Chapter Seventy: A Narrow Escape from Death

From Fatty’s despondent demeanor, I could tell he had truly been tormented by Little Ling. Yet I said nothing—after all, Little Ling’s mind was still that of a seven- or eight-year-old child. I knew Fatty was only griping; he’d never seriously argue with a child.

After a brief, understated exchange, we each returned to our rooms, washed up, and changed our clothes. As I turned to leave, a sudden thought struck me—where was my phone? I remembered I hadn’t taken it with me when I left. Now, a month had passed; it must have run out of battery long ago. I wondered if anyone had tried to call me during this time.

I searched my room for a good while before finally finding it in a corner. Pressing the power button, I saw it had automatically shut down. I plugged it in to charge, impatiently waiting for it to turn on. As soon as it powered up, dozens of messages flooded in, mostly missed call alerts.

I went through them one by one. My cousin had called the most, followed by my father, who’d called once three days ago. There were also two unfamiliar numbers that had tried to reach me seven times just yesterday.

I called my father first. As soon as the line connected, his voice, tinged with reproach, rang out, “You rascal, where have you been? Why is your phone off?”

Faced with his scolding, I quickly made up an excuse—that I’d lost my phone and had just bought a new one. My father was half-convinced and let it go, then went on to ask how I was doing and whether I had enough money. If not, he said, I should tell him.

Hearing this, I was momentarily baffled. My father had always taught me that a man should rely on himself and not turn to family for everything, or he’d never grow up. What had gotten into him this time? The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

So I said, “I’ve got money, I can take care of myself. What’s wrong, Dad—did you strike it rich?”

My father, on the other end, raised his voice and cursed me, then said, “Strike it rich? You know your father—just the same old salary every month. But you, don’t just think of yourself; treat the girl well.”

His words caught me off guard. But I immediately realized—it must have been something my cousin said.

Just as I was about to explain, my father suddenly grew serious and asked, “Can you bring her home for New Year’s?”

Oh, come on...

I was speechless and quickly replied, “Don’t listen to my cousin’s nonsense. There’s nothing official yet.”

But before I finished, my father blew up, shouting, “If you come home alone this year, see if I don’t break your legs!”

He hung up before I could explain further.

I was completely at a loss. I’d thought about calling him back, but decided against it. He was just trying to scare me; he wouldn’t really break my legs. Besides, even a tiger won’t eat its own cubs.

I picked up my phone and dialed my cousin, but the line was busy. Glancing at the time—past ten—she was probably at work and unable to answer. I’d have to wait until lunchtime to call again.

Looking through my messages, I realized I hadn’t noticed before, but my cousin had sent several texts during this period. The first read, “Are you back? Why aren’t you answering?”

The second, “Did something happen? Why is your phone always off?”

Almost every three days, she’d sent a message, the content shifting from concern to worry.

When I saw the last message, my heart leapt into my throat. Sent last night, it contained just two words: “Help me!”

A terrible premonition seized me—something must have happened to my cousin. She had never joked about this sort of thing.

I tried her number again, but it was still busy.

Unplugging my phone, I dashed out of the room and called to Feng Zimo, who was showering in the bathroom, telling him something had happened and to get ready—we needed to leave immediately.

Without waiting for his reply, I knocked on Lin Weiyan’s door. She opened it, wrapped in a towel, her head tilted as she dried her wet hair. Normally, I’d sneak a few extra looks, but urgency left no room for distraction.

I got straight to the point: “My cousin’s in trouble. Get ready—we’re leaving now. Meet downstairs in a bit.”

Lin Weiyan nodded without a word and went back into her room.

Downstairs, Wu Xin, Fatty, Little Ling, and Xiao Xiao were chatting, munching on sunflower seeds. Seeing me rush down, they all paused, surprised.

Fatty was the first to ask, “Brother Chu, what’s going on?”

I told him directly, “Something’s come up—we have to leave first.”

Fatty widened his eyes. “What happened? Can Fatty help?”

I replied, “It’s nothing, Fatty. I can handle it.”

Fatty said, “Don’t be shy with me—if you need anything, just say the word. One phone call and I’ll be there.”

He handed me a business card, which I accepted, slipping it into my pocket.

Wu Xin had been watching me with a serious expression since I’d come down. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew that if I asked, he’d follow me without hesitation.

But I didn’t ask. He’d already fulfilled his promise to help me search for the Soul-Stealing Pearl; I had no right to demand more.

Meeting Wu Xin’s gaze, I said, “Brother Wu, thanks for everything. Let’s get together for a drink sometime.”

Wu Xin nodded silently.

Just then, Feng Zimo and Lin Weiyan came down from upstairs. Without a word, they followed me out of the hotel.

Before we even stepped outside, Wu Xin suddenly called out, “Take this—it could save your life when it counts.”

He pulled a jade pendant from around his neck, shaped like a bagua, and tossed it to me.

I instinctively caught it, glancing at its intricate design. About to refuse such a weighty gift, I was stopped cold by Wu Xin’s next words.

He looked at me solemnly and said, “Take care. Be cautious in all things—don’t be careless. I just did a quick calculation for you; I fear this will be a life-and-death ordeal.”