“Stop.” As Jie Yuchen said this, Wu Xie called for a halt: “It’s getting more and more exaggerated. I could tolerate the earlier parts, but the latter ones are too cliché. You don’t have to make up such an exaggerated story just to keep me entertained.”
Jie Yuchen chuckled: “How do you know I’m not telling the truth? Maybe that’s exactly how things happened.”
“It doesn’t sound true, and you’ve suddenly sped up the pace of the story, which shows you’re afraid that too many details will be overwhelming,” Wu Xie replied. “I’m a professional at being deceived.”
Jie Yuchen fell silent for a moment, sighed; Wu Xie’s words made him feel a sense of suffocation. Indeed, the later events were fictionalized by him. He didn’t know what exactly happened 11 years ago that ultimately made the Black Eyed Man unable to take off those sunglasses.
“After the water from that well was pumped dry, the building was sealed off, and no one in the courtyard ever mentioned that incident again. The next time I saw the Black Eyed Man, his eye condition had become very serious,” Jie Yuchen said. “I can only confirm one thing: the only person who went down that well and came back up was him.”
Everyone in this line of work has some old stories, and even if told in the most indifferent tone, strangers would still feel a sense of nostalgia. Unfortunately, Wu Xie was too familiar with these matters.
This is an industry full of legends, where what might astonish and attract people could be a stable and peaceful family, or an ordinary and normal death. “He actually just died of old age?” is likely the most envied and surprising thing.
Was he interested in the Black Eyed Man’s eye condition? To be honest, he was completely uninterested now.
If curiosity had a quota, his curiosity had already been exhausted. In this lifetime, he probably would never be interested in anything again. If someone were to ask him, “Do you know what happened next?” Wu Xie’s first reaction would likely be disgust and fear.
He continued to listen, hoping to understand this person as much as possible. This person, 11 years ago, had a deterioration in his eyesight. Although it couldn’t be as exaggerated as Jie Yuchen described, judging from the first half of the story with those 13 corpses, his eye problem should be related to that time.
He had just come to do a favor, but it ended up like this. Wu Xie understood very well the kind of person Chen Pi Ah Si was; the Black Eyed Man could only bear the consequences himself. Looking at his current state, at least he seemed to be a very resilient or optimistic person.
Such a person should be trustworthy on a fundamental level. Moreover, this person meddles in others’ affairs, which doesn’t quite match Wu Xie’s impression of how a certain group behaves.
Unfortunately, the basic information Jie Yuchen knew about the Black Eyed Man was mostly limited to this. Once important information about a person’s life is uncovered and publicized, that person’s mystique largely disappears. After listening, Wu Xie suddenly felt that the Black Eyed Man had become an ordinary person.
Jie Yuchen continued to discuss the details and various speculations, providing a very insightful analysis. If recorded, it would make for an excellent storyline in a detective novel. However, Wu Xie really began to feel drowsy; his consciousness blurred, and he slowly fell asleep.
Jie Yuchen’s voice grew softer and softer, until Wu Xie’s breathing became heavy, and only then did he stop speaking. Wu Xie was covered with a blanket and the curtains were drawn; he slept in the café until closing time. When he woke up, Jie Yuchen had already left. His throat was dry and he coughed, feeling very uncomfortable, but the long-awaited sleep had still saved him.
He hadn’t obtained any decisive information from Jie Yuchen, and he understood that in this line of work, no one could claim to fully understand another person. However, he still included Hei Xiazi in the list of people he could trust. It was a gamble, but also the most fundamental kind of gamble. The foundation of this trust was the message Hei Xiazi had conveyed, and of course, this trust also came with protective measures.
This level of trust was already the limit of what Wu Xie could manage. By the time he left the café, it was already midnight. His ears were filled with nonsensical music, and the smoke still hadn’t stopped. His thoughts hadn’t ceased either; he walked all the way to the Suyuan Bridge and dialed Hei Xiazi’s number.
It was an ordinary night, and Wu Xie had locked onto the last key ally. He didn’t have many chips in hand, and each one was a tight squeeze, yet the situation left him no room for complaints. After that, he waited in Beijing, anticipating the news of a person’s death. That day soon approached, and the dark fire began to burn; he knew he could not stop it.
Until now, Wu Xie dreamed every night of that last meeting with Jie Yuchen. He had already fully revealed his thoughts to Xiao Hua beforehand, but that day marked the beginning of everything. It was also the last day of what he called surface tranquility.
Yes, just surface. He didn’t distrust this partner who had helped him countless times; he just forced himself not to trust anyone. After that day, the news he awaited daily turned into a terrifying torment for him.
Wu Xie woke up once again from his dreams. In a daze, he felt as if he were still in the café in Nanluoguxiang, just waking up on that warm afternoon. He only woke up in the passenger seat of the car because the vehicle had come to a stop.
He patted the pocket on his chest, wanting to find a cigarette, but discovered there were none left. This was it; his smoking habit ended here. This was his plan for himself. After finishing the last cigarette at the rest stop, he no longer needed to smoke, nor could he.
The car stopped at a mountain pass, where a young lama was leading two groups of small horses, waiting at the entrance of a small shop. The road ahead could no longer be driven on; they could only ride the small horses in.
“Boss, I’ll miss you,” Wang Meng said. The long drive had left him mentally sluggish, and he wore an expression of fatigue mixed with a fear of facing this scene.
Wu Xie handed him an envelope: “This is your remaining salary and the bonuses from these past few years. You’ve been fired. After you go back, make sure to lock the door and find a more reliable job.”
Wang Meng took the envelope, and the thickness of it told him that the money inside wouldn’t be too little; he trembled a bit.
“The car is yours. You’re not a kid anymore; don’t just play video games, okay? Just go home. If you stay here, I’m afraid I’ll hesitate.”
“Got it.”
Wu Xie pushed the door open and got out of the car, patting his lama robe. He had nothing with him except for this outfit and a pair of glasses. He walked over to the young lama and greeted him with a bow. The young lama brought a small pony in front of him. Behind him, he could hear the sound of Wang Meng reversing the car; it gradually moved away, taking with it everything from his past, instantly rendering it irrelevant to him.
