Chapter Fifty-Eight: The King of Henan

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So, the girl currently living at Old Stone Chen’s house—is she actually that online friend of mine from Tianya? She managed to find Fudigou just from a post on the internet. I had indeed suspected she was a capable person, but I never expected her to be addressed as “Miss” by Dongfang Chen. That title carries a lot of weight. For a young lady of such standing to come to Fudigou, and even stay with someone like Old Stone Chen’s family—no wonder Dongfang Chen called her a troublesome girl.

“How did she end up at Old Stone Chen’s house?” I asked Dongfang Chen.

“She accidentally found out some things, then her curiosity got the better of her. To put it plainly, she was just bored. What can I say about the young lady? She’s clever, that’s for sure. She managed to trace things all the way to Fudigou. Then she latched onto me, and I had no choice but to tell her a few things. Who would have thought she’d be bold enough to go there all by herself? Originally, I asked Uncle Zhuzi and my father to look after her for safety. Now that both of them have had incidents, I can only rely on you—especially since Sun Zhongmou is around.” As Dongfang Chen spoke about this young lady, his expression was rather strange.

“So Uncle Zhuzi knows her true identity, right?” I asked.

“Yes, of course.” Dongfang Chen nodded.

My face darkened instantly. I recalled the night Uncle Zhuzi urged me to sleep with that girl, and a chill ran down my spine. Of course, I now understood his intentions. If I had slept with her and become the son-in-law of the family behind Dongfang Chen, it would have been a meteoric rise. But Uncle Zhuzi had really gambled everything on that move. Times have changed; these days, people leave as soon as they pull their pants up, with no strings attached. If, under those circumstances that night, I had taken advantage of that girl, the chances I’d be held responsible were less than one percent. The other ninety-nine percent would have ended with my execution.

“What’s wrong?” Dongfang Chen noticed my expression.

“Nothing,” I replied with a forced smile.

He found it odd but didn’t press further. Instead, he said, “You can do whatever you want, but the conditions are: the Luoshui River must never run dry, and the secret of the Twelve Ghost Caves must never be revealed to the world. Pass that on to your brother Sun Zhongmou—though he should already know. Also, keep an eye on Old Stone Chen.”

At this point, he had finished giving me instructions.

But what weighed most heavily on my mind was the thing Uncle Zhuzi had tried to tell me before the fire. Although he’d survived, with ninety-nine percent of his body burned, the doctors said his survival was a miracle—mostly thanks to Fatty’s soul-calming talisman. They also said they didn’t know when he’d wake up, or if he’d ever be anything but a vegetable. So I didn’t know if I’d ever hear from his own mouth the secret—who killed my father.

“Uncle, before the fire, Uncle Zhuzi wanted to tell me who killed my father, but he was caught in the flames before he could. Do you know anything about that?” I asked Dongfang Chen.

He shook his head, and whenever my father was mentioned, a hint of sorrow always flickered in his eyes. “I don’t know, but I can tell you for certain it wasn’t Old Stone Chen.”

“Why not?” I was puzzled. Since my brother’s return, three main suspects had emerged: Uncle Zhuzi, Grandpa Third, and Old Stone Chen. Uncle Zhuzi and Grandpa Third were no longer suspects, leaving Old Stone Chen—the oath-breaker—as the most suspicious in my mind. But Dongfang Chen dismissed him so easily.

“You have no idea how formidable your father, Ye Tianhua, was back then. Ten Stone Chens couldn’t have killed him,” Dongfang Chen said.

“My father was that impressive?” I looked at him. In all of Fudigou, people remembered my father as a quiet man, and after my brother returned, the villagers said he and my father looked almost identical.

“Back in the brigade, your father’s nickname was ‘King of Henan’,” Dongfang Chen said, his eyes growing distant, as if he didn’t want to recall the past. He patted me on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go back. Oh, and one more thing—about that Fatty who’s always by your side. I’ve been looking into his identity. I suspected he might have been planted by Tang Ranjie to get close to you, but clearly he isn’t. Still, when I dug deeper, I met with resistance. The man’s background is mysterious. On the surface, he’s just an outer disciple of Zifu Mountain, but what he really is, I can’t find out.”

This was the first time anyone had told me about Fatty’s background in detail. Every word from Dongfang Chen shocked me. If even he couldn’t find out Fatty’s background, then Fatty must have an extraordinary identity.

“So, can I trust him?” I asked.

“It’s fine. I have a strong suspicion, and I’m almost certain, but I still need to confirm. If I’m right, he’s trustworthy. I’ll let you know once I’m sure. Until then, you need to exercise your own judgment,” Dongfang Chen said, then took me back to the hospital room.

Uncle Zhuzi was obviously not waking up any time soon. Chen Qingshan had been here for two days already, but now that there weren’t many people to watch over, he headed back to Fudigou. The atmosphere there was already tense—Grandpa Third’s death and Uncle Zhuzi’s spontaneous combustion had thrown everyone into panic, so Chen Qingshan was needed to take charge.

Dongfang Chen, back in public, became the stern and silent leader. He sat by Uncle Zhuzi’s bedside, lost in thought. With nothing better to do, I passed the time by scrolling through Luoyang’s local forums and message boards. Sure enough, it wasn’t just the forums—in the friend circles, too—a video was going viral. In it, a strangely dressed monk with a blazing lotus tattooed on his head knocked out a group of strong men in a flash, and even forced the powerful businessman Tang Ranjie, a dominant figure in Luoyang, to kneel.

There were already tens of thousands of replies. I thought everyone would suspect this was some staged show, like those “Tai Chi masters” who get exposed online, because Li Qing’s martial arts were almost unbelievable.

But as soon as I checked the comments, I understood why Little Wang had said I was out of touch.

All the comments were the same:

Damn! The Blind Monk!
Whoa! Lee Sin!
Awesome!
Roundhouse kick?!
Flash-R combo?
Who is this, a real-life game character?

Because of Li Qing’s bizarre appearance, everyone had overlooked the explosive detail of Tang Ranjie being forced to his knees—hardly anyone mentioned it. They were all more interested in the identity of the Blind Monk.

I decided that, when I had the time, I’d play the game myself, just to see what the Blind Monk looked like in-game. But as I refreshed the page, the post was deleted. Even the video in my friend circle became unavailable. Soon after, someone posted a screenshot on Weibo of the official statement from Datang Group: “The video circulating on social media was actually a micro-movie produced by Chairman Tang Ranjie. All martial arts and special effects were designed by renowned action director XXX.”

The comments exploded with outrage, accusing them of deceiving the public.

I closed my phone. This must have been Tang Ranjie’s emergency PR to save face—if you have enough money, you can turn black into white.

I stole a glance at Li Qing, who was lost in thought at the door. I found him both laughable and baffling. Now I knew for sure he wasn’t really blind—sure, a blind man could practice kung fu, but he couldn’t play online games. Yet this martial arts master behaved like an internet clown.

While I was watching him, he suddenly turned and looked at me. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes behind the red band, I could feel he was looking right at me.

Then he beckoned me over.

I walked up to him. He asked, “Why are you looking at me? Do you think I’m especially handsome?”

“You’re not really blind, are you?” I asked.

“I’m Lee Sin,” he replied.

“Is that your real name?” I asked.

“Lee Sin is a belief. Someone like you, who doesn’t play games, wouldn’t understand,” he said.

At that moment, Little Wang called me. As soon as I picked up, he shouted, “Damn, this Lee Sin in the game sucks! Over six thousand matches, all against bots? And a third of them were losses?”

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