Xiao Kesong did not grasp the profound meaning behind the phrase “untying the bell.” He couldn’t understand why Lu Zhuonian would choose such a beautiful word as “fate” to describe an experience so bitter and distressing.
He had just finished hugging Chen Zemian as he cried, and now he refused to let go. His chin rested on Chen Zemian’s shoulder, his nose still red from tears. Sobbing, he looked up at Lu Zhuonian and asked through trembling lips, “Then… are you angry with me?”
Lu Zhuonian extended a tissue to Xiao Kesong with a gentle expression. “It’s all over,” he said softly.
Xiao Kesong sobbed harder. “So… you will still be angry with me?”
Chen Zemian cast a warning glance at Lu Zhuonian, silently conveying a message, What are you saying? I was just comforting him!
Lu Zhuonian appeared blank, pressing the tissue against Xiao Kesong’s face, then rewriting his answer on the spot. “No. I won’t be angry with you.”
Hearing this, Xiao Kesong’s tense shoulders finally relaxed, and a faint hope blossomed within him. His sobs gradually subsided, and a flicker of relief appeared in his eyes.
“Don’t cry anymore. Go wash your face first,” Chen Zemian gently urged, pulling Xiao Kesong out of the house. “Finish the report with Officer Fu, and afterward, I’ll treat you to hot pot.”
When Xiao Kesong finished the report and stepped out of the police station, two officers were escorting Xiao Ruhai from a nearby car. It was late winter in Beijing—the air was dry and cold. The grass and trees were withered and yellow, the green pines faded, and the branches stood barren and desolate.
In the biting wind, the grandfather and grandson looked at each other from a distance, separated by the flashing red and blue police lights.
Because they had failed to obtain a confession, and with the evidence currently available insufficient to justify an arrest, Xiao Ruhai was not subjected to coercive measures. He was dressed neatly, calm and composed—more like someone inspecting work than a summons recipient.
It wasn’t until Xiao Ruhai spotted Xiao Kesong that his usually placid expression subtly changed. This encounter at the police station’s entrance had been deliberately arranged by Fu Guanlan. The hope was that, through this meeting, some key information that couldn’t be obtained directly from Xiao Ruhai might be glimpsed.
Xiao Kesong, eager to find answers, approached the police.
“Why?” he asked directly, without any preamble or questioning tactics. “I don’t understand.”
Xiao Ruhai sighed softly and patted Xiao Kesong’s shoulder gently. “You need to grow up, my dear grandson.”
Instantly, Xiao Kesong’s eyes reddened. He pursed his lips stubbornly, trembling slightly at the corners of his mouth. He longed to ask countless questions, but the only one that escaped his trembling lips was, “Why, Grandpa?”
Xiao Ruhai spoke in a calm, lofty tone. “After the fall of Yaotai Langyuan, Yuanqi Drink reappeared. Although it was banned, the raw materials still circulated in secret. My aim is to lure the snake out of its hole and eradicate it completely.”
Xiao Kesong’s eyes widened slowly, disbelief flickering across his face. “You’re using this method?”
“The kidnappers’ initial target wasn’t Lu Zhuonian,” Xiao Ruhai continued, his gaze distant. “It was you, Kesong.” His eyes shifted past Xiao Kesong and settled on Fu Guanlan. “If Officer Fu had read the files related to Yuanqi Drink, he would have known that the first merchant to report Yuanqi Drink under his real name was, in fact, the Xiao family’s business.”
Fu Guanlan nodded slightly. “A brave man cuts off his arm. Old Master Xiao has always been courageous. Otherwise, how could the Xiao family have hidden in the shadows and deceived the police for so many years?”
Xiao Ruhai ignored the implied accusations but pressed on. “Those who dare to resell contraband at the height of its circulation are inherently vicious and evil. After being reported by the Xiao family, they’ve been seeking revenge. My plan was to use Kesong as bait—to catch them all in one fell swoop.” He paused, a faint smile on his face. “I deliberately revealed that I would visit the planetarium with my grandson the next day at the press conference. Yet, I didn’t expect they would ultimately target Lu Zhuonian. May I ask, Officer Fu—does this also count as illegal?”
