanced at the stiff smile on Wen Wen’s face, her heart softening momentarily. She said quietly to Yu Kaixuan: “So many people here, it’s fine.”

Yu Kaixuan nodded. Except for the drunk Xiao Fu and Ge Fan who was sending Xiao Fu home, he brought everyone else, clattering up the spiral staircase straight to the second-floor conference room.

Xiao Fu’s alcohol tolerance was even worse than Wen Wen’s—terribly poor. After just one round of drinks, before the livestream incident, he’d collapsed on the table, unconscious. In the end, Ge Fan carried him out.

Before leaving, Ge Fan specifically instructed Xiao Jiu, saying if Yunfu Hot Springs deliberately caused trouble and a fight broke out, call him—he’d rally people, he had plenty of people.

Initially, upon hearing about this livestream accident, everyone thought it was malicious competition within the industry, suspecting Yunfu Hot Springs, which had been ranked behind Wendu Water Palace for years, was behind it.

After all, it was the peak travel season for New Year’s and Spring Festival, plus this year’s Northeast tourism boom. Every bathhouse center wanted to seize this rare cultural tourism traffic to make money. Inevitably, there was internal competition, especially fierce from Yunfu Hot Springs. At the end of last month, to snatch a tourist group from the south, Yunfu Hot Springs even spread rumors under Wendu Water Palace’s promotional links that Yu Kaixuan had stabbed people and been in prison when he was young.

Strictly speaking, this rumor was half true—Brother Erkai had indeed used a knife when young, but never went to prison. His target had been Brother Dacheng, the boss behind Yunfu Hot Springs. Back then, Brother Dacheng had a guilty conscience and no moral ground, so he swallowed his humiliation and anger, not even daring to report it to police. But he always remembered the grudge. Later, he found backing, and after his comeback, he constantly hassled Yu Kaixuan and Wendu Water Palace—they were mortal enemies.

The Wen family case was from over twenty years ago. Those who casually brought it up in conversation were mostly elderly—young people had only vaguely heard about it. A twenty-something young internet celebrity who wasn’t even from Shi City—unless someone deliberately instructed and briefed him, how could he so viciously and precisely attack Wendu Water Palace’s most embarrassing, heavy past?

In any case, this touched Yu Kaixuan’s bottom line. He was determined to fight to the end. If it really was Brother Dacheng’s doing, even if it meant sacrificing peak season business, he’d fight to the death—take these rotten cloves of garlic and make an example of them.

However, as soon as he pushed open the second-floor conference room door, the strange atmosphere that greeted him instantly made him realize he might have guessed wrong—the person behind this wasn’t Brother Dacheng.

Because upon seeing Yu Kaixuan lead several people in menacingly, three young guys from that MCN media company from Changchun—the agent, operations manager, and the trouble-making yellow-haired internet celebrity—all together, in unison, dropped to their knees with a thud.

Backs straight, kneeling in a row, eyes of various sizes containing identical fear and panic. They looked at Yu Kaixuan, then at the people behind him, stuttering out undignified pleading words.

First, the lead agent raised his head and said: “Boss Yu, Uncle, I know whatever I say now is too late, but you have to hear your nephew out. I swear on my great-grandmother, we definitely didn’t intentionally mess with our bathhouse. We’re just making internet money, using traffic to drive sales. What benefit would ruining the bathhouse have for us? I know you’re a person with influence in Shi City, Uncle. We’re just workers, all came from poor families. How much guts would we need to dare offend you, sir?”

“Also, I really didn’t know this kid would improvise and talk nonsense. How damaging, how lacking in class! If I’d known he was this kind of person, I shouldn’t have signed him!”

As he spoke, the agent glared viciously at the yellow-haired internet celebrity, then reached out unsatisfied to hit him. He tilted his head to dodge—separated by the operations manager, the blow missed.

That operations manager was clever, though—immediately smacked the yellow-haired head kneeling beside him twice, cursing “let you talk nonsense you little bastard constantly causing trouble.”

