Lai Li remained unmoved. “Tell me the results.”
Jing Zixiao said discontentedly, “Come on, whether it’s public or private, we’re pretty tight. You don’t trust me?”
Lai Li thought for a moment. He did still need Jing Zixiao for something, so he placated him perfunctorily. “I don’t distrust your character.”
The fewer people who knew a secret, the lower the risk of exposure. For one thing, human hearts were hard to predict; for another, no one could guarantee they would never make a mistake.
Once someone knew a secret, it was hard to avoid subtle tones when discussing related people, or even unwittingly revealing flaws. These were uncontrollable factors.
“Oh.” Jing Zixiao scoffed. “So you think I’m unreliable, huh.”
Lai Li unhesitatingly hummed in agreement. “Only I’m reliable.”
“……Can you be any more narcissistic?” Jing Zixiao said, unable to take it. “Fine, I’ll tell you straight. C has no blood relation to D or E.”
Lai Li’s brows immediately furrowed deeply, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. “None at all?”
Jing Zixiao hummed. “C can’t be the child of D or E, nor any other close relative. Not even distant collateral relations.”
Lai Li said gravely, “Got it. Thanks for the trouble.”
Jing Zixiao made a disgusted sound. “Don’t try imitating your brother’s politeness. It doesn’t suit you.”
Lai Li said expressionlessly, “Don’t come back yet. I’ll send you another sample. Test if he has any blood relation to E.”
Jing Zixiao paused, not understanding where this extra person had come from. He mulled it over before saying slowly, “That limited-edition car of yours…”
Lai Li anticipated. “You can borrow it for a month.”
With that, Lai Li hung up. In mid-to-late October, the rented room without large windows was filled with a persistent chill that seeped into the bones after a while.
He cleaned up the traces of the fight in the room. Suddenly, something occurred to him, and he scanned the surrounding floor tiles inch by inch.
Finally, he moved the wrought-iron bed and found a loose tile in the corner with a USB drive inside.
Back in the Slum District, food had always been scarce. Unexpectedly obtained food or extra rewards for good performance would be hidden away to guard against the next meal suddenly disappearing.
Going days without food was normal too.
But they had no private rooms or personal drawers. The most common method was to pry up a loose stone tile, bag the food in cheap plastic, and stuff it in.
By the next time they came for it, the food might have spoiled from the dampness.
This time, he was lucky. The USB drive must have been stashed recently; it hadn’t gotten damp yet and shouldn’t be damaged.
Lai Li half-squatted beside Song Zichu, lost in thought.
Song Zichu had said there were other “little crickets” still alive, not as lucky as him…
This meant that after the Slum District’s demolition, some of the “crickets” from back then, along with the criminals, hadn’t been relocated or arrested like those four fake-dead fugitives who kidnapped him three years ago. Instead, they were under someone’s “protection.”
The people protecting them would definitely use them for illegal activities—like eliminating competitors or clearing obstacles for the family’s development…
A group of identity-less criminals who could only rely on themselves had too many uses, didn’t they?
But compared to those fugitives, the “crickets” were the best tools. Raised in the slums as children and then corralled by interested parties after the big cleanup, they had likely lost their “sense of self” and become pure tools who obeyed orders to the death.
Song Zichu was different. He had experienced the outside world and seen more colors. If his adoptive parents hadn’t insisted on a biological child, he might have become a “normal person” like Lai Li.
So Song Zichu’s return to Danshi must have been his own choice—even proactively seeking out the mastermind who corralled the other “crickets.”
And the prerequisite for seeking out the mastermind was knowing who they were.
If Song Zichu knew, then Lai Li certainly did too.
He tilted his head, his features all submerged in shadow, only his outline edged with a faint halo—
“An old acquaintance, huh…”
Lai Li stood up and stepped on Song Zichu’s hands dangling to one side. “Actually, if you hadn’t messed with my brother, I wouldn’t have moved against you so soon… Who gave you permission to hold them?”
He viciously ground down harder on Song Zichu’s fingers while unlocking Song Zichu’s phone. He found Dai San Shu’s number and sent a message in Song Zichu’s tone—
[I think it’s best to keep a low profile lately. No need to find me a place to stay. I’ve switched to a safe spot. Contact if necessary.]
Yesterday, he’d just tossed a GPS tracker onto Dai San Shu’s car and discovered Song Zichu’s whereabouts, even overhearing their conversation.
Wait, the GPS…
Did the person in the shadows really trust Song Zichu to move freely?
Lai Li arrived at a hidden phone shop in a city alley. The owner was lying on a recliner behind the counter, asleep.
Lai Li crooked his fingers and knocked on the counter.
The owner jolted awake and sat up abruptly, her curly hair plastered across her face.
