Chapter 8: Ji Ning, what exactly are you trying to do?

My cello lessons were scheduled for every afternoon, after Young Master Jin Yuanbao finished his English lessons.

To tell the truth, it was a little late for him to be starting cello at his age, but the Jin family presumably wasn’t making him take lessons with the goal of becoming a musician anyway. However well he took to it was secondary; cultivating his aesthetic taste and nurturing his ability to appreciate the arts were the primary objectives.

—

During the first hour, Little Young Master Jin was still very intrigued by the cello. I taught him diligently, and he learned from me happily. But as the repetitive movements increased with time, he started to grow impatient.

Cello wasn’t something that could be mastered instantaneously. Once the initial novelty of it wore off, you had to rely on hard work and sweat, passion and perseverance, to persist with it well. Evidently, the little young master lacked both perseverance and passion; the cello wasn’t something he had to pursue at all costs.

After he shamelessly threw a fit about how much his hands hurt, how hungry he was, and how desperately he wanted snacks, I had no choice but to stop the lesson. As a temporary respite, I let Butler Feng bring him some desserts and milk.

Perhaps he also knew that he hadn’t acted appropriately. He deliberately tried to win me over by giving me the biggest and prettiest slice of cake on the platter, and he also struck up a conversation with me of his own accord, seemingly in an attempt to bring us closer together.

Only then did I find out that despite his age, he had never left the island before, nor had he ever attended school. All of his education took place in the castle we were currently in.

“Dad says that I’ll be snatched by monsters if I leave this place. When gege was my age, he was snatched by monsters, and he still has a really big scar on his shoulder from that,” Jin Yuanbao said indistinctly as he ate a cookie and swung his legs.

“Monsters?” I seemed to recall Nan Xian telling me about that incident before. At seven or eight years old, Jin Chenyu was kidnapped by one of his family’s enemies. Although he was rescued eventually, the Jin family suffered many losses and quite a few deaths. The eldest young master was also severely injured and had to stay in the hospital for a long time afterwards.

Considering the tragedy that almost befell the older son, it wasn’t hard to understand why they might be more cautious with the younger one.

“It was all thanks to Uncle Zheng. If he hadn’t rescued gege, gege would’ve been eaten by the monsters.” Worried that I wouldn’t get it, he added, “Uncle Zheng was Lao Yao’s dad.”

I paused slightly in the middle of picking up my cup of tea. Afraid that I was misunderstanding him, I clarified, “Lao Yao… the tall one with short hair and a tattoo here?” I pointed at my neck.

“Yup, that’s him. Uncle Zheng was like a brother to my dad, but he died saving gege. Gege says that Lao Yao will also be like our brother from now on.” Jin Yuanbao pouted, looking glum. “But he doesn’t even play with me. I don’t like him.”

Ran Qingzhuang’s dad died saving Jin Chenyu?

I felt like I could now somewhat understand why Ran Qingzhuang had appeared in this place, as well as why he was capable of becoming a high-ranking member of Helian Group at such a young age.

Uncle Zheng was Ran Qingzhuang’s father, and he had attached himself to the Jin family early on. He and Helian Group’s “godfather” at the time, Jin Feisheng, treated each other like brothers and navigated that world together. But Jin Feisheng eventually drew a little too much attention to himself, causing his enemies to retaliate by kidnapping his son.

I didn’t know the details of what happened after that. Presumably, an intense rescue operation was carried out, during which Uncle Zheng unfortunately lost his life saving Jin Chenyu. From that point on, Ran Qingzhuang became an orphan.

Jin Feisheng must have treated Ran Qingzhuang favorably because of that special relationship, and that must have also been why Jin Chenyu chose to make him a trusted subordinate.

Ran Qingzhuang had only gone astray because of my actions: that was my original suspicion. Looking at it now, that suspicion was more or less confirmed to be true.

If I hadn’t reported him and Lin Sheng, he wouldn’t have withdrawn from school. He would’ve been able to apply to a police academy after graduating, and he would’ve been able to become the person he had wanted to become. He wouldn’t have had any further association with the Jin family.

I was the one who ruined him. I really did ruin him…

—

After I tastelessly finished consuming the desserts with Little Young Master Jin, he suddenly grew sleepy and started yawning nonstop. Without needing any prompting from the little young master, Butler Feng instructed a maid to take him back so that he could sleep.

My first day of work ended before the cello strings had even warmed up. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat uneasy. 

Butler Feng seemed to notice my concern, and he said consolingly, “There’s no need for Teacher Ji to feel too burdened. The little young master’s happiness is the priority. As long as he is enjoying it, go ahead and teach him. When he doesn’t want to learn anymore, please feel free to rest and relax.”

