Chapter Fifty-Four: Years Gone By

The courtyard of the Six Fingers' house was cluttered with miscellaneous items, nearly filling the space. The doors on either side were not fixed to the walls, yet they were placed in a way that resembled proper entrances. Uncle Jiang stood at the doorway and looked inside. Just as he was about to step forward to knock, there was a sudden "crack"—the door adorned with a red blessing character was yanked open and collapsed to the ground.

In front of him appeared a figure with tangled hair and a dirty face, dust smeared across his cheeks, clad in a tattered green overcoat, holding a worn nylon sack, hitching up his pants as he walked out. Upon seeing someone at his door, he stared wide-eyed, saying nothing.

Uncle Jiang pinched his nose and asked, "Are you Six Fingers?"

The man’s eyes rounded as he sized up Uncle Jiang, then glanced at Zhang Qinglin, and finally nodded.

"We're here to buy something from you. Boss Qu should have contacted you..." Uncle Jiang pulled a note from his pocket and handed it to Six Fingers.

Six Fingers took the note, unfolded it, glanced over it, then flashed his large teeth, stepped aside, and pointed toward the courtyard, making guttural sounds in his throat. Zhang Qinglin looked up and realized that Six Fingers was mute.

Entering Six Fingers' house, a pungent stench assaulted their throats. Zhang Qinglin's throat itched, and he coughed several times. The room was chaotic, barely a space to step in; bottles and jars were strewn everywhere.

Six Fingers set down his things, bent over, pushed aside bottles on the ground to clear a spot, and found two stools for Uncle Jiang and Zhang Qinglin.

He gestured with his hands, as if to say, "Sit here for a while, I'll fetch the item."

Uncle Jiang frowned slightly and nodded.

After Six Fingers left, Uncle Jiang rose from his stool, hands behind his back, gazing out the window.

Zhang Qinglin coughed again and said, "Uncle Jiang, what are you buying? I never heard you mention needing anything—surely it's not some broken appliance?"

"Of course not. This is an artifact from the Tang Dynasty," Uncle Jiang said, his eyes shining. He continued, "Qinglin, you seem a little off today."

Zhang Qinglin immediately stopped fiddling with his sleeve. "Ah? What's off about me? Maybe it's from being beaten by that thief!"

Uncle Jiang looked over, leaned in and said, concerned, "Anywhere else uncomfortable? I'll take you to the city hospital to get checked out."

"I'm fine, Uncle Jiang, there's no need! By the way, Uncle Jiang, I have something to ask you..." Zhang Qinglin’s eyes flashed as he sat up on the stool, staring directly at Uncle Jiang.

"You rascal, just say it. Why are you hemming and hawing?" Uncle Jiang reached out and patted Zhang Qinglin’s head.

"Uncle Jiang... who are you, really? Do you know someone named Wu Cheng'an? How did my father disappear?" Zhang Qinglin suddenly stood up, blurting out all the questions that had weighed on his heart.

Uncle Jiang was stunned, his expression changed, his gaze grew cold, and a murderous glint flashed across his eyes. He straightened up slowly, his tone shifting, sharp and icy: "Qinglin, I am your Uncle Jiang, the one who raised you since you were little. Is this how you talk to me? Are you interrogating me?"

Zhang Qinglin stared at Uncle Jiang, seeing the subtle shift in his expression. Was he wrong? Were his questions too blunt, causing such a reaction?

Just then, Six Fingers pushed the door open and entered, looking at Uncle Jiang and Zhang Qinglin in confusion. He placed the wooden box he was carrying on the table by the window.

Uncle Jiang glanced at Zhang Qinglin, strode to the table, took out the item from the box, and examined it.

Six Fingers grinned foolishly, pointing at the item in Uncle Jiang’s hand.

Zhang Qinglin turned and saw Uncle Jiang holding the cracked white jade cup.

In an instant, Zhang Qinglin’s head throbbed with excruciating pain. He clutched his head, body trembling as he backed away, watching Uncle Jiang slowly set down the white jade cup, his face shadowed as he smiled and nodded at Six Fingers, "Yes, this is what I came to buy!"