She brushed back her hair, fumbled for her glasses, and steadied herself before recognizing the visitor. She exclaimed in surprise, “Rare guest! What brings you to my dump?”
Lai Li pulled out Song Zichu’s phone and got straight to the point. “Check this phone for me. See if it’s being tracked.”
The owner took it and glanced. “Anyone could do this job. Why me…”
She grumbled but still booted up her computer and got to work.
“Meow~”
Lai Li followed the sound. A fat orange cat sauntered in through the door, wearing a handmade red collar. It was clearly pampered by its owner.
The owner shivered, quickly circled the counter, scooped up the cat, and shoved it into the back rest room, locking the door. She returned to the computer nonchalantly. “How’ve you been lately?”
Lai Li glanced at her.
The phone shop owner was surnamed Fang—everyone called her Sister Fang.
She had been a Slum District resident too, with decent conditions: a rundown little house and shop. Twelve years ago during demolition, she’d gotten a hefty compensation payout.
She used it to buy a shop in the city and put down roots.
Over the years, Lai Li had only come to her once, wanting to install a tracker on a phone. She’d taken one look and realized the owner was Dai Family’s young master, Dai Linxuan.
Sister Fang didn’t want trouble and sincerely advised, “Someone of his status surely checks his phone and computer for viruses regularly. A crude trick like tracking gets found out easily. What will you do then?”
Fifteen-year-old Lai Li had left in a huff.
But Sister Fang hadn’t been wrong. Dai Linxuan not only scanned his phone and computer for viruses periodically but also had his daily cars swept for trackers or security risks beforehand. No openings.
Lai Li had bided his time, lurking for years until he successfully replaced Dai Linxuan’s bodyguard with his own man.
“Not great,” he answered slowly.
“What happened?” Sister Fang probed. “The media says Dai Linxuan treats you well.”
“He does,” Lai Li said, lowering his gaze. “But he’s not doing well lately, so neither am I.”
Sister Fang blinked, feeling Lai Li seemed a bit more human. She smiled. “Even someone as rich as your big brother has worries?”
Lai Li hummed. “You don’t seem to have any. Even got a cat?”
Sister Fang exclaimed vaguely, “Just a stray no one wanted. It kept staring at me on the road that day, so I took it in. Feeding it casually.”
In the back rest room, the orange cat, confused why it was locked up, meowed plaintively.
The more it meowed, the more nervous Sister Fang got.
Lai Li almost wanted to laugh. “I’m in university now.”
Sister Fang nodded. “That’s good.”
Lai Li said, “Campus has tons of stray cats.”
If he had a urge to kill, the campus strays would die first—darting around yowling nonstop, annoying as hell.
One even frequently perched on his car roof, scratching the film. Hadn’t it survived intact? He was too lazy to bother with such weak, useless creatures.
Sister Fang’s nerves tightened. She jerked her head up and glanced at Lai Li.
She had clearly misunderstood. Lai Li saw no need to explain. “Done yet?”
“…” Sister Fang unplugged. “Phone’s clean. No tracker, no viruses.”
Lai Li narrowed his eyes, muttering, “Inside his body, then?”
Sister Fang’s scalp prickled. She scratched her hair. “Lai Li, have you seen… a psychologist these years?”
She’d asked something similar last time.
Lai Li said, “Been seeing one lately.”
“Oh.” Sister Fang smiled. “Sometimes venting to a psychologist helps. I went through a phase chatting with one—felt better after.”
Lai Li neither confirmed nor denied. He handed over Song Zichu’s USB drive. “There are encrypted videos inside. Can you crack them?”
Sister Fang plugged it in. “Will take some time.”
Lai Li gave her a number. “Contact me when done.”
He grabbed the phone and headed out. At the door, he paused and turned back. “I just remembered—you used to live across from our place.”
Sister Fang froze, goosebumps rising all over.
Lai Li realized with an “ah,” his tone light. “So you saw.”
Sister Fang swallowed. “I didn’t…”
Lai Li, leg already lifting to leave, thought of dead Chang Fangyi and tugged his lips. “Relax. Since you never told anyone, I won’t trouble you over old rotten grains like that.”
Sister Fang: “…”
Old rotten grains?
No matter her complicated mood, Lai Li didn’t care.
He returned to Song Zichu and scanned his body with a metal detector, from legs to neck. Nothing.
As Lai Li started to stand, the detector beeped. He looked toward its direction—Song Zichu’s left eye.
He pried open Song Zichu’s eyelid and pressed… hard.
It was a prosthetic eye. Completely undetectable normally.
Had the person behind this ripped out his eyeball to track him? Or was it an accident that damaged the left eye?
Lai Li removed the eyeball and tossed it in his hand a few times. He left the room, went to the roadside, and threw it to the bodyguard in the car.
