Chapter 220
Luo Ren didn’t sleep.
He couldn’t. He lay there thinking. Since deciding to “quit,” the biggest change had been shifting from offense to defense—but then there was that old saying: the best defense is offense.
It all sounded contradictory, like the yin–yang fish symbol: when things reach an extreme, they reverse; when hope seems gone, life can still return.
He gently closed his eyes.
Suddenly, he heard a door open. Someone came out, footsteps dragging, hesitant. No lights were turned on. The person came all the way to his side, reeking of alcohol, and squatted beside the couch. Their breathing alternated between fast and slow, as if they were staring at him.
Luo Ren planned to pretend to be asleep, but after waiting and waiting, the person neither moved nor left.
He lost patience, suddenly sat up, and hissed angrily, “Cao Pangpang, are you looking to die?”
He hadn’t opened his eyes once, but there were only so many people staying here. From the weight of the steps and the rhythm of the breathing, he’d known it was Cao Yan Hua from the start.
In the darkness, Cao Yan Hua squatted by the couch, head tilted up, mouth half open, beady eyes fixed on him.
Luo Ren pressed the switch on the floor lamp. A dim yellow light spilled over most of the couch—and lit up Cao Yan Hua’s bewildered face.
Afraid of waking the others, Luo Ren lowered his voice. “What the hell are you doing?”
Cao Yan Hua answered slowly, dragging out his words. “Little Brother Luo, I’ve got something to talk to you about.”
Did he have someone else’s soul possessing him? Luo Ren got goosebumps from being called that. “What is it?”
Cao Yan Hua raised a finger to his lips. “Shh!”
“Don’t rush me. I forgot what it was as soon as I got here. Can’t you see I’m thinking?”
Luo Ren realized it—he hadn’t sobered up yet.
He’d originally thought that compared to Wan San and Yan Hongsha, Cao Yan Hua was the easiest drunk to deal with. Only now did he understand: spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums—each had its own strengths. When it came to drunken nonsense, everyone had their own style.
Luo Ren lay back down irritably.
“Then take your time thinking,” he said.
After a pause, he added, “And stop staring at me.”
Cao Yan Hua stayed where he was, slowly shuffling around until his back and the back of his head faced Luo Ren. “Little Brother Luo, we’re not ugly or anything. Why be afraid of someone looking at you?”
Was that supposed to be a compliment? It made the recipient want to cry. Luo Ren covered his eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. After laughing for a bit, he reached out and turned off the light.
He hadn’t been lying there long when hot, booze-scented breath puffed against his face again. Two chubby arms wrapped around his arm.
That was really pushing it. Luo Ren slowly clenched his fist, just about ready to beat the hell out of him—
“Little Brother Luo, I saw who the seventh ferocious slip is on.”
Luo Ren froze for a second or two. “Who?”
Cao Yan Hua grinned, two rows of white teeth flashing in the dark. “Guess.”
Luo Ren ground his teeth. After a pause, he smiled too. “Cao Pangpang, you asked for it.”
The next second, he shot to his feet, grabbed Cao Yan Hua by the collar, and dragged him toward the bathroom. Cao Yan Hua stumbled along behind him.
“Hey—hey! Little Brother Luo, I can’t breathe! Hey, murder! Is nobody going to stop this? Someone’s killing me!”
Wailing like a ghost, he was hauled into the bathroom. Luo Ren slammed his head down onto the sink, his cheek pressed against the cold marble. He saw the curved basin, and the faucet turned all the way on. Water roared down, splashing up droplets that jumped onto his face, icy cold.
Cao Jiefang, suddenly wide awake, trotted excitedly back and forth at the bathroom door like it had stumbled onto the show of a lifetime. The living room lights came on. A moment later, Mu Dai appeared in the doorway, draped in a coat.
Wan San and Yan Hongsha were both dead drunk; the only one likely to be woken by the noise was her.
“What’s wrong with Cao Pangpang?”
