Chapter Thirty-One: Meeting Xin Yue Again

Who would have thought that the hollow wooden pipe concealed such a tremendous secret? Great-grandfather regretted it deeply; if only he hadn’t accepted that object, perhaps life would have passed quietly, but at least it wouldn’t have ended up like this.

Grandfather said that, in those years, he followed his own father, begging their way from Jiangsu all the way to Zhejiang, where they finally settled down. When his father handed the pipe to him, he repeatedly warned him never to break it, never to touch tobacco.

In the end, grandfather couldn’t escape his fate. For the sake of making a living, he was forced to sell tobacco, and in the second year after his father died, he too started smoking. Yet, after my father was born, grandfather smoked less and less, and life gradually improved.

“My grandfather always said that if you want a good life, you have to rely on your own hands. There’s no such thing as something for nothing—you have to work hard and struggle…” Zhang Qinglin gripped the pipe tightly and stood up.

Cheng Che savored those words, nodded in empathy, and said, “I didn’t expect your grandfather’s family to have endured so much hardship over generations.” Then, scratching his head in curiosity, he asked, “If the pipe is so evil, why didn’t your grandfather just throw it away?”

Zhang Qinglin lifted the hollow wood in his hand, his heart aching once again. “When I was little, I often saw strangers come to our house wanting to buy the pipe from grandfather, but he always refused. He said the pipe couldn’t leave him.”

Just as Zhang Qinglin finished speaking, the sound of rustling and hurried footsteps drifted from the nearby woods. Someone called out, “Grandma… Grandma…”

That person quickly walked past Zhang Qinglin and the others. “Da Zhuang!” Cheng Che was the first to shout.

Following Da Zhuang, a limping man came along, holding onto a tree for support as he softly called someone’s name. He was some distance away, and his voice was too faint to make out his features.

Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che grabbed their things and hurried after them.

“Kid, where do you think you’re running off to?” A gruff male voice echoed from the clearing ahead.

Zhang Qinglin’s sharp eyes darted forward, and he immediately stopped Cheng Che from following.

“What’s going on? Who are those people?” Cheng Che crouched beside Zhang Qinglin, gazing at the clearing.

Five men stood there. Da Zhuang bowed his head in panic, his hands clasped in front of him, trembling.

Da Zhuang muttered, “Grandma, there are bad people… Grandma…”

Suddenly, someone stepped forward—it was Old Seven. Limping, he walked up angrily and demanded, “What exactly do you want?” With that, he positioned himself in front of Da Zhuang, shielding him.

The burly man facing Old Seven raised the short knife in his hand and swung it toward Old Seven’s head.

Cheng Che’s heart lurched, and he was about to rush forward, but Zhang Qinglin grabbed him back.

“Don’t be reckless…”

The short knife brushed past Old Seven’s head and settled on his shoulder. The burly man glared furiously, pressing the knife’s back against Old Seven’s shoulder and snarled, “None of your business—get lost!”

He shoved Old Seven aside and jabbed Da Zhuang’s arm with the knife’s handle, saying, “Kid, be obedient. Tell me, where did Grandpa Wu hide the thing?”

“Bad people… Grandma…” Da Zhuang’s face was expressionless, his eyes darting fearfully at the man.

“Speak! Where did Grandpa Wu hide the thing?” The burly man, enraged, grabbed Da Zhuang’s hair viciously.

Old Seven was being held by two men behind him, unable to move.

Seeing the burly man about to tear Da Zhuang’s hair out, Zhang Qinglin suddenly leapt forward and kicked the man’s arm. The man loosened his grip, stunned, and swung his knife at Zhang Qinglin and Da Zhuang.

Cheng Che followed, charging at Old Seven and punching one of his captors in the face. Startled, Old Seven cried, “Brother Cheng, you escaped—be careful!” He shouted a warning, just as the other man let go and raised his knife to strike Cheng Che’s shoulder.

All three attackers wielded short knives, their muscular frames difficult to handle.

Suddenly, Da Zhuang grew frantic, his eyes bulging, the muscles in his cheeks twitching as he flailed his arms wildly. In an instant, he lunged at the burly man.

The burly man was knocked to the ground by Da Zhuang, but Da Zhuang didn’t stop; he pinned the man’s stomach and pounded his face with frantic fists.

At that moment, Da Zhuang’s face twisted into a ferocious expression, just as it had in the mine days before…

The burly man was stunned. Da Zhuang, who seemed timid and childlike, suddenly exploded in terrifying retaliation.

He opened his eyes wide, gritted his teeth, and gripped his knife tightly, raising it to strike at Da Zhuang’s head.

“Stop!” Suddenly, a loud shout rang out from ahead, and several people emerged from the woods.

Zhang Qinglin was startled, then saw a man standing in the middle, wearing a black vintage cap and covering his mouth with a handkerchief.

The man coughed twice and spoke in a low, gravelly voice: “You two little brats actually escaped from Old Wu… hmm, not bad. Bring them over.”

His voice was hoarse and deep, and Zhang Qinglin recognized him as the mysterious man from Chenghai Restaurant. If he was right, this was the Mr. Ma Old Seven had mentioned.

Behind Mr. Ma, two men in black suits escorted a woman forward. Her entire head was covered with a black cloth. When it was removed—

Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che were both shocked, surprised, and cried out together, “Yueyue!”

“Xin Yue…”

Jiang Xinyue’s tangled hair fell over her brow. She shook her head, slowly regained consciousness, and, upon seeing Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che, felt relief wash over her. Struggling against her captors, she called out, “Brother Qinglin, Cheng Che…”

“Xin Yue, don’t be afraid. We’re here…” Cheng Che supported Old Seven, stepping forward to comfort her.

Zhang Qinglin pulled Da Zhuang over to join Cheng Che and Old Seven, his gaze scanning the scene.

Next to Mr. Ma, a subordinate whispered something in his ear.

“Let her go. Whatever terms you have, I’ll agree!” Zhang Qinglin said loudly.

Mr. Ma’s eyes met his. “Heh… what gives you the right to negotiate with me?”

“The thing you want,” Zhang Qinglin replied, raising his right hand to display the half scroll of ‘Eight Horses by Tang,’ his voice sharp and resolute.

Mr. Ma laughed dryly, “You just pull out any random thing and claim it’s what I’m looking for. Young man, don’t be so naive, hmm…” He glanced sideways, and his companion nodded.

That man stepped forward and seized Zhang Qinglin’s wrist. Before anyone could react, he had snatched the half scroll from Zhang Qinglin’s hand.

“Brother Qinglin, are you alright?” Jiang Xinyue saw Zhang Qinglin’s pale face and furrowed brow, and asked anxiously.

“Old Zhang, are you okay? Hey, you got what you wanted—what about what we agreed…” Cheng Che glanced at Zhang Qinglin, then stared angrily at Mr. Ma.