This truly was the hallmark of a wealthy family. They spent a vast amount of money on a private tutor, but not for the sake of mastering anything; only to chase happiness and pleasure.

“Since Teacher Ji is new to the island, you can ask someone to show you around during these next few days, so you may familiarize yourself with the environment.”

After that, Butler Feng personally escorted me out the door.

—

The black van that drove me here over an hour ago was still parked in the same spot as before. Chen Qiao was nodding off inside it, and he woke with a start when I knocked on the window. There was a bit of saliva beading at the corner of his mouth.

“Ning-ge, you’re done already?” As he got out of the car to help me store my cello in the trunk, he fished out his phone and glanced at it. “Wasn’t it supposed to last until five? It’s only three.”

“The little young master was tired and went to take a nap,” I said.

Once I got in the car, I remembered what Butler Feng had said, and I asked if Chen Qiao could act as my guide and take me sightseeing around the attractions of Lion King Island. Thumping his chest, he agreed and told me not to worry—he would definitely fulfill his duties as a guide so I could enjoy myself to the fullest.

—

The first attraction was a lighthouse situated at the highest point on the island.

The lighthouse stood tall and straight on the precipitous cliff, overlooking a mountainous expanse of verdant trees. Climbing up the lighthouse at this height surely would’ve afforded an even better view; it wouldn’t be hard to survey the entire island or the surrounding territorial waters from here.

“At night, the searchlight at the top of the lighthouse is turned on. Ning-ge, you see those people? They’ll inspect the sea and island over and over with binoculars to ensure that no rats get in,” Chen Qiao said, pointing at the two people standing guard on the lighthouse.

Of course I wouldn’t foolishly believe that he was referring to a “rat” in the biological sense, especially since the baldie had also called Ran Qingzhuang a “rat.” It was likely an alternative name for the people who snuck around at night with unclear motives, attempting to evade the patrols on the island.

I couldn’t help but ask, “What happens if they find a rat?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Chen Qiao gave my question a moment of serious thought. Then he said, “They’ll probably be caught and sunk in the ocean.”

A chill ran through me, and the lighthouse abruptly lost all its appeal.

“Just kidding! Oh Ning-ge, your expression is so grave.” Chen Qiao suddenly burst out laughing. “I’m just making stuff up, I don’t know either. It’s only been a year since I had my numbers tattooed on, and I haven’t seen anyone sneak recklessly onto the island yet.” As he spoke, he turned his back towards me and lifted up his shirt, revealing the four black digits inked on his waist.

1113—it was different from Ran Qingzhuang’s 0417.

Bundled in a jacket, I faced the oncoming sea breeze and started walking towards a little chapel next to the lighthouse.

“What does it mean? Do you all choose your own numbers for your tattoos?” 

Chen Qiao lowered his shirt and chased after me. “Yup! We can pick whatever we want, it’s not like anyone cares. Mine is my birthday. Some people pick their lucky number, other people pick a family member’s birthday. There are also people who pick the date of their wedding anniversary.  Anyway, there are all sorts of numbers.”

Chen Qiao told me that there wasn’t initially a hard-and-fast rule requiring them to get a tattoo. But because the boss, Jin Feisheng, had the number “8” tattooed on the webspace between his thumb and forefinger, everyone wanted to emulate him for the sake of currying favor and also ended up tattooing numbers onto their bodies. Over the years, the custom snowballed, and it eventually became an agreed-upon tradition and symbol of their organization.

“What’s the meaning  behind the number on Ran Qingzhuang’s neck?”

Chen Qiao said, surprised, “Did Yao-ge not tell you?”

I rested my hand lightly against the chapel’s wooden door. Upon hearing his question, I did my best to keep my tone of voice natural as I responded, “He doesn’t really talk to me about this kind of thing.”

“Well, that’s fine too. It’s not super important, so it isn’t a big deal if he doesn’t talk about it,” Chen Qiao said. “I believe it’s the day he joined the corporation.”

It was… the day he became “Lao Yao,” the day he became the kind of person that he used to disdain and loathe the most.

The chapel wasn’t very big, as there were only six rows of seats. It had most likely been a long time since anyone had last visited, and the air was saturated with the smell of dust.

Chen Qiao sneezed twice. He couldn’t take it anymore, and he pushed open the small window that was next to the statue of Jesus.

A stream of air immediately slipped through the small window and flowed towards the door, forming a makeshift wind tunnel that blew my hair into a mess. Narrowing my eyes, I stared out the window and discovered that it was directly facing the sea, framing an azure surface worthy of an oil painting.

“Doesn’t it look like a painting from this distance? The ‘painting’ is very well-known. It’s one of the island’s internet-famous attractions,” Chen Qiao explained.