Luo Ren said, “Nothing. Go back to sleep. I’m just helping him sober up.”
How—by dunking his head in water? Mu Dai was worried. She came over, turned off the faucet, soaked a towel, wrung it out, and folded it neatly.
“Don’t use that Filipino sobering-up method on your own people. Once Cao Pangpang sobers up, he’ll be furious at you.”
She sounded like a nagging little wife and a fiercely protective mother all at once. Luo Ren let go, feeling oddly pleased. “I’m just scaring him.”
Cao Yan Hua still had half his face stuck to the sink, refusing to move. Mu Dai pulled him up. “Come on, Cao Pangpang. Wipe your face.”
Cao Yan Hua stared at her.
Mu Dai said, “Did you drink yourself stupid? Get up and wipe your face.”
His pupils slowly contracted, as if he’d remembered something. The next second, he screamed and shoved Mu Dai hard.
“It’s you!”
The floor was wet and slippery. Caught off guard, Mu Dai fell backward, landing on the floor, her back slamming against the edge of the toilet. Pain shot through her so sharply she almost cried.
Before she could react, everything on the sink—cups, toothbrushes, combs, towels—went flying at her. Cao Yan Hua even scooped up water from the basin and splashed it at her.
“It’s you!”
Mu Dai covered her head and ducked. She heard Luo Ren roar, “Have you lost your damn mind?!”
He yanked Cao Yan Hua over and shoved him into the bathtub, ripped off the shower hose, and in just a few moves tied Cao Yan Hua’s wrists to the faucet. Then he tore down the shower curtain and tied his ankles tightly.
When Luo Ren went to help Mu Dai up, she hissed in pain. He switched from lifting to supporting her instead. What was supposed to be a sobering-up farce had turned into a sudden accident. Cao Jiefang fluttered in panic, while Cao Yan Hua lay in the tub, bound hand and foot, desperately trying to sit up, wriggling like a trapped worm.
Fury churned in Luo Ren’s chest. “You stay here and sober up. Don’t even think about coming out before dawn.”
He helped Mu Dai to the door, reached back to turn off the bathroom light, and as he closed the door, Cao Yan Hua shouted:
“It’s her! I saw the ferocious slip on her! The seventh ferocious slip is on her!”
Luo Ren’s hand stiffened. Then he shut the door.
With the door between them, Cao Yan Hua’s yelling became much fainter. Mu Dai stood there without moving. Luo Ren lowered his head and asked softly, “Does it hurt?”
Her pajama top had ridden up. A large bruise had already bloomed across her waist and back. Her skin was pale, making the blue-purple bruising especially stark. Luo Ren’s heart ached. He had her lie face-down on the couch, sprayed medicine on the injury, and gently massaged it.
Mu Dai spoke in a muffled voice. “Did you hear what Cao Pangpang said?”
Luo Ren laughed lightly. “He was drunk, talking nonsense. The seventh ferocious slip could be on anyone—but not us. Didn’t the silk manuscript say so? We can avoid the possession damage and won’t be controlled by mental influence.”
Mu Dai said quietly, “That’s what I thought too. But Luo Xiaodao… I dreamed about it as well.”
Luo Ren fell silent. After a moment, he pulled her pajama top back down. “You dreamed it was on you?”
Mu Dai shook her head. “I dreamed about you.”
After waking from the dream, she couldn’t fall back asleep. She’d thought the same thing as Luo Ren: it made sense for it to be on anyone, but not them.
She was sitting there dazed when she heard Cao Yan Hua wailing outside, so she threw on a coat and came out.
Luo Ren smiled. “Now that’s interesting. Cao Yan Hua dreamed about you, and you dreamed about me?”
He paused, thinking.
The Phoenix Luan Clasp’s hint really should be showing itself by now. As Hongsha had said earlier, once they obtained the physical bronze artifact of the Phoenix Luan Clasp, its power would increase—maybe they’d soon be able to find the seventh ferocious slip.