Then the operations manager looked at Yu Kaixuan: “Rest assured, Boss Yu, I’ve already had the company suspend his account—indefinitely suspended! Some livestream recordings and such, we’re also intercepting them, reporting every one we see!”

“Right, better late than never!”

“Give us a chance!”

Yu Kaixuan casually pulled over a chair and sat down, looking at these three cowards before him. It was very clear this wasn’t Brother Dacheng’s doing. No matter how classless Brother Dacheng was, he couldn’t find such cheap cloves of garlic.

So then, who was it?

At this moment, Wen Wen leaned against the conference table and interjected with a question: “Do you know anyone from the Sun family?”

Yu Jiuqi suddenly looked at Wen Wen, seeing her stare fixedly at that yellow-haired male internet celebrity, eyes unblinking, afraid to miss any subtle movement.

Her long hair was slightly disheveled, makeup somewhat smeared—like a rattlesnake halfway through shedding its skin, revealing mottled undercolors not yet fully grown, fragile and aged, yet also emanating hissing venom.

She raised her small chin, specifically asking: “That yellow-hair, I’m asking you.”

The male internet celebrity looked over with trepidation, eyes ringed in red: “Sis, which Sun family do you mean?”

Xiao Jiu withdrew her gaze, lowering her eyes to the floor, looking at years of accumulated dust in the floor cracks, hearing her mother’s drifting tone speak that name. Strangely, she felt calm as still water.

She said: “Sun Yuwen’s family.”

“Don’t know them.”

“Then who told you about this matter?”

“I was just searching for material before livestreaming, saw someone mention that case in the Shi City forum, with a link. I clicked through and searched it. Back then this matter had news coverage—it’s all public resources. I didn’t steal or rob anything. If you don’t believe me, I can send you the link!”

Wen Wen stared at him darkly without speaking.

“Really, sis, let me tell you the truth—I just wanted to gain followers through livestreaming. Our industry looks like easy money, but it’s worse than being a dog! I was originally a hairstylist. Just because I looked decent, they fooled me into livestreaming. Tell me, what can I do? I can’t sing or perform. Then the company constantly says my traffic is low, revenue is poor. They’re not willing to invest dou+ for me—where am I supposed to get traffic?! Every day hinting I should have dinner and sleep with the top-gifter sister—bunch of bastards, stinking capitalists!”

Then the three of them started cursing each other, and cursing turned to fighting.

Wen Wen turned and left. She didn’t care about what followed.

Yu Jiuqi glanced at Yu Kaixuan once, immediately following out, trailing her downstairs, walking out of Wendu Water Palace.

At the entrance, Wen Wen suddenly turned back. Several strands of long black hair scattered across her face, making her expression look solemn and pale. She looked at her daughter frozen in place for a while, eyes sharp and intense: “Do you believe what he said?”

Without waiting for Xiao Jiu to speak, she answered herself: “I don’t believe it.”

A strong cold wind swept past. The just-posted Christmas decorations at the entrance swayed, seemingly with crisp silver bell sounds, ding-dong like alarm bells.

Yu Jiuqi saw Wen Wen narrow her eyes, then suddenly open them wide, expression excited—like a reborn rattlesnake shaking its beautiful tail, waiting quietly for prey.

“Just wait and see.”

“This time they provoked me. Just wait and see.”

The next day at noon, the three characters “Sun Yuwen” shot to third on the Shi City Douyin community search rankings, second on Kuaishou search rankings.

He was trending.

The cause was of course last night’s Wendu Water Palace livestream accident. Although that media company did indeed intercept some recorded videos, they couldn’t withstand the numerous busybodies and competitors looking to take advantage of Wendu Water Palace’s misfortune—recorded videos were still everywhere. But what made the three characters “Sun Yuwen” become a traffic code was a viral video posted by a local Shi City internet celebrity.

That video was simple—using text plus beat-matching music, combined with that year’s case, it introduced Sun Yuwen as a person.

Three keywords: “Murderer,” “Poet,” “Cultured Scum.”

