Chapter Seventy-Three: A Different Uncle Jiang

If the final outcome of a deal is to exchange one person's freedom, then it would have been better never to make the deal in the first place.

Zhang Qinglin gazed intently at Cheng Che, who stood before the table with a solemn expression. Cheng Che had just told him that Old Xu had already arranged a car—once Jiang Xinyue was rescued, Cheng Che would have to return to Beijing immediately. This was a good thing; Cheng Che had been away for so long, his father must be worried. If he returned quickly, he could even make it back in time for his father's birthday.

However, Cheng Che said he couldn't return to Beijing yet. He explained that when he saw the Mourning Soul Candle that morning, he remembered the old woman who had knocked on the door the previous day. She had grabbed him, and he hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now, recalling it, he shuddered.

When Cheng Che rolled up his sleeve, Zhang Qinglin's heart jolted. A black handprint had appeared starkly on Cheng Che's arm—not merely soot, for no matter how much he scrubbed, it wouldn't come off. Around the black mark, countless tiny red dots had risen, nearly covering his entire arm.

Cheng Che had discovered the mark at Old Xu’s residence. He had felt an itch on his arm as he was leaving, rolled up his sleeve, and found it.

Therefore, he could not return to Beijing for now. He first needed to find a way to break the seal on the Mourning Soul Candle and remove the black handprint from his arm.

"Don't worry. Tomorrow, I'll find the old woman. Once I find the solution, I'll be fine," Cheng Che said, lowering his sleeve.

Zhang Qinglin pressed his lips together, saying nothing. Yet he was keenly aware that if they did not quickly help the plum blossom spirit who had died twenty years ago to find her killer, Cheng Che might lose his life. Watching Cheng Che’s nonchalant demeanor, Zhang Qinglin felt a pang of distress—for Cheng Che had suffered enough along the way.

Just then, A’Yong pushed the door open and walked in, with Wu Cheng’an dragging someone along.

The man wore a bowler hat and a half-length coat. When Wu Cheng’an gave him a shove, he stumbled toward the large table and looked around.

"Uncle Jiang?" Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che exclaimed at the same time.

Standing by the table, hands tied with rope and mouth sealed with tape, eyes wide with alarm, the man was none other than Uncle Jiang!

"What’s going on? Why have you tied up Uncle Jiang?" Zhang Qinglin hurried over, immediately untying the rope from Uncle Jiang’s wrists and tearing off the tape from his mouth.

"Xiaolin!? Da Che! What are you doing here? Xiaolin, do you know these people? And this man—he said all sorts of strange things to me and tied me up!" Uncle Jiang complained, brushing off his sleeves.

"Uncle Jiang, are you alright? Weren’t you at the Zhang family’s old house?" Cheng Che asked, scrutinizing him.

"The Zhang family's old house? Why would I be there? I’m here to save my daughter. Yueyue is in danger. Why wasn't she safe in Beijing? Xiaolin, did you bring her out here? Don’t you know how dangerous it is outside?" Uncle Jiang rebuked Zhang Qinglin sternly.

Hearing Uncle Jiang’s words and the tone of his voice, Zhang Qinglin was instantly reminded of his childhood, when he often made Uncle Jiang angry and received such lectures. Yet, something felt different from that morning.

"Uncle Jiang, your memory is really slipping. Old Zhang already told you that day, and you said you didn’t blame him, so long as everyone was safe…" Cheng Che muttered.

Wu Cheng’an stepped forward and said, "The person in the car wasn’t Jiang Xinyue."

Cheng Che glanced at Wu Cheng’an, then turned to A’Yong behind him. "If the person in the car wasn’t Xinyue, then Xinyue is still at the hotel?"

"Who is this man, Xiaolin? He’s the one who tied me up, and he called me Second Uncle. Has he mistaken me for someone else?" Uncle Jiang asked, pointing at Wu Cheng’an.