Fu Guanlan chuckled. “Grandpa Xiao’s words are eloquent. Clearly, you’re worried that the investigation into Yuanqi Drink might implicate the Xiao family. The act of abandoning the car to save the driver and shouting ‘Catch the thief’—that’s justice and righteousness in your mouth, serving the country and the people.”
Both sides voiced their opinions passionately; each was reasonable, yet their conclusions diverged sharply.
Xiao Kesong, unsure whom to believe, subconsciously shifted his gaze toward Lu Zhuonian. The latter, undoubtedly the smartest among them, would surely understand what was happening.
At that moment, Fu Guanlan changed the subject, focusing on Lu Zhuonian. “Let’s set aside the original purpose of the Xiao family’s reporting on Yuanqi Drink. Instead, let’s discuss why the young master of the Lu family was kidnapped.”
Xiao Ruhai responded calmly, “This was an accident. I am sorry.”
“I re-interrogated the kidnappers from that time,” Fu Guanlan said, producing a stack of transcripts. He turned to a particular page. “One of them claimed to be Mr. Xiao’s secretary. He handed us a photo and instructed us to kidnap the child and sell him according to the usual method. Apparently, they could still turn a profit.”
Xiao Ruhai’s expression remained unchanged. “Officer Fu, can we investigate a case based solely on ‘self-claims’?”
Fu Guanlan then produced a sketch. “Then let’s discuss this person claiming to be your secretary.”
Xiao Ruhai raised an eyebrow, took a glance, and his tone turned cold. “I don’t know him. There’s nothing more to say.”
Suddenly, Xiao Kesong stepped forward and grasped the portrait.
The drawing paper fluttered in the wind like a fallen leaf, revealing secrets hidden deep within.
Xiao Ruhai’s eyes darkened slightly. “Kesong!”
Xiao Kesong stared steadily at the portrait. Perhaps after a few seconds—or even longer—he finally returned it to Fu Guanlan.
“Do you know him?” Fu Guanlan asked, eyes narrowing.
Xiao Kesong turned and looked at Xiao Ruhai with a deep gaze. “I have met him.”
Fu Guanlan also scrutinized Xiao Ruhai. “Grandpa Xiao, do you have anything else to say?”
Xiao Ruhai’s attitude was cold. “I have nothing more to say.”
“Then let me speak,” Fu Guanlan said, handing the portraits to his colleagues. “It’s well known that Xiao Qijian, the eldest son of the Xiao family, was frail and sickly. You trained Xiao Qiwu to succeed you, but he burned down the ancestral hall and left his hometown. As a result, you focused all your hopes on your only grandson.”
Though Xiao Kesong was simple-minded, he had received elite education from a young age and performed well among his peers. He stood out in his own right.
Yet, his two best friends—Ye Chen and Lu Zhuonian—cast a shadow over him. Under the brilliance of these talented youths from the Lu and Ye families, the naive Xiao Kesong seemed overshadowed.
Xiao Qiwu, once compared to Lu Zhuonian, had his own strengths and was evenly matched. Xiao Ruhai was confident that, with such a successor, the Xiao family could thrive for the next fifty years.
However, times changed. Now, the heir was Xiao Kesong.
Though simple and sentimental, these qualities proved to be fatal weaknesses in the cutthroat world of business.
Xiao Kesong couldn’t even compete with the thirteen-year-old Lu Zhuonian.
If Lu Zhuonian was not eliminated, the Xiao family’s future might be dictated by the Lu family within twenty or thirty years.
Thus, Xiao Ruhai decided to act against Lu Zhuonian—to clear the path for the Xiao family and his grandson.
At first glance, it seemed an unfounded move. Yet, behind it lurked deep and weighty calculations.
Xiao Kesong looked at his grandfather and, almost instinctively, took a half step back. “Is what he said true, Grandpa?”
Xiao Ruhai remained silent, expressionless. Then, he asked Fu Guanlan indifferently, “Since when do the police investigate cases based solely on inferences? Your story is compelling, but I’m afraid there’s no concrete evidence.”