But this kind of “hint” was absurdly ridiculous. It felt less like guidance and more like deliberate confusion.
Mu Dai suddenly thought of something. “Cao Pangpang and I both dreamed tonight. Maybe Hongsha and Wan San did too—dreams with some kind of direction. And you, Luo Xiaodao—you should sleep too. Maybe you’ll dream something as well.”
Luo Ren gave a bitter smile. “You know what ‘trying to sleep makes you unable to sleep’ means? If I lie down just to force myself to sleep, there’s no way I will.”
Then he added, “Let’s wait. By morning, Wan San and Hongsha will be up anyway.”
They waited until daylight flooded the room. The curtains were drawn back—it was a beautiful day.
Out of habit, Luo Ren counted the days. Including today, eight days left.
Single digits. One day gone, one day thinner.
He called for breakfast to be delivered to the room: five Western-style breakfasts. The trays were spread across the coffee table—bacon sandwiches, golden fried eggs, sautéed mushrooms, and milk.
Mu Dai lay face-down on the couch, lifted the top slice of bread off one sandwich, pulled over the condiment tray, and dumped in obscene amounts of salt and pepper, then squeezed on mustard—all without changing her expression.
“This one’s for Cao Pangpang,” she said.
Such deep master–disciple affection. Truly moving.
The first to revive was Cao Yan Hua, shouting angrily and indignantly from the bathroom.
“What the hell! I just had a little drink! You tie a guy up over that? Is this how you treat friends?!”
Luo Ren calmly drank his milk and took a bite of his sandwich.
Mu Dai asked, “Should we untie him?”
“He’s not locked up. If he can’t untie himself drunk, can’t he do it sober?”
Sure enough, two minutes later, Cao Yan Hua emerged, stretching his limbs. He’d even used his mouth to help untie the knots.
Sleeping in the bathtub all night had left his bones aching. His hangover had just faded, but his temples were still throbbing.
He greeted Luo Ren cheerfully. “Oh, food? This fancy stuff—Western breakfast?”
Luo Ren shot him a cold glance. “Sober now?”
Cao Yan Hua gave an awkward laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t do anything, did I, Little Brother Luo? I don’t get crazy when I’m drunk.”
As he spoke, he nervously scanned the room. Everything was intact, nothing smashed. Good—he hadn’t wrecked the place.
He chuckled and reached for a tray.
Luo Ren flipped his hand and smacked his fingers with the handle of a fork. “Think harder.”
Think harder? Cao Yan Hua was puzzled. He scratched his head and looked at Mu Dai for help.
Mu Dai’s face was dark as water. She stabbed her fork viciously into the mushrooms, with such ruthless force it felt pointed.
Slowly, slowly—Cao Yan Hua remembered.
His face went pale, then green. He hurried over, squatted beside Mu Dai, gripping the couch armrests, smiling ingratiatingly.
“Little Master, I remember now. I was drunk… it was just a dream. You know—what you think about during the day, you dream about at night. If I’d been sober, I never would’ve done that. How could the ferocious slip be on you? We’re the Phoenix Squad. When you’re drunk, you lose awareness. Little Master, you’re not hurt, right?”
Mu Dai smiled gently. “I’m not hurt? Then why am I lying face-down? Do I just like lying like this?”
Cao Yan Hua’s face turned green. He stammered, “Th-then… what should I do?”
Mu Dai puckered her lips and gestured toward the sandwich on the tray.
At that moment, angry shouting suddenly came from one of the bedrooms.
“What the hell is this? Who dumped celery all over my bed?! Cao Pangpang, was this you?!”
Last night, when they’d dragged him to bed, the celery had still been bundled together. Now it was spread all over the bed—who knew what he’d done to it.
Wan San burst out like a gust of wind, a celery leaf stuck to his head.
Luo Ren started questioning him.
—You’re awake?
—Yeah.
—Did you dream last night?
Lucien On ABRWF Chapter 43.2