"Yiyang, why are you standing here alone?"
The side room door opened. A tall old man stepped out.
His hair was sparse, but his goatee was neat. He wore a wide robe like a Daoist gown, gray-white in color, with two black dragons embroidered on the sleeves.
This was his grandfather, Wang Xinlong.
He was eighty-nine this year. His body was shaped like a clear V, muscles thick, spirit strong. His sharp eyes could make anyone feel pressured.
Years of training had built his upper body so much that his frame bulged.
His left arm had been injured long ago, so he always wore a black metal bracer.
As a kid, Wang Yiyang thought that bracer was cool because of the carved patterns.
Later he learned that wearing it was tiring, especially in summer.
When he was younger, Wang Xinlong was infamous for his temper. A slight slight, and he started swinging.
Age had softened him. Now he focused on teaching his disciples and his family.
His son refused to learn, so he pinned his hope on Wang Yiyang. Sadly, Wang Yiyang refused too.
You could not force someone into it, so Wang Xinlong gave up and focused on disciples.
"How's your body? Sobering up already?" Grandfather laughed and patted his shoulder.
"I'm fine. The company gym helps." Wang Yiyang relaxed and smiled.
He still felt uneasy about that eerie gaze and guessed it must be tied to Zhong Can.
Had Zhong Can already turned dark at this time?
A chill crept through him.
He regretted not learning martial arts. Right now he was helpless.
Forget martial arts—Zhong Can outmatched him in sheer strength. If the man wanted him dead, it would be as easy as wringing a chicken's neck.
He had seen Zhong Can's might.
The stone mill in the corner weighed several hundred pounds. Zhong Can lifted it like tofu.
"Modern life doesn't need martial arts. I chose right. I just haven't built my plan yet," Wang Yiyang told himself.
"Well? After so long away, do you still feel at home?" Grandfather clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the sky.
"It's fine. The bugs are noisy though. Bug spray doesn't help much." Yiyang answered honestly.
"That's because your blood is fresh." Grandfather laughed. "The mosquitoes are tired of our taste. When you or your dad come home they all go for you."
Yiyang chuckled. "Grandfather, ever think about moving to the city?"
"No. What's good about the city? You have to fight people for a place to train. Make a dent and you pay for it. Trouble! Here, life is rough but free."
"But if you stay alone and fall sick..." he tried to persuade.
"I have so many disciples. Zhong Can is here. I won't lack care." Grandfather laughed louder. "You should worry about yourself. Bring me a granddaughter-in-law and a great-grandkid to play with."
They kept chatting. It had been years since they talked like this.
He was always busy studying or working.
The moonlight grew thick. Grandfather stood there, hiccupped, and grew chatty again.
Wang Yiyang tried to hint at danger several times but did not know how to say it.
Whenever he mentioned it, Grandfather waved it off as a joke.
Yiyang could only smile bitterly.
"I'm telling you, that office job of yours has no future. Just working for someone for a few thousand a month? Not even enough for my wine."
Grandfather hiccupped again.
"I say you should come back, learn properly. Even if you can't master it, I still have assets you can manage. Better than being exploited outside."
Yiyang felt annoyed but swallowed it. Grandfather was still family.
He was young, and being scolded for nothing frustrated him, so he finally retorted.
"I'm not doing as poorly as you think."
He grew up in a modest home. His parents were travel reporters, a new job that had them on the road most of the time.
They earned little and were seldom home.
His grandparents raised him.
As he hit his rebellious years he clashed with Grandfather and got beaten often.
Despite bruises he never backed down.
One time Grandfather drunk-hit him so badly his spleen ruptured. Grandmother beat Grandfather in return.
After that he never struck the boy again nor forced him to learn.
As Yiyang matured he studied hard and went to better schools in the city.
Their relationship cooled.
In university he had more free time, so they reconnected.
Since high school he had lived on his own. His parents wired money monthly but rarely asked anything.
He was obedient and never caused trouble.
After university he skipped graduate school and became an internet product evaluator.
"Not that bad? You're that so-called product evaluator, right? I asked around—five thousand a month at most." Grandfather held up five fingers with a mocking look.
"..." Yiyang bit his tongue.
He quickly told Grandfather about the strange pressure earlier.
"That was fear triggering your qi," Grandfather frowned. "No big deal. Watch fewer horror flicks. Steady your spirit."
"What do you mean steady it?"
"When your mind is strong, horror films sharpen it.
When it's weak, those films shake your core.
If your spirit is shaky, your qi falters, and your body suffers. Every little thing spooks you."
"Got it..." He nodded.
"Enough. Go to bed. It's late." Grandfather, tired from talking, turned and shuffled away.
Yiyang watched him leave, heart mixed with feelings.
...
Inside another room.
Zhong Can stood at his window, face blank.
His hulking frame was like a statue in the dark, cold and dangerous.
"Has Wang Yiyang noticed?" —Black Silkworm.
He lowered his head, stared at his glowing phone, and tapped out an encrypted message.
Beep. A reply came.
"Should we kill him early to avoid mistakes?" —Da Da.
"He leaves the day after tomorrow. Wait and hit him on the road." —Black Silkworm.
"Who will do it?" —Da Da.
"You. If I move, Wang Xinlong will notice." —Black Silkworm.
"Fine. Another 'accident' will do." —Da Da.
"Alright. If he does notice, I'll strike at once. Be ready to cover me." —Black Silkworm.
"Of course." —Da Da.
Snap.
The screen cleared itself. All messages vanished as if an invisible hand wiped them.
Zhong Can raised his gaze to the beam overhead and stood in silence.
...
Night deepened.
Wang Yiyang changed into sleepwear and lay on the bed.
In the yard the housekeeper drew water for the plants.
Water striking the metal bucket rang softly, mixing with the quiet night and making it even calmer.
He lay on the hard wooden bed, breathing the damp cold air. A hint of mildew tickled his nose.
The quilt and mattress had sat unused for a long time. They felt moist, seeping chill into his bones.
He tugged the blanket but could not get warm.
His mouth was dry. He licked his lips and brushed something soft—maybe fruit peel, maybe bean skin.
It tasted salty and nasty. He pinched it away and flicked it.
Pop.
The scrap hit the table with a tiny sound.
"How do I fix this..." he sighed at the dark ceiling beam.
He felt like he had used up a year's worth of sighs.
"From how Zhong Can acted, he barely hides his malice anymore. Maybe he still restrains himself before Grandfather, but with me..."
He recalled the earlier stare.
He refused to believe it was a hallucination.
Zhong Can's room was next door.
They might be less than three meters apart, separated only by a wall.
The thought made him shiver. Sleep would not come.
He tossed and turned for half an hour before drifting into a daze.
Around an hour later he thought he heard sounds outside. Each time he forced his eyes open, he saw nothing.
After several tries he gave up on sleep. He sat up and waited for dawn.