Chapter Eighteen: Misfortune Followed by Hardship

Zhang Qinglin glanced at the people standing in the courtyard; the two crew-cut men were nowhere to be seen, likely having left after finishing their business. Xiaomi had already walked up to Zhang Qinglin, towering over him, swiftly grabbing his shoulder with her right hand as her left hand swung upward. Zhang Qinglin’s gaze flickered to the upper left, and he shouted inwardly that things were bad. This woman was left-handed, and something gleamed in the cuff of her shirt—a sharp knife.

“Wait,” a clear woman’s voice rang from the doorway, “Master Wu…” In a blur, she walked to the front, standing directly before Master Wu. Zhang Qinglin took a closer look: she was about twenty-four or twenty-five, her long hair draped over delicate skin. She wore a pale blue, form-fitting dress that accentuated her graceful figure. With her back to Zhang Qinglin and the others, this striking woman left a deep impression on him.

Wu turned to the newcomer, rising with a sly smile, “Miss, what brings you here? Are we disturbing you?”

“You’re so noisy, how can I sleep? Master Wu, it’s nothing serious—let everyone go, let those who need rest take it, and those on duty keep watch. There’s still work tomorrow.” She tossed her hair and glanced at the three crouched on the ground.

Wu’s face darkened instantly. “Miss, these newcomers nearly burned my house down, and you call it nothing serious? If they don’t give me an explanation today, and word gets out, where will I put my face? I must teach them a lesson.” As he spoke, he flicked a look at his men, and four of them surrounded Zhang Qinglin and the others.

“Master Wu, though this is your house, everything here now belongs to my father. That makes me the master here. Let’s end this matter today—if the project is delayed, it won’t be good. Master Wu, don’t you agree?” Her voice was sweet but had a steeliness behind it.

“I call you Master Wu out of respect, but you’re not the man you once were. Don’t think you can sneak around behind my father’s back. I know all about your dealings, and if they come to light, it won’t be good for anyone…” She leaned in close to whisper in Wu Guangen’s ear.

Wu Guangen’s face alternated between pale and livid, his eyes wide with rage. He shot her a sideways look, but ultimately gave in.

“Find a room for the three of them,” the woman said, glancing at Zhang Qinglin.

“Miss, leave that to me. I guarantee they’ll be full of energy for work tomorrow…”

After she left, Wu Guangen muttered through gritted teeth, “Hmph… who do you think you are? Just wait until I rise again, then I’ll settle accounts with you. Enjoy your few days of freedom…”

Zhang Qinglin moved, standing up and looking at Wu Guangen. “Who are you people, really? We’re here to find someone, not to work for you.”

Wu Guangen turned to Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che, barking, “Boss Xiao said as long as you work for me, he’ll help you find the person you’re looking for. Don’t try anything clever, and don’t think about escaping.”

“Isn’t anyone in charge here? If someone reports you to the police, aren’t you afraid they’ll come looking for trouble?” Zhang Qinglin’s gaze was firm, his tone righteous.

“Hah, say that to the police when you get out of these mountains… You’re just a kid…” Wu Guangen raised his eyebrows, shook out the jacket on his chair, and draped it over his shoulders. “Let them sleep in Old Seven’s room.”

The room they were taken to was a simple hut where Old Seven stayed. Inside were two large beds and basic amenities. A man lay on the bed to the right, presumably Old Seven.

Upon hearing them enter, Old Seven turned, rubbing his eyes and looking at them. He stayed quiet, listened to their conversation, then turned away and went back to sleep.

Once their guide left, Zhang Qinglin stepped between the two beds and looked around, then called Cheng Che and Da Zhuang over. “Cheng Che, you and Da Zhuang take that bed…”

“What about you?” Cheng Che, clutching his singed hair, stared at Zhang Qinglin and the beds. One bed was big enough for two, yet Old Seven hogged an entire bed by himself.

“You two sleep first, don’t worry about me—I have a place to sleep. Da Zhuang, come here…” Zhang Qinglin pulled Da Zhuang over and pressed him onto the bed.

Cheng Che leaned in and whispered, “What do we do now? We need to find a way out—can’t stay in this dump forever.”

“Sleep first. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Zhang Qinglin side-eyed Old Seven’s bed, clearly wary of eavesdroppers. If Old Seven overheard anything and reported to Master Wu, escape would be impossible.

Cheng Che glanced back and jumped—Da Zhuang was sitting upright on the bed, staring at them.

Zhang Qinglin didn’t share a bed with Old Seven. Instead, he pushed two long benches together, scanned the room, hid his backpack in an inconspicuous spot, and spent the night on the benches.

Before dawn, Old Seven woke them and led them to another large courtyard. There, about a dozen people were dressed in work clothes and carrying tools. Old Seven tossed each of them a set of clothes and told them to change.

Cheng Che held the clothes to his nose and cursed, “What kind of filthy clothes are these? How many years have they gone unwashed? How is anyone supposed to wear this?” He threw them on the floor.

“You came here to earn more money, didn’t you? If you can’t take the hardship, you’ll never amount to anything. If you won’t wear them, go work in the latrines!” barked the burly man at the front, his face stern.

Old Seven picked up the clothes and shoved them at Cheng Che, whispering, “Don’t provoke him. If you’re not careful, he’ll beat you when no one’s around. Hurry up… put them on…”

Zhang Qinglin glanced at Old Seven; judging from his demeanor, he seemed easy enough to get along with.

Cheng Che and Zhang Qinglin changed, took their tools, and boarded a large truck.

Inside were nearly twenty people. Da Zhuang, still dull and dazed, swayed with the movement of the vehicle. Cheng Che sat beside him, holding him steady, afraid he might shake his head off.

Zhang Qinglin gazed out at the gray, hazy sky, as if it veiled his eyes, making everything inscrutable.

The truck began to jolt as it drove onto the mountain road…

Suddenly, Old Seven leaned over to Zhang Qinglin, eyed him for a moment, and then exchanged a few words. The two started chatting idly, and Zhang Qinglin inadvertently gathered some information.

Old Seven was a distant relative of Master Wu, just over thirty and not particularly close to him.

He told Zhang Qinglin they were in Henan Province, at the edge of the Qinling Mountains near Zhoukou. Their current job was to dig in a mine twenty kilometers away.