NB Chapter79

My mentor’s surname is Jin, the “Jin” as in gold bars.

The year I first entered the police academy; my mentor bought a gold bracelet for Shimu. She was fair-skinned, well-educated, and possessed an extraordinary temperament; against the brilliance of the gold, any sense of vulgarity was suppressed, leaving only an air of refined elegance.

My mentor said with a smile while looking at his wife, who still wore her hair long back then, “My money is meant for you to spend. Even if I were a mountain of gold, I’d be willing to hollow out my own belly to forge a gold necklace for you.”

Shimu was incredibly happy that day and invited me to stay for dinner. On the table was a steamed fish drizzled with a sauce my mentor had mixed himself. The flavor was fresh and the meat delicate; it was the most delicious thing I had eaten in my seventeen or eighteen years of life.

My mentor’s full name was Jin Shunfa, rumor has it that his father came up with it at a gambling table. However, a good name doesn’t always guarantee good fortune. When he was only three months old, his father was pinned down at a gambling table and had three of his fingers brutally chopped off.

Jin Shunfa told Li Yi and me that one must never touch gambling. Once addicted, it is impossible to return to the simple life of the past. Money at the gambling table comes fast, surging into your arms like a flood, but it also recedes just like the tide. Once you have experienced such violent collisions, your monthly salary starts to feel like water dripping from the eaves; the more you listen to it, the more agonizing it becomes.

“A person must set some boundaries for themselves,” he would say.

Jin Shunfa also told us that wherever there are people, there are factions. If you want to establish yourself, your eyes must be as sharp as your brain, and you must not let yourself be used by others so easily. Being a police officer is no exception. When the “gods” above fight, it is the “minor spirits” below who suffer. The hardest-working people in the precinct are the front-line officers; they risk their lives every day, never knowing which mission might be the one they don’t return from.

“I hope you two can carve out a real career for yourselves,” he would always say this while patting Li Yi and me on the shoulders.

He was our mentor, a figure who was both teacher and father to us. He seemed to know everything, yet he abruptly resigned just as his reputation was beginning to flourish. He said he was tired; worn out to the bone, and that his body was covered in old injuries that turned cold and ached whenever it rained.

He talked about everything without restraint, and every word he said also carried an unmistakable sense of sincerity.

I believe that, at the time, he truly meant what he said; he had used every ounce of his ability to summarize his experiences, hoping to guide the lives of Li Yi and me.

But he only ever thought about it; he was always just thinking.

Whether for good or for evil, he never followed through completely.

In my previous life, Zhang Yaonian once called me and said that he had previously sounded out Jin Shunfa by telling him that if he were willing to help, he could receive a massive sum of money. Jin Shunfa reportedly refused, but the clues he obtained were then exploited by colleagues who had accepted bribes, leading to the death of Zhang Mingsheng’s mother.

At first, I thought this was merely a lie fabricated by Zhang Yaonian to drive a wedge between Zhang Mingsheng and me. But thinking about it now, if Jin Shunfa had truly refused Zhang Yaonian’s bribe, how could there have been a fortune sitting in his private offshore account?

That phone call was a mix of truth and lies; I wonder which part was real and which was a fabrication.

A terrifying suspicion began to take root in my heart.

I met my mentor near the orphanage. He told me then that he was pursuing a wanted fugitive, and he had even shown me the suspect’s photograph.

A thought struck me. I dialed the contact number Sister Azhu had left for me.

I needed to ask her people for a favor.

I have been living at No. 21 Maplewood Bay for a week now. The villa is empty; I shut door after door, confining myself to a narrow, private space. In the end, I left just one desk lamp on, its light spilling over the bed, which was strewn with documents and photographs. The more I looked, the more my head throbbed, until I simply threw myself backward and collapsed into the mattress.

Zhang Mingsheng is a man who cares about quality of life; the mattress and pillows he selected were incredibly comfortable. The moment I closed my eyes; I sank into sleep instantly.

It’s just that I seemed to be lying on a patch of extremely uneven ground in the dream.

My entire body was in pain. Every time I opened my mouth, a warm, metallic liquid welled up, and I coughed fitfully.

Screech, screech. Someone was dragging their feet and slowly walking toward my side.

I struggled to open my eyes, desperate to see who this person was.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see his face clearly.

He wasn’t particularly tall, and his frame was bloated.

