Chapter Five: Aid the Beauty, Reap the Fortune

The girl's pitiful gaze pleaded with Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che, begging them to help retrieve the stolen painting.

“But we don’t even know where they went. How are we supposed to get it back?” Cheng Che asked, leaning against the right rear door of the black sedan.

Zhang Qinglin bowed his head, staring at a pebble in front of his black shoes, pondering. They had finally found the authentic ‘Eight Steeds of Shangtang’ painting, only for it to be acquired at a steep price, and then, in less than half a day, stolen by others.

It seemed the painting was indeed of immense value.

Zhang Qinglin slowly raised his head, just about to speak…

“And besides, why are you asking us for help? You’re so wealthy, you could hire a few experts and settle this in no time,” Cheng Che remarked. After years by his father’s side, he’d learned to be cautious—he wouldn’t get involved in deals that weren’t worth it.

“I know you wouldn’t willingly help me, but that painting is truly important to me. How about this: if you really can get it back for me, whatever you ask, I’ll agree…” the girl said.

“Alright! You said it yourself, but let’s be clear about our terms—” Cheng Che had barely started when the girl slipped into the car, calling out, “Hey, get in, both of you. I’ll explain on the way… You drive, I’ll give directions. Hurry!”

Cheng Che cast a sideways glance at Zhang Qinglin, then climbed into the driver’s seat with a sigh. Zhang Qinglin followed, letting out a deep breath as he settled in.

Along the way, they learned more about the girl—her name was Wanqing, currently employed at a state-owned enterprise. She had come to the antique auction on behalf of her cousin. Now that she had lost the painting, she felt too ashamed and helpless to return home or face her cousin. All she hoped was to reclaim the painting before those scoundrels could move it.

Zhang Qinglin reclined in the back seat, closing his eyes to rest. Ever since they’d boarded Wanqing’s black sedan, he felt uneasy, as if a pair of eyes were watching him.

He squinted, observing Wanqing beside him.

Wanqing’s gaze remained fixed ahead, directing Cheng Che through intersections one after another.

Wanqing led Cheng Che to the outskirts of Beijing, to a small village at the northernmost edge. Not far from the entrance stood an abandoned brewery. Wanqing instructed Cheng Che not to park too close—he stopped at the village gate.

The three alighted and approached the brewery cautiously. At the wide-open gate, they spotted the group who had stolen the painting, being ushered inside by others.

Cheng Che signaled to Zhang Qinglin; the two pressed themselves against the wall, advancing quietly, Wanqing following behind.

“Wanqing, it’s too dangerous inside, and we can’t look after you. You should stay outside and wait for us,” Cheng Che said, blocking her path.

“Miss Wanqing, Cheng Che’s right. It’s too risky for you to come along. Wait for us in the car. Don’t worry—we’ll bring the painting back safely,” Zhang Qinglin assured her.

“Please be careful,” Wanqing replied anxiously. With that, Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che slipped into the brewery.

Inside, the four thieves stood in the center, holding the painting. Five or six burly men strode toward them, stopping in front of the group.

From behind the thugs stepped a mature man in a suit, wearing a black mask, his cold eyes fixed on the four.

A burly man barked, “You’ve got the goods—hand them over!”

“Master Zhao, we’ve brought the painting. But we want double the agreed price,” one of the thieves demanded.

“What?” The big man clenched his fists, about to advance, but the suited man stopped him.

“Wasn’t the plan supposed to be flawless? Yet someone barged in halfway and injured my brother. So, shouldn’t we get some compensation for medical expenses?” the thief pressed.

The suited man gestured to his companion, who brought out a black case, opening it before the four. The case was stacked with cash.

Cheng Che, pointing at the cash-filled box, whispered, “That’s a thick box—must be half a million at least! Old Zhang, you grab the painting, I’ll go for the money.”

The deal was nearly done; the cash box was now in the four thieves’ hands.

The painting was handed over to the suited man. At that moment, he signaled, and the thugs seized the four thieves, who immediately resisted, the fight escalating rapidly.

“They’re turning on each other! Now’s our chance—let’s grab both the painting and the money!” Cheng Che urged.

The two dashed forward.

The suited man slowly took out the painting, beginning to unroll it. Suddenly, a flying kick came from the side; the suited man reacted with lightning speed and dodged.

Zhang Qinglin’s kick missed. He spun to snatch the painting from the suited man’s hand.

The suited man threw him a cold, indifferent look, swiftly rolling up the painting. Zhang Qinglin, agile, grabbed the canvas from the floor.

Both men tugged at the painting—neither dared pull too hard, for fear of tearing it.

Meanwhile, Cheng Che grappled with a burly man, holding the cash box high, growling, “So what if you’re taller!” He jumped, stomping hard on the man’s foot.

The burly man cried out, loosening his grip; the cash box dropped. Cheng Che caught it and hugged it tightly.

“Money in hand!” He turned to leave, but another attacker approached. Cheng Che dodged, then landed a fierce kick—his opponent staggered backward, collapsing onto the painting that Zhang Qinglin and the suited man were tugging at. The canvas ripped cleanly in two.

