Chapter 88: Conflict

I spun around abruptly and saw Chen Dongfang walking over, applauding. What was the meaning of this? He must have overheard my conversation with Fatty just now. Was his applause meant to confirm Fatty’s deduction? Rather than feeling pleased, I instantly grew tense. If Fatty had truly uncovered the key, what might Chen Dongfang do? I’d seen his skills firsthand; Fatty would be no match for him.

I stood up and stepped lightly to the right, positioning myself squarely between Fatty and Chen Dongfang. I smiled and greeted, “Uncle Dongfang, you’re here?”

Chen Dongfang nodded to me, then circled around and addressed Fatty, “Impressive.”

I hurried to interject, “We were just chatting nonsense over here, please don’t take it seriously.”

Chen Dongfang glanced at Fatty, then at me. Fatty’s expression betrayed some embarrassment—he had just been badmouthing Chen Dongfang, and being caught talking behind someone’s back is never comfortable.

“This ends now,” Chen Dongfang said in a low voice. “This is the last time I’ll say it—otherwise, I don’t care who you are, I’ll kill you.” Suddenly he lowered his head and struck, gripping Fatty’s throat in a flash. As expected, though Fatty’s skills were decent, he had no time to react before Chen Dongfang’s hand was already at his neck.

“Uncle Dongfang!” I called out.

But Fatty raised his hand, grabbed a fistful of sand from the ground, and flung it into Chen Dongfang’s face. Taking advantage of the moment, he twisted his body, escaping the chokehold. Then, cursing loudly, he swung his fist at Chen Dongfang.

Blinded by the sand, Chen Dongfang struggled to open his eyes, yet as Fatty’s punch came flying, he lashed out with his right hand, lightning-fast, intercepting the blow. His palm closed around Fatty’s fist, pulled him forward, and with a swift step and a beautiful over-the-shoulder throw, slammed Fatty hard onto the ground. Dust billowed as Fatty’s heavy body struck the earth. As Fatty tried to get up, Chen Dongfang stepped onto his chest, pinning him down. With a cold snort, he said, “Don’t try to be clever. If you want to survive this, you’d better play dumb.”

Fatty was about to retort—he’d never let a defeat stop his mouth—but I shouted at them, “Enough! What are you doing? Why are you fighting among yourselves?”

I went over and pushed at Chen Dongfang, but he didn’t budge. I glanced at him, and finally he shifted his foot away. I helped Fatty up, brushing the dust from his clothes. Fatty knew I was helping him, but as soon as he stood, he pointed at Chen Dongfang and said, “Chen, the mountains may not change but the rivers flow on. I’ll remember this debt.”

“Enough with the words,” I said, smacking Fatty’s backside.

A wise man knows when to swallow his pride, don’t you? Even if you could take on Chen Dongfang, there’s still Li Qing here—could you handle him too?

“Yezi, come here,” Chen Dongfang beckoned to me.

“Don’t go!” Fatty tugged at me, sulking like a child.

I smiled at Fatty, “Alright, don’t judge people just on your deductions. No one can really see through this.” I winked at him, and Fatty instantly caught my meaning—just as he’d winked at me earlier and I’d understood him. When we’d been sitting, I couldn’t see Chen Dongfang eavesdropping, but Fatty could. Some of his words were meant for Chen Dongfang’s ears. Now that Chen Dongfang wanted to talk to me, it was almost certainly about Fatty’s deductions.

I followed Chen Dongfang aside. He handed me a cigarette and asked, “Do you really want to know what happened back then?”

I shrugged, “Would you believe me if I said no? At first, I thought my father’s death was some kind of sacrifice, done by someone in the village. But the more I learn, the more complicated it feels. Yet the more complicated it gets, the more I want the truth.”

“When the young lady is rescued, I’ll talk to you about it. Yezi, no matter how you see me, I admit that the Chen ancestors did set things up in Fudi Valley. You may know this already. Normally, the ancestors' arrangements are meant to bless their descendants, but I don’t want to wade into these muddy waters. That’s the truth. If possible, after the young lady is safe, I’ll never set foot in Fudi Valley again. I want to step away from all of it,” Chen Dongfang said.

“Alright,” I nodded. I chose to believe him. If not for recent events, I’d never have liked to judge others with suspicion.

Afterward, the atmosphere between us grew stranger, more delicate. Fatty had taken a beating, but he was more excited than ever—it confirmed his suspicions, at least in part. Otherwise, Chen Dongfang wouldn’t have acted so fiercely toward him. Fatty was tense, frowning, as if continuing to deduce the mystery. I told him, “Stop thinking about it. Chen Dongfang said once the young lady is rescued, he’ll talk to me about it. We’ll know then.”

“You trust him?” Fatty sneered.

“This time, I do. He stayed away for so many years, and left just seven days after burying his own father—that alone shows he truly wanted nothing to do with this. Fatty, you were right: Tang Renjie is a true villain, Chen Dongfang is a hypocrite. I think so too, but I also feel something else. Tang Renjie is genuinely vile, but Chen Dongfang’s hypocrisy seems forced upon him, like what Chen Jin did—he has to bear it as a descendant, and after his death, his bones had to be carried away by paper figures and stone coffins. That’s not his fault,” I said.

Fatty curled his lip, “King of Thieves? You’ve got the wrong name—you’re nothing like Ye Jihuan! Far too naïve and innocent.”

“Enough about that. Do you think Old Fourth, the one-eyed man, will come back tonight?” I glanced at the setting sun. According to our plan, we were supposed to enter the mountain this morning, meet the yellow weasel, and return by tomorrow morning. Who knew things would be delayed a whole day?

“Who knows. Best if he doesn’t come back, so you’ll stop hoping for your Uncle Dongfang,” Fatty said.

No sooner had he finished than, from the mountain pass, a wiry old man was slowly walking our way. I stood up, “Fatty, fate’s got its tricks—he’s really back.”

Old Fourth returned to the house, sweating and bare-chested. It was clear from his physique that he must have been a remarkable hunter in his youth. His skin was dark and covered with fine scars, but beneath the darkness I could see taut muscles—his body didn’t match his face at all.

I sniffed, and indeed, there was a faint odor coming from Old Fourth. To call it stench wasn’t quite right; there was something oddly fragrant mixed in. If you paid close attention, it was unpleasant. I wasn’t sure if this was the so-called corpse stench. The corpse stench I remembered from childhood was much worse—when an elder in our village died, the body was kept for three days as tradition. In the heat of summer, the body began to rot, and even water seeped from the coffin seams. As a child, I’d stood by the coffin and smelled that odor—corpse stench is unlike any other smell.

“The Immortal said you can go in, but not him,” Old Fourth said.

He meant I could enter, but Fatty could not.

“Nonsense, Yezi, let’s go! Fatty refuses to believe he can’t reach the lair of these yellow weasels!” Fatty declared.

I was a bit surprised myself. Was this picking on the weak? Why only allow me in? If it really was just me, I might not dare to go.

But I restrained Fatty’s impulsiveness. At that moment, Old Fourth pointed at Li Qing, “The Immortal said, if you don’t feel safe alone, he can accompany you.”