Chapter 120: Shadow in the Mist

The second matter Zhang Qinglin wanted to address concerned the contents of the anonymous letter. He wanted to ask if she knew someone named Wu Mingshi, but he did not know how to bring it up. After some thought, he decided that since the letter mentioned the Xikou Fish Farm, he would stay there for a few days to see who exactly wanted to meet him.

In the end, he simply asked Bai Weiwei to find him two thick garments and inquired if there was a telephone nearby. She smiled faintly and said she would have Uncle Zhong bring the clothes over shortly.

Then, noticing the jade tiger by Zhang Qinglin’s hand, she asked with great interest, "May I take a look at that?"

As Bai Weiwei pointed to the jade tiger, Zhang Qinglin nodded and handed it to her. She cautiously held it up to her eyes, gazing intently at every inch of the piece. She then proceeded to describe the texture, patterns, and the dynastic background of the jade in a measured, articulate manner.

Zhang Qinglin listened, dumbfounded. To his surprise, Bai Weiwei was remarkably knowledgeable about jade artifacts.

"Where did you get this jade tiger? Did you pick it up at a market, or..." Bai Weiwei lifted her eyelids, her expression turning somber.

"Its origin is a bit complicated," Zhang Qinglin said, immediately interrupting her and speaking in a stuttering tone.

"Could it be that it was stolen from a tomb? Are you a 'Grey Eighth'?" Bai Weiwei stared at Zhang Qinglin, her eyes showing astonishment.

Zhang Qinglin waved his hands repeatedly and looked at her in confusion. "What in the world is a 'Grey Eighth'?"

His question made Bai Weiwei burst into laughter. Zhang Qinglin stared at her blankly, not knowing what she was laughing at, but he ended up laughing along with her in his simple, awkward way.

"You don't even know what a 'Grey Eighth' is? It seems this object has quite a story. Can you tell me about it?" Bai Weiwei took a step forward, leaning against the corner of the wooden table.

In truth, "Grey Eighth" was a colloquial term for a rat. People often called rats "vermin," and "dirt vermin" was also a term for grave robbers. The connection existed because rats love to dig tunnels, and grave robbers similarly dug tunnels to reach tombs and steal artifacts; thus, the nickname was born.

Zhang Qinglin looked at the jade tiger, took it back from Bai Weiwei’s hands, and clutched it. He then spun his experiences at the Heavenly Gate Cave into a story for her. He omitted the tragic deaths of Su Fei and Zhusha, focusing instead on the thrills at the Stone Disc God Tree and the cave. Bai Weiwei listened with fascination; for someone often confined to a professional environment, such magical worlds were something she deeply longed to see and experience.

The two chatted about antiques and curiosities, laughing and talking until noon. Bai Weiwei mentioned she had to go out to handle some business in the afternoon but promised to help him inquire about his friends. Before leaving, she called Uncle Zhong over and told Zhang Qinglin to ask him if he needed anything.

Uncle Zhong was the middle-aged man who had been with her in the morning. Surprisingly, he was already over sixty, though he looked less than fifty.

Lunch was "whistle noodles" prepared by Uncle Zhong. Zhang Qinglin wolfed them down so quickly he barely tasted them. Watching him as if he hadn't eaten in three days, Uncle Zhong served him three full bowls until he was finally satisfied. Afterward, he brought over two thick garments for Zhang Qinglin and gathered up the blood-stained clothes from the chair, which were no longer usable. Zhang Qinglin retrieved his wallet, and Uncle Zhong carried the clothes out of the cabin.

By evening, the wind had died down. Zhang Qinglin walked to the edge of the pond to get some air. Although the temperature was chilly, the air was crisp and refreshing, clearing his head. As he stretched his arms, he noticed Uncle Zhong standing by the second large pond, slowly bending over and shining a flashlight at something. Curious, Zhang Qinglin walked over.

"Uncle Zhong, what are you looking for?" Zhang Qinglin stood beside him, standing on tiptoe to peer ahead.

Uncle Zhong did not answer, continuing to shine the light. As the sky grew darker, he adjusted the beam and set up a wooden frame in the middle of the pond, spreading nets around it. Zhang Qinglin saw small fish flickering in the water under the light.

"Pond fish farming is a major part of freshwater fisheries. It’s a technical job. You have to clean, disinfect, and fill the pond. Ten days before stocking, you must apply enough base fertilizer to cultivate the water quality, and disinfect both the tools and the fry. Then you select the fish to stock. During this period, you don't just feed them; you have to observe the situation in the pond constantly. If you don't manage it well, the whole pond could be ruined," Uncle Zhong said, holding the flashlight as he walked slowly between the two ponds.

Zhang Qinglin scanned the vast array of ponds—there were over a dozen in total. He remarked, "Uncle Zhong, do you manage all of this by yourself? That’s truly impressive."