Zhang Qinglin looked at Uncle Jiang with a puzzled expression. "Uncle Jiang, this is Wu Cheng’an. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you remember anything that’s happened recently?"

"What happened? Whatever it was, nothing is more important than saving my daughter. Xiaolin, let’s go and rescue Yueyue…" Uncle Jiang said, growing agitated.

"Brother Yong!" Dahai ran in from outside, hurried to A’Yong’s side, and whispered something in his ear. When A’Yong heard, he nodded.

A’Yong wiped his nose with a relaxed gesture and said to the group, "Miss Jiang has already been rescued!"

Uncle Jiang was the first to react, hardly able to believe it. "You mean, my daughter has been rescued? Where is she now?"

"A’Yong, where’s Xinyue?" Cheng Che stepped forward to ask.

Wu Cheng’an looked on, confused. They had just pulled a woman from the black car, but it wasn’t Jiang Xinyue. After subduing the people in the black car and interrogating them, they’d gotten nowhere. Yet now A’Yong claimed Jiang Xinyue had been rescued.

A’Yong explained that Jiang Xinyue was at Old Xu’s residence and that Old Xu wanted them to come.

Old Xu’s house was enormous—a grand residence with five courtyards. What Zhang Qinglin and the others had seen was just a small part. Led by A’Yong, they re-entered through the vermillion gates.

Passing through the front courtyard, they followed a stone path to the side courtyard, where people stood on either side of the brightly lit doorway.

As Zhang Qinglin and the rest approached, they saw Old Xu seated upright at the Eight Immortals table, hands resting on his cane, eyes closed in repose. At the sound of footsteps, his eyes moved beneath his lids, and he slowly opened them.

"Grandfather Xu!" Cheng Che called out, hurrying forward.

Old Xu’s brows arched slightly as he regarded the newcomers. Apart from Cheng Che and his companions, whom he had already met, he paused to study the man beside Zhang Qinglin. Old Xu’s eyes narrowed to slits as he scrutinized Uncle Jiang.

Uncle Jiang stared at the elderly man by the Eight Immortals table, stunned. Though the old man had clearly aged, his bearing was as commanding as ever. Uncle Jiang ventured, "Old Xu…"

A smile curved at Old Xu’s lips. He stood up with his cane, took two steps forward, and examined Uncle Jiang. "Mr. Jiang… It’s been a long time!"

"Old Xu, I heard you rescued my daughter. She’s here with you…" Uncle Jiang steadied himself and spoke calmly to Old Xu.

Old Xu gestured to someone nearby.

Moments later, Jiang Xinyue was led out from an adjacent room. She had changed clothes and was neatly washed. As soon as she saw Uncle Jiang, tears glimmered in her previously dull eyes. She ran toward him, clinging tightly to him and sobbing, "Dad… Dad… I missed you so much…"

Uncle Jiang held his daughter close, gently stroking her back. "Yueyue, are you alright? Are you hurt? It’s all my fault. I should’ve told you and Xiaolin right away, so you wouldn’t have worried and been afraid. It’s all my fault…"

"Yueyue…" Zhang Qinglin turned aside. Jiang Xinyue, after straightening from her father’s embrace and wiping her tears, dove into Zhang Qinglin’s chest, pouting, "It’s all your fault… it’s all your fault…"

"It’s all my fault. I brought you out and put you in danger… Um… everyone’s watching…" Zhang Qinglin glanced down sheepishly and lowered his voice.

Jiang Xinyue’s cheeks flushed crimson. Seeing her family again, she forgot for a moment that others were present, and clung to Zhang Qinglin as she had when they were children, seeking comfort after being bullied.

She soon pulled away from Zhang Qinglin’s chest and dried her tears.

"Yueyue, come and thank Grandfather Xu. It was he who sent people to rescue you."

"Thank you, Grandfather Xu!" Jiang Xinyue stepped forward and bowed in gratitude. She glanced at Cheng Che, who stood quietly to the side, and gave him a smile.

