As soon as Chen Zemian was carried out of the window, he heard his father mutter softly, almost to himself, “Why is it so light?”
Before he could process the words fully, a deafening bang reverberated through the air.
The solid wood window frame struck the concrete floor with a thunderous crash, shattering into shards in an instant.
At the sound, the kidnapper guarding the hostages froze, his eyes darting toward the basement. Simultaneously, bursts of noise and furious shouting erupted amid the heavy rain, echoing through the chaos.
Reacting swiftly, Chen Zemian pushed Chen Qingyu’s arm urgently. “They found it. Let’s go, first!”
Chen Qingyu cast a quick glance at Chen Zemian, surprise flickering across his face. “Where to?” he asked, voice tense.
In front of Chen Qingyu, Chen Zemian appeared simply as a good citizen—calm, composed. “Leave here first, and then call the police.”
Chen Qingyu hesitated, handing him the umbrella. “What police? Didn’t you say I’m the police?”
Chen Zemian was momentarily stunned. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat. After all, he’d said so many things—yet Chen Qingyu only believed what suited him. The mention of police had been casual, a passing remark, and somehow, his father bought it hook, line, and sinker.
Before he could say anything more, seven or eight burly men burst out from the shadows, their faces twisted with aggression.
Chen Zemian resigned himself to fate. “Alright,” he muttered bitterly, “it’s too late to call the police now.”
Then, it’s time to fight.
Chen Qingyu instinctively reached for the collapsible baton at his waist, flicked it away casually, and scoffed. “A few bastards—this is too easy.”
The kidnappers, fierce and intimidating, charged toward them wielding weapons with savage intent.
Chen Qingyu’s eyes sharpened, his expression suddenly serious. Protecting Chen Zemian behind him, he prepared himself for the coming storm.
Meanwhile, Chen Zemian, folded up the umbrella, took a step forward. “I can fight too,” he declared.
Chen Qingyu turned his wrist, casually spinning the stick in a flourish. “Just open your umbrella,” he said with a faint smile. “Dad’s here. Be careful not to get soaked.”
Before he finished speaking, Chen Qingyu’s figure blurred and vanished in an instant.
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened in shock. “!!!”
In a flash, like lightning cleaving through the rain curtain, Chen Qingyu reappeared directly in front of a hulking man. With lightning speed, he evaded the opponent’s attack, then turned and swung his stick with precision. The sound of a sharp crack echoed as the enemy’s wrist broke, the weapon flying from his grasp.
The long stick moved like a blade through the rain, slicing effortlessly—like cutting melons and vegetables—unstoppable and relentless.
Watching this, Chen Zemian silently opened his umbrella, approached the screaming thug, and knocked him unconscious with a swift blow.
At last, the chaos fell silent.
Chen Qingyu, having broken through the layers of resistance, now stood alone before the building. The rain dripped along the metal of his weapon, cold and heavy—a stark reminder of the danger that still lingered. The atmosphere was thick with solemnity, almost sacred in its silence.
He pressed a spring twist on the collapsible baton, and the sleek, sword-like form immediately retracted. Casually, he shook off the rain from the short weapon, then turned back to Chen Zemian, raising his chin and motioning for him to follow.
Chen Zemian hesitated, slightly awestruck. “Too handsome, Dad.”
He himself was impulsive, but he hadn’t thought his father could be so composed—so calculating. Without waiting for the police, he had already taken down a gang of minions and was now preparing to confront Guan Yu himself.
Chen Qingyu wiped the raindrops from his eyebrows with a finger and gazed up at the once-glorious nightclub building. “Guan Yu should still be inside. I want to go find him.”
Chen Zemian quickly reminded him, tactfully, “Dad, are you really not going to wait for the police?”
In order to prevent his father from dismissing his concern with “I am the police,” he deliberately added the word “they.”
It was a cautious move.
Chen Qingyu, ever laconic, simply replied, “When the police arrive, Guan Yu will run.”
His worry, though understated, was well-founded.