"I couldn't do all this work alone. There are a few others who usually come during the day, and two stay at night. Those two haven't arrived yet today," Uncle Zhong replied, straightening his back.

"By the way, Uncle Zhong, where did Miss Bai go? When will she be back?" Zhang Qinglin looked toward the clearing next to the cabin; the car that had been parked there in the morning was still gone.

Uncle Zhong glanced in that direction and shook his head. "We only handle what the boss tells us to do. How could we possibly concern ourselves with where the boss goes?"

At that moment, a light turned on in front of the cabins, signaling the arrival of the night guards. Uncle Zhong headed back, and Zhang Qinglin sighed and followed. Standing at the door of the first cabin was a stout, flat-topped man holding a thermos. Seeing Uncle Zhong, he waved and disappeared inside. From the window of the cabin, another man opened the shutter and called out, "Oh, we’ve got a new member? Why not come in and get to know each other? I just bought some food, come have a bite."

"Go drink your fill, I'll be there in a bit. Xiao Zhang, over here..." Uncle Zhong waved at the window and led Zhang Qinglin toward the front of the row of cabins.

Uncle Zhong arranged for Zhang Qinglin to stay in a cleaner cabin and brought him some food. Before leaving, he warned him not to go out at night if there was no need.

Once Uncle Zhong was gone, Zhang Qinglin sat at the table staring at the jade tiger. The agony of not knowing the fate of his friends weighed heavily on him. Suddenly, the door creaked, opening a crack. Zhang Qinglin looked over to see a person standing there, a pair of small eyes peering inside. Seeing that Zhang Qinglin was awake, the man pushed the door open and entered.

"Still eating? No worries, I just came to check on you. I brought you some food. Here, little brother, don't eat that junk from Old Zhong’s place. Try this that I, Qian San, brought."

Zhang Qinglin watched as he placed a bag of peanuts and some chicken on the table. Qian San’s small eyes darted around, landing on the jade tiger. "Oh! Little brother, this piece looks extraordinary. Could I take a look at it?" As he spoke, he reached out to grab it.

Zhang Qinglin caught the movement in his peripheral vision and immediately placed his hand firmly over the jade tiger.

"If you don't want to show it, fine," Qian San muttered.

"Qian San, what are you doing? Old Zhong is calling you!" a voice shouted from outside.

Qian San glanced at the door, grabbed the food he had brought, glared at Zhang Qinglin, and hurried out. Zhang Qinglin went to the door and watched Qian San pat the big man—who looked honest and simple, unlike Qian San, who clearly didn't look like a good person—before they walked toward the first cabin. Zhang Qinglin closed the door and bolted it.

He barely slept that night, tossing and turning. He kept hearing whispers, and in the small hours of the morning, there was a sound like a blade being sharpened.

Early the next morning, he heard the sound of car brakes and Bai Weiwei’s crisp voice. Zhang Qinglin scrambled up and went outside. Exhausted, he nearly stumbled, but Bai Weiwei caught him.

"Are you all right?" she asked, helping him to a stool.

"I'm fine, just didn't sleep well. Is there any news about my friends?" Zhang Qinglin asked, rubbing his forehead.

Bai Weiwei looked at him with a somber expression. "Here is the situation: two pieces of news. First, a car did indeed go off the Weihe Bridge that day. It had Beijing plates. A male corpse was found in the driver's seat, and an ID card was recovered from him—an ID belonging to a Beijing resident named Zhang Qinglin."

"What?!" Zhang Qinglin stared at her in shock. How could there be someone else in the car? He couldn't fathom a corpse appearing, let alone one with his own name. Wait—a Beijing ID? He rushed to his bed and opened his wallet. Aside from a few hundred-yuan bills and some change, the only thing left was the red string bracelet Jiang Xinyue had given him.

"I heard the face of the corpse was unrecognizable. You said your friends jumped into the river, so how could there be someone in the car?" Bai Weiwei asked, watching the stunned man.

"I don't know. I have no idea what’s going on," Zhang Qinglin replied, bewildered.

"That makes it even stranger. Why would he have your ID? Oh, and your friends claimed the body. The other news is that your friends are all safe; they flew back to Beijing yesterday afternoon."

"Flew back? Didn't they realize that body wasn't me?" Zhang Qinglin was even more shocked. Could Cheng Che, who knew him best, not see that something was wrong with the body?

"What do you plan to do now? If you have nowhere to go, you can stay here. There are plenty of rooms, and it’s usually empty. You can stay as long as you like," Bai Weiwei said, leaning over to look at him.

Zhang Qinglin looked up, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. "I can't stay here. I have too much to do. If I want to go back to Beijing without an ID, is there any other way?"

"You want to go back to Beijing?"

Zhang Qinglin looked at her intently. "Yes, I must go back."

"Tell you what," Bai Weiwei said after a moment of thought. "Stay here for two days. Once I finish my business here, I'll drive you back to Beijing myself."