Chapter Twenty-Four: The Peculiarities of Tang Renjie

I was stunned the moment I heard those words. At the same time, I heard something fall behind me. When I turned, I saw Han Xue, who had just sliced a watermelon and was bringing it to us on a plate; but now the watermelon lay scattered across the floor, and Han Xue’s face had turned as pale as paper.

“What did you say?” Han Xue asked softly, her voice trembling with every syllable.

I stood up, walked over, and took her hand. “Xue’er, Fatty is only guessing, he’s just talking nonsense. Don’t take it to heart.”

I glanced at Fatty, giving him a subtle wink. No matter how foolish he might be, he should understand what such words meant to a young woman. Han Xue had been teaching in the village for two years now, and since her arrival, she had always lived in this very room. Now, to tell her that beneath it lay the body of a dead child?

Fatty stood up too, smiling. “Don’t be afraid, miss. I’m just speculating here. That ghostly woman wouldn’t come here for no reason at all—there must be something she’s attached to. Whether it’s that dead child or not, who can say for sure?”

Han Xue forced a bitter smile. “Don’t comfort me. I heard what Yezi said earlier. How could a mother not care about her child? The truth must be as you say.”

I had no words left. This night was destined to be sleepless. Han Xue was adamant—she refused to return to that room. So I could only stay with her, sitting out on the playground. To my surprise, Fatty proved himself quite loyal; he didn’t return to bed either, but kept us company. It was not yet one o’clock, and the second half of the night stretched endlessly ahead. Sitting in silence was unbearable, so I started a conversation.

“Fatty, aren’t you going to sleep? You were injured tonight, weren’t you?”

“That’s nothing. With my build, I can handle it.” Fatty replied.

“The spells you used tonight were truly impressive: Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise—the four sacred beasts—and then the Five Peaks Sword. You’re better than any of those TV folks. But what is that coffin lid made of? How could you not overcome it?” I asked.

Fatty waved his hand dismissively. “All those are techniques from my sect. What you saw—the sacred beasts and the Five Peaks Sword—are actually just manifestations of talismans. The forms might look alike, but the inner power varies, so the effect varies too.”

“So if someone in your sect with greater skill used those spells, would they be able to defeat it?” I asked.

“Let me tell you, I’m already quite powerful, okay? Look, King of Thieves, I won’t deny that I lost out tonight. Your big brother swooped in and dealt with it quickly, stealing the limelight. By the river, I said it was because I had already worn it down, so your brother managed it easily—not entirely true, but even so, it doesn’t mean your brother is much stronger than me. Ah, victory and defeat—right now, whatever I say, you probably wouldn’t believe.” Fatty said.

Looking at him, I suddenly found Fatty rather endearing. I didn’t mean anything by it, but I teased him, “You underestimated the enemy, plus my brother knows his opponents better. ‘Know yourself, know your enemy, and you’ll never lose a hundred battles,’ right?”

“King of Thieves, you’re clearly a cultured man. You hit the nail on the head. Your brother is more adept at handling the things in the water than I am—he’s a corpse retriever, after all. It’s like in Journey to the West: Sun Wukong always made Pigsy fight the water demons, but does that mean Pigsy is stronger than Monkey?” Fatty replied earnestly.

I laughed heartily at his words. He had the nerve to call himself Monkey, but why say my brother is Pigsy?

Fatty saw me laughing and waved it off. “Enough about that. This trip to your remote mountain village has been worthwhile. Don’t let the size fool you—it’s quite entertaining. Earlier, while I was still inside, I suddenly felt an overwhelming ghostly aura and followed it. Just as I reached the school gate, I encountered someone—quite skilled.”

“That person—was he wearing a Sichuan opera mask?” The moment he mentioned it, I recalled the sounds of fighting outside Han Xue’s room.

“You know him?” Fatty looked at me in surprise.

I stood up. “Wait a moment, Fatty. I’ll fetch something for you.”

Han Xue and I went to get the phone and camera, showing him the footage we’d captured. After watching, Fatty said, “That’s the one. I just had a brief exchange with him—he’s quite a character.”