“Have someone rent a cheap place near the Municipal Public Security Bureau, put the prosthetic eye in it, set up surveillance, and stay outside to watch. See if anyone comes for it.”
“If they do, try to snap a clear face photo first and contact me immediately… No direct confrontation.”
The bodyguard said, “No problem.”
After handling that, his phone stayed quiet.
Lai Li checked the time. His brother should be boarding the return flight soon.
He was about to drive to the airport when Dai Linxuan messaged.
[From Home]: Something came up. Not coming back tonight. Have dinner with the director here tomorrow.
[From Home]: Video call tonight for meds. Don’t dodge.
Lai Li slammed the steering wheel and leaned back, eyes closed. In the rearview, the cut on his face was still fresh.
This was fine. By the time Dai Linxuan returned, his injuries might have healed…
Yeah right.
They wouldn’t heal in a day unless Dai Linxuan stayed away from Danshi for a week.
Lai Li started the car, U-turned, and sped toward the airport, sending a message: What is my brother doing?
…
Hundreds of kilometers away in another city, the head bodyguard sat in the car, stumped by the “real boss’s” message, unsure how to reply.
He thought, snapped a photo of the lit fifth floor of the nearby residential building, and replied: Inside there. Not sure what doing.
The boss followed up: Who owns the place?
He recalled: A buzzcut guy.
No further reply from the boss. The bodyguard sighed in relief, wryly thinking he’d starred in a real Mission: Impossible.
He set down the phone and looked out the window—only to spot a familiar figure by the community flowerbed.
Dai Linxuan’s private doctor.
Liao De carried his medical kit, hurrying upstairs.
The fifth floor had two units. Liao De checked his info, confirmed 501, and rang the bell. The door opened immediately. Buzzcut stepped aside. “Boss and the patient are inside.”
Liao De hurried into the bedroom and spotted the pale-faced woman on the bed at a glance. Her wrist was wrapped in gauze, soaked a bloody red.
He opened the medical kit while asking, “What happened?”
Dai Linxuan sat by the bed and rubbed his temple. “She slit her wrists.”
“Nonsense.” Liao De rolled his eyes. “I’m asking what’s the deal with this woman?”
Dai Linxuan lowered his gaze and said nothing.
“Not convenient for me to know?” Liao De joked. “Secret lover? But the age doesn’t match.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.” Dai Linxuan glanced at the woman. “She’s right here—show some respect.”
“She’s out cold and can’t hear anyway.” Liao De lifted the woman’s wrist to clean the wound. “Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s exactly because I trust you that I called you over.” Dai Linxuan sighed. “Her identity is a long story. It involves a lot of messy business—you’re better off not knowing.”
Liao De nodded and stopped pressing. “The wound’s pretty deep. It needs stitches.”
Dai Linxuan asked, “Can you do it here? She doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“Sure.” Liao De slipped on a pair of medical gloves and glanced at Dai Linxuan. “Your face doesn’t look so great either.”
Dai Linxuan leaned back against the chair, a faint weariness clouding his brows and eyes. “Forgot to bring my meds. Haven’t slept much these past couple days. I’ll be fine once I get back.”
“Aren’t you too reliant on sleeping pills?” Liao De frowned. “For real, you need to get some proper, systematic treatment. Depending on them to sleep isn’t sustainable.”
Dai Linxuan smiled but said nothing.
Liao De shook his head helplessly. “I used to think you were the most agreeable guy, always open to advice. These past two years, I’ve realized you’re just plain stubborn.”
Dai Linxuan replied, “After this busy stretch is over.”
“You’d better.” Liao De let out a cold laugh. “Or I’ll tell Lai Li. If I can’t handle you, surely he can.”
“…”
Speak of the devil. A video call popped up on Dai Linxuan’s phone, labeled “Xiao Li.”
Dai Linxuan stood and warned Liao De, “Don’t say anything.”
He stepped into the bathroom, splashed a handful of water on his face to make it look like he was washing up, and then answered. But before he could get a word out, Lai Li’s accusation came flying: “Why aren’t you coming back today?”
“Because…” Dai Linxuan hadn’t even finished cobbling together an excuse when his brows furrowed. “What happened to your face?”
Lai Li didn’t answer. “I’m boarding the plane right now.”
“…” Dai Linxuan asked without much hope, “Where to?”
“Seventy minutes from now, your local airport. Come pick me up.”
With a beep*, Lai Li ended the video call.
Dai Linxuan pinched the bridge of his nose, returned to the bedroom, and grabbed his coat. “Stay here tonight and keep an eye on her. Her moods have been rough lately.”
“No problem.” Liao De was finishing up the stitches. “Where are you off to?”
Dai Linxuan shrugged on his trench coat and headed out, looking travel-worn. “To the airport to pick up an ancestor.”
