Vol 5 – Chapter 1

Early in the morning, Que Cha busied herself with cooking, preparing meals for more than ten people with just a single induction cooker.

It was crude, but she comforted herself—after all, this was just temporary.

A few nights ago, she had been notified to quickly leave the villa and meet with everyone at a new location. Only upon arrival did she learn that Old Jiang’s group had run into trouble while out.

The specifics weren’t explained. They just took her phone, partly fearing location tracking and partly so they could handle any calls from Jiang Baichuan as they saw fit.

She vaguely sensed it was related to the aftermath of Yan Tuo’s imprisonment.

The new residence was a small garment processing factory on the outskirts of the city that had just changed hands. For various reasons, the new owners had delayed taking over, leaving the factory empty for about two months. Somehow Yu Rong and the others had gotten wind of this, pulled some strings, and with just a small sum, secured usage rights for these two months.

More than ten people, including Xing Shen who returned the next day, temporarily settled in the factory.

They had a place to stay, but compared to the villa, it was worlds apart: no private bathrooms—they had to use public toilets; any room could become a kitchen with just an induction cooker; everything had to be done themselves—no more relying on housekeeping services…

Everyone was busy with something, except Que Cha who had no specific duties. So cooking fell to her. Fortunately, although she had lived a wealthy life with Jiang Baichuan since she was seventeen, she enjoyed cooking and often prepared various dishes for him—this task suited her abilities and wasn’t too taxing.

The porridge started bubbling, indicating it was almost done. Que Cha put on heat-resistant gloves and lifted the pot: the rice porridge smelled wonderful, especially with the fresh lilies she had added, giving it a subtle sweetness.

She wondered where Old Jiang was now and what he had eaten this morning. Que Cha felt somewhat worried, but also somewhat indifferent. As the internet saying goes, love can fade.

After all, her feelings for Jiang Baichuan were no longer the intense infatuation of her seventeen-year-old self. Back then, Jiang Baichuan had been her focus, her support, and even her pride. Now, he was just an ordinary, dispensable older man—she stayed with him simply because he was there.

A wicked thought suddenly occurred to her: if Jiang Baichuan died, would she start anew and find a new life?

Amitabha Buddha, what a sin! Que Cha was startled by her thoughts and quickly shook her head, trying to shake these ideas away. Old Jiang was her choice, and for all these years, he had treated her well—how could she be so heartless?

The sound of footsteps came from behind as Shan Qiang poked his head through the doorway. “Sister Cha, is food ready? You have no idea how exhausted I am.”

Que Cha made an affirming sound. “Go sit down, I’ll serve you.”

Just as she finished speaking, Da Tou’s voice drifted in from outside: “Que Cha, get me a bowl too.”

Que Cha frowned.

She didn’t mind serving Shan Qiang—he had helped Yu Rong with “whip warming” in the morning, and after hundreds of lashes, his arms were too shaky to lift. Helping him was like caring for the disabled.

But what right did Da Tou have?

Da Tou had always been sarcastic towards her, his words implying she was nothing more than Jiang Baichuan’s “little mistress.” But it had just been words before. These past two days, perhaps because Jiang Baichuan wasn’t around, he had become shamelessly annoying.

Though disgusted, Que Cha didn’t want to create conflict, so she reluctantly served porridge to both of them.

Outside was the processing area, with equipment still in its original place—rows of sewing machines neatly arranged, fabric and clothing materials piled in corners, and red banners hanging high on the walls with slogans like “Diligent and Practical, Pioneering and Progressive” to motivate workers.

Shan Qiang and Da Tou were using sewing machines as tables, huddled together, and talking.

Shan Qiang: “It’s done, heavens, we’ve handed the place over to the psychos.”

Da Tou: “Which psycho? Yu Rong?”

Shan Qiang: “Ha, both of them—we’ve got the full set.”

Que Cha was setting down the porridge bowls when she heard this and frowned. “Is it appropriate to talk about others behind their backs like this?”

Honestly, Que Cha had been quite shocked when she first met Yu Rong.

How to put it—Yu Rong wasn’t like an ordinary girl.

She was twenty-five or twenty-six, tall and sturdy, with sun-darkened skin and even visible muscle definition on her arms and legs. She had a shaved head with a coiled lizard tattoo on the right side, a nose ring, and a shiny stud piercing in the middle of her tongue.

Isn’t all this self-torture? Que Cha felt pain just looking at her.

