Chapter 121: The Chaotic Assassination

Bai Weiwei reminded Zhang Qinglin to stay inside the forestry camp these days and not to go out alone. She warned him not to heed whatever the workers outside said, except for Uncle Zhong, especially at night—there was no need to wander around.

Though Zhang Qinglin didn’t fully understand why both Bai Weiwei and Uncle Zhong had given him the same advice, he still nodded in agreement.

After a while, Uncle Zhong came in, called for Bai Weiwei, and the two of them left together. Suddenly, Zhang Qinglin felt dizzy, his vision blackened, and he collapsed onto the bed, drifting into a hazy sleep.

He slept until dusk. Uncle Zhong came by once to call him for dinner but saw he was in a deep sleep and didn’t wake him, quietly leaving instead.

It was past midnight when Zhang Qinglin was awakened by a series of crackling noises. He sprang up in bed, listening intently to the harsh metallic scraping sounds outside the barracks. Peering toward the window, he saw it was covered with a thick plastic sheet, making it hard to see clearly.

Initially, Zhang Qinglin hadn’t planned to go out and investigate—the noise was annoying but tolerable. However, now his stomach grumbled uncontrollably; after a day without food, hunger finally gnawed at him.

Remembering there was half a flatbread left on the table from last night, he used the faint dim light outside the window to reach for it.

But as his hand touched the bread, he sensed something wrong—something furry and moving. Startled, he looked closely and saw a pair of tiny red eyes, the size of mung beans, staring at him while nibbling on the bread. Just as the little creature turned to escape, Zhang Qinglin firmly caught it.

“Stealing my food, are you tired of living? Not leaving me a single crumb, trying to starve me to death!” Zhang Qinglin scolded softly, glaring at the mouse with wide eyes.

Rubbing his rumbling stomach, he opened the door and stepped outside.

Two bright floodlights shone at both ends outside the barracks, but the area was deserted. This puzzled Zhang Qinglin—where was the noise coming from? Now, there was no sound of scraping or clashing steel. He glanced toward the first barrack—dark inside; Uncle Zhong must have gone to sleep.

Knowing the last barrack was the kitchen, Zhang Qinglin headed there and thankfully found some leftover food. He sat at the kitchen door and began eating a bowl of noodles.

“San’er, how much do you think we’ll get this time?” a voice whispered from the right side of the kitchen.

“Not sure. This batch isn’t great quality. When the buyer comes, we need to push the price up a bit. We still haven’t finished, so let’s hurry,” another voice replied.

“Don’t you think we should steal somewhere else? Staying in the same place makes me uneasy. If they find out, we’re done for,” a third voice said.

Zhang Qinglin swallowed the last bite of noodles, listening carefully. They seemed to be secretly selling something. From the voices, there were three people—two were Qian San and that fat man; the third was probably another worker from the forestry camp.

He put down his bowl quietly and moved to the side of the kitchen where a large floodlight stood beside a big tree. Next to the tree was a row of barbed wire fencing, beyond which lay a wide road. Qian San and the others sat whispering on the opposite side of the road.

“Don’t worry, we won’t get caught. By the way, I saw a treasure in that kid’s room yesterday—a jade artifact that looks valuable. I heard antiques and relics can sell for a lot. If we could steal that, we’d be rich for sure. Better than sneaking around stealing steel every day!” Qian San said eagerly.

“You want to steal from others now? How is that right?” the fat man protested.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you lecturing me? What are you doing now if not stealing? You’re already in too deep; don’t talk nonsense. If you don’t want to do it, just stay out of the way. The two of us will go,” Qian San snapped angrily.

Back in the barracks, Zhang Qinglin grew restless. Hearing Qian San mention stealing the jade artifact he possessed, his first thought was to hide it somewhere safe. But after searching, he found no suitable place.

Then he considered leaving now—he would have to leave sooner or later—but he had promised Bai Weiwei they’d leave together and couldn’t just disappear without a word.

This didn’t work; that was impossible. He had to find another way.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded at the door, followed by the latch being undone. The door slowly opened. Zhang Qinglin quickly lay down on the bed, clutching the jade artifact tightly.

This was their territory. From their earlier conversation, stealing steel wasn’t a new thing for them. Uncle Zhong must know but had kept silent. There was definitely some secret here.

Two figures approached slowly. Zhang Qinglin faced away, feeling a flashlight beam shine on him. His heart raced in anticipation.

Just then, he sensed someone standing behind him, a hand reaching out. As he prepared to grab it in return—

Voices came from outside the door. “Old Qian, Old Qian, where are you? Where did you go?” Uncle Zhong was calling for Qian San.

Uncle Zhong must have noticed Zhang Qinglin’s door open and came over. The two inside panicked, whispering about what to do.

Uncle Zhong entered to check if Zhang Qinglin was awake. Turning on the light, he caught sight of Qian San and the others sneaking around the bed with iron rods.

“The things you want to steal are right here,” Zhang Qinglin sat up and shouted at them.

Both trembled all over. “You…”

Qian San and another middle-aged man stood nervously by the bed, facing Uncle Zhong, clearly unsettled. Zhang Qinglin sat behind them, surprised they even had weapons.

“Stealing has come to this? Are you crazy for money?” Uncle Zhong broke the awkward silence.

“Old Zhong, let me explain,” Qian San said, eyes wide, trying to justify himself.