Cheng Che met her gaze, and seeing her smile, felt a surge of happiness.

"Ha! The Jiang family reunited at last. Tonight, you’ll all stay here—I’ll be your host, and call for you when dinner is ready. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have someone escort you home. Che’er, come with me for a moment…" Old Xu, delighted by the family’s reunion, turned to Cheng Che and, leaning on his cane, walked out.

Zhang Qinglin watched Old Xu, then glanced at Cheng Che, who gave him a meaningful look before turning to follow Old Xu out.

With Old Xu and Cheng Che gone, only the four of them remained in the room.

Wu Cheng’an had not spoken a word since entering the courtyard. He could never figure out when his Second Uncle—Uncle Jiang—had ever married, or when he’d had a child.

"Yueyue, come here and let Dad take a good look at you. I was so worried when I heard you’d been taken," Uncle Jiang said.

At that moment, Wu Cheng’an stared ahead and suddenly said, "I’ll step out for a bit," before turning and leaving. Before Zhang Qinglin could react, he was gone.

"Dad, where have you been all this time? Weren’t you on a business trip? Why did you disappear, and why couldn’t we reach you on the phone? If someone hadn’t returned the lighter Mom gave you to the shop, we wouldn’t have known anything was wrong," Jiang Xinyue chattered.

"Ah, I really was out on business. I was robbed on the way—lost my phone and wallet…" Uncle Jiang replied angrily. "Even the lighter your mom gave me went missing; I searched everywhere but never found it. You said someone mailed the lighter back to Beijing? Where is it? Let me see it…"

Jiang Xinyue turned to Zhang Qinglin. "Yes, Qinglin received the package. Qinglin, give the lighter back to Uncle Jiang."

Zhang Qinglin looked confused. "I already gave it to Uncle Jiang the day before yesterday!"

"No, you didn’t. We only met this afternoon, after leaving Beijing. When did you give me the lighter?"

"What’s going on?" Zhang Qinglin suddenly felt a sense of disorientation.

Uncle Jiang looked at Zhang Qinglin in disbelief. He knew Zhang Qinglin sometimes rambled when ill, but today was different. Though pale, he seemed perfectly lucid.

Uncle Jiang stepped forward and patted Zhang Qinglin on the shoulder. "Xiaolin, you don’t look well. Are you sure you’re not mistaken? I treasure the lighter your Aunt Yun gave me, but nothing is more important than our lives. Since you’re hurt, make sure to rest. We can talk about everything else later."

Zhang Qinglin shook his head. The Uncle Jiang before him and the one they’d rescued at Mogang Bridge looked identical, but their manner, tone, and gaze were utterly different. A wild idea flashed through his mind—a terrifying possibility: did Uncle Jiang have a split personality?

But he quickly dismissed the thought. He had been with Uncle Jiang for nearly twenty years and knew the man well, trailing after him to learn everything about tea and cups, and hearing many stories from Uncle Jiang’s youth, including tales involving Zhang Qinglin’s own father, Zhang Chuyang.

He looked up at Uncle Jiang once more. The Uncle Jiang before him always called him Xiaolin, while the other only ever called him rascal…

"Qinglin, are you alright?" Jiang Xinyue waved her hand in front of his eyes, concerned.

Zhang Qinglin blinked, returning to his senses. After parting ways with Jiang Xinyue, he recounted every time he had seen Uncle Jiang and the events surrounding his rescue at Mogang Bridge to her once again.

Uncle Jiang was astonished, for he had experienced none of what Zhang Qinglin described. He had barely had enough money to return to Beijing, but then met a tea merchant he knew, who took him to the tea plantation.

He had stayed at the plantation for several days, trying to call home but reaching no one. When he called the shop, Sister Zhou told him they were going on a two-day trip and would be back soon. Later, she said Zhang Qinglin and the others still hadn’t returned and were still out of town. That’s when he realized something must have happened to the two children, so he had no choice but to use his contacts to search for them.