Six Fingers held up five fingers, waving them before Uncle Jiang. Uncle Jiang took out five hundred yuan from his wallet and tossed it onto the table.

Six Fingers shook his head, eyes wide, still holding out his palm. Uncle Jiang took out another five hundred yuan: "This is all it's worth."

Unexpectedly, Six Fingers grew more agitated, slapping the table, pulling a paper from his pocket, grabbing a pencil, and scribbling something before handing it to Uncle Jiang.

Uncle Jiang squinted at the note, nodded, "Alright, I agree. Come, I'll take you to get the money."

Six Fingers beamed, put the cracked white jade cup into the box, patted it, and nodded.

Suddenly, Six Fingers’ smile froze, his eyes bulging. He clutched his stomach—a fruit knife was plunged into it, blood gushing out. His eyes reflected Uncle Jiang’s twisted face as he slowly collapsed.

Uncle Jiang didn't even blink, wiping the blood from his hands with a tissue. He picked up the box and said coldly, "Hmph, you knew too much and tried to threaten me—this is the consequence."

Zhang Qinglin stared in terror. Was this still the kindly Uncle Jiang? No, this was a merciless killer.

Uncle Jiang’s terrifying gaze turned toward him. He walked over step by step, his smile chilling, another knife in his hand, dripping blood. "Don't be afraid, I'll let you join him soon..."

Before him loomed Uncle Jiang’s twisted, evil grin.

"No..." Zhang Qinglin cried out, shut his eyes, and his chest throbbed with pain again. He sat up with a jolt, drenched in sweat.

"Qinglin, you're awake! Doctor, doctor..."

It was Yueyue’s voice.

Zhang Qinglin looked around at the white ceiling and walls, clutching the white quilt tightly. On it were printed red characters: "Wu City Hospital Inpatient Department." He was in the hospital!

"Lao Zhang, you scared me to death. You suddenly fainted, shaking all over like you had epilepsy. How are you feeling now?" Cheng Che rushed in from the doorway, carrying a bag of boxed meals. Seeing Zhang Qinglin sitting up in bed, he hurried over, worried.

So it was just a dream, yet everything in it felt so real. And the cracked white jade cup—could it really be that Uncle Jiang killed for it? No, surely not...

Jiang Xinyue summoned the doctor, who examined Zhang Qinglin and said the fever had subsided; he could be discharged.

After a brief tidy-up, they left the hospital, hailed a cab, and headed for the hotel.

In the car, Cheng Che kept casting uneasy glances at Zhang Qinglin, whispering, "Do you think Wanqing and the others are really dead? I haven’t told Xinyue about them; she doesn’t know yet. Once we get to the hotel and pack, let’s leave!"

Yes, the matter of Wanqing and the others must not be told to Yueyue. If she knew, she’d start worrying again, Zhang Qinglin thought, nodding slightly to Cheng Che.

"By the way, Yueyue, where’s Dazhuang? I haven’t seen him," Zhang Qinglin asked.

Jiang Xinyue said she had fallen asleep in her room, and when she woke up, she went to find them, knocking on their door for ages with no response. The room must have been empty, so she returned to her own. When she went back, she saw Baroque Lingda leaving the hotel, and then received Cheng Che’s call from the hospital.

In other words, since entering the hotel, Jiang Xinyue hadn’t seen Wu Cheng'an.

The taxi stopped at the hotel entrance. Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che got out first, about to head into the lobby.

Suddenly, someone darted out from the right—it was Xu Bin, carrying a bag. He stood in front of Zhang Qinglin, blocking their way, his expression grave. "What is the relationship between Ninth Master and Wu Shangfei? Why is Ninth Master mentioned in this letter?"

Xu Bin’s sudden question left Zhang Qinglin utterly confused. "Uncle Xu, what are you talking about? I don’t understand..."

"Hey, who are you? Why are you blocking us? Come on, Qinglin, Cheng Che, ignore him!" Jiang Xinyue finished paying and rushed over, linking arms with Zhang Qinglin and heading inside.