“He’s human?” I asked.

“Of course. Just someone pretending to be supernatural. So you see, your little village is lively. Take the thing in the water—I thought at first it was some old turtle or fish that had accumulated spiritual energy. Turns out, it wasn’t. And it was formidable. As soon as I turned around, I met a real expert.” Fatty said.

“Fatty, there’s something I’m not sure if I should ask: what’s your relationship with Tang Renjie—the boss Tang?” I looked at Fatty, feeling increasingly comfortable with him. He seemed a decent sort, but my impression of Tang Renjie was less favorable.

Fatty replied, “Just ordinary. I helped him with some matters before, and later he got me a couple of ancient books from an auction abroad. That’s the extent of our connection. Now that you mention it, I wanted to ask you: Chen Qingshan and Tang Renjie are close, right? Tang Renjie knows my temperament. To put it plainly, if I owe him a favor, I’ll help him. I thought he’d ask for my help at a life-or-death moment, but instead, he used that opportunity for this poor village.”

“So this time, Tang Renjie asked you to help Chen Qingshan solve the village’s problems?” I exclaimed.

Fatty nodded, “Why else would I be here? You think I just challenge people for fun? Came here to spar with your brother?”

A sense of unease welled up inside me. What could Tang Renjie’s connection to Chen Qingshan possibly be? That sort of person wouldn’t care at all about a village chief, let alone the villagers’ lives. If he’s acting out of character, there must be something more. He failed to threaten my brother last time, and now he sent Fatty to the village—who knows what scheme he’s plotting.

“King of Thieves, what’s wrong?” Fatty noticed my silent contemplation.

“Nothing. Boss Tang is such a good man, to waste an opportunity like this for the villagers.” I said.

“Nonsense. He’s not a good sort—not that I’m criticizing his character, but he’s as cunning a businessman as they come. The problem is, there’s something off about him.” Fatty replied.

We continued chatting. Han Xue remained silent beside us. As dawn broke, Fatty went back, saying he’d catch up on some sleep. Fatty was a man of action—he said he’d rest, then check Han Xue’s room when he woke. It happened to be the weekend; if there really was a dead child beneath the room, he’d dig it up and burn the remains.

I took Han Xue home with me. No matter how concerned we were about appearances, she couldn’t live on the playground. When we arrived, the lights were out in my mother’s and grandfather’s rooms. After settling Han Xue, I was still uneasy. Tang Renjie seemed suspicious to me, and Fatty’s words only strengthened that feeling—he had ulterior motives. I rode my scooter to Sanlitun to find my brother; I had to report this to him as soon as possible.

My brother was always an early riser. By the time I arrived, he was already up. Seeing me, he was a little surprised, “So early?”

“I have something I need to talk to you about,” I said, getting off the scooter.

Once inside, I told him everything Fatty had said, concluding, “Fatty doesn’t seem to be lying, but if this is true, then Tang Renjie must be up to something.”

My brother listened calmly, his face untroubled.

“Come on, I rushed over so early my mouth’s dry—you could at least react!” I said.

He smiled slightly. “Not bad. You’re learning to pay attention to details. Tang Renjie is definitely up to something—I knew that from the start.”

“You’ve known all along?” I asked, surprised. But then, nothing surprises me when it comes to my brother.

He nodded. “Not just him; Old Liu from Beijing is also suspicious. Tang Renjie’s son didn’t just drown in the Twelve Ghost Caverns, and Old Liu’s comrades didn’t die fighting the Japanese and get dumped in the river.”

“Then what happened?” I was truly stunned—I’d never imagined such a thing.

“They just want something from the Twelve Ghost Caverns.” My brother said.

“What is it?” I asked instinctively.

He looked at me, his face wearing a smile—the kind that always irritated me, the sort that said, ‘Guess if I’ll tell you or not!’

“If only I could beat you, I’d kill you for it!” I laughed and cursed through gritted teeth.

But I was used to his infuriating personality. I lit a cigarette and asked, “Is that why you refused to help the other day?”

He shrugged. “Not exactly. I just have my own rules.”