Yan Tuo paused for a moment, then strode toward that direction.
When he was still about ten meters away, there was a rustling sound as a raggedly dressed man jumped up, holding a wooden rifle, and shouted: “Stop! Hands up! Surrender your weapons and you’ll be spared!”
Yan Tuo was startled.
However, he quickly regained his composure, and within seconds, his gaze had swept over the man several times.
The man before him had matted, tangled hair and a dirt-covered face. He was barefoot with blackened grime around his toenails. The “rifle” he held was carved from wood, and around his neck hung a broken plastic toy binocular. He had a handled lunch pail slung over his shoulder and a stainless steel soup spoon tucked in his waist.
This was most likely a village fool.
Yan Tuo stopped and cooperatively raised his hands in surrender.
The fool was very satisfied. He freed one hand to pull out the soup spoon and held it to his ear like a radio: “Base One, Base One, this is Base Seven, forest defense line has spotted enemy troops, spotted enemy troops!”
After his “report,” the fool aggressively interrogated Yan Tuo: “How many men do you have? How many guns? Are you here to sabotage Banya Village?”
Yan Tuo felt certain this was indeed a fool, but to be thorough, he needed to verify further.
He gestured toward the quiet village in the distance: “You live there?”
The fool was very displeased with his irrelevant answer: “Be honest! Don’t try to extract any intelligence from me! Banya is fully prepared for battle. If you attempt an attack, you’re asking for destruction!”
Yan Tuo: “You’re right, I’ll retreat now.”
He backed away several steps before turning to leave. The fool kept his “rifle” trained on him until he saw him get in the car, only then letting out a long breath before raising the soup spoon to his ear again: “Base One, Base One, this is Base Seven, enemy forces have been driven back, enemy forces have been driven back!”
Yan Tuo started the car, and when he reached the intersection, he turned the steering wheel and headed straight for the village, occasionally checking the rearview mirror: now he had not only broken through the “defense line” but was heading straight for their stronghold. He wanted to see how the fool would react.
Soon, a frantically pursuing figure appeared in the distance behind the car. The fool was banging his spoon against his pail while shouting himself hoarse: “Fellow villagers, the enemy has entered the village! Run for your lives!”
Yan Tuo silently praised the man’s dedication to his role as a fool.
Soon, the car reached the easternmost single-story houses.
To be honest, many villages in Southern Shaanxi, especially those in the mountains, were quite backward, with houses made of mud and stone. But this village was accessible by car and relatively modern: the main roads were paved with cement, and most buildings were single-story, with quite a few two or three-story buildings. Overhead, telephone and power lines crisscrossed, where idle birds perched.
However, there were hardly any people visible—this was the general trend: working-age adults had left for cities, leaving behind the elderly, women, and children. Rural villages across the country were becoming “hollow.”
A woman who had heard the commotion came out of her house to see what was happening.
She was in her fifties with ear-length short hair, wearing a dark red jacket and striped pants with square-toed cloth shoes. She held sunflower seeds in her hand, eating them with a distinctive style: while others would carelessly discard the empty shells, she would bring them close to her eyes and rub them between her fingers before releasing them to flutter down like flower petals.
Yan Tuo got out of the car and gestured toward the road ahead: “Sister, does this road connect to the main road?”
The woman shook her head: “You’ve taken a wrong turn. There’s no way through ahead, you’ll have to go back.”
Yan Tuo made a sound of acknowledgment, then casually steered the conversation to the running fool: “That person… what’s wrong with him?”
“Ah, that’s Ma the Fool. He’s been like that since he was little, something wrong with his head.”
As they spoke, Ma the Fool had run up close, immediately wailing: “My fellow villagers, I’m too late!”
As if all the villagers had already met a tragic end.
The woman was clearly experienced in dealing with Ma the Fool: “You’ve got it wrong, these are guerrilla forces… Captain Ma, the enemy is in the west, go check over there.”
Ma the Fool straightened his back and clicked his heels impressively: “Yes, ma’am!”
