NB Chapter27

Until that dark red wooden staff fell, I still believed that Zhang Mingsheng would remain forever unscathed.

He was wearing a black checkered jacket today, which he had taken off and handed to a servant upon entering. This left him in just a khaki knit vest and a turtleneck sweater. His elbows rested on the table, and his fingers idly pressed the tip of the dinner knife, making the blade tilt and wobble back and forth. The snow-bright edge flashed across my eyes.

The shifty-eyed butler walked in carrying a wooden staff. It was compact and easy to handle, stained a deep dark red throughout, its surface smooth and faintly glossy, as if polished with oil.

Hong Kong Island has too many feudal shadows sheltering massive estates. Family members are glamorous and radiant on the outside while covered in hidden wounds and bruises on the inside. If no one reports it to the police, no one will ever know.

I suddenly wanted to know how Zhang Mingsheng grew up and what kind of years his parents had spent here.

With Zhang Yaonian’s nod of approval, the butler approached carrying the wooden staff. His narrow, drooping eyes gleamed with contempt; his cheeks were sallow, and his pace was slow and deliberate. His expression was solemn as if he were about to carry out an imperial edict.

This old butler bore a striking resemblance to a eunuch; as he drew closer, it felt as though one could smell a damp, foul stench.

Thinking of the grey-haired but respectable butler at Red Residence, of Aunt Liu who cooked so well, and of Ah Hai, I suddenly realized that sometimes a person’s sense of happiness truly comes from comparison. But if God made me choose between my original life and Yu Huaiqing’s life, I would bolt back to my own rented room without a second thought.

Facing madmen as a policeman is just a job; facing madmen in the Zhang family is life.

It’s essentially equivalent to working overtime for zero pay.

I watched Zhang Mingsheng’s indifferent expression and careless movements while subconsciously clutching the tablecloth. My mind wandered as I nervously calculated: If Zhang Mingsheng is knocked unconscious, how am I supposed to escape this deep, dark mansion?

The butler raised the red staff, but Zhang Mingsheng suddenly seized his dinner knife and drove it violently into an empty plate. A sharp series of cracks rang out as the pristine white porcelain split apart, shattering into fragments. Fine fissures glimmered with a dull crimson—that wine-red tablecloth beneath seeping through the breaks like blood staining the porcelain. I gripped the corner of the cloth tighter. The butler’s face transformed instantly; his hands shook in terror, and the red staff hit the floor with a loud clatter before rolling away into a corner.

Zhang Mingsheng pulled the knife free and twirled it a few times in his hand.

I didn’t know how he managed to avoid the blade, only seeing the steel spin between his fingers like a fluttering butterfly.

Once I have a weapon in my hand, I find it hard to relax. Back at the police academy, there were always people spinning their guns to look cool, but I could never bring myself to do it. I was afraid of an accidental discharge and afraid of someone snatching away the weapon I relied on.

Zhang Mingsheng was different from me.

The moment that red staff hit the ground, I knew he held all the cards.

A second later, Zhang Mingsheng spoke to me, “Wife, my mother was once subjected to family discipline here. She bled a great deal.”

I remained silent.

“My father’s right leg was broken, so driving became a very difficult task for him.”

“I don’t know which corner they eventually died in.” Zhang Mingsheng stood up and turned around. He didn’t spare a single glance for anyone else, looking straight at me instead. His eyes were like a pool of water at night; they were deep, dark, and stirred by unseen undercurrents. Then he reached out and stroked my hair before continuing, “Perhaps it was the southeast corner, or perhaps the southwest. They once tried to flee but didn’t make it. Or rather, only one escaped; the one left behind went to the underworld ahead of schedule.”

Zhang Mingsheng’s voice was neither loud nor quiet, just enough for everyone to hear.

I knew he wasn’t saying it for my sake.

In my peripheral vision, Zhang Yaonian’s legs were already shaking like a sieve. He was old; time treats everyone equally.

So, this was Zhang Mingsheng’s plan all along.

He knew all too well how to destroy a person mentally.

He had married the person he wanted to marry, moved out of the old residence to start his own home, and his subordinates were all fresh blood. He was more deliberate than his parents and far more deranged.

Zhang Mingsheng took my hand and pulled me to my feet. Under Zhang Yaonian’s shocked gaze, he led me forward, and we slowly made our way toward the door.

My body was weak and my legs had been injured; coupled with the rainy weather, walking was actually quite a struggle. Zhang Mingsheng patiently slowed his pace to wait for me.

The door his parents never managed to cross… Zhang Mingsheng and I were about to cross it now.

He truly intended to make Zhang Yaonian cough up blood from pure rage.

We rarely returned to the old residence, and the excuse every time was: Huaiqing has difficulty moving, his health is poor, and he isn’t fit for the back-and-forth travel.

Well, this was just great. Although I still couldn’t run, I could at least walk.

As I walked, I grumbled inwardly: I’ve already said that being in the Zhang family is exactly like working overtime. I didn’t get a single bite of steak, and now I have to play a walk-on role; anyone who didn’t know better would think we were filming an 8:00 PM soap opera.

Zhang Mingsheng held my hand while Ah Shan followed behind pushing the wheelchair.

Zhang Yaonian’s malicious eyes, set within his wrinkled and sagging skin, were like those of a dying viper, desperately trying to gather its venom at the tips of its fangs. Unfortunately, he truly was old. He had started becoming superstitious, never expecting that the Taoist priest would die so soon. But then again, even the First Emperor of Qin could not achieve immortality, so what makes an old man like him think he could possibly deserve it?

The corners of his mouth twitched a few times before he devolved into a fit of violent coughing as if he were trying to cough up his heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys. Trembling so violently, he had no time to issue any orders.

Now that Zhang Yaonian had been reduced to this state, his subordinates would undoubtedly begin making their own new plans.

There was no better choice than Zhang Mingsheng.

The shifting of human loyalty is just like that: wondrous, tragic, and enough to drive one to the brink of madness.

Meanwhile, Zhang Mingsheng and I walked out of that door.

The very moment we crossed the threshold, Zhang Mingsheng swept me up into his arms. My stomach betrayed me, letting out a growl at that exact moment.

Zhang Mingsheng flashed a rare smile.

He lowered his head and whispered in my ear, “The food here is terrible anyway; it’s no great loss to leave.”

I gave a couple of dry laughs as a response.

Actually, it wasn’t funny at all.

Just when I thought everything was over, (at least for today), Zhang Mingsheng turned around while still holding me.

He smiled, his voice relaxed, as he spoke to the old man nearby who was coughing so violently, he could hardly catch his breath, “Thank you so much.”

It took Zhang Yaonian a moment to process this while looking at him in shock.

I thought he was going to deliver some inspirational quote like “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”

But Zhang Mingsheng is Zhang Mingsheng after all; he was always defying expectations.

He lazily added, “Every time you cough, I feel as though something good is about to happen.”

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