Chapter 179: Grass Mud Horse

The confession has been extracted—the person who set up the tomb chamber to harm me was none other than Gu Xiulian, Ji Ruyue’s junior brother.

Xia Jinrong squatted on the ground and cursed, “How did they end up here?” One of his subordinates answered from outside, “This afternoon, a few people were taking photos outside. We thought they were reporters, so we detained them.”

Seeing that the situation was mostly resolved, Uncle Jianguo and I got up to leave. Xia Jinrong suddenly grabbed my hand and pleaded, “My death doesn’t matter, but my little son Baorui is still in high school. You must find a way to save them. I’m afraid Gu Xiulian will come after him.”

Uncle Jianguo kicked Xia Jinrong and scolded, “Who doesn’t have children? Who doesn’t have parents? Only now, at death’s door, do you realize this.”

Indeed.

Only when something is lost does one appreciate its beauty.

Only when one loses something of their own do they understand how precious it is to others.

I shook my head and said, “The wheel of karma has turned so wide—how can anyone escape?”

Xia Jinrong fell silent, bowing his head without another word.

Uncle Jianguo and I quietly left. The wail of police sirens rose and fell in the distance. Soon after, they discovered County Chief Chen, Song Youwei, and Hu Qianlin—the advocate of “movement therapy”—in a room. County Chief Chen was barely alive, his legs trembling uncontrollably. Days of constipation had left him nauseated at the sight of food. Song Youwei, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with shame. Having guarded his chastity for twenty-eight years, he had lost it in a shabby warehouse.

Can lost chastity ever be reclaimed? Can time gone by ever return? The river flows eastward, never to come back—just as lost innocence can never be restored. Heartbroken, Song Youwei posted a tearful Weibo message:

*”Once the vast sea, no water compares;*

*Beyond Mount Wu, no clouds can match.*

*The rivers and lakes stretch far and wide—*

*If fate allows, we’ll meet again.*

*Tomorrow is a good day.*

*I shall summon the courage to face the future.*

*May our paths cross once more in this long journey of life, Brother Nan.”*

Driving the Audi back to Jiangcheng, it was already midnight on Christmas Eve. The department store was brightly lit and bustling with activity, the chatter of women audible from afar. It turned out to be a Christmas sale—24-hour discounts—so women flocked to shop.

Uncle Jianguo asked, “Where did that Zhu Ruhua go?” I searched all the bags but found nothing, then shouted, “Granny Zhu, the stunning beauty Ruhua, Madam Xia!”

No one answered. I thought to myself—yesterday at the Weiyang Hotel, she mentioned spending Christmas Eve with County Chief Chen. Could she have taken a liking to him?

Uncle Jianguo slapped his own face and groaned, “I shouldn’t have asked. Now you’ll think I’ve fallen for County Chief Chen.”

I parked the car on the side and told Half-Immortal to get out. Uncle Jianguo asked what I was doing. I snapped, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m celebrating Christmas. Unlike you, old man.”

Fuming, Uncle Jianguo checked a text on his phone and sneered, “I’ve got a mission too. Apparently, *If You Are the One* wants me for an interview.” He slammed the car door, hailed a taxi, and left the car to me.

I squeezed into the mall and managed to buy a discounted plush toy. The cashier wrapped it up and handed me a receipt, announcing I’d won a prize—a free VCD. Driving straight to Chen Tutu’s apartment, I called her.

“You home?” I asked.

Chen Tutu sounded puzzled. “What’s up? Weren’t you on a mission? Why ask if I’m home? I have work tomorrow. Stop messing around—I know you’re straight, alright?”

I laughed. “I’m downstairs. Got any food left? I’m starving.”

Chen Tutu gasped, then replied coolly, “There’s some leftover porridge, pickled radish, and… oh, three eggs and two sausages. If Little Scoundrel’s with you, you can have both sausages.”

Hanging up, I rang her doorbell—having been there before, I knew the way. Chen Tutu let me in, glanced around, and pouted. “Where’s Little Scoundrel?”

Hiding my hands behind my back, I presented the gift. “A carefully chosen Christmas present for you. Not too late, right?”

Flushed from the heater, Chen Tutu took the gift and unwrapped it immediately.

She glared. “*This* is your gift?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you even know what it’s called?”

“Isn’t it just a toy?”

Chen Tutu enunciated slowly, “This is a *Grass Mud Horse*. You gave me this for Christmas?”

I blinked. “Isn’t it Pleasant Goat? How’s it a Grass Mud Horse?”

Apologizing hastily, I added, “I’ve got another gift—a VCD. Want to watch it together?”

