Chapter 42: The Skin Beneath

Yesterday, when Secretary Jin sang this song on the opera stage, her Cantonese was impeccable and her performance polished, but the boy hadn’t much liked it.

Now, her Cantonese wasn’t quite accurate, but her singing flowed like river water rushing into a ready-dug canal—natural and unforced.

Singing was a mysterious thing. You could tell the voice even through a mask; even a new skin didn’t change its essence.

Earlier, when Secretary Jin rested both hands on his shoulders, that familiar feeling told Li Zhuiyuan exactly who she was now.

Likewise, it wasn’t hard to guess that the true orchestrator behind last night’s terrifying bloodbath was the thing wearing Ding Dalin’s skin.

It was the real master of the stage.

Which meant the danger wasn’t over. Little Oriole, beside it, held only a secondary role.

Those Water Monkeys had dug it up.

Li Zhuiyuan suddenly realized he, Little Oriole, and the Water Monkeys had all been demoted to background scenery—no, less than that.

Whether he and Great-Grandpa could keep their skins intact depended entirely on its whims.

So the song, the gestures—they were all Little Oriole’s way of warning him.

His vigilance, momentarily softened by her appearance, snapped sharply back into place.

Then it hit him—if “it” could control Secretary Jin to flash light signals and lure six Water Monkeys from the perimeter for skinning, how could it possibly have missed him and Runsheng on the rooftop?

Had they really escaped unscathed because they were fast?

All the Water Monkeys, except Ding Dalin, were outsiders. Ding Dalin’s only local connection—the only person who’d helped him buy a house under his name—was Li Sanjiang.

If it wanted the fish pond filled and peach trees planted on this leased land, it had to go through Li Sanjiang.

So, all this time, the one holding up the collapsing situation... was still his own Great-Grandpa.

Secretary Jin finished her song.

Li Zhuiyuan led the applause. Tan Wenbin followed, clapping and praising repeatedly, “Good, good, good!”

Li Sanjiang touched the sound system, commenting, “Nice. Not bad. When Zhuangzhuang comes to fetch the tables and dishes later, have him bring this back too.”

“Heh, as long as you’re happy with it.”

Li Zhuiyuan asked innocently, “Grandpa Ding, how much did this cost?”

Li Sanjiang frowned. This was a freebie—they were just taking it back. Why bring up money? Was the kid dumb?

But then his frown softened. This child, honest and straightforward, wasn’t like those ungrateful brats.

Li Zhuiyuan had asked on purpose. After all they’d been through, he’d started sensing the laws of “cause and effect.” Especially when dealing with the shadowy presence—nothing it gave came free.

Better to hear what it wanted first.

“Yes, Linhou, how much did it cost you from the opera troupe? I’ll pay for it. I can make the cost back in six months.”

“Talking money between us only hurts feelings.”

Li Sanjiang slung his arm around Ding Dalin and gave him a hearty shake. “I misjudged you when you came back. You’re a decent man. I’m not your equal.”

At first, he thought Ding Dalin was putting on airs.

But when someone gifts you a house, land, and a sound system, it’s hard not to soften. That was a lot.

“To be honest, Sanjianghou, I do need a favor.”

Seeing Ding Dalin playing along, Li Sanjiang casually dug in his ear with his pinky.

“Speak. I’m happy to help anytime.”

Li Zhuiyuan added, “Grandpa Ding, if it’s something urgent, say it now.”

They couldn’t put it off like his great-grandpa implied. If they couldn’t meet the terms, the two of them might not see another day.

Li Sanjiang pouted but indulged his great-grandson. “Right, Linhou, go ahead.”

“Sanjianghou, it’s like this—I had planned to settle here for good, but something’s come up and I need to go back for a bit.

So I’ll have to trouble you to look after this house.”

“You’re leaving again? For how long?”

“Hard to say. If things go smoothly, maybe six months. If not… I’m old. Might never come back.”

“Then come back alive, early.”

“What, you’ll miss me?”