To be able to see such beautiful scenery before I died—perhaps that was God’s way of rewarding me for my sincere repentance.

I took a picture of the small window and decided that I would make a post on social media once I collected nine images.

—

After we finished visiting all the main attractions on the west side of the island, Chen Qiao also wanted to show me the casino on the east side so I could experience it for myself. But because the sky was already getting dark, I asked him for a rain check on those plans.

Chen Qiao didn’t push the matter. Once we descended the mountain, he drove me back to the red building.

As soon as I stepped into the apartment, I noticed that Ran Qingzhuang was already home—in fact, he was working out in the living room.

He didn’t seem to care who had entered the room, nor did he raise his head to check. From beginning to end, he remained entirely focused on his push-ups. His black tank top was already drenched through, and sweat dripped continuously from his skin. It traveled slowly along the lines of carved muscle, crossing over mountains and valleys before ultimately plummeting towards the floor under the pull of gravity.

Splat! I felt like I could almost hear it land.

Afraid of disturbing him, I lightened my movements and tiptoed my way over to my bedroom with my cello on my back. After setting it down, I opened the door again and headed for the bathroom, just as gingerly as before.

There was only one bathroom in the apartment, which meant that it was shared by me and Ran Qingzhuang. His toiletries were on the left, and mine were on the right.

As I lathered on soap and washed my hands meticulously, I suddenly spotted a ring on the left side of the sink. It was the same one I saw yesterday—a silver ring strung on a leather cord, which Ran Qingzhuang wore around his neck.

I knew that I shouldn’t touch it, but for some inexplicable reason, by the time I realized what I was doing, the ring was already in my hand.

The silver of the ring had started to darken slightly, and it seemed to be rather aged. A complex pattern decorated the surface, and on the inside…

I slowly turned the ring so that I could see its interior. I was greeted by the sight of two letters that had been carved into the metal: L.S.

Lin Sheng.

Logically speaking, I should be treating him the same way I was treating Ran Qingzhuang, or… I should feel even more guilty towards him than I did towards Ran Qingzhuang. After all, I sunk to such depths just so I could steal his spot.

But there was no other way…

I lifted my hand in a daze and pressed it over my chest.

No other way to what? It felt as if there was a maddening cloud of fog in my head, solidly concealing the answer from me. No matter how hard I tried to dispel it, it refused to go away.

“What are you doing?”

A voice suddenly rang out behind me, startling me greatly. My hand jolted, causing the ring to fall into the sink, after which it spun around and started sliding towards the drain.

The sink was an extremely old model, the type that still had a rubber stopper for the drain. Usually, the stopper was only plugged in when we needed to fill the sink; otherwise, it was set to the side, and there was no strainer either. If the ring fell down the drain, it would be extremely difficult to retrieve it.

I made a futile attempt to grab it, but my reaction time was still just a beat too slow. The ring dropped into the drain and vanished in the blink of an eye.

As I stood there stupefied, my mind in chaos, Ran Qingzhuang immediately grabbed the back of my shirt collar and jerked me aside roughly. He frantically shoved his fingers into the drain, seemingly wanting to check if the ring had gotten stuck somewhere in the pipe.

But he was destined to be disappointed. The ring had long since fallen into the depths of the water pipe, and there was absolutely no way it could be recovered, unless both the sink and pipes were smashed open.

He fished around in the pipe for a while before he also eventually recognized the reality of the situation. He braced his hands in defeat against the sides of the sink, head dropped low; it was impossible to see his expression.

“I-I’ll go contact maintenance right now and tell them to smash open the pipes. I’ll cover all the damages—don’t panic.”

I scrambled to pull out my phone from my pocket. Chen Qiao had given me the phone number for maintenance before, I remembered. If I called them right away, they would be able to get the ring out very soon…

“Ji Ning, what exactly are you trying to do?” As I was searching for the number, Ran Qingzhuang suddenly heaved a sigh and asked me that question in what could be considered a relatively calm tone of voice. 

I froze at once, phone in hand. I didn’t know how to respond, and I was also a bit afraid, because his current state felt very much like the calm before the storm to me: perhaps he was about to explode at any given moment and rip me to shreds.

“I’m sorry, I… I really didn’t do it on purpose…” As I sincerely acknowledged my wrongdoings, I reached towards his arm hesitantly with trembling fingertips.

But before I could even make contact, the storm arrived.

My phone was flung far away as Ran Qingzhuang gripped my arm, sank his fingers into my hair, and pinned me down against the sink with incredible force.

“What the fuck are you trying to do?” Ran Qingzhuang repeated. This time, however, his tone was completely different—it was clear that he was already seething with fury.