Later she heard Yu Rong had worked in Thailand before—maybe she learned all this from foreigners, as alternative culture was quite popular abroad.

Yu Rong was somewhat reclusive. Although they had lived under the same roof for several days, Que Cha had barely exchanged any words with her. Still, she didn’t dislike Yu Rong, and even found their differences intriguing—they were both women, not too far apart in age, yet their lives couldn’t be more different.

Da Tou glanced at her sideways. “Don’t you think Yu Rong is strange? Is that even a woman? What man would want a woman like that?”

Que Cha scoffed. “I wouldn’t know, but I’m sure she wouldn’t be interested in a man like you.”

She put on a stern face and left with the tray.

Shan Qiang watched from the side, laughing heartily.

Da Tou didn’t find it amusing at all. He coldly watched Que Cha’s departing figure, his lip twitching involuntarily. “What’s she so arrogant about? Who knows if her man will even make it back?”

Shan Qiang’s laughter stopped abruptly. After a pause, he looked at Da Tou with displeasure. “What are you talking about? Are you cursing Uncle Jiang?”

Da Tou shrugged indifferently. “Just stating facts.”

Back in the kitchen, Que Cha fumed for a while before consoling herself not to bother with such uncouth people.

She boiled water and made two cups of coffee in disposable paper cups with lids. One cup she left black, specifically writing “Black Coffee” on it, then carried them in a paper bag out of the kitchen and through the processing area.

Da Tou kept his head down drinking porridge until Que Cha’s figure disappeared through the processing room door, then looked up briefly before elbowing Shan Qiang.

“Have you noticed? Que Cha’s been very enthusiastic about Xing Shen these past few days.”

Shan Qiang was slow to catch on. “Really?”

Da Tou sneered. “Women like her—they rely on Uncle Jiang while he’s around, but if anything happens to him, they quickly latch onto the next man. Just a loose woman putting on airs. I’ve seen plenty like her.”

Shan Qiang found these words jarring and quietly admonished him. “Watch what you say. We all know each other—how awkward would it be if she heard you?”

Leaving the processing area, Que Cha walked east.

The warehouse was on the east side.

Though the factory was small, the warehouse was quite solid—thick walls, iron doors, sturdy windows set high up with security bars, probably to prevent theft.

As she approached the warehouse, Que Cha faintly heard piercing strange sounds coming through the air vent.

That must be Sun Zhou.

Que Cha’s heart jumped, but she steadied herself before continuing to walk, reaching the door and knocking.

While waiting for the door to open, she glanced again at the air vent.

The sound had stopped now.

The door opened—it was Xing Shen.

He smiled at Que Cha. “As soon as I opened the door, I smelled coffee and knew it was you.”

Que Cha smiled too, handing him the paper bag. “One cup each. I wrote on yours so Yu Rong won’t mix them up.”

As she spoke, she peered through the gap beside Xing Shen into the warehouse.

She couldn’t see Sun Zhou but saw several rows of blue and yellow warehouse shelves arranged haphazardly, still holding some clothing packages. She also saw Yu Rong standing with her back to the door. Despite the cold weather, she wore only a cropped tank top and shorts, her body covered in sweat, with a waist pack strapped on, and on her back seemed to be…

Before she could see clearly, her view was blocked as Xing Shen shifted his position.

Que Cha snapped back to attention. “Also, what should Sun Zhou eat? Should I prepare something for him too?”

After all, someone was responsible for buying food and daily necessities—she just needed to cook it.

Xing Shen smiled gently. “No need, don’t worry about Sun Zhou. Thank you for your hard work these past few days.”

Que Cha blushed. “It’s nothing, just doing my part.”

They were both men, but the difference was stark. Talking to Da Tou made her want to vomit, but if all men were like Xing Shen—refined and cultured—how wonderful would that be?

Before leaving, she pointed at the high-air vent. “Um, there’s a window open up there, and you can hear sounds from inside. You might want to close it. Even though everyone here is on our side, just in case, right?”

After closing the iron door again, Xing Shen cleared his throat. “Yu Rong, did you hear that? Want to close the window?”

Yu Rong looked up at the open window and nodded. She rushed forward, grabbed the shelves, and quickly climbed to the top. Then she strode and leaped to another set of shelves, repeating this several times until she reached the window, reaching up to push the glass shut with a whoosh.

Her movements were quick and decisive, but not graceful. Her heavy steps and large movements caused the shelves to continue swaying even after she had jumped back down to the ground.