Who could have imagined that an infamous murderer was actually a poet, wrote beautiful calligraphy and love poems? It seemed that reading just two lines, one could see through that elegant handwriting on yellowed letter paper, glimpsing a deeply emotional, sensitive yet obsessive, fragile soul.

And such a complex person happened to be a handsome man with resolute features and melancholic temperament.

Those several clear photos of him from different angles overnight became widely shared by everyone. Below, people discussed how much he resembled that Korean male star famous for sexual tension, analyzing how he could wear old-money style elegantly and low-key in the late twentieth-century Northeast.

Human moral standards are sometimes very hypocritical things. If one removed social identity and covered this face, in dark corners everyone wanted to brazenly join hands with demons, offering flowers, worship, even love.

Yu Jiuqi scrolled through many starry-eyed confessions and fantasies under the viral video, saying perhaps he was forced into desperation, perhaps suffered hidden illness, saying he was only one accomplice in the murder case, perhaps shouldn’t endure such judgment.

Just because he was a good-looking poet, even being a murderer became a charm bonus.

She pressed the video pause button, freezing on Sun Yuwen’s face, enlarged it, enlarged it more. Her gaze swept coldly over that photo from over twenty years ago with low pixels—heavy brows pressing down on eyes, slightly humped high nose, sharply angled jaw, thin lips pressed into a line.

Hard not to think of another person. Except for the different aura emanating from the eyes, the facial features separated out individually were almost identical.

Using the words of a highly-liked comment below, Sun Yuwen’s eyes contained neurotic brokenness. And Sun Xi? Yu Jiuqi pieced together language to describe him, but after piecing and gathering, nothing fit as well as an animal.

Anyway, it was a face that usually didn’t let people feel comfortable.

She had also once hated this face.

To what degree?

Yu Jiuqi remembered, in her first year of middle school, especially when her parents formally notified her they were divorcing, initially Xiao Jiu found it very hard to accept, even afraid. She went to the bathhouse to ask Grandpa, why does Mom have to divorce? Did she fall in love with someone else, or did we do something wrong?

Grandpa at the time was changing incense for Auntie and Grandma’s memorial photos in the Buddhist hall. He didn’t respond to the little girl’s question. Not until much later, seeing her cry, did he muffledly say something she didn’t quite understand then.

Grandpa said, no one’s at fault—your mom is still stuck in the past and hasn’t come back.

She pondered this sentence for a long time, still unable to empathize, but there was one term in it she understood—she knew what those two words “the past” referred to.

At that time, Xiao Jiu already knew about that case that hung like a shadow over the entire family’s heads, also knew who the chief culprit was, and had even known years earlier the son of the criminal who looked extremely similar.

That face now occasionally appeared in school hallways, on the playground, at the bus stop on the way home, and at the back door of the frequently visited milk tea shop. Just seeing it made one annoyed.

She knew that as the well-behaved, kind, likeable good girl in everyone’s mouth, she should hold good intentions toward others, couldn’t harbor malice toward an innocent peer. But she couldn’t do it—she just hated, hated that face, hated it to the point of darkly desiring to see it injured, bleeding, even destroyed.

It seemed that seeing that face suffer endless torment could dissolve some of her rebellion and repression that couldn’t be shown to others.

For a long time, that was her only emotional outlet. At least at the time she thought so.

And coincidentally, during that period his face often bore injuries—major and minor wounds constantly. Often old wounds hadn’t healed before new ones layered on top—his face was never clean. Yu Jiuqi also heard classmates gossip about his frequent fighting. Supposedly two or three people couldn’t get close to him, but he had no companions whatsoever—as long as five people gathered to corner him, he was beaten at will.

A trace of sourness did flash through her heart, but she still uncontrollably wanted to appreciate his pain.

So those encounters in hallways, on playgrounds, at bus stops and milk tea shop back doors weren’t coincidences at all. As if under some spell, addicted, she carefully designed one passing-by after another. In those brief overlapping moments, she’d glance sideways at the bruise on his forehead, the red swelling on his cheek, a bright crimson fresh scar at the corner of his mouth, or gray-white gauze dyed with yellow iodine on his nose bridge.

