NB Chapter80

Under Ah Hai’s surveillance, I occasionally called Li Yi and Shanshan to check in and let them know I was safe. Li Yi remarked that the caregiver I hired was incredibly professional; judging by how efficient she was, he knew her salary must be high.

“Where did you get the money?” Li Yi prodded incessantly.

“I sold all your comic books and game cartridges.” I teased him.

“If that’s true, I’ll throw your bed into the ocean.” He shot back fiercely.

“Am I a mermaid?” I asked, lazily flipping through the documents in my hand.

“You’re a sea monster!” Li Yi retorted childishly before hanging up the phone in a huff.

He hit the nail on the head.

I am no mermaid; I am a sea monster; a solitary, wandering sea monster who, for the sake of a few fireworks, clumsily rescued a prince who had fallen into the water. But this prince isn’t a real prince; he is a pathetic creature with a twisted psyche.

I wonder if Keke would like this story; it has a certain “Peppa Pig jumping in muddy puddles” energy to it. The world doesn’t have many fairy tales; it mostly consists of countless people crawling and struggling through the dirt.

However, to this day, I still don’t know when Zhang Mingsheng fell in love with me, if we can even classify what he feels as human love.

At least during those first few years, his interest in me was merely that of someone toying with an object, like seeing the ghost of a pet that had been dead for years returning to life.

I am not a pet, and I have no interest in being one either.

When Zhang Mingsheng asked me that day if I would start over with him, I couldn’t give him an answer.

Because I had never even considered it.

In truth, we reached our conclusion long ago; it just wasn’t a perfect one, so we keep entangling ourselves, refusing to bring it to a close.

I lay on the bed staring blankly at the magnificent chandelier on the ceiling.

If everything were to settle, I would want a freer, newer life. As for the weight of love and staying together forever… it doesn’t seem all that heavy.

If we started over, could Zhang Mingsheng and I truly be an ordinary couple?

If all the shadows of childhood were gone and the future could be chosen without constraint, what kind of life would Zhang Mingsheng choose to live?

Those who desire to control others may have experienced a stage of growth where they lost control or power. Those who want their lives arranged by others have perhaps never been firmly chosen.

Throughout life, people are always searching for puzzle pieces to fill their own gaps.

As long as you are searching, as long as you feel incomplete, your life will always be drafty.

I hope Zhang Mingsheng can stand a little steadier.

The dining table at No. 21 Maplewood Bay is smaller than any I’ve seen before; it has a glass top and placemats with patterns so complex they make you dizzy if you stare too long. Seeing that I had finished my call, Ah Hai headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal.

Calling it “cooking” is a stretch; he was really just heating up semi-finished goods bought from the supermarket. Initially, we were supposed to go out to eat, but sitting at a table with Ah Hai was always so awkwardly silent that even the waiters were reluctant to serve us. Before half a month had passed, we decided to restart the mansion’s ice-cold kitchen.

Neither of us is a picky eater, nor do we have any refined tastes; we are practically at the stage where we can survive on instant noodles alone.

As for the restaurants I enjoy, they can only ever be a finishing touch when I am in a good mood. When I am swallowed by daily anxiety, every bite of seafood I eat there feels like frost layered upon snow, settling heavily in my stomach.

In the midst of my gloom, Sister Azhu’s right-hand man sent another message.

This brother’s surname was Gao. In my memory, he lived up to his name: not only was he tall, but he was also built like an ox; he was sturdy enough to knock Zhang Mingsheng flying. Yet, when it came to business, he was exceptionally meticulous.

He had volunteered to Sister Azhu to help me, saying he once had a dream of making movies. However, thirty years had passed in the blink of an eye, and he had already risen to power within the gang; with his reputation in the underworld nearly cemented, he had no choice but to abandon his naive youthful dream. With one man, one car, one recording device, one high-definition camera, two handguns, and countless rounds of ammunition, he lived like a nocturnal animal for over half a month. Finally, he got exactly what I wanted.

I couldn’t help but click my tongue; was his dream really to be a director? To me, he seemed more like a private investigator.

I clicked on the video he sent.

By the time it reached my phone, the video had been heavily compressed and sending it back and forth to my laptop only further dulled the lighting and angles Brother Gao had so carefully composed.

The lens was positioned at the entrance of a hotel, recording the flow of guests between 1:30 PM and 3:50 PM on a certain day.

Brother Gao had also thoughtfully circled the people we were monitoring, they were three high-ranking police officers.

These were the men who had accepted Zhang Yaonian’s bribes and were suspected of murdering Zhang Mingsheng’s parents, men who were later blackmailed by Zhang Mingsheng and ultimately tortured and killed by an unknown murderer.

Look at them; each one promoted and decorated, well-fed and solidly built. They had long since stopped being front-line officers.

Deep down, I felt they got exactly what they deserved; evil doers inevitably bring about their own destruction. It was only a pity that the young, front-line officers who later suffered the same torture were so innocent yet ended up with the same fate.

