SES Chapter 182 Part 2

On his way out, he brushed past Rong Ren. Rong Ren didn’t look at him and murmured, “Thanks.”

Zheng Mingshan didn’t look at him either. He gave a cold laugh and said, “It’s not for you.”

Rong Ren said nothing and went back into the bar as usual. On the other side, Cao Yanhua hurried over, lowering his voice. “Brother Luo, where’s our Jiefang?”

He couldn’t help feeling a bit pleased. That morning, when they’d staged the scene, he’d insisted Wan Shisan play the villain. Sure enough, once Wan Shisan got rough, Cao Jiefang ran off. Even the strongest bond could be destroyed by domestic violence—this was his chance to swoop in and show Jiefang some kindness.

Rong Ren said, “It was sent to Pingting and Uncle Zheng.”

At that, Cao Yanhua was fine—but Wan Shisan, who was resting nearby, jerked his head up instinctively, then quickly turned his face away as if realizing the reaction was too obvious.

Yan Hongsha caught it all and made a face at Rong Ren, jutting her chin toward Wan Shisan.

Rong Ren smiled, went over, and sat beside Wan Shisan. “If you want to see her, you can go. When she was sick, you took care of her a lot.”

Wan Shisan looked awkward. “That… wouldn’t be appropriate, would it? We finally got her hidden. What if it exposes her?”

Before Rong Ren could respond, Yan Hongsha suddenly leaned in. “If you really want to go, there’s always a way.”

Five minutes later, Yan Hongsha took two phone calls, lifted her chin, and shouted so the whole bar could hear, “Delivery! Two Blue Mountains from Guaiwei Lou on Shizi Street! And a cappuccino with cheesecake from the shop across the street by the silver store!”

Ten minutes later, Wan Shisan walked out with one hand full of plastic takeout bags, putting on a show as he complained, “I’m already like this and you still make me deliver!”

Yan Hongsha couldn’t hold back her laughter and asked Rong Ren, “I’m clever, right?”

Rong Ren was distracted. Even though he knew Zheng Mingshan couldn’t possibly have news so soon, he still kept checking his phone. He replied perfunctorily, “Yes. Very clever.”

Yan Hongsha was pleased, but as she turned her head, she suddenly caught Aoki looking up at her.

For some reason, her heart started pounding hard, and she felt a bit annoyed, thinking, I shouldn’t have smiled so wide just now. I even showed my teeth.

Wan Shisan reached out and knocked on the door, his palm damp. When he called out “Delivery,” his voice sounded unnaturally stiff to his own ears.

Uncle Zheng came to open the door. He hadn’t seen Wan Shisan in days, and at the sight of him, he smiled so broadly his mouth nearly split open. He led him in to see Pingting and said to her, “Do you remember Xiao Jiang? When you were sick, he used to keep you company all the time. Back then, you couldn’t tell people apart and even called him ‘Brother Xiaodao.’ Luo Xiaodao was jealous when he heard.”

Pingting quickly stood up from beside the easel and nodded to Wan Shisan. “Hello.”

As she spoke, she looked him up and down.

Wan Shisan grew self-conscious. His arm was in a cast; after running all over the ancient city with Cao Yanhua, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair messy, and there was dirt on his pant legs.

By contrast, Pingting sat by her easel, neatly dressed, hair perfectly in place. She was painting, and she herself looked like a painting.

She spoke politely, courteously, no longer the Pingting who used to cling to his arm, calling him “Brother Xiaodao” and chasing little fish.

They seemed like people from two different worlds.

Wan Shisan forced a smile. “Hello.”

He handed the takeout bags to Uncle Zheng and glanced around the courtyard. “Um… where’s our chicken?”

It would have been better not to mention it. As soon as he did, Uncle Zheng slapped his thigh. “That chicken of yours—it wasn’t bought to be eaten, was it? That thing must’ve become sentient!”

The story had to be told from the beginning.

After Zheng Mingshan left, Uncle Zheng started wondering how to cook the chicken. He’d handled roosters and hens before, but a mountain chicken—this was a first.

So he went inside to look up how to prepare one.

Cao Jiefang began strolling around the courtyard.

Logically, with its legs tied together by a thin string—like shackles, it shouldn’t have been able to walk properly. But Cao Jiefang was remarkably adaptable. According to Pingting, she looked up from her painting and saw it shuffling along in tiny steps, swaying like a Japanese woman, and somehow making its way into the kitchen.

Later, when Uncle Zheng went into the kitchen, he couldn’t find the knife. Cao Jiefang was lying on the floor, perfectly still, like a hen brooding eggs.

Uncle Zheng pulled Wan Shisan inside and pointed near the stove. “Who knew the knife was right under it? That little beast was sitting on it. Later on, either it loosened the rope itself or the blade wore through it—next thing I knew, it bolted. I told Pingting to stop it, but she was too scared. That thing flapped its wings, flew up onto the wall, and disappeared!”

Wan Shisan’s heart sank. This is bad. Really bad.

Cao Jiefang couldn’t actually understand how to “act.” That morning, Wan Shisan really had chased it with all his might—he’d even kicked at it. The look in Cao Jiefang’s little eyes had been so hurt.

Now that it had broken free, of course, it wouldn’t come back. The world was wide open. Who knew where it had gone off to run wild? Wan Shisan regretted not posting more flyers—or doubling the reward. One hundred yuan didn’t seem very tempting.

Zheng Mingshan found the first house.

The front gate was shut tight, no movement inside. Casually, he circled the property once. The back wall bordered a quiet alley with little foot traffic—an ideal place to climb in.

Before acting, he found a nearby shop with a higher vantage point and quickly checked the courtyard. Seeing no one, he pressed against the wall and vaulted in.

The courtyard walls here weren’t very high. He wasn’t like Mu Dai, who could scale walls like a gecko, but getting in and out posed no problem.

Landing lightly, he quickly found cover and scanned the courtyard. There was no sign of daily life—no laundry hanging out like in ordinary homes. It likely wasn’t owner-occupied. In this area, such houses were either investments, short-term rentals for tourists, or… something suspicious.

The back door was ajar. Zheng Mingshan moved quickly toward it, about to push it open, when he suddenly heard an “Eh?” behind him.

His heart jumped. He dropped to the ground and rolled, striking without looking—one hand clamped over her mouth, the other locking her neck.

Soft bones, tender skin, a small frame. It was a six- or seven-year-old foreign girl with curly blond hair, clutching a doll. She looked terrified, tears welling in her eyes.

Damn—it was a foreign tourist. And a child, at that. Zheng Mingshan felt a twinge of panic. He kept one hand over her mouth and raised a finger to his lips with the other, signaling her to stay quiet. The gesture was probably universal. Tears slid down her face, but she nodded.

When he removed his hand, she pressed her lips together and whispered in English, “Uncle, don’t kill me.”

This was completely unexpected. Zheng Mingshan felt he should turn around and leave immediately, but out of caution, he asked a few questions.

“Where are you from?”

“America.”

“Who brought you here?”

“My mommy and daddy. And grandpa and grandma.”

“Where are they?”

She timidly pointed inside. “Some are sleeping. Some are watching a movie.”

Zheng Mingshan let out a breath, reached out to pat her head, and said softly, “Uncle went to the wrong house. Goodbye.”

He smiled at the little girl, even raised a hand in a playful salute. Then, just as quickly as he’d come, he vaulted back over the wall and disappeared.

The little girl tilted her head up, staring at the now-empty wall. After a pause, she lowered her head, took her doll’s hand, and softly hummed, “Hey, diddle, diddle…”

Then suddenly she turned back toward the door and shouted, “Mommy!”