Chapter Fifteen: Kidnapped

“When did Old Wu start bringing along two young punks who know nothing of the rules? Take them out, lay out the meat and vegetables...” The mysterious man behind the gauze curtain straightened, slowly raising his head to look over as he spoke.

His voice was incredibly deep and hoarse, like that of a man in his seventies or eighties. Hearing such a guttural, throat-rending sound made one’s skin crawl.

The two crew-cut men yanked Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che up from their chairs. Zhang Qinglin shivered; in the hands of the brawny man, he felt as feeble as a scrawny rooster. Glancing up, he caught a vague glimpse of the mysterious man behind the curtain reaching for something on the table, then rubbing his head in a way that left no doubt—he was bald.

Cheng Che, his brows furrowed in defiance, twisted his torso and shook off the heavy hand resting on his shoulder. “Hey, let go! What age do you think this is? Still playing these games? You up front—you must be the boss here. What have you done with my friend? Just tell us where she is. We’ll leave on our own, no need for your hospitality.”

Zhang Qinglin scowled deeply, glaring at Cheng Che and grabbing his arm to signal him to stop talking.

Because Zhang Qinglin had more or less figured out what the mysterious man meant by “lay out the meat and vegetables.”

A restaurant is a place for dining and entertainment, but this room was more like a black chamber—one used for shady dealings or secret meetings. According to the mysterious man’s words, it should have been Old Wu here today, not them. It was only because they had picked up that letter and stumbled into this clandestine exchange. If the mysterious man could speak openly like this in a restaurant, then even if they were chopped to pieces and served as dishes, no one outside would ever know.

If Zhang Qinglin guessed correctly, “lay out the meat and vegetables” meant they’d get a severe beating and be tossed outside. Even if they went to the police, those men would likely remain untouched.

“We don’t know Old Wu, but the note mentions Shangtang—is that referring to the ‘Eight Steeds of Shangtang’?” Inspiration struck Zhang Qinglin; he pulled out the letter and unfolded it.

The crew-cut man snatched the note from Zhang Qinglin and handed it to the mysterious man behind the curtain. He glanced at it, then nodded to the man beside him, who promptly returned and shoved Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che back into their chairs, standing guard nearby.

“If you don’t know Old Wu, then where did you get this note?” The mysterious man’s tone was calm and steady as he set the note on the table, struck a match, and lit the cigarette at his lips.

Zhang Qinglin replied, “Someone threw a brick into our courtyard—the note was tied to it.”

“Which courtyard?”

“Number 18, Steep Cliff Road. Why are you asking so much? Where’s my friend?” Cheng Che snapped, glaring impatiently at the man behind the curtain.

No sooner had he spoken than the crew-cut man strode toward him, ready to deck him with a punch.

The mysterious man coughed twice, and the crew-cut man returned to his place, eyes fixed forward.

“Old Wu is a clever man. If you picked up the note, it means he might have told you where he hid the Eight Steeds of Shangtang. Or do you not know?” The man behind the curtain exhaled a puff of smoke, coughing twice more, his voice as raspy as ever.

Zhang Qinglin pondered for a moment. Yueyue was not in their hands. He and Cheng Che alone, in this sprawling city of Wuzhou, would find it almost impossible to track her down. If they could leverage the power of this group, perhaps she could be found quickly. His eyes flickered; fixing his gaze ahead, he replied calmly, “You’re right—we know where the thing you want is. But I have a condition.”

“Old Zhang, are you out of your mind?” Cheng Che muttered beside him, his hand fidgeting nervously at his brow.

Through the gap between the front seats, Zhang Qinglin kept his eyes fixed on the world beyond the windshield and murmured, “It’s the only way we’ll find Yueyue.”

Back in the restaurant, Zhang Qinglin had shown the mysterious man behind the curtain a photo of Jiang Xinyue. His condition was simple: help him find the girl in the photo, and only then would he reveal the whereabouts of the Eight Steeds of Shangtang.

The mysterious man said nothing after seeing the photo. With a wave of his hand, Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che were escorted out by the crew-cut men and bundled into a silver van at the door. The van’s front windshield was clear, but the rest of the windows were blacked out—impossible to see inside from the outside.

Before the crew-cut man boarded, Zhang Qinglin caught the low, raspy voice of the mysterious man, as if giving instructions. Then the van set off, leaving Siyue County behind. Throughout the ride, Zhang Qinglin kept his eyes on the road ahead.

The van sped down a wide highway. Outside, the buildings grew sparse and the surroundings more desolate—neither heading toward the mountains nor toward Wuzhou. The sky gradually darkened.

The headlights came on, casting stark beams into the endless, impenetrable night. Zhang Qinglin felt a growing unease—he had thought they’d simply be held until Yueyue was found, then released after trading the painting.

He hadn’t expected to be taken out of Siyue County, nor did he know where they were being brought, or if the mysterious man might cause trouble for his grandmother.

He watched the two crew-cut men in the front. They drove with meticulous care, never exchanging a glance or a word. Even when the loquacious Cheng Che tried talking to them, they remained silent and composed, like men trained for such work.

Cheng Che eventually fell asleep on the back seat, his posture appalling—head thrown back, body askew, drooling.

Zhang Qinglin shot him a glare and edged away, pressing himself against the black glass. He felt the rush of wind outside and the jostling of the van; his eyelids grew heavy, and he too drifted off...

He didn’t know how long he’d slept before someone yanked him out of the van. Rubbing his eyes, he found himself in utter darkness, with only two beams of light ahead and the sound of barking dogs.

They walked toward the lights. Cheng Che was being held by the arm, but suddenly, he shoved the crew-cut man and tried to kick him. The man blocked with his arm, grabbed Cheng Che’s leg, and hurled him forcefully.

With a dull thud, Cheng Che hit the ground. The man stepped up, gave him a few extra blows, then hoisted him up again.

The sound of Cheng Che hitting the ground jerked Zhang Qinglin fully awake. As Cheng Che was shoved beside him, Zhang Qinglin saw the marks on his face—clearly, these men had had enough of Cheng Che’s antics on the trip.