“Don’t worry,” Fu Guanlan replied, flipping through two pages of transcripts. “I will show you the evidence immediately. Among the transcripts, besides your secretary, they also mentioned the origin of Yuanqi Drink.”
Xiao Ruhai’s face was blank. “Really? And what did they call themselves?”
Fu Guanlan said, “They mentioned a man called ‘Little Brother Chen.'”
Xiao Ruhai’s expression instantly changed.
Lu Zhuonian pressed his fingertips together and observed Chen Zemian calmly.
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened slightly, full of curiosity, listening intently.
Twenty years ago, after the Yaotai Langyuan case concluded, the drug involved, ‘Qiongjiang,’ was listed as a banned substance, and those involved were tried one by one. However, the formula for ‘Qiongjiang’ had been leaked and was now in the hands of a man known as ‘Little Brother Chen.’
Using that formula, Little Brother Chen founded the Yuanqi Drink industry in the open, diverting police attention. Secretly, he joined forces with Xiao Ruhai to establish Huanyu Media, attempting to rebuild a paradise on the ruins of Yaotai Langyuan.
The boss of Yuanqi Drink was merely a scapegoat. He was duped into investing in a health product company and became its legal agent. During the peak months of Yuanqi Drink’s sales, money flowed like snowflakes. Seeing the skyrocketing figures in his account, he believed it was due to his sharp vision and luck.
Until his arrest, he had no idea where the most critical raw materials originated.
He and his Yuanqi Drink company had been abandoned from the start. Under the guise of Yuanqi Drink, Huanyu Media’s tentacles secretly expanded. It not only gained a foothold in Beijing but also quietly replicated the essence of Yaotai Langyuan’s operations—using Xiaojin Pills to control disobedient artists and stars.
When the moon is full, it will be devoured; when the water is full, it will overflow. As Huanyu Media’s model expanded to its limits, an inevitable collapse loomed.
In truth, there was no impenetrable wall in this world.
Despite strict control, many participated in the illicit dealings daily. The tiny golden pills, only the size of mung beans, were easy to smuggle—no one noticed one more or less. These banned drugs circulated internally, sold as fresh goods in Fanlou to turn a profit.
“A thousand-mile embankment is destroyed by ants,” Fu Guanlan said gravely, producing an evidence bag with two small black pills. “Since the fall of Yaotai Langyuan, you’ve hidden the formula for twenty years. The value of the benefits gained from such illicit transactions is incalculable. Yet, in Fanlou, these pills are only priced at a thousand yuan. Isn’t that ironic?”
Xiao Ruhai closed his eyes, silent.
Fu Guanlan carefully stored the evidence and then said earnestly, “Grandpa Xiao, according to seniority, I should call you Uncle Xiao. The evidence points to the fact that the person hiding behind this—’Brother Chen’—is the main culprit. You’re old. Why do you insist on protecting him?”
Xiao Ruhai pursed his lips tightly. “What do you want to ask?”
Keenly aware that Xiao Ruhai’s attitude was softening slightly, Fu Guanlan pressed on step by step. “If you explain his involvement clearly, it’s at least a confession. If you can clarify other criminal facts besides the joint crime, you might even earn merit. And at your age, these two benefits—meritorious confession and sentence reduction—could be granted at a 10% discount. You wouldn’t have to wait until February next year, and you wouldn’t face the death penalty.”
Even now, Xiao Ruhai did not admit guilt. Instead, he said calmly, “I do know a little about Brother Chen’s affairs.”
Fu Guanlan held his breath, eager. “Who is he?”
Xiao Ruhai replied quietly, “He’s a waiter at Yaotai Langyuan Nightclub and the lover of the second boss.”
Twenty years ago, that world was far less open than today. Homosexuality was a secret, a niche. Even in the most promiscuous nightclubs, men seeking other men were rare, and such encounters were usually private transactions. Few knew about his relationship with the second boss.
If the second boss hadn’t been shot, Fu Guanlan would have rushed to interrogate him, desperate to uncover his true identity.