Yan Tuo watched him run away at full speed, finally confirming he was indeed just a fool. Relieved, he turned to thank the woman and say goodbye.
The woman was busy checking new messages on her phone and didn’t even acknowledge his farewell.
Yan Tuo opened the car door and was halfway in when the woman suddenly called out: “Hey, young man, wait a moment.”
What now? Yan Tuo turned back to look at her questioningly.
The woman looked at him, hesitated for a while, then stammered: “Young man, I see you’re strong and… have strength. Could you… could you help me move a pickle jar? All the young men in the village are away, and I… I can’t move it by myself.”
By the end, she squeezed out an embarrassed smile.
Yan Tuo found the request rather abrupt, but since she had just “given him directions,” it seemed fair to help out in return.
There was a pickle jar inside, almost half as tall as a person and surprisingly heavy. Not only would it be impossible for the woman to move alone, but even with Yan Tuo’s help it was quite challenging.
They worked together to move the jar toward the door, with the woman being notably clumsy, forcing them to stop and restart several times. Moreover, Yan Tuo noticed that at least two or three times, the woman was secretly studying him—once, when he deliberately met her gaze, she hurriedly looked away in panic.
Yan Tuo grew suspicious: while he was good-looking and well-built, and had experienced young women staring or secretly taking his photo before, moving a pickle jar wasn’t exactly a graceful activity. The idea that this middle-aged woman would be smitten with him seemed absurd.
After finally moving the jar to the doorway, the woman brought a basin of water for Yan Tuo to wash his hands. As he was applying soap, he casually observed his surroundings, and his internal alarm bells began ringing loudly.
Just moments ago, the nearby road had been empty, but now there were three people.
One was a limping old man in his sixties with graying hair, using a cane. He was about a hundred meters away, apparently heading in this direction, though currently stopped on the road, repeatedly clicking his lighter as he tried to light a cigarette.
Another was a sturdy man in his thirties wearing blue work clothes, with a large head and hair that seemed to merge directly into his collar, appearing almost neckless. He sat at the base of a broken wall diagonal to the woman’s house, loudly crunching on a cucumber. Beside him was an open jar of sauce, and after each bite, he would dip the cucumber in it.
Finally, there was a young man in his twenties with a crew cut. He wasn’t exactly ugly, but his features were carelessly arranged, all clustered toward the center of his face—if you were to powder the middle part white, he’d look exactly like a clown character from Peking opera. He had walked up to the car and was peering inside curiously.
Yan Tuo shouted in his direction.
The young man jumped, his neck first retracting before stretching forward as his face instantly broke into a smile: “Oh, brother, is this your car? It’s nice.”
Yan Tuo, knowing what was in his car, naturally assumed the worst. He figured there were two worst-case scenarios—
First, the so-called mentally damaged Ma the Fool was pretending. He had seen the person tied up in the trunk and what had happened and had already alerted the villagers.
Second, this Banya Village itself was suspicious. Perhaps it was a modern version of Sun Er Niang’s murderous inn, targeting lone travelers to rob and kill.
Either way, the best option was to leave.
He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to the woman, quickly rinsing his hands in the water before heading toward the car, shaking them dry as he walked.
Behind him, the woman wanted to stop him but couldn’t think of a suitable excuse.
Seeing him approach, the young man quickly stepped back to make way, while eagerly trying to engage him: “Brother, are you here looking for someone?”
“No, just passing through, asking for directions.”
The young man’s smile took on a sly quality: “Our village is at the very end of the road. Everyone who comes here comes for a reason—who just passes through?”
What a nutcase, trying to control whether people could pass through or not. Yan Tuo ignored him and opened the car door. Just as he was about to get in, the young man grabbed hold of the door.
Yan Tuo’s heart skipped a beat: this was really trouble now—the village and these people were definitely suspicious.
He looked at the young man, maintaining his composure: “What is it?”
The young man wilted under his gaze, nervously letting go of the door and forcing another smile: “Nothing, brother, I’m heading to the main road—could you give me a lift?”