He seemed to be injured; his breathing was heavy and loud.

I wanted to beg him to save me, to take me to a hospital, but in the end, I only opened my mouth in futility.

The man remained silent. After looking down at me for a while, he raised his hand.

He raised a gun.

The deafening sound of gunfire erupted all around. He fired four shots at me.

They hit both my wrists and both my ankles.

This person wanted me to live a life worse than death.

I jolted awake all at once. After steadying myself, I sat up slowly with my back drenched in sweat.

There are many trees in Maplewood Bay; whenever the wind blows, they make a soughing sound. The curtains here are all dark red, and once drawn, not a single sliver of light can penetrate them.

I rotated my wrists a few times, and finding that I was not disabled, I finally felt at ease.

The phone by my pillow suddenly buzzed with two short vibrations before stopping, leaving only a flashing white light.

It was a text message.

I picked it up and realized it was only the early hours of the morning. I opened the inbox to find a multimedia message containing nothing but a single photo.

This photo was one that Sister Azhu’s people had taken after sneaking into my mentor’s house at my request.

The content of the image was a photograph of a photograph.

It was a picture of my mentor and Shimu.

The two young people were smiling radiantly, appearing full of infinite hope for the future.

On the left, my mentor was wearing a blue shirt made of a silky, expensive-looking fabric, its design distinctive. The buttonholes were set slightly inward, and the buttons themselves were small, dark red spheres.

They were identical to the button I held in my hand.

The phone buzzed again.

Sister Azhu’s people had found that specific shirt in my mentor’s home and took a photo of it specifically for me.

Sure enough, that garment was missing one button.

They’ve met.

My mentor has met Auntie Yang.

He had even put on his most expensive clothes for the meeting, yet he accidentally left behind a single button.

Auntie Yang had kept it.

They hadn’t just met; they must have spoken as well.

Jin Shunfa didn’t just have a lead; he knew exactly where she was. Perhaps he had even earned her trust.

In that case, the reason the police rushed to the orphanage later was that they already knew Auntie Yang was there.

So, regardless of whether my past self-had spoken up about her or not, it might have never changed the outcome.

Auntie Yang had been exposed long ago.

If even the police wouldn’t help her, who else could she have turned to back then?

I felt a profound sense of despair.

Suddenly, I began to understand Zhang Mingsheng’s decisions.

What exactly did Jin Shunfa do to earn that sum of money? Since he received payment from Zhang Yaonian, why did everyone else involved get promoted and rich while he retired early?

Was it the weight of his conscience?

But the sudden outbursts of resentment and malice from Jin Shunfa didn’t seem like the behavior of a man burdened by guilt at all.

Perhaps, then, Zhang Yaonian intentionally blocked his path to success. And he, in turn, had happened to leave behind incriminating evidence.

Were the two of them collaborators, or were they enemies?

I thought it over and over but still couldn’t make sense of it. I lay back down once more.

Zhang Mingsheng said he wanted me to stay here for two months, which means that within two months, he intends to settle everything.

Even he is not all-powerful, he cannot take his revenge in a single night either.

I curled my lip and hesitated for a few seconds while staring at my phone screen before finally dialing the number.

The phone barely rang for a few seconds before he picked up. His voice was raspy. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yes, I dreamt someone wanted to kill me,” I replied while pressing the phone against my ear and closing my eyes. “What about you? Are you out killing people?”

Zhang Mingsheng gave a light chuckle. “I’m sleeping, bb. How is it? Are you settling in okay?”

“It’s not bad. It’s more spacious and quieter than the Red Residence. How come I’ve never heard you mention this place before?”

“Because I hadn’t had the chance to buy it yet,” Zhang Mingsheng said. “Get some rest. I’ll have Ah Hai take you out for a meal tomorrow, alright?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Going back to the office, attending meetings, buying guns, sharpening knives.”

“You said you heard several gunshots, didn’t you?”

“Why bring that up all of a sudden?”

“Did you see who it was?”

“I’d guess it wasn’t Li Yi,” he paused. “Li Yi was shot from behind.”

He was talking in circles to give me the answer.

I was silent for a moment before saying, “I’m going to sleep.”

“Alright,” Zhang Mingsheng said. “I hope you don’t have any more dreams. Goodnight.”

Unlock the complete translation HERE!