Chapter 91: Let the Guest Enter the Pot

"Several waves of people are currently watching you, trying to get your father’s whereabouts from you—not only his location, but also the Tianqi Map. The incident you encountered in Wuzhou has already drawn the attention of many tomb-robbing gangs. That means those items are no longer safe with you. If you trust me, I’ll take them and keep them for you. If you’d rather not hand them over, I’ll arrange people to guard your side."

Zhang Qinglin’s hazy eyes remained fixed on the spilled red wine on the coffee table. The rest of Chen Shengxiao’s words barely registered in his ears. When the topic turned to the Zhang family’s extermination, the images flashed through his mind unbidden.

Cheng Che gave Chen Shengxiao a puzzled look. What could possibly put Zhang Qinglin in danger? He only knew that Li Qingpeng and Zhao Ershao both wanted the notebook that recorded tomb-robbing details and the map traced from the Shangtang Eight Steeds diagram.

Cheng Che turned to Zhang Qinglin, arms crossed, and studied him. “Alas, Old Zhang, what are those things Auntie mentioned? The notebook and map?”

Zhang Qinglin’s gaze flickered; he lifted his head. “Ah… I didn’t catch what Aunt said just now.”

“Auntie said those things are unsafe with you. She wants you to give them to her to keep or have her send people to protect you. Your situation really is bad—people are watching you like predators. Don’t trouble Uncle Jiang. You need to make a decision. Otherwise, move in with me.”

Zhang Qinglin glanced sideways at Cheng Che, then at Chen Shengxiao, his mind racing. He needed time to process the words. He feared Chen Shengxiao was inventing lies to obtain the notebook and map. “I’ll have to think about it.”

At that moment the flat phone lying on the coffee table rang.

Chen Shengxiao turned, walked over, answered, said “I know,” and hung up. He dialed another number, spoke to Wen Qing, then hung up and looked at Zhang Qinglin. “Since that’s how it is, I’ll send a few people to guard your place and the teahouse nearby. If you hear anything about the Code Master, tell me right away. Enjoy yourselves for now—I have other things to do.”

The front door opened. Wen Qing stepped inside holding a delicate wooden box and handed it to Cheng Che. “Cheng Che, this is for Old Master Cheng. Don’t tell me I brought it.”

After Chen Shengxiao left, Wen Qing gave Zhang Qinglin one last glance.

The women gone, Chi Tan burst in through the doorway in panic. “Little Lin Ge, they were really bullying me—they locked me in the toilet! These bastards hit me, wuwu…”

Zhang Qinglin asked, “Chi Tan, where’s Xiao An?”

“Brother An seems to have been taken away by them!”

“He might have gone with your cousin on some errand. Don’t worry,” Cheng Che said.

Zhang Qinglin sat in the taxi, watching the long line of vehicles ahead slowly disappear. His brows were creased with impatience. As Wangjing Bridge approached six o’clock, rush hour was in full swing, vehicles and pedestrians everywhere. Through the car window the sky outside had already turned dark. Cheng Che and Chi Tan sat in the back seat ignoring each other, each turned sideways toward the window.

Cheng Che frowned tightly. He was equally restless. He had come by Wen Qing’s car; otherwise he would have driven Grandpa’s Jaguar instead of crawling along like a snail behind everyone else.

After more than an hour the car reached the entrance to the villa district. Cheng Che got out, rang the doorbell, and a moment later a woman in her late fifties appeared. Cheng Che hugged her joyfully. “Yi Ma!”

Yi Ma was the old nanny who had followed him from their hometown to Beijing. Her gentle smile softened as she looked at him, then vanished. Her expression turned stern at once. “Da Che, your dad is in a bad mood today—speak carefully.”

“What’s wrong, Yi Ma?” Cheng Che asked.

Yi Ma patted his hand. “Maybe you ran off on a job again. Someone from the company ran to the house to tattle.”

“I know. Come on, Old Zhang—let’s see Dad.”

Zhang Qinglin stepped forward and called out, “Yi Ma, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. How are you feeling?”

Yi Ma looked at him with a warm smile and nodded. “Very well, very well. Little Lin is here too. Come in quickly.”

Seeing Chi Tan stride in behind Zhang Qinglin, she held back her smile and pointed at the boy. “This child is…”

“Oh, he’s Old Zhang’s friend. Don’t worry, Yi Ma—he’s always like that. By the way, Yi Ma, make us something to eat, I’m starving.”

Old Master Cheng stood in the small garden on the first floor, watching the slow transition from evening to night and admiring the row of green plants he had grown himself.

Zhang Qinglin stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, studying the old man’s stooped back. Over the past three years he seemed to have aged far more than his years.

“Dad, I’m back. I need to ask you about someone,” Cheng Che said.

No reply came for a long moment. Cheng Che continued, “Do you know a man named Wu Mingzhi? How can I meet him?”

Old Master Cheng lifted his head at the name. “What do you want him for?”

Zhang Qinglin stepped forward. “Uncle Cheng, this person is very important to me. He may know my father’s whereabouts. I beg you to help.”

Old Master Cheng turned, his sharp gaze sweeping over Zhang Qinglin. “To see that man depends on your luck.”