Guan Yu was born and raised in Yaotai Langyuan. As a waiter, he was a master card player—skilled at calculating the game, reading people’s minds. Over the years working for the second boss, he had grown accustomed to ruthlessness and conspiracy. After collaborating with Xiao Ruhai, his schemes deepened.
In fact, even Xiao Ruhai, cunning as he was, had fallen prey to Guan Yu’s plotting—proof of his calculated viciousness, far beyond what anyone expected.
Chen Zemian followed Chen Qingyu while recounting Guan Yu’s exploits over the years—more than just a warning to be cautious, he was, in reality, actually complaining to his father.
“Using my cousin as bait, he put allergens in the car. As soon as I got in, I couldn’t breathe. The assistant handed me tissues, and I covered my nose without thinking.”
He muttered, “Who would’ve thought there were drugs on it? This guy’s so insidious. Dad, do you think it’s safe for us to go in like this?”
Chen Qingyu, seemingly uninterested, brushed off his concern with a perfunctory tone. “Then I’ll go in alone.”
Chen Zemian’s face twisted in alarm. “How could I leave you here alone and take such risks?!”
“Danger?” Chen Qingyu raised a brow, a faint smirk on his lips. “To Guan Yu, I am the danger.”
Mistaking Chen Zemian for Chen Qingyu at the airport had already frightened Guan Yu out of his wits and sent him into a panic. If he were to see the real person, he might not even be able to escape.
Chen Zemian’s voice was cold whike he teasingly said, “But the last time you met, he killed you.”
A flicker of anger flashed across Chen Qingyu’s face. He turned sharply to look at Chen Zemian. “Why do you say Guan Yu kidnapped you?”
“Was it to negotiate with the police?” Chen Zemian asked cautiously.
“Negotiation, yes,” Chen Qingyu replied, “but also to cover up and divert attention.” His gaze swept the surroundings and finally fixated on the narrow skylight on the lawn. “There are many secret rooms in Yaotai Langyuan—without windows. Why did he lock you here?”
The basement was high and seemingly impossible to escape. Yet, a skylight above offered a sliver of hope—an escape route for ventilation, not for him.
This faint glimmer wasn’t left for Chen Zemian, but for himself.
Chen Zemian, with his unique identity, could vanish in this extraordinary moment. Everyone’s focus would be on ‘finding Chen Zemian,’ not on Guan Yu.
And once he understood this, Chen Zemian froze—shocked.
After being knocked unconscious, he had woken up to find Guan Yu’s face staring at him. It was then he learned that Ji Chenzhou was Guan Yu.
This revelation plunged Chen Zemian into a dangerous misconception—believing Guan Yu suspected the police already knew ‘Ji Chenzhou is Guan Yu,’ and was desperate to attack him.
But Guan Yu’s suspicion was not certainty.
His act of detaining Chen Zemian was, in fact, a calculated test: when news of Chen Zemian’s disappearance surfaced, Guan Yu would observe whether the police searched Ji Chenzhou’s studio. That way, he could gauge the progress of the investigation.
Guan Yu was using Chen Zemian as a bargaining chip—either a trump card or an abandoned pawn.
If the police had already caught Ji Chenzhou, then Chen Zemian was their bargaining chip. If not, then he was an expendable piece, meant to attract police attention.
Chen Qingyu ascended the stairs, voice firm. “He left that window not to let you escape, but because he wanted to run himself. Guan Yu moves fast. If we don’t catch him now, it might be impossible later.”
Reaching into Chen Qingyu’s pocket, Chen Zemian pulled out his phone, pressed a few buttons, and unlocked the screen with practiced ease.
Chen Qingyu let out a soft hiss. “You really are my son.”
That sounded more like an insult than a compliment. Chen Zemian, however, pressed the emergency call button without hesitation.
The command center had already received Cheng Ziyi’s call and swiftly transferred it to Fu Guanlan.
“Chen Zemian, are you safe now?” Fu Guanlan’s voice was tense.
“Safe,” Chen Zemian replied, following Chen Qingyu while navigating past the fallen enemies. “ Is Cheng Ziyi fine?”