At this thought, I stared at the video and watched it over and over while dragging the progress bar back and forth.

There were three men in total, they each leaving one after another in a hurried manner.

When someone carries a guilty conscience, the knock of a living person; apable of stripping away their wealth and status, can be more terrifying than any ghost at the door. It seemed Zhang Mingsheng’s threatening letters had truly worked; it was worth the effort I spent meticulously drafting and mimicking the tone, then having someone help me mail them out one by one.

Sister Azhu’s people come and go like shadows, each accustomed to living on the edge of a knife. These men, who had occupied high positions for so long, had no way of investigating them.

Brother Gao suddenly called. In the kitchen, Ah Hai’s keen ears caught the sound, and he stepped out on alert.

I showed him the phone screen before he relaxed.

The two of them had met once and realized they were from the same hometown after just a few words. That night, they had stayed up until dawn with their arms around each other’s shoulders, chatting about everything under the sun, leaving me alone in the room to play mahjong.

I picked up the call, “Hello, Brother Gao.”

I had barely heard the first two words from him when my gaze was snagged by someone in the video on my laptop.

Fully focused, I stared at the screen, using the mouse to slow the footage down and scrub it back and forth. When I finally saw it clearly, I slumped back into my chair.

Silence hung on the other end of the line.

Since I hadn’t responded, Brother Gao likely realized I was busy and held his tongue.

I tiredly ran a hand through my hair and said, “Brother Gao, I’m sorry. Could you please say that again?”

“You’ve probably already seen what I was going to say,” Brother Gao replied. “Is it him?”

I had sent threatening letters to only three people, but on the day they gathered, a total of four familiar faces appeared.

The fourth person was my mentor, Jin Shunfa.

“Yes.” I nodded solemnly, then rubbed my face several times.

When you see your suspicions proven true with your own eyes, there isn’t much of an emotional surge. You simply feel exhausted and then want to quickly pull yourself together to end it all.

When three people with blood on their hands receive the same threat, they will naturally collude to discuss a counterstrategy. They would never invite someone who had never been involved to join them.

Jin Shunfa was absolutely complicit in the deaths of Zhang Mingsheng’s parents.

“After he left, I followed him for a while. He’s very alert; I almost got spotted.” Brother Gao told me over the phone.

“Be careful with everything,” I said. I was already deeply grateful and didn’t want Brother Gao to get hurt because of this.

“Don’t worry, my brothers and I aren’t going to risk our lives for you; we’re just curious,” Brother Gao chuckled. “He made a phone call, looking quite pleased with himself.”

“Please have your men keep an eye on him for me.”

“Understood. We’ll be in touch if anything happens.” He hung up without hesitation.

I was left alone to continue reviewing the new video Brother Gao had sent.

This video was even blurrier, and the audio was noisy, filled with the sounds of passing cars honking, children playing, and passersby chatting.

But at the end of the video, a sentence spoken in a low, muffled voice was captured. It sounded as though the speaker was finally venting some long-held malice, specifically surfacing to mock an enemy.

He said, “Haha, you finally have your day.”

Hearing this, I had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

At that moment, Ah Hai walked over carrying a bowl of soup. This was a custom from his hometown: if you’ve suffered injuries to your bones or muscles, you must drink bone broth or chicken soup, anything stewed until it is thick and fragrant.

Ah Hai wasn’t good at stir-frying, but he was decent at stewing soup.

I relaxed my shoulders and stretched before reaching out with a grin to take the bowl from his hands.

However, he had no intention of handing it to me; instead, he bypassed my hands and placed it steadily on the table in front of me.

Ah Hai stammered, “B-be careful, it’s hot.”

Then he added, “Mr. Zhang asked me to remind you.”

I was left speechless for a moment; the scene was so awkward it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

After a while, I picked up the hot soup and blowed on it gently. Keeping my eyes downcast, I asked with feigned nonchalance, “Zhang Mingsheng should give you a raise. What has he been up to lately? He isn’t dead yet, is he?”

“He should have been organizing an event recently.” Ah Hai answered earnestly.

“An event?”

“They say the jewelry line is launching a new design, and they’ve invited a popular movie star.”

“Is Zhang Yaonian going?”

“He is,” Ah Hai said. “I heard he’s going to provide support for his eldest grandson.”

I let out a cold laugh.

I suspect he simply can’t stand the fact that Zhang Mingsheng established such a positive image the moment he took over the family business.

That workaholic Zhang Mingsheng might actually take it seriously. But then again, since he has already chosen to burn his bridges, what’s the point of all this?

My thoughts drifted as my lips were warmed by the soup.

Does he intend to commit public murder by splattering blood on everyone present?

By exposing the family’s scandals in public, regardless of whether Zhang Mingsheng succeeds or not, Zhang Yaonian’s true face would be more or less revealed to the masses.

Not to mention the inevitable speculation and slander.

The rise and fall of a great family can sometimes happen overnight.

This is a dangerous move; there will be no winners.

I completely lost my appetite for the soup.

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