Talking to Xiao Ruhai, however, was difficult. His personal emotions toward homosexuality ran deep. “I don’t see what’s good about him. But he is indeed capable. Not only did he seduce the second boss, but he later hooked up with the big boss too.”
Fu Guanlan was uninterested in these romantic stories. His main goal was to confirm the man’s identity. So he asked directly, “What’s his name?”
“It seems to be Kevin,” Xiao Ruhai glanced at him and explained. “The waiters at Yaotai Langyuan all use English names.”
Fu Guanlan: “…”
“And now?” he pressed. “What’s his current name, and where is he?”
Xiao Ruhai said slowly, “After Yaotai Langyuan’s fall, everyone who knew about his relationship with the second boss suspected that the secret recipe was with him. If you were him, would you stay in the country?”
Fu Guanlan: “He went abroad?”
Xiao Ruhai nodded and sighed. “He went abroad, had plastic surgery, changed his name, and it’s difficult to find him now.”
Hearing this, Fu Guanlan’s anger spiked; he almost wanted to punch the wall. “Then how did you contact him?”
Xiao Ruhai refused to admit guilt. “We didn’t contact each other.”
Fu Guanlan hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Mr. Xiao, are you joking with me?”
Xiao Ruhai thought carefully, then replied, “I might still have some of his old photos at home.”
Fu Guanlan’s mood fluctuated wildly. He couldn’t shake the suspicion that Xiao Ruhai was deliberately seeking revenge. Frustrated, he almost ordered to take Xiao Ruhai into custody immediately. “Then let’s go.”
Xiao Ruhai, however, paused. “Aren’t you going to record his statement first?”
“Fu Guanlan: “Take his photo first, and we’ll talk about the rest later.”
Xiao Ruhai slowly said, “Oh. Then do I need to explain his criminal facts too?”
Suddenly, Fu Guanlan realized he had fallen into Xiao Ruhai’s rhythm, unwittingly.
He summoned two colleagues, beckoning them to get into the car, and decided to record the journey to Xiao’s house along the way. Time was pressing, and they had no choice but to race against it. The police moved slowly, their sirens faint in the distance.
Xiao Kesong frowned, watching the police car disappear into the night. Meanwhile, Chen Zemian draped his arm casually over Xiao Kesong’s shoulders and, with a detached tone, remarked, “Have you noticed that the big boss also seems to have the last name Chen? Little Brother Chen.”
Lu Zhuonian remained silent, eyes fixed ahead. Xiao Kesong’s brow furrowed further, his mind racing as a series of blows to his reasoning struck him. “Maybe,” he muttered, “it’s the ‘Chen’ in a name like Ye Chen.”
Ye Chen? The name echoed silently in the car’s silence, unacknowledged.
In the police vehicle, the officer in charge of recording reached for pen and paper, indicating that Fu Guanlan could ask questions. Fu asked routinely, “Do you have anything to say when you come to the police station this time?”
Xiao Ruhai leaned back, half-closed his eyes, and responded calmly, “Yes. I want to clarify Kevin’s criminal record.”
Fu Guanlan tilted his head, reminding the recorder, “Kevin is Little Brother Chen, marked in brackets. That’s his English name from his days as a waiter at Yaotai Langyuan.”
The recorder scribbled hurriedly. “Got it.”
Fu pressed on, “What criminal record?”
Xiao Ruhai’s words stunned everyone. “He killed a policeman.”
The driver suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing everyone in the car to turn and look at Xiao Ruhai in shock.
He remained unfazed. “This should be considered a meritorious act,” he said evenly.
“Who did he kill?” Fu Guanlan’s grip tightened around Xiao Ruhai’s arm. “When did it happen?”
Xiao Ruhai answered with unwavering calm, “On the night Yaotai Langyuan was destroyed. He killed a notorious thug associated with the second boss. He claimed that man was an undercover policeman.”
A shiver ran down Fu Guanlan’s spine. “A very famous thug?”
Xiao Ruhai nodded. “Yes, very famous. We all called him Nanfeng, but Kevin called him—”
“Qingyu.”