Fu Guanlan hesitated, unsure whether Chen Zemian was truly safe or if he was coerced by Guan Yu. He dared not reveal too much of his own deployment plan, so he simply replied vaguely, “She’s fine. She told me about your situation.”
Walking through the wind and rain corridor, Chen Zemian nodded quietly. “That’s good.”
Guanlan asked, “Are you out now?”
Chen Zemian paused, a strange note in his voice. “I came in.”
Fu Guanlan was silent for a few moments, his voice calm yet cautious. “Where did you go in?”
Chen Zemian carefully put away his umbrella and strolled around the shattered, dusty crystal chandelier that hung precariously overhead. “Yaotai Langyuan.”
Fu Guanlan’s expression darkened, silent for a moment longer.
Suddenly, Lu Zhuonian’s voice crackled from the receiver, sharp and urgent, “Chen Zemian, what are you doing in there?”
Chen Zemian’s wrist jerked, nearly dropping his phone. He didn’t call Lu Zhuonian directly—no, he was deliberately creating a time delay, planning to raise the alarm before the other party realized he was trapped, to intercept the message in advance. Yet, unexpectedly, Lu Zhuonian responded too quickly and had already encountered Fu Guanlan.
What a bad luck!
“Aren’t you offering sacrifices to your ancestors?” Chen Zemian said, feeling inexplicably guilty. “How come I received the news so fast?”
Lu Zhuonian’s voice was unrecognizable, almost distorted, “I was offering sacrifices, not being buried alive with them. Why can’t I receive the news?”
Chen Zemian hesitated. “…”
Lu Zhuonian quickly asked, “Did you fight?”
Chen Zemian had every right to speak now, so he answered simply, “No.”
There was a slight satisfaction in Lu Zhuonian’s tone. “Good. Then, you’re doing well.”
Meanwhile, Chen Qingyu seemed to have caught wind of something. He looked back at Chen Zemian, his brow creasing with suspicion.
Suddenly, Chen Zemian went silent. An odd, almost childish feeling washed over him—as if he’d been caught by his parents in a secret love affair. Instinctively, he took a half-step back, raised his hand to cover the phone, and furtively observed Chen Qingyu’s expression.
Chen Qingyu’s face darkened with suspicion.
On the other end of the line, Fu Guanlan also covered the microphone, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Let me tell you something important.” His tone turned serious. “Tell Chen Zemian to find a safe place immediately. Do not go into Yaotai Langyuan, and do not approach Guan Yu rashly. He might be armed—he could have a gun.”
Lu Zhuonian’s sharp eyes caught something unusual. “Why does Chen Zemian want to approach Guan Yu?”
Fu Guanlan’s voice was low and tense. “Because he knows about his father.”
Hearing this, Lu Zhuonian’s face instantly changed.
He hurried over after receiving the message. Not long after meeting Fu Guanlan and the others, he realized many pieces of information hadn’t yet been synchronized. With Chen Zemian’s personality, how could he suppress his temper and avoid seeking revenge once he learned that the undercover agent secretly harmed by Guan Yu was, in fact, his father?
From Lu Zhuonian’s perspective, he certainly didn’t want Chen Zemian to put himself in danger. But if Chen Zemian had already made a decision, it was hard to dissuade him.
He hesitated, silent for a long moment, before finally speaking.
“Chen Zemian,” Fu Guanlan said quietly, “Guan Yu is now trapped. It’s only a matter of time before he’s arrested. Don’t act impulsively. Wait for us to arrive, okay?”
Chen Zemian responded calmly, “I’m not impulsive. It’s my dad who insisted on going in.”
The phrase—my dad—made everyone on the line instantly look surprised.
Fu Guanlan, Sun Yueping, Luo Jiancheng, and others all exclaimed in unison, “Your dad?”
Chen Zemian’s ears almost deafened by the sudden chorus. He frowned and held the phone farther away. “Why are you all together? What kind of car did you take? A bus?”
Fu Guanlan explained patiently, “No, they all received external calls from the command center.”
There was a pause on the line. Chen Zemian hesitated for a few seconds. “So… they heard Lu Zhuonian talking to me just now?”