Chen Tutu excitedly turned on the TV, but within minutes, she blushed and shut it off.

I protested, “It was a prize from the mall! I didn’t pick it!”

She snapped, “You little bastard! A Grass Mud Horse and a *Jin Ping Mei* DVD—what else do you have to say?”

Trapped, I sighed. The mall was owned by Meng Xiaoyu. Damn it—she set me up.

“Forget it,” I said. “I’ll get you another gift next time. Right now, I’m hungry.”

Chen Tutu pulled the Grass Mud Horse closer. “A gift given can’t be taken back. I’ll wait for the next one.” Coldly, she added, “You’ve been here before. Heat up the porridge yourself.”

The porridge and radish tasted decent. Chen Tutu said since Little Scoundrel wasn’t here, she’d save the eggs and sausages—”Not like eating them would make you smarter anyway.”

After dinner and some TV, Chen Tutu asked, “Done eating? Why aren’t you leaving?”

I grinned. “How about letting me stay the night?”

She pointed at my face. “Look in the mirror first. Ugly as a bitter gourd—no way I’m keeping you.”

After some banter, Chen Tutu still didn’t laugh. As I left, I asked, “My class reunion’s on New Year’s Day. We can bring family. Wanna come?”

Chen Tutu froze, then stuck out her tongue. “Hmm… I’ll think about it.”

—

The next day, Uncle Jianguo returned to retrieve the car keys. I called Gao Mo to ask if Meng Xiaoyu was back. Gao Mo sounded unusually warm, likely having talked to Chen Tutu—she praised me several times during the call.

Of course, Meng Xiaoyu was still in the U.S.

At noon, Chen Tutu called to say Shen Yihu had been suspended. Though not under deep investigation, his reinstatement was uncertain. I tried calling Shen Yihu, but he didn’t answer or return my call. I wondered—if he was really out, why wouldn’t he contact me?

Was he being tailed? Were his calls monitored?

Meanwhile, Mom cooked a pot of yam and pork rib soup. Along with Uncle Dagan and Dad, we drove the battered Wuling to the central hospital to visit Jun Ge, Liu Jibao, and Iron Ox. Liu Jibao had woken up the previous night—no serious issues.

Mom prepared three red envelopes, one for each, symbolizing safety and speedy recovery.

Jun Ge, in his thirties, refused. I whispered, “Our custom—if you’re unmarried, you can’t decline elders’ red envelopes.”

Nearby, Sun Xiaolin beamed at this. Mom chuckled. “Thirty’s still a kid. There are a few unmarried girls from our village working in Jiangcheng. Want me to introduce you? If you click, take it slow. If not, just be friends.”

Jun Ge awkwardly smiled.

Sun Xiaolin stepped forward. “Time for a bandage change.”

Liu Jibao and Iron Ox chimed in sweetly, “Auntie, seeing you is like seeing our own moms.”

Mom laughed.

After the bandage change, Jun Ge pulled Uncle Dagan aside, begging for a cigarette. “The nurses are too strict—haven’t smoked in days.”

Just as Uncle Dagan handed one over, Sun Xiaolin—with her sharp nose—snatched the cigarette and scolded, “No smoking! Patients are recovering!”

Jun Ge could only sigh. Before leaving, Uncle Dagan sneakily tucked a pack under Jun Ge’s pillow, careful to avoid Sun Xiaolin’s notice.

Jun Ge asked, “How’s everything?”

I replied grimly, “Uncle Dagan was summoned too—probably the Abe family. They might be waiting for someone before making a move.”

Jun Ge fell silent, then said, “Pity I can’t fight alongside you. A real shame.”

I reassured him to focus on recovery while I planned a counterattack. He nodded.

Returning to the neighborhood with my parents and Uncle Dagan, I suggested he stay until things were fully resolved. He agreed.

After a quick meal, Feng Wushuang called—a Japanese youth had pestered her since her flight from Tokyo, refusing to leave the airport service center unless she had dinner with him.

She wanted me to bail her out. A thankless task I’d rather avoid. But Mom, overhearing, took the phone and scolded, “Helping friends in need is the Xiao family way!”

With no choice, I set off in the battered Wuling during rush hour, crawling through traffic. Feng Wushuang kept calling: “Xiao Qi, hurry! There’s a pervert! Get here fast!”

Finally arriving at the airport, I rushed into the terminal. Feng Wushuang was surrounded—a dashing young man had blocked her with flowers, serenading her.

Hiding in the lounge, she peeked out and spotted me.

“Xiao Qi! Over here!”

The singing youth turned—it was Abe Jin, the guy from the Golden Triangle.