Chapter Forty-Six: Dawn Before

Zhang Qinglin stood at a corner outside the courtyard, arms folded across his chest, savoring the warmth of the afternoon sun. In this season, only sunlight could bring warmth to everyone.

Li Qingpeng came out of the yard, holding a pack of cigarettes. Spotting Zhang Qinglin standing alone, he walked over. “Hey, got a light? Lend me a light…” He took a cigarette from the pack.

At the sound of his voice, Zhang Qinglin glanced over, patted his trouser pocket, and took out Uncle Jiang’s lighter, lighting the cigarette for Li Qingpeng.

Li Qingpeng took a drag, exhaled a plume of smoke, and said, “Here, you should have one too, try this Wuzhou tobacco!”

Zhang Qinglin shook his head, snapped the lighter shut, and slipped it back into his pocket. “No, I don’t smoke.”

“No way, what man doesn’t smoke? You don’t exactly look like a paragon of virtue, so what’s with the act?” Li Qingpeng eyed him in disbelief, flicking the pack in invitation.

Zhang Qinglin waved him off. He wasn’t lying—he truly couldn’t smoke. When he’d first arrived in Beijing, he’d tried to pick it up from Cheng Che, but the moment he even tried, he’d fallen ill: days of persistent fever that left him afraid to touch it again. The old suffering of his ancestors, addicted to pipe tobacco, only deepened his aversion.

“You really don’t smoke? Then why carry a pipe? I thought you were a smoker.” Li Qingpeng put away his cigarettes, watching Zhang Qinglin, another puff of smoke escaping his lips.

“The pipe… that was my grandfather’s.” Zhang Qinglin gazed into the distance. Suddenly something dawned on him, and he hurriedly strode back into the courtyard, ignoring whatever else Li Qingpeng might have said behind him.

A shiver of realization ran through Zhang Qinglin’s mind. The pipe he’d snatched from Lao Qi’s pack felt different than before. He rushed into the house, grabbed the pipe from beside his backpack, and examined it closely.

Cheng Che, seeing Zhang Qinglin dash inside in a panic, worried something was wrong and followed him in. He found Zhang Qinglin staring blankly at the pipe and quickly asked, “Qinglin, what’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

Zhang Qinglin snapped out of his trance, turned, and held the pipe up to Cheng Che. “Cheng Che, look at this…”

Cheng Che blinked in curiosity. “Isn’t that the pipe you took back from Lao Qi? What’s wrong?”

Zhang Qinglin sat on the heated brick bed, turning the pipe over and over in his hands. “This isn’t my grandfather’s pipe. No, to be precise, the stem is, but the mouthpiece isn’t!”

Cheng Che scratched his head, watching Zhang Qinglin fiddle with the pipe. “Looks the same to me…”

Zhang Qinglin set the pipe down and stood, intending to go outside. At that moment, Wu Cheng’an appeared at the door, expressionless as he entered. He turned to Zhang Qinglin and said, “I need to speak with you.”

“Cheng Che, go check on Uncle Zhao outside for a bit…”

Cheng Che glanced at Zhang Qinglin, then at Wu Cheng’an. “Alright.”

“You were coming to see me, weren’t you? To ask about this.” As Cheng Che left, Wu Cheng’an walked to the bed, producing a red agate mouthpiece from his pocket.

Zhang Qinglin wasn’t surprised. At that moment, he found Wu Cheng’an utterly inscrutable. Why had he swapped out the mouthpiece on his grandfather’s pipe? “How did you know I’d come looking for you?” he asked.

Wu Cheng’an nodded slightly, his gaze calm and certain. “Because in the tomb, I was the only one who had a chance to handle the pipe…” He raised the red agate mouthpiece. “But this mouthpiece wasn’t switched in the tomb. I imagine you’re also wondering why the pipe ended up in the Wu family tomb.”

Zhang Qinglin fixed him with a steady look. “Yes. I very much want to know how the pipe ended up with your family. But more than that, I want to know—who are you, really?”

“Who am I? You know perfectly well. Don’t doubt my identity; I am Wu Cheng’an. As for the pipe, Wu Daoyi returned five years ago. I was following him and saw him sneak into the Wu family’s forbidden ground. He hid the pipe, wrapped up, in a wooden box inside the tomb. The stem was already broken then. I saw him slip something into the pipe, so once he left, I took it out to see what he’d hidden. But all I found was a key, nothing else. Later, I realized the pipe’s bowl was unusual—whatever he hid must be inside.” Wu Cheng’an’s gaze drifted to the pipe on the bed.