Both men froze. Zhang Qinglin reacted first, lunging forward and kicking at the suited man. The suited man, not to be outdone, tossed away his half of the painting and charged. They grappled; Zhang Qinglin landed a punch, knocking the suited man down.

Zhang Qinglin stared at him, then glanced at the painting on the floor. Whatever happened, the painting had to be taken. He bent down to retrieve the remaining half.

The suited man, rubbing his swollen face, snarled, “Break his arms and legs!”

Hearing this, Cheng Che looked over; Zhang Qinglin was surrounded by two thugs.

“Old Zhang, watch out!” Cheng Che shouted, rushing over and striking one with the cash box.

“Let’s go…” he called. They made for the exit, but Cheng Che’s cash box was grabbed by one of the thieves; it opened, spilling bills everywhere. The thieves scrambled to scoop up the money.

“Damn, my money…” Cheng Che lamented, hastily stepping back to retrieve the cash.

Zhang Qinglin pulled him away. “Forget the money—saving our skins comes first.”

They fled swiftly.

Outside, night had fallen. Wanqing sat in the car, anxiously scanning the darkness. The two had been inside so long—could they have died in there? If so, she’d be in serious trouble.

Just as she worried, two figures emerged from the gloom, running toward her.

“Are you all right?” Wanqing asked as they climbed into the car, breathless.

Cheng Che pounded the steering wheel, sighing, “We have to leave—if we don’t move now, it’ll be too late.” He sped off.

Zhang Qinglin watched three pursuers in the rearview mirror. Seeing they couldn’t catch up, they gave up. He felt a surge of relief—how lucky they’d been to escape, and with the painting.

But the painting…

Zhang Qinglin clutched the ‘Eight Steeds of Shangtang’ tightly.

“Where are we going?” Cheng Che glanced at Zhang Qinglin in the mirror.

“To Watercloud Blue Sky!”

Zhang Qinglin almost tossed the damaged painting to Wanqing, but hesitated—if he handed it over like this, would she blame them for ruining it and demand compensation?

After leaving the brewery, Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che discussed it; the counterfeit painting brought back by Xinyue could easily pass for the real one.

Cheng Che raised his eyebrows, understanding Zhang Qinglin’s intent, and drove the black sedan through the hazy lights of Beijing’s Fifth Ring Road.

Wanqing watched the two, uneasy. She barely knew them, but their brave actions suggested they were decent men. Still, her cousin had warned her not to let men’s innocent faces and sweet words deceive her—vigilance was essential.

Zhang Qinglin gazed out the window, watching the fleeting lights along the roadside, marveling at how this vast city concealed endless dangers and unknowns.

Suddenly, the glass of the window flickered with a faint green glow. Zhang Qinglin blinked, peering closer. It wasn’t the streetlights outside—the glow followed the car’s movement, reflecting a pair of slender hands in the darkness.

He whipped around; Wanqing was wiping a bronze sunflower mirror from the auction with a damp cloth—the mirror that hadn’t been sold.

Zhang Qinglin frowned; the green light from the mirror grew stronger, engulfing him. The glare was so intense he could not open his eyes.

“Ah… what is this thing?” Zhang Qinglin felt as if his body were caught between two thick stone slabs, squeezed so tightly he could scarcely breathe.

As the light dimmed, he slowly opened his eyes, finding himself no longer in Cheng Che’s black sedan.

Before him lay a narrow path, flanked by steep stone walls.

Zhang Qinglin raised his head—the walls were not tall, just two meters or so. The light faded, making it impossible to see what lay above. He bowed his head, slowly moving forward.

What had happened? Wasn’t he en route to ‘Watercloud Blue Sky’? Where were Cheng Che and Wanqing? What was this place?

He reached the front of the stone walls, pulled himself forward, and rushed out, gasping for air. Turning around, the stone walls had vanished.

Ahead, a meter away, a giant mirror appeared. On its surface, green shapes swirled like hills.

Zhang Qinglin stared at the mirror in terror. He exhaled deeply, wanting to see more, when suddenly the mirror shimmered—the green hills shifted.

A stone dropped with a thud at his feet.

Startled, Zhang Qinglin barely had time to react before the green hills hurtled toward him like meteors.

His expression changed; he dodged and ran back, hoping the stone-wall path remained—perhaps he could return.

Hearing stones crashing behind him, Zhang Qinglin felt himself near collapse. Was he doomed to die here?

“ Hee hee… hee hee hee…” A woman’s soft laughter echoed in his ears.

Left… someone was on the left…

He dashed in that direction, spotting a nearly two-meter round hole ahead. He crawled inside.

Yes, the sound came from within. He kept running forward; a beam of light appeared. Zhang Qinglin summoned all his strength, racing toward the glow.

When he reached the mouth of the cave, a scene of springtime splendor unfolded, leaving him dumbstruck.

The sky shimmered with gentle, translucent, crystalline air.

The breeze stirred like ribbons of white satin. Under radiant sunlight, clear lake waters sparkled, a distant bamboo pavilion nestled among lush greenery, fragrant blossoms accentuating the graceful, refined beauty of the landscape.