Twenty years ago, on a summer night heavy with rain, the once-luxurious Yaotai Langyuan was engulfed in flames. The fire danced wildly in the rainstorm, devouring sins and evidence alike, reducing the grand edifice to ashes.
Everyone was gone. Some had perished, others escaped, and a few were arrested. The fall of Yaotai Langyuan had been sudden. Just the day before, it was alive with singing and dancing, basking in its luxury. Now, the building teetered on the brink of collapse, consumed by flames.
Kevin’s face bore the fresh slap mark left by the second boss the night before. That same night, he saw the boss shot dead in the corridor’s end.
Because of a mistake, Kevin was locked in a secret room, placed in solitary confinement for a day, waiting for the boss to calm down and release him. However, before that could happen, gunfire and police arrived in a frenzy of chaos.
They exchanged fierce fire within the building’s ruins. Now, everything was over—yet Kevin dared not step outside. He didn’t know if it was truly safe, nor where he could go.
The person who had promised to save him had not come.
Kevin wanted to believe Chen Qingyu, but his instincts urged him to plan early. Chen Qingyu had once promised to rescue them from this nightmare. Now, everyone was gone—except for him.
Darkness and despair rolled over him like a relentless tide. He couldn’t help but wonder—would Qingyu forget him?
It seemed impossible. Among all the victims of Yaotai Langyuan, Kevin was the only one who knew Qingyu’s true identity as a policeman. He had helped hide that truth and pass messages more than once.
They had sworn to dismantle Yaotai Langyuan’s towering edifice and completely destroy its drug trade. How could Qingyu abandon him now?
But when he was captured by the second boss, Qingyu hadn’t saved him.
Kevin set a mental deadline. If Chen Qingyu didn’t come before the rain stopped, he wouldn’t wait any longer.
Years with the second boss had taught him one harsh lesson—to survive in a world where the strong prey on the weak, you need bargaining chips.
And his? The secret recipe of banned drugs.
Xiao Ruhai’s voice was slow and soft, yet chilling. “The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. The Yaotai Langyuan case was so powerful that many influential officials fell one after another. Who would have thought the final winner would be a mere waiter?”
Fu Guanlan’s fingertips tingled with cold. “Did Chen Qingyu know about the secret recipe?”
Xiao Ruhai shook his head. “That was his escape route. How could he tell a policeman?”
Fu pressed further, “If Chen Qingyu didn’t know, and the secret was in his possession, then why did he kill him before leaving?”
A bitter smile curled on Xiao Ruhai’s lips. “Because he might have wanted to be a good person, but fate played a cruel joke.”
Thunder rumbled in the sky, lightning streaking across the dark clouds—an apocalyptic spectacle. Rain and flames intertwined, crackling with chaos, destruction echoing endlessly.
Kevin hunched over, clutching his legs, waiting in the dark for what seemed like eternity. Hours passed, the sky gradually lightened, and the fire was doused by the relentless rain. Yet, Chen Qingyu never appeared.
As expected—no one could be trusted.
He once believed Qingyu was different from others. But, in the end, it was all the same.
The flames died out, leaving behind thick smoke. No stars shone on the rainy night; the streetlights flickered dimly beneath the haze.
Tonight, Yaotai Langyuan was destroyed, and the entire city of Beijing was thrown into chaos.
As the operation concluded and sirens faded into the distance, everyone left—except him, standing amid the ruins.
Kevin felt a twinge of disappointment—yet it was muted. He had grown used to being abandoned.
But it didn’t matter. The secret recipe was still in his possession. With it, he could exchange it for a hefty sum, leave Beijing behind, and go wherever he pleased.
Yet, paradoxically, Kevin chose not to leave.
The rain had long stopped, but he remained rooted in place, waiting for someone who might never return.
Earlier than Chen Qingyu, Xiao Ruhai had appeared. At that time, the Xiao family was just beginning to rise. They weren’t well-known among Beijing’s wealthy circles, rarely visiting Yaotai Langyuan. Kevin had only met Xiao Ruhai once.
Neither of them anticipated crossing paths here.