“That’s impossible. How could something be hidden in the bowl?” Zhang Qinglin stepped forward, saying it with certainty.

“Nothing’s impossible. That key I gave you came from inside here. Wu Daoyi came back this time, discovered I’d taken the key, and fled. I even saw him at the mine, but he escaped again. If you all hadn’t come, perhaps that key would never have seen the light of day.” Wu Cheng’an held the mouthpiece out to Zhang Qinglin.

Zhang Qinglin picked up the pipe with the bowl, eyeing the red agate mouthpiece in Wu Cheng’an’s hand. He noticed something blocking the hole in the bowl. Peeling away the thin layer of paper, he revealed an opening the size of the mouthpiece. He inserted the mouthpiece, turned it left and right, and after four or five counterclockwise turns, unscrewed a cap from within. Sure enough, something was hidden inside the bowl.

Wu Cheng’an watched as Zhang Qinglin extracted a bone fragment, roughly the size of a human or animal’s pinky finger.

Eyes wide, Zhang Qinglin held the bone in his hand. “So this is what Uncle Jiang—no, what your uncle Wu Daoyi hid? A bone? Why on earth hide a bone in a pipe?”

“That… I don’t know either,” Wu Cheng’an replied, shaking his head.

Just then, Zhang Qinglin glanced out the window and saw Baroque Lingda returning, talking with Li Qingpeng at the gate. Soon after, Cheng Che rushed in to call them—Wanqing had arrived in the village. Zhang Qinglin and the others gathered their things, exchanged polite words with Old Zhao and Miao Miao, and took their leave.

The group walked along the village’s main road. Cheng Che, glancing sidelong at Wu Cheng’an walking beside Zhang Qinglin, felt a surge of distaste. Ever since learning Wu Cheng’an had pretended to be simple-minded to deceive them, Cheng Che’s attitude had changed—deception was the thing he hated most. If not for Zhang Qinglin’s protection, he would have given Wu Cheng’an a beating long ago.

“Qinglin, I’ve made up my mind. When we see Xinyue, let’s go off on our own, find Uncle Jiang as soon as possible, and head back to Beijing. What do you think?” Cheng Che murmured quietly to Zhang Qinglin.

“Going back to Beijing isn’t something we can decide right now…” Zhang Qinglin’s eyes fell on three vehicles slowly approaching from up the road, one of which was a van.

Li Qingpeng strode ahead, and as the cars drew close, they stopped. Zhang Qinglin saw that Wanqing was driving the lead car.

She parked, got out, and opened the door. “Qingpeng! Long time no see…” she said coolly.

Li Qingpeng walked up to her side, poking her shoulder. “You little rascal, what took you so long? Was it hard to find the place? You look off—did something happen?”

Zhang Qinglin and the others quickly joined them.

“Wanqing, it’s great to see you. Hey, where’s Xinyue?” Cheng Che looked behind her, searching.

“Wanqing, isn’t Yueyue with you?” Zhang Qinglin pressed.

“Qingpeng, your cousin gave you new instructions. You’ll get them from Brother Xun,” Wanqing replied, ignoring Zhang Qinglin’s question.

“Alright, come on, Dada, let’s go see Brother Xun!” Li Qingpeng glanced at Wanqing, then at Zhang Qinglin and the others, and led Baroque Lingda to one of the cars behind.

After Li Qingpeng left, Wanqing turned to Zhang Qinglin and the others. “Come on, get in. I’ll explain on the way.”

They left the village, heading northeast. As they drove, Wanqing recounted what had happened after they’d split up. That day, she watched Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che get out to investigate. As they approached the car, several men rushed from the woods, knocked them out, and bundled them into a vehicle.

Sensing trouble, Wanqing and Jiang Xinyue—who was in the back seat—panicked, flung open their doors, and ran after them. But after only a few steps, more men swarmed from all sides.

Wanqing tried to fend them off, shouting to Jiang Xinyue, “Get in the car, quick!”

Jiang Xinyue desperately ran for the car, managed to get in, and slammed the door shut.

Wanqing knocked down three attackers and seized the chance to jump into the driver’s seat, speeding away.

They followed the mountain road, hoping to catch sight of the van that had taken Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che, but by nightfall, it had vanished without a trace.

The two of them drove on to Wuzhou. When they reached a village, the car broke down. Wanqing got out to look for a mechanic, but was uneasy about leaving Jiang Xinyue alone, so they both got out, thinking the prosperous-looking village would have someone to help.

But inside, all the houses were empty, as if abandoned, and the streets were deserted. As Jiang Xinyue lagged behind, she suddenly screamed and froze in terror, her face stricken with panic as if she’d seen something unspeakable.