Uncle Zhong cut him off with a furious shout, condemning their constant petty thefts. He said he had been lenient enough by not exposing them and now, stealing right under his nose—especially as they were employees brought in by the boss—was beyond lawlessness. He declared they wouldn’t have duty tonight, and tomorrow he would tell the boss to fire them.

Hearing this, Qian San panicked, begging Uncle Zhong not to reveal the matter.

Uncle Zhong, already displeased with them, scowled and said, “Don’t waste your breath. Now get out of here. I’ll tell the boss myself.”

“This is your fault! Li Zi, get him!” Qian San shouted, brandishing his iron rod and signaling to the other man.

The middle-aged man hesitated, intimidated, but Qian San insisted that even if they quit, they had to get the last batch out today. To get paid, they must take care of Old Zhong first.

Desperate, the two charged at Uncle Zhong with their iron rods.

Zhang Qinglin froze on the bed, then jumped down to intervene. He hadn’t expected their desperation to escalate into such violence.

Uncle Zhong was agile, dodging quickly.

Zhang Qinglin grabbed the middle-aged man called Li Zi, trying to wrest the iron rod away. Li Zi swung it hard and struck Zhang Qinglin’s shoulder painfully. Gritting his teeth, Zhang Qinglin staggered back.

Li Zi’s face twisted with rage as he tackled Zhang Qinglin, pressing the iron rod against his neck with one hand while searching his body with the other. Zhang Qinglin saw him reaching for the jade artifact in his pocket and blocked with a raised leg.

Meanwhile, Uncle Zhong grabbed Qian San’s wrist, twisting it forcefully and kicking him several times in the stomach. Qian San, enraged, didn’t expect Uncle Zhong’s fighting skills.

Uncle Zhong snatched the iron rod away, rushed behind Li Zi, grabbed him, and kicked him aside, then helped Zhang Qinglin up.

As Zhang Qinglin stood, Qian San charged with a chair raised high.

People driven to desperation act unpredictably, especially those like Qian San who valued money over life.

Just as the chair was about to strike Uncle Zhong’s head, he spun swiftly and lifted his left leg, kicking the chair into splinters.

Li Zi scrambled up, tightly gripping an iron rod and swung it toward Uncle Zhong. Uncle Zhong’s eyes flashed, and with a flying kick, sent the rod flying from Li Zi’s hands.

The rod flew straight and struck a large fat man entering the room. The fat man was muttering, “What’s going on…” but before finishing, he fell back with a “thud.”

After the fat man collapsed, everyone stopped fighting. Blood gushed from his chest, where the iron rod stood like a sharp sword.

Uncle Zhong hurried over to check. Qian San and Li Zi panicked and rushed to call the fat man, who coughed up blood with each word—likely an internal injury.

Li Zi glanced at the iron rod protruding from the fat man’s chest, then sank to the floor, trembling as he grabbed Qian San’s arm. “San’er, we have to run! Someone’s dead! Fat man was killed by Old Zhong!”

Li Zi shouted as he fled, with Qian San following nervously.

Zhang Qinglin stood stunned by the sudden turn of events.

“Help me here!” Uncle Zhong called.

Zhang Qinglin snapped out of it and ran over. Uncle Zhong’s expression was grave. “Get him outside first.”

“Uncle Zhong, shouldn’t we find a car to take him to the hospital?” Zhang Qinglin said anxiously, seeing the blood flow unabated.

“No time for talk, hurry!” Uncle Zhong grabbed the fat man’s shoulders and shouted.

At that moment, Zhang Qinglin noticed the iron rod piercing the fat man’s chest—a half-cut wound. The iron rod’s tip was likely sharp, and Uncle Zhong’s fierce kick had struck the heart. With so much blood, it seemed the fat man was beyond saving.

Despite this, Zhang Qinglin wouldn't give up on a life. He helped Uncle Zhong carry the fat man outside and asked where to find a vehicle or phone.

Uncle Zhong didn’t answer and walked westward. Soon, he pushed a handcart, and together they loaded the fat man onto it.

Zhang Qinglin thought Uncle Zhong was heading toward a car, but to his surprise, they approached a fish pond.

Uncle Zhong threw the fat man into a small, previously dug fish pond and told Zhang Qinglin to help bury him. Refusal could mean death for Zhang Qinglin as well.

The two filled the pond with soil. Uncle Zhong found a wooden board, carved the fat man’s name on it, placed it in front of the pond, then knelt and bowed three times.

Standing up, Uncle Zhong said to Zhang Qinglin, “At dawn, I will turn myself in at the police station. This has nothing to do with you. Tell Boss Bai that Qian San and Li Zi can’t be kept here. I, Old Zhong, am grateful for the trust and care the Bai family has shown me all these years. It is I who have let them down.”

Zhang Qinglin silently watched Uncle Zhong, unsure how to respond.

Though puzzled by why Uncle Zhong buried the fat man in a fish pond, his calm handling of the body and impressive skills suggested Uncle Zhong was no ordinary man.

“It’s late. Let’s go back and get ready,” Uncle Zhong said, gazing at the pale sky before turning away.

Zhang Qinglin bowed toward the fish pond, then followed Uncle Zhong. “You didn’t mean to kill him; he just came in at the wrong time. That can’t be helped. Besides, those two started it. They should bear responsibility.”

Uncle Zhong didn’t reply, walking straight ahead.

They returned to the barracks and tidied up the chaotic room.

As dawn broke, Zhang Qinglin emptied dirty water under a large tree beside the barracks. Upon returning, Uncle Zhong was gone.