However, with the window closed, the noise decreased significantly, making the sounds inside clearer: from behind a fully stocked shelf in the corner came the sound of heavy breathing.

Yu Rong’s face darkened as she pulled out the whip from her back.

It was a whip less than a meter long, hand-crafted from cowhide sinew, with a body only as thick as chopsticks. It looked more like a stick until held—then one could see the slight flexibility of the body, fully meeting the traditional Chinese whip standards of “flexibility, roundness, and smoothness.” Moreover, the tip of the whip was slightly frayed with a shiny bead embedded in it.

Generally, whips get thinner toward the tip, making it easier to “split” skin when struck, creating a cut with each lash. But some people embed steel balls or similar objects at the tip, not for aesthetics, but to add weight for stronger impact.

Xing Shen took his coffee cup from the paper bag. The paper cup was thin, scalding to the touch.

But he didn’t mind, or rather, was too excited to care about the coffee’s temperature.

He asked, “Yu Rong, should I stand back?”

Yu Rong replied, “No need, stay where you are.”

After speaking, she cracked the whip in the air, so fast it seemed to make the air itself tremble.

Sun Zhou slowly crawled out from behind the shelves.

Not crawling flat on the ground, but like a feline, with palms and feet touching the ground, silent and eerily quiet.

Looking at his face, one could still vaguely make out Sun Zhou’s original features, though his face had grown more gaunt, cheeks deeply sunken, and his eyes held too much savagery, completely changing his appearance. Where his face had been scratched before, dense beast-like fur had grown, in strips like cut velvet, clinging close to his skin.

He wore clothes, though they were torn to shreds, the fabric strips stuck to his wounds with blood, fused. Combined with constantly rolling on the ground, mixing with dust and dirt, the color was indiscernible.

Only half his body emerged, his eyes flickering unstably, claws gripping the ground, back slightly arched.

Yu Rong reached into her waistpack and took out a colorful bouncy ball about the size of an egg. She tossed it up in the air a few times—Sun Zhou’s head followed the ball’s up-and-down movement as if pulled by invisible strings.

Then Yu Rong paused, raised her arm, and threw the ball hard toward the side wall.

Almost simultaneously, Sun Zhou shot forward like a gust of wind close to the ground, like a ghostly shadow rushing out.

Yu Rong shouted: “Three!”

A bouncy ball returns upon hitting a wall changes direction when meeting obstacles, and moves extremely fast initially. Blindly chasing the ball would only lead to exhaustion and always falling behind.

“Two!”

The bouncy ball had changed direction, shooting straight through between the shelves, with Sun Zhou following close behind like an agile and fierce leopard.

“One!”

As soon as “one” was spoken, like hitting a rest note, the previous commotion instantly fell silent. Sun Zhou had one hand pressed to the ground, the other hand curled inward, holding the colorful bouncy ball in his palm.

Yu Rong’s lips curved into a smile.

She turned to Xing Shen: “Did you see clearly?”

Xing Shen shook his head in amazement. “Too fast.”

Yu Rong said, “He’s learned to be smarter. Before, he would just chase the ball and get whipped. Now he knows how to judge the ball’s trajectory and intercept it.”

Xing Shen asked excitedly, “When can you hand him over to me?”

Yu Rong turned to look at Sun Zhou, who had withdrawn his hand, leaving the bouncy ball where it was, and quietly, vigilantly retreated behind the shelves again.

“Wait a while longer, he’s not fully tamed yet.”

Xing Shen said, “With him, I feel much more at ease. Grasshoppers fear Di Xiao and won’t attack, but he’s not afraid. We should thank Uncle Jiang for his foresight.”

He had only learned after joining Yu Rong and the others that Jiang Baichuan had been keeping Sun Zhou hidden.

Shan Qiang had explained to him: “Uncle Jiang told me that he had tried his best, but Sun Zhou had a red thread through his pupils—he couldn’t be saved. If sent back, he would spend the rest of his life in a mental hospital, the most dangerous kind, likely to hurt someone at any time. Better to make use of what’s available—if he could be tamed, he’d be a perfect weapon against Di Xiao. If he ever encounters Dog Tooth and helps take him down, wouldn’t that be revenge for himself?”

Having been injured by Di Xiao, having lost his mind and become almost beast-like, when encountering Di Xiao again, he would no longer fear their claws, completely fearless.

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