Cheng Che, standing aside, also didn’t understand Xu Bin’s words. He stepped forward and grabbed Xu Bin’s arm. "Uncle Xu, who is this Ninth Master? You’re not making sense. He’s just getting better; let him rest first. Whatever it is, we’ll talk tomorrow."

Xu Bin shook free of Cheng Che, walked up to Zhang Qinglin. "You don’t know Ninth Master? Ninth Master is your grandfather! And what secret is hidden in this white jade cup? Why is it said only members of your Zhang family can unlock it?"

Zhang Qinglin stared at Xu Bin, bewildered.

"You, come with me," Xu Bin said, pulling Zhang Qinglin.

Jiang Xinyue stepped forward angrily. "Uncle, what’s wrong with you? If you keep this up, we’ll call the police!"

"Yueyue, this uncle must be mistaken. You and Cheng Che go upstairs first. I’ll talk with him and clear things up—it’ll be fine," Zhang Qinglin said quietly to Jiang Xinyue.

Cheng Che moved to Zhang Qinglin’s side, glanced at Jiang Xinyue, sensing he didn’t want her to worry. He said, "I think this is serious. Maybe I should stay with you."

"No need. I think Uncle Xu just wants to understand the white jade cup. It’s fine, you take Yueyue upstairs first," Zhang Qinglin replied softly.

"Hey, are you two hiding something from me again?" Jiang Xinyue folded her arms, pouted, and looked over the three of them. She hadn’t seen the two all day, and now this uncle had appeared; clearly something was going on.

"Xinyue, see, you’re overthinking again. How could we hide anything from you? This uncle is someone we met in the antique shop. He has some questions for Lao Zhang. Let them talk, we’ll go upstairs," Cheng Che said, exchanging a look with Zhang Qinglin, then gently led Jiang Xinyue toward the lobby.

After they’d gone, Zhang Qinglin and Xu Bin moved to the side of the hotel entrance, a more secluded spot.

"Uncle Xu, who is Ninth Master? He can't be my grandfather," Zhang Qinglin demanded.

Xu Bin lit a cigarette, flicked his lighter, and said, "Isn’t your grandfather’s name Zhang Tienian? If that’s his name, then he’s definitely Ninth Master... You think I’m lying?"

Zhang Qinglin’s eyes were full of doubt. "There are plenty of people named Zhang Tienian. How do you know it’s my grandfather? And who is this Wu Shangfei? I have no idea who he is."

Xu Bin took a drag, cigarette between his lips, then set down his backpack, pulled out two photos and a letter, and handed them to Zhang Qinglin. "Now do you believe me? Your grandfather was once Ninth Master of the Zhang Family Merchant Association."

Zhang Qinglin took the photos and letter. The first photo was black and white, showing five or six people dressed formally. Counting from the left, the third man looked familiar; upon closer inspection, he indeed resembled his grandfather. Above their heads was written: "Grand Opening of the Zhang Family Merchant Association."

The second photo showed just two men, one identical to the man in the first photo. On the back, written in black ink, were the names "Zhang Tienian" and "Wu Shangfei."

Zhang Qinglin flipped the photo, seeing the man beside his grandfather—he too looked somewhat familiar.

He then opened the letter written by the master to Xu Bin, which roughly described the relationship between Zhang Tienian and Wu Shangfei, and included some words for Xu Bin.

The first to discover the secret of the cracked white jade cup was his grandfather.

"My grandfather never mentioned this merchant association..." Zhang Qinglin said, holding the photos and letter.

Xu Bin took back the photos and letter from Zhang Qinglin and said, "You were too young then, how could you remember all that? Enough talk, come home with me, unlock the secret of the white jade cup, and we’ll deal with everything else later."

"Uncle Xu, I truly don’t know the secret in the white jade cup, nor how to unlock it..." Zhang Qinglin replied.

Before Zhang Qinglin could finish, a group of people approached from afar. As they drew closer, he saw it was Wanqing and Li Qingpeng.