Chapter Thirty-Six: The Cunning of Tang Renjie

Fatty and I exchanged glances, unable to speak but my mind was racing. Why had Tang Renjie suddenly asked that question? Was he probing Fatty, or did he know that I was with him right now? I’d already suspected that Tang Renjie must have people watching us in the village—otherwise, he couldn’t have so conveniently left that little drought demon at my doorstep.

Yes, it was precisely because we’d just guessed that the fool was looking for that child, and that when Third Grandpa tried to stop us from digging, the dead child was placed at my door. So, Fatty and I instinctively assumed this might be a compromise from one faction in the village; neither of us considered Tang Renjie’s involvement.

That meant Tang Renjie’s men were lurking in the shadows, knowing exactly what we were up to—and what we needed.

From the moment Tang Renjie asked that question, Fatty and I had fallen silent for a full thirty seconds. My heart sank. I knew we’d already exposed ourselves. Fatty’s hesitation to reply would tell Tang Renjie, sharp as he was, everything about our current state. There was no hiding anymore. I spoke into the phone, “Boss Tang, I’m here.”

“About last time, I apologize,” Tang Renjie chuckled on the other end. “If your big brother hadn’t been so unyielding, I never intended things to get so awkward.”

“That’s all in the past now. But honestly, Boss Tang, I never thought someone of your stature would take such interest in this backwater. And you seem to know everything happening here. For someone who’s grown up here all my life, I can’t help but feel out of my depth,” I replied.

“Could we meet?” Tang Renjie asked over the phone.

I thought for a moment, then answered, “Alright, but this time, not here. We’ll come to you.”

“Fine. Call me when you arrive—I’ll be waiting,” Tang Renjie said, and then hung up.

Only after the call ended did I realize my forehead was damp with sweat. Even though it was just a phone conversation, I was extremely tense—not just because Tang Renjie was the leading tycoon in Luoyang, but because he always exuded a sly, calculating aura that made me feel tremendous pressure.

Fatty looked at me, “Didn’t I say so? Tang Renjie is a slippery one. Businessmen never act without profit in mind. If we try fishing information from him, we could end up on the losing end.”

“So what do we do? Do we meet him or not?” I asked. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I could handle meeting Tang Renjie with just Fatty by my side; after all, neither of us was my big brother, who had sheer force as his trump card.

“Why not meet him? With Fatty here, what can he do to you?” Fatty replied, then yawned. “Go home, let Fatty get some sleep. I need to heal this leg before anything else.”

—

After leaving the village committee, I returned home to find Han Xue wasn’t there. But I quickly remembered it was Monday; she should be at school. Even though I hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, I still wasn’t the least bit tired. I took out my phone, thinking to call my big brother—but hesitated.

Fatty and my brother had nearly come to blows today. Those two are at odds now, and knowing my brother, he’ll never reconcile with Fatty. And me—after leaving my brother’s house, I immediately started palling around with Fatty, and now I was even secretly contacting Tang Renjie, whom my brother always disliked. The thought of it filled me with guilt toward my brother.

I truly never wanted to do anything to let my brother down. The words he said—that I was his little brother—still moved me deeply. But at the same time, I deeply resented how he never told me anything, even if I knew he kept things from me for my own good. To satisfy my own curiosity and to play a more active role in all this, I couldn’t help but do things that would disappoint him. That was my real dilemma.

After all, I’m an adult now, with my own thoughts and judgment.

But my brother still treats me as a kid, as his little brother. That’s the biggest gulf between us.

Thinking of him reminded me of what Fatty had said, and my heart grew heavier. For more than twenty years I’d always known I had a big brother, but my feelings toward him had gone through wild swings. Before he came back, I was wracked with guilt—he’d been given away so that I could grow up with our mother; he’d made that sacrifice for me. But after he returned and showed his prowess, he became this legendary figure, and though I never said it aloud, I envied him. Sometimes I even wished it had been me who was sent away, so that our fates would be reversed and I would be the wise, mighty hero. How wonderful would that be?

But today, hearing from Fatty what my brother had endured to become so formidable chilled me to the bone and filled me with shame. After being adopted out, he had to eat human flesh—bloated, waterlogged, rotting corpses. If it had been me, could I have survived?

As I was mulling over these thoughts, my mother came over and gave me a light kick. “Yezi, what are you daydreaming about?”

I looked at her and asked, “Do you know much about the family who adopted my brother back then?”

Her expression instantly changed, evasive and uneasy. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. Today I suddenly thought—with all my brother’s abilities, he must have suffered a lot. But you always told me that the family who took him in was well-off, and since they had no sons, he was there to enjoy life,” I said.

She picked up some clothes, fell silent for a while, and then spoke, “The family who adopted your brother was a friend of your grandfather’s. So all that talk about them being well-off was what your grandfather said. At first, I really didn’t want your brother to be adopted so far away—not because I wanted to disown him, but just in case I couldn’t help myself, or if things got better later, I could visit. But your grandfather was stubborn.”

“Grandpa’s friend?” I was surprised—I hadn’t known that.

“Yeah. Maybe that's why your grandfather never pressed your brother to change his surname. The day your brother came back and said his name was Sun Zhongmou, you have no idea how much it hurt me. He should have been Ye Zhongmou!” As my mother spoke, her eyes reddened.

“It’s alright, Mom. Don’t be upset. This Sun family—Grandpa’s friend—what kind of friend? Were they close?” I asked.

“I think so. The man who came to the village to take your brother was an old man surnamed Sun. I’d never seen your grandfather drink, but that day, the two of them got drunk. They even had identical tobacco pipes,” my mother said.

After hearing her story, I turned to look at my grandfather, sitting on a small stool by the door, waiting for his dry tobacco pipe. His eyes were clouded, his hearing failing; even though we were so close, he took no part in our conversation—he could barely hear anything.

Looking at him, I was suddenly struck by an odd feeling, a thought spreading rapidly in my mind, almost out of control.

Finally, I patted my own head, muttering to myself, “I’m wound too tight, going crazy, starting to feel like everyone’s suspicious.”

With that, I stood up. Just before entering the house, I glanced back at my grandfather—only to find him staring at me, his wrinkled face and clouded old eyes filling me with an inexplicable emotion. Especially his expression—it struck me as strange and unfamiliar.

I deeply disliked this feeling. I forced a smile at him; he managed to return it, but the smile only made the moment feel more enigmatic.

“Stop overthinking!” I scolded myself silently. Then I went inside, opened the door to my room, and without another thought, collapsed onto Han Xue’s bed.

I wanted—desperately wanted—to sleep. But every time I closed my eyes, my grandfather’s strange expression would float into my mind, and to my own surprise, I even felt a little afraid.

Grandpa was never a kindly figure; to me, he was simply my grandfather. If I had to describe him, he was a man who loved his pipe.

For as long as I could remember, Grandpa spent every day smoking his dry tobacco in the courtyard. Because of his poor health, he never worked in the fields or did any heavy labor. My mother would only bring him a bowl of food after cooking; he would get up on time every morning to smoke at the door, then go to bed after dinner, coughing through the first half of the night and sleeping soundly through the rest.

His room always reeked of stale smoke and that peculiar old-person smell. If my mother didn’t wash his sheets, clothes, and floor every other day, the odor would have been unbearable.

He was as ordinary a rural elder as could be.

—

No matter how I tried to stop myself from overthinking, that idea that had just flashed through my mind refused to leave. I sat up, then half reclined on the bed, lighting a cigarette.