Yan Tuo was about to say “Not convenient” when a lazy voice came from the side: “Shan Qiang, stop dreaming. Have some self-respect, don’t try to mooch rides just because someone has a nice car.”
It was the big-headed man.
Shan Qiang’s face immediately fell as he turned to curse at the man: “Mind your own business!”
The man slowly chewed the remaining stub of cucumber, ignoring Shan Qiang while giving Yan Tuo a sideways glance: “Leaving so soon? After getting directions, shouldn’t you pay a consultation fee?”
Sure enough, they were village thugs.
Yan Tuo didn’t want trouble: “How much?”
The man brushed off his hands and got up, slowly walking to Yan Tuo and making a “three” gesture: “Three hundred yuan, but it has to be cash.”
Although electronic payments are widespread these days, Yan Tuo still carries a few hundred yuan for emergencies. Besides, three hundred yuan wasn’t exactly extortion by criminal standards.
He lowered his head to get his wallet.
At that moment, the man suddenly launched himself at Yan Tuo’s chest, shouting: “Stop pretending! Get him!”
Yan Tuo had noticed the man’s movement and instinctively stepped back, but almost simultaneously, Shan Qiang from behind lunged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Yan Tuo’s waist.
With one person ramming from the front and another grabbing from behind, Yan Tuo was sandwiched between them like filling in a sandwich. Adding to this, he was already stepping backward, and all three men lost their balance, tumbling to the ground together.
Yan Tuo knew this was bad. Before even hitting the ground, he threw a hook punch that sent the big-headed man’s face jerking sideways. Just as he was about to get up, his waist was squeezed tight and he was pulled back down—Shan Qiang wasn’t trying to fight him, just desperately holding on from behind, refusing to let go.
Having over a hundred pounds weighing down his back was truly troublesome. Yan Tuo inwardly cursed, and in the next second, his vision darkened as the big-headed man pounced on him again.
The three men immediately fell into a chaotic brawl.
As the saying goes, two fists can’t fight four hands. Although Yan Tuo’s agility allowed him to make both men suffer, he was like a plant wrapped in vines, unable to break free. Just as he was growing desperate, he glimpsed another person joining the fray.
It was the limping old man, looking fierce as he hobbled over with large steps, raising his cane high to strike down.
In that split second, Yan Tuo had a flash of inspiration. Using all his strength, he suddenly rolled over, forcing Shan Qiang, who was still holding onto him, to the top—and the old man’s cane came down directly on Shan Qiang’s head and neck.
Shan Qiang cried out in pain and released his grip, curling up and rolling to the side. Yan Tuo took advantage of this to throw off the big-headed man and get up, rushing toward the half-open driver’s door. Before he could fully sit down, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck—the old man had caught up and jabbed an injection needle into his neck.
Yan Tuo had no time to look closer. He grabbed the car door and slammed it hard, nearly breaking the old man’s arm that was reaching inside. The old man howled in pain and stumbled backward, clutching his arm.
Seizing the moment, Yan Tuo started the car. The front was facing into the village, so he had to charge forward first, making a sharp tail-swing turn after about ten meters before finally heading outward at high speed.
Shan Qiang and the old man were both injured and hadn’t recovered, while the big-headed man had gotten up and seemed to want to stop the car but backed away in fear of its momentum. However, the woman, proving appearances could be deceiving, grabbed a long bench and charged toward the front of the car, shouting.
What, did she think she could stop the car with a bench?
This was the very definition of futile resistance. Yan Tuo’s eyes darkened as he floored the accelerator, charging straight ahead.
The woman had thought she could force Yan Tuo to stop, but seeing the car show no signs of stopping even when it was just two or three meters away, she was suddenly terrified and hurriedly backed away. The car roared past her, and she, overcome with fear and weak-kneed, fell sprawling along the bench.
…
The car sped away, leaving a trail of yellow dust. Ma the Fool was “patrolling” with his rifle shouldered backward when he saw the car leaving in the distance. Confused, he stopped and looked on, still calling out from afar: “Guerrilla forces, won’t you stay for a meal before leaving?”