Xiao Ruhai’s purpose was clear — he sought the secret recipe. His goal was to replicate Yaotai Langyuan’s success, using banned drugs to establish a vast empire of power, money, and influence.
He told Kevin that everything was over—that no one would come again.
“People can only rely on themselves,” Xiao Ruhai said softly. “If you want to control your destiny, you must keep climbing.”
His words were deliberate, logical. “Yaotai Langyuan has fallen, but the chain of interests will never truly break. When the next red building rises, do you want to stand atop it, looking down on everyone? Or remain mired in the mud, slaughtered by others?”
The next red building would rise again.
Looking at the ruins of Yaotai Langyuan, Kevin was drawn in by those four words—‘re-rise of the red building.’
He had worked alongside the second boss and the big boss. Power and money were the rules of this ruthless world.
Perhaps, this was fate.
Yaotai Langyuan—the nightmare of his life—was where he had been humiliated and, ultimately, where he was destined to be reborn from the ashes.
The words “superior” echoed in his mind like the toll of pearls.
He wavered. Initially, he only wanted to sell the secret recipe for money. Yet, Xiao Ruhai’s ambitious blueprint stirred something deeper inside him.
“I don’t come here often, and I don’t understand the workings of Yaotai Langyuan,” Xiao Ruhai said with a calculated smile, “but I have money. I have connections.”
He pointed at Kevin, raising his palm. “And you—you are the divine messenger I need. No one knows the rules of Yaotai Langyuan better than you. How can such a coincidence be mere chance? Don’t you think this is the will of the gods? Surely, we should cooperate.”
Kevin’s body trembled uncontrollably. He licked his lips, hesitant.
Xiao Ruhai seized the moment, pulling out a check. “If you’re afraid, just sell me the secret recipe. We can discuss everything else later.”
Finally, Kevin took the check.
No one anticipated Chen Qingyu’s sudden appearance during their transaction.
His face was deathly pale, bloodstains evident on his body.
For a moment, Kevin’s expression twisted into one of deep unease.
When had Qingyu arrived? Did he overhear their conversation? Did he realize he had sold the secret recipe? What would he think of him now? Would he drag Kevin into prison?
From Xiao Ruhai’s perspective, Chen Qingyu probably had no idea they had made a deal.
As soon as Qingyu entered the room, he drew his gun and stood protectively in front of Kevin.
It was a clear gesture of defense—a sign of immense trust.
How could he not trust Kevin?
Kevin had been toying with the beds of Yaotai Langyuan’s two bosses all day. If he intended to betray Qingyu, he didn’t need to wait for today.
Even in a state of overdose, unconscious from banned drugs, he had never exposed Qingyu’s true identity.
They faced each other—three lives intertwined—frozen in a tense standoff for what felt like an eternity.
Those precious minutes stretched longer than hundreds of seconds—longer than any torment inflicted during torture.
Once the arrow was loosed, there was no turning back. He saw no other path. Even if Chen Qingyu remained unaware of the conspiracy, once Xiao Ruhai was arrested, he would inevitably reveal everything.
Kevin’s world had no escape.
God was so unfair. He had made a wrong choice, and now his opportunity to stand beside Qingyu in the sun was lost forever.
He looked at Qingyu’s pale profile, eyes filled with sorrow and regret.
I too wanted to be a hero, a dragon-slayer. But now, I’ve caught myself making a deal with the devil.
Power and money had seduced him.
The moment he accepted the check, he had embarked on a road from which there was no return.
All his hopes—fleeting clouds—vanished like wisps of smoke.
Kevin and Chen Qingyu stood so close that he could smell the blood on Qingyu’s skin, see the tremors in his body.
Qingyu was wounded. Blood seeped from his injury, soaking the bandage and spreading like ink on rice paper, slowly staining his clothes.
What a once-in-a-lifetime chance—God had cut off all retreat, yet left a faint glimmer of hope to move forward.
If only you had come earlier, Kevin thought bitterly.
As he plunged the dagger into Qingyu’s back, he whispered in his ear, “Qingyu, don’t blame me. You’re late.”
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
