SES Chapter 102 Part 1

Chapter 102

The grand opening of Phoenix Pavilion turned out to be nothing like what Cao Yanhua had imagined—no firecrackers, no drums, none of the lively fanfare he’d pictured.

No, not even close. It was off by a hundred and eighty thousand miles.

Mu Dai was still missing. Yan Hongsha had gone back to Kunming because of her family’s debts. Luo Ren hadn’t shown up. Heavy rain poured down. Across the street, Lianyan’s Iron General stood guard at the door—Lianshu had been taken away by the police, and Lianyan hadn’t opened for business in days.

All of it could be summed up in two words: bleak despair.

Cao Yanhua paced the shop like a trapped animal, clutching a stack of flyers. He’d blasted the ads all over WeChat and his friend groups, promised fifty percent off for the opening day, and free meals for the first three customers. Just last night, he’d even gone around the bars, shouting for people to come support.

And now? Where were they? Had everyone just died off? All those bargain-hunting, spectacle-loving folks suddenly gave up just because of a little rain?

Yiwansan sat at the table closest to the door, sipping Coke through a bright yellow straw stuck into a long-neck bottle. He’d been sipping at it for two hours and still hadn’t finished half.

He said, “Fatty Cao, calm down.”

Calm down? On opening day, in the pouring rain, without a single customer? Who could calm down?

From the kitchen came the smell of roasted lamb leg—beautifully marinated, looking mouthwatering. He’d thought they’d be sold out today. Now, with business this dismal, how could they face all those poor sheep?

Uncle Zheng stepped out from the back kitchen, crisp in a brand-new chef’s coat. Looking out at the sheets of rain, he said, half to himself and half to the others, “It’s raining. Of course, folks want to stay home.”

Then he turned to Pingting. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t stand there all day. Sit down and rest.”

Pingting looked beautiful today, wearing a sash across her chest with the words Welcome. She’d been standing by the entrance, waiting eagerly, because Cao Yanhua had told her earlier, “Whenever a customer comes, you just smile, got it? A really pretty smile.”

If Luo Ren were here, Cao Yanhua would never dare order Pingting around like that.

She pouted, shuffled over, and plopped into a chair. Cao Yanhua slumped down at the table, legs propped up, looking like a rag tossed out to dry—dejected, sagging, totally unpresentable.

What if a customer walked in right now? He’d look pathetic.

Uncle Zheng frowned, just about to scold him, when Cao Yanhua suddenly muttered, staring into the curtain of rain, “I wonder where my little master is right now.”

The mood in the shop sank another notch.

Of course, Huo Zihong couldn’t explain every detail of Mu Dai’s disappearance, but she hadn’t exactly hidden it either. With Yiwansan snooping all around, some keywords had leaked out—things like multiple personalities and schizophrenia.

Rainy days made people more sentimental. Cao Yanhua sighed. “My little master, young and bright, everyone loved her. She never seemed like she had… problems.”

Yiwansan said, “Am I really the only one who thought she was a bit off?”

And just like that, they were bickering again.

Cao Yanhua puffed up like a fighting rooster. “You’re judging her just by her clothes? Back when we were at Jiefangbei, I must’ve seen a hundred office ladies in suits by day who turned up at night in sequined camisoles and hot pants that covered less than a diaper. By your logic, they’re all crazy too?”

Yiwansan muttered, “Sometimes her behavior really was inconsistent…”

Cao Yanhua pressed on. “Everyone has highs and lows. Just the other day, you came back from Sizhai, moping around like a woman in confinement! Where was that fiery spirit you used to have, burning old clam shells? Maybe you’re crazy too?”

Yiwansan gave up arguing and went back to sipping his Coke.

Cao Yanhua declared, “Only irresponsible idiots throw around words like ‘split personality.’ People who can’t pinpoint the real issue just label it and call it a day!”

Outside, someone approached—hair wild, pants legs rolled up, flip-flops slapping, a sack over one shoulder, holding a broken black umbrella that spilled rainwater like a tiny waterfall.

