Yan Tuo walked quite far from the hotel before turning on his phone to call Xiong Hei. By all accounts, he had been “missing” for nearly a day and night. He had expected Xiong Hei to answer the phone frantically, but instead, it took quite a while before Xiong Hei picked up, though his voice wasn’t without excitement: “Yan Tuo?”
“It’s me. Where should I go now?” Yan Tuo asked.
He carefully tried to make out the unclear background noise coming through the receiver. Xiong Hei probably wasn’t indoors—there was some commotion on the other end, and he could hear dogs barking.
“Hold on…” Xiong Hei said, “I’ll send you the address. Go directly to A-Peng’s place… Damn, this stupid dog, shoo, shoo!”
The latter part was directed at someone nearby.
Yan Tuo had a bad feeling: he had deliberately answered with just “It’s me, where should I go now,” avoiding any mention of his previous whereabouts, assuming Xiong Hei would certainly question him and drive over to pick him up—but neither happened.
This wasn’t normal, unless Xiong Hei had something more urgent to deal with and couldn’t attend to him at the moment.
“Where are you right now?” he pressed.
Xiong Hei chuckled twice: “Taking care of something. Good to have you back, Yan Tuo. We’ll talk when I return, bye.”
Yan Tuo wanted to ask more, but the line had already gone dead.
The address Xiong Hei provided was in a residential complex at the junction between the county and the countryside, quite remote. Not far to the west was wilderness. Phase one had been completed less than a year ago, phase two had just been handed over, and phase three was still under construction. Most owners were either in the midst of renovation or hadn’t even started yet. The occupancy rate was remarkably low—in a building of over ten floors, only two or three units had lights on.
According to the building and unit numbers, it was in the furthest corner of the complex. As Yan Tuo made his way there, he felt like a wandering ghost in a garden—forget people, he hadn’t even seen a stray cat.
After finding the right building, he took the elevator straight to the third floor. The elevator car still had its protective wooden panels installed, with a few renovation advertisements scattered on them.
Exiting the elevator, Yan Tuo looked left and right. The layout had two units per floor served by two elevators. Both doorways were piled with renovation materials, and the security doors were covered in dust, their protective plastic film still intact.
Xiong Hei hadn’t given a unit number, only saying “third floor.” Which one was it?
As Yan Tuo hesitated, one of the doors opened, and Lü Xian’s head popped out: “I heard the elevator and knew it must be you. This building has no residents yet.”
He opened the door wide while speaking, welcoming Yan Tuo inside.
The apartment was a large flat with four bedrooms, two living rooms, and bathrooms. The contrast between outside and inside was quite stark—while the exterior looked uninhabited, the interior was fully renovated, albeit messy. There were takeout boxes and instant food packages everywhere, and more than ten pairs of identical plastic slippers were scattered haphazardly by the entrance.
“Just you here? Where are the others?” Yan Tuo asked as he changed his shoes.
The apartment seemed quite quiet.
Lü Xian pointed across the hall: “This whole floor is ours. A-Peng’s Fourth Brother and Seventh Brother are playing cards in that unit. I got tired of their noise. The others were called away by Brother Xiong when it got dark.”
“Did they say what for?”
Lü Xian shrugged and spread his hands to show he didn’t know, then asked, “Have you eaten? Want me to cook you some noodles? We can’t order takeout here, by the way—too many people coming and going might get people talking.”
Yan Tuo glanced at him: “Do you come here often?”
“Not really. This place hasn’t been built long. I came last year, then in August, and now this time.”
Last year—that was when Lin Xiru was handling private matters and wouldn’t bring him along.
In August—that was the trip to Qinba Mountain. Though he was finally included, he was only tasked with picking people up.
So it turned out they had brought Lü Xian along those times, making this place apparently a fixed base of operations.
“Do you always stay here when you come?”
Lü Xian made an affirmative sound.
“What about Madam Lin? Doesn’t she stay here?”
“This dump isn’t worthy of my goddess,” Lü Xian said. “Oh right, your luggage—Brother Xiong brought it over yesterday, it’s in the master bedroom.”
Yan Tuo nodded. “Nice renovation. Mind if I look around? Nothing off-limits, right?”
Lü Xian was completely unconcerned, gesturing with his arm as if to say “Please.”
Though the apartment had many rooms and could accommodate people, that wasn’t its main purpose.
Yan Tuo stopped at the door of the largest room and looked for quite a while.
The setup was… well, Yan Tuo didn’t know much about medical equipment, but from his familiarity with Lü Xian, he recognized some things: an electric comprehensive operating table, shadowless lamps, UV tubes for sterilization, and various other instruments. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that except for highly sophisticated surgeries like bypass or brain surgery, this place could handle everything from minor injuries to childbirth and operations.
Yan Tuo swallowed slightly.
Although he was quite close with Lü Xian and they got along well, you can never truly know another’s heart, and there were certain topics they never discussed. So he couldn’t be too direct, nor could his stance be too obvious.
He said, “Lü Xian, after studying medicine for so long, this is what you’re doing now?”
Lü Xian replied, “Well, once you figure it out, it’s all the same. It’s all about healing people, doesn’t matter where. When someone’s brought in bleeding, how can I just stand by and do nothing? A doctor should have a parent’s heart. As for what they’ve done, whether they’re good or bad, that’s not my concern. I just take care of what’s on this table. Besides, without your father’s scholarship, would I be where I am today? The goddess has treated me well too—one must show gratitude.”
Yan Tuo pretended to understand everything: “How is it, not too busy? Our people coming here…” He gestured toward the operating table: “Shouldn’t be many, right?”
Lü Xian shook his head: “Not many, just broken fingers and scratches. Though that one brought in at the beginning of September…”
He glanced toward the main door, then lowered his voice, as if afraid the people in the opposite unit might hear: “Almost died—broken ribs nearly punctured the lung. Although they weren’t our people…” Lü Xian chose his words carefully: “I know business is like warfare, and secret bloodshed isn’t rare… but when you have a chance, talk to Sister Lin about reining in Xiong Hei and the others. If things get out of hand, it’ll be too much trouble. We’re talking about human lives after all.”
Yan Tuo quickly organized the information in his mind: In early September, someone (not from their side) almost died but was saved.
It seemed Lin Xiru and her group’s last trip to Qinba Mountain hadn’t been peaceful.
As he was pondering this, Lü Xian suddenly remembered something and shared it like an amusing story: “Oh right, Brother Xiong came last night too, had a cut on his lower back. Good thing he’s robust and well-padded—even injured, he could still move around. An ordinary person would’ve been bedridden. He asked me to make it look ‘more serious.’ I didn’t understand at first.”
Yan Tuo didn’t understand either: “Make it look more serious?”
“Yeah, like, how should I put it—make it look pretty bad. There wasn’t even a scratch on his head, but he insisted I wrap half his skull in bandages. What’s the deal, I thought—make it look worse, and you’ll get some kind of year-end merit award?”
Lü Xian found himself hilarious and burst out laughing.