“Not exactly. But with everything in my name, if you vanish, I’d feel bad reaping all this for nothing.”

“I really do want to return, spend my final years here.”

“And I really do want to bury you properly. If I go first, Little Yuanhou can do it. Otherwise, I’ll feel uneasy keeping your stuff.”

“Sanjianghou, once the lease contract’s sorted, I’ll pay the fee and leave money with you. Organize people to level the pond and plant peach trees, so the work doesn’t stall.”

Li Sanjiang rubbed his forehead. Tree planting was tough work—not just money, but labor and worry too.

“Okay, Grandpa Ding. Don’t worry. Go handle your affairs. When you return, the peach blossoms will be waiting.”

Li Sanjiang nodded. “Count on me, Linhou. I’ll take care of it.”

It wasn’t exactly coercion—just good sense. He couldn’t return the house and land, after all.

Li Zhuiyuan quietly let out a breath. Requests were fine—he just feared none would come.

Planting trees was nothing. Land was rented, money provided.

“Good. Thank you, Sanjianghou.”

“No need for thanks. All part of it. Now then… Zhuangzhuang!”

“Yes?”

“Run back and call Runshenghou. Tell him to bring the cart and load everything up.”

Tan Wenbin looked at Li Zhuiyuan and Li Sanjiang, worried. He didn’t want to leave. He wasn’t as tough as his dad, but in a fight with Water Monkeys, every extra hand helped.

“Binbin-ge, go call Runsheng-ge to help move stuff.”

After last night’s massacre of nearly twenty Water Monkeys, one more person now only meant one more shrimp to peel.

“Alright.”

Binbin left.

“Little Yuanhou, I’ve noticed—the family mule listens to you, and now even Zhuangzhuang does?”

“Huh? Really?” Li Zhuiyuan feigned confusion.

“Ha! That’s good.” Li Sanjiang patted his head. “Means our Little Yuanhou was born to lead.”

The will was signed, and Great-Grandpa’s bias had turned into rightful favoritism.

Ding Dalin said, “Shows the kid has organizational talent. Suited for office.”

Li Sanjiang tugged at his waistband. “Linhou, is there paper by the porcelain jar?”

“There’s some in the basket.”

“I’ll go take a squat.”

Li Zhuiyuan meant to follow, but after two steps, Ding Dalin called him back. “Little Yuan.”

He hesitated. Couldn’t pretend not to hear. Stopped.

“Yes, Grandpa Ding?”

“Your great-grandpa wasn’t wrong. You really are a kind-hearted kid.”

Li Zhuiyuan lowered his head with a shy smile.

He didn’t meet the man’s eyes—because the skin between Ding Dalin’s brows was splitting.

Like a shirt torn at the seam, not fully ripped yet, but with color starting to fray.

This play was nearing its finale. He had to prevent a scene-breaker.

Ding Dalin touched his brow. Secretary Jin came over to help but he said, “Bring me a basin. I’ll wash up.”

“Alright.”

She fetched a basin of hot water, towel hanging from the rim, and held it like a stand.

Ding Dalin bent over it, tapping his face gently with his fingers—like a city woman touching up her makeup in a mirror.

Li Zhuiyuan tried to leave, but Secretary Jin blocked the door. So he turned toward the sound system, brushing its cover instead.

“Little Yuan, just learning the local dialect?”

“Yes. Not very good yet.” He picked up the microphone.

“Where did you live before?”

“In the capital.” He blew into the mic. “Whoo… Hello?”

“Jiankang?”

His hand trembled.

Jiankang?

Li Zhuiyuan knew—Jiankang was Nanjing’s ancient name, the capital of six dynasties.

Eastern Wu, Eastern Jin, Liu Song, Southern Qi, Southern Liang, Southern Chen…

So, which era was it from?

“Oh, a city kid, huh? Haha, must’ve misheard. Thought you said something else.”

• Please take a moment to rate this novel at Novelupdate.

Next Chapter >>>