Pingting jumped up with a bright smile and rushed to the door.

Cao Yanhua kicked Yiwansan under the table. “Beggar’s here. Toss him some change.”

He sounded perfectly justified, as if his earlier rant hadn’t just happened.

Yiwansan rolled his eyes.

Still, there was a rule. Huo Zihong had reminded him last night: for a new shop, you had to keep some spare change for beggars—gotta grease palms across all walks of life.

So Yiwansan grabbed a handful of coins and went out.

A moment later, he came back—with the man in tow.

What the hell? Bringing him inside? Bad luck, much?

Cao Yanhua’s feet slipped off the table as he leaned forward through the V of his legs. The man’s hair was plastered with rain, naturally curly, black-rimmed glasses with one broken arm patched over and over with white thread. He wore a silly, pleased grin as he carefully pulled out a phone from his pocket.

An iPhone.

Seriously? Even beggars these days were high-tech.

Still grinning, the man turned the screen toward Yiwansan. “Friends and family promo—fifty percent off on opening day, first three customers free, right?”

That voice…

They’d never seen him before, but that voice…

Suddenly, Cao Yanhua remembered someone.

He fumbled to his feet, but pushed too hard on the chair and toppled straight off the table, smacking face-first into the ground.

Even so, he scrambled up, wide-eyed. “M-Mister… Mister Shen?”

The fortune-teller said, “Didn’t you say you were learning kung fu? Doesn’t look like it’s paying off…”

Cao Yanhua felt like the lights in the room had grown brighter.

Yes—his humble shop was suddenly blessed.

He gazed at the fortune-teller with awe.

A true master. Back during the violent mess with Xiongjian, no matter how they tried, they couldn’t get him to come. But now, just for a fifty-percent-off opening-day special, he’d braved the storm to show up. That was class.

And his look too—that stripped-down, world-weary, back-to-basics style. A broken umbrella, clothes soaked in rain, yet radiating an aura of standing tall amidst the storm.

Uncle Zheng brought out a platter of sliced, seasoned lamb leg. The aroma was mouthwatering. The fortune-teller’s glasses practically gleamed as he lit up with joy.

He picked up a strip of meat, chewed thoughtfully, and said, “Delicious! Only just a notch below KFC’s family bucket.”

Uncle Zheng nearly fainted from the insult.

Yiwansan finished a phone call and came over. “Luo Ren’s on his way.”

The fortune-teller didn’t care. He grabbed another strip of lamb, rolled it in chili powder, and sighed. “Shame we can’t see my little Pocket.”

Luo Ren arrived just then, while the fortune-teller was in full lecture mode.

“Only quacks make patients sicker than before! ‘Split personality’—bah, just an excuse. In my view, mental illness is really about facing inner demons. Got it? Demons of the heart!”

He waved a lamb bone in the air, striking a pose that looked downright possessed.

Cao Yanhua and the others listened, spellbound. None of them noticed Luo Ren. Only Pingting spotted him and widened her eyes as if to say, Huh?

Luo Ren put a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay quiet.

The fortune-teller went on. “The ancients already said it—‘He who tied the bell must untie it.’ A sickness of the heart must be cured with medicine of the heart.”

Luo Ren leaned against the doorframe, rain dripping off the half-shut door, splashing across his legs.

Before coming, Ma Tuwen had called him—first to complain, asking if he was playing hide-and-seek again, then to admit this time might be tough. Over at Wanfenghuo, there hadn’t been a shred of progress.

This outcome was something Luo Ren had already expected.

The hardest people to find in this world are the ones who truly don’t want to be found.

The sky gradually darkened.

On the bumpy mountain road, a long-haul double-decker sleeper bus made its way forward.

As the night deepened, the bus’s interior lights were shut off, replaced by the dim yellow glow of the headlights. Outside the windows, shadows flickered—maybe trees, maybe jagged rocks.