Occasionally, he’d also notice her, coldly glancing over. Xiao Jiu would openly look back, even politely and courteously smile a bit, stopping just right.

Several times, night thick and heavy, on the same bus, coincidentally sitting front and back rows. As long as Yu Jiuqi turned her head slightly toward the window, she could capture his face. The bus rushed and slowed toward the old city district, making one drowsy. Xiao Jiu stared at the window in a daze, blanking her mind to rest. A jolt suddenly woke her. Her eyes still fell on the window but collided with another gaze.

Straightforward, bold, burning and rash eyes.

She hurriedly dodged away, pretending it was just accidental. He also turned back, as if nothing had happened.

But it wasn’t always this peaceful.

That year in deep winter, one afternoon near semester’s end, she went to the milk tea shop again. As usual, she used a discount card, bought a cup of hot jasmine milk green tea, didn’t drink in the shop. Holding it, she rounded the snow pile at the small street corner, sipped once, then casually raised her eyes toward the milk tea shop’s back door. She saw him sitting on a small wooden chair at the back door, down jacket open and draped loosely, white sweater underneath with an apron tied over it, the milk tea shop’s name on the apron.

The milk tea shop belonged to one of his distant uncles. He occasionally came to help, earning pocket money.

When free, he liked sitting at the back door, playing games, spacing out, sleeping, or like this moment, changing wound dressing.

She glanced briefly—right wrist majorly red and swollen, left hand clumsily binding gauze, movements heavy. Must be very painful.

“Hey.” He suddenly called out, voice not loud but heavy enough, words polite: “Can you help me?”

Yu Jiuqi looked around. No one else—only then confirming he was asking her for help.

She knew what help he meant. She walked over, squatted down, took the gauze from his left hand, looked at the wound. Probably because it got contaminated with dirty water, swelling was somewhat high—even several places had pinkish blood blisters seeping out. Must be very painful.

Yu Jiuqi’s gaze was steady, wrists nimbly turning. The gauze wrapped twice, tied a tight knot at the back of the wound, using barely any force.

“Quite bold.” He shook his wrist and said.

Yu Jiuqi wasn’t sure what he meant, didn’t ask either, preparing to leave.

“Thank you.” He raised his head looking at her.

“No problem.”

Before she left, he suddenly asked: “Are you free next week?”

Yu Jiuqi stopped, startled: “Which day?”

“Monday night.”

“What for?”

“Treat you to milk tea. Thank you.” His gaze lightly pointed at the jasmine milk green in Xiao Jiu’s hand. “We use expired creamer here—drink less. I know where there’s better.”

She lowered her head, the hand holding the milk tea cup using slightly more force. Then she raised her head, frowning, remembering something: “Monday seems to be the 31st…”

She didn’t finish—accurately speaking, Monday was December 31st, New Year’s Eve.

“That day there’s a fireworks show at the small square.” He was straightforward.

“Oh.”

“Going?” He looked over with dark eyes.

“For milk tea?” She needed confirmation.

“To celebrate New Year’s.”

How to refuse?

Think fast! Fast!

…

A sudden urgent ringtone interrupted the distant and difficult choice. Thank goodness.

Yu Jiuqi was sitting in the bank office. It was almost quitting time—the office drowsy and dim. She glanced at her phone—Ge Fan’s call. She sighed, rubbed her shoulders, then slowly answered.

Ge Fan’s voice was loud, roaring one sentence: “Xiao Jiu, are you okay?”

Yu Jiuqi inexplicably had a bad premonition: “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, well, I heard your mom hit someone with her car. I figured you went too…”

Her brain exploded with a buzz: “Who did she hit?”

“An internet celebrity, from here.”

“Who?”

“Ah, well, that one—don’t know if you know them—’Forget Her I’ll Raise You with Fried Chicken Racks.'”

Yu Jiuqi knew this strange name—it was the account that posted yesterday’s video portraying Sun Yuwen as a high-looks literary murderer.