“Stop talking nonsense,” Sun Yueping cut in, unable to sit still. He forcibly changed the subject. “Chen Zemian, the dad you just mentioned—Chen Qingyu, right?”
And at that moment, a familiar, distant voice sounded from the receiver—
Chen Qingyu: “Who called me?”
The chaos on the other end erupted suddenly. The line was filled with noise—multiple voices speaking at once, overlapping in a frantic jumble.
It was nearly impossible to distinguish what anyone was saying. All Chen Qingyu could feel was the overwhelming din.
Amidst the cacophony, Chen Zemian’s sharp senses caught the faint sound of footsteps approaching upstairs.
Someone was coming!
His eyes shot upward. Several figures appeared on the staircase, moving swiftly.
The person in the center, surrounded by bodyguards, was Guan Yu.
Guan Yu did not look at Chen Zemian.
His entire focus was fixed on the figure next to Chen Zemian—Guan Yu’s gaze was intense, complicated beyond words, filled with a mixture of anger, confusion, and something darker.
It was as if he had stepped onto thin air, suddenly falling into a waking dream—or perhaps, finally awakening from a long, restless sleep.
Chen Qingyu also lifted his gaze, studying the approaching figure.
His expression was cold, distant—void of emotion. No sadness, no joy. Just a detached, almost indifferent stare, as if he was observing a stranger.
In a sense, this face was unfamiliar now.
After Chen Qingyu lost his memory, he had long forgotten Guan Yu’s face—let alone the expression in front of him now.
The moment their eyes met, Guan Yu’s face contorted in shock.
Twenty years had passed, yet in Guan Yu’s eyes, the familiar voice and visage hadn’t changed—only the years had blurred the details. To him, Chen Qingyu still looked like the man he once knew.
Before Chen Qingyu could speak, Chen Zemian suddenly lunged forward with a “whoosh.”
That swift movement confirmed his identity.
“Guan Yu,” Chen Qingyu said sharply, reaching out to grab Chen Zemian’s hat. “Stay back. Children shouldn’t interfere in adult grudges.”
Chen Zemian, caught off guard, froze. “…”
Guan Yu silently studied Chen Qingyu, his eyes filled with complex, unreadable emotions.
He wanted to run, to scream, to cry—and maybe even laugh. He wanted to point to the sky and question fate, asking why it had brought Chen Qingyu back.
For this question, he didn’t know whether he wanted to ask the current Chen Qingyu or the one from twenty years ago.
Fate seemed to turn in circles, and everything was returning to the starting point.
Guan Yu’s body trembled uncontrollably. His eyes blurred with tears, spilling out before he could even speak.
“Why did you come back?”
Suddenly, Guan Yu raised his pistol, hoarse and trembling. “Chen Qingyu! Why—why did you come back?”
Chen Qingyu’s eyes shifted to Guan Yu’s hand. “That’s my pistol,” he said calmly. “You took it away for so long. Now, it’s time to return it.”
Guan Yu swallowed nervously, his gaze flickering toward the chandelier above the staircase.
Chen Zemian’s pupils constricted. “He’s going to run!”
“Chase him,” Chen Qingyu ordered without hesitation.
Guan Yu fired his weapon at the only light source—an overhead lamp—sending shards of glass and sparks flying everywhere.
In an instant, the stairwell plunged into darkness.
Guan Yu turned and bolted down the stairs.
His bodyguards surged after him, rushing toward Chen Qingyu and Chen Zemian.
The corridor was narrow and dim—a perfect setting for chaos.
Chen Qingyu shielded Chen Zemian, barking, “Hide well,” before rushing toward the crowd with his short stick clenched tightly.
Chen Zemian watched his father’s brave figure, heart pounding. In his mind, he whispered silently, I’ll go.
He quickly grabbed his umbrella and hurried after him. “Wait for me, Dad! I can fight too!”
The two moved like unstoppable forces, tearing through the tight defense line. Chen Zemian kicked the two bodyguards aside, climbed up the handrail, and chased Guan Yu into the chaos.
— * — * — * — * — *
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
