Chapter Thirty-Five: Coincidence and Chance

“You’ll handle it?” He turned his head, watching the ruffian on the ground still clawing at himself, and asked with a hint of curiosity, “How do you plan to handle it?”

“We’ll contact his family, and make sure he pays a sufficient price.”

Chen Qing nodded. “Profit above all else, I see.” He beckoned with a hand, and suddenly—no, not just one, but dozens, hundreds of fleshy tendrils burst from his body. They tore through his intact skin, carrying droplets of blood as they writhed toward Chen Qing.

But before they could even cover a few steps, those tendrils began to weaken, shrinking and dying midway. In an instant, the ruffian’s aura faded; his already thin body grew even more emaciated, his thighs and arms now little more than skin stretched over bone.

Still, at least he was alive—wasn’t he?

Their gazes on Chen Qing grew more fervent. Someone in the crowd called out loudly to the three in the middle, “Mr. Carr! You can leave such trivial matters to me as well!”

But Karans’ eyes were sharp. He turned and instantly pinpointed the speaker. “I have my own ways of doing things. Are you teaching me?”

With that, he led Chen Qing away from the dance floor, heading toward the bar. This took Chen Qing slightly by surprise.

“That person you just struck…” Karans hesitated, causing Chen Qing to smile and counter, “What? Is his background so troublesome it gives you a headache?”

“No, of course not…” Karans forced a smile and explained, “It’s just awkward. The person I found to help you handle the video issue… happens to be his father.”

Chen Qing uttered an “Oh,” somewhat embarrassed. “Can you find someone else? After what happened, I wouldn’t feel at ease.”

Karans nodded. “Of course, I’ve already made arrangements. Would you like to meet them?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Chen Qing replied quietly, “Alright.”

He fingered the human skin in his pocket but decided not to put it on in public—not because he feared exposure, but because it altered the wearer’s way of thinking, and that made him uneasy.

“Would you like a drink?” Karans gestured toward the bar, and as he spoke, two managers approached.

Chen Qing glanced up; it seemed every beverage contained alcohol. He frowned and turned to Jiang Wan, asking, “What will you have?”

She sighed, clearly not in the mood. “Just… choose a mojito for me. No alcohol.”

Chen Qing chuckled and turned to the attendants. They nodded, then asked Jiang Wan, “Which recipe would you like?”

“Recipe?”

Karans nodded. “You can create and leave your own, unique drink recipe here. The club will record it eternally in the Archive of Intangibles. Even if, one day, every trace of your existence is erased, your recipe will remain, inscribed in the Archive.”

Chen Qing paused in surprise, then asked the attendant, “Can I see the most popular recipes?”

“Of course.” They nodded, tapping at the console. A display appeared before Chen Qing.

“Johnny Silverhand: Rainbow Bomb, 20 grams red pepper…” he read softly, his gaze wandering.

“Are these people still alive?”

“They’re dead,” Karans shook his head, then suddenly smiled. “Or perhaps not. Maybe they’re alive somewhere in some forgotten corner.”

Then, his smile faded. “But as long as the club exists, even if their marks are wiped from the world by extraordinary forces, their presence will remain here, along with the traces that prove they once existed.”

As Chen Qing listened, a smile gradually appeared on his face. He turned to the attendants. “Record a recipe for me.”

They exchanged a glance, then grinned brightly. “Certainly. What name should we use?”

Chen Qing hesitated. “The Faceless. And the drink’s name will be Sewer Water.”

The two attendants paused but dutifully entered the information.

“For the recipe: 300 grams of milk, 100 grams of soda, 10 grams of sake, and whipped egg white.”

He looked at the two attendants with an increasingly cheerful smile.

Yet beside him, both Karans and Jiang Wan were stunned, their brows tightly knitted at what they’d just heard.

“Are you… sure?” one of the attendants asked.

“The drink’s called Sewer Water, isn’t it?” Chen Qing grinned. Karans nodded, and the two attendants could only enter the recipe into the system with wry smiles.

“By the way, give me a glass of pure milk—the next person can pick up the tab.”

As Chen Qing spoke, a stranger’s voice sounded beside him. “Then I’ll have the recipe just recorded by this gentleman.”

The voice drew closer. The man smoothed out the creases in his clothes, braced himself with one arm, and took the seat beside Karans. “Good evening, sir.”

He smiled slightly, exuding a refined air.

“Are you sure?” Chen Qing looked at him, sounding almost like he was trying to dissuade him.

“Absolutely,” the man replied with a smile. “I’ll be the first to taste the Faceless’ recipe—what’s there to hesitate about?”

“That’s bold,” Jiang Wan muttered, shifting her stool slightly away.

“About your request,” the man looked at Chen Qing, gave a slight bow, and continued, “On my way here, I’ve already fulfilled your requirements. After blocking the original video, I promoted the official account and turned an ordinary person into an influencer.”

Chen Qing nodded, then asked, “How long do you think it will take?”

“If you mean the tasks I just mentioned…”

“I mean, how long until people replace the image with his?”

The man hesitated, then replied, “Normally about a week. The Internet has no memory.”

Chen Qing fell silent, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” Chen Qing said with a soft laugh, a trace of regret in his tone. “It’s not the Internet—it’s humanity itself that has no memory. Once everything is stretched out along the axis of time, too much becomes trivial and insubstantial.”

The man paused, then nodded slightly. “I’m Yin Zhengchu, managing a small media company.”

“Chen Qing. When in public, don’t use my full name—call me whatever you like otherwise.”

Yin Zhengchu nodded, his expression a little excited.

“Sir…”

“Yes?” Chen Qing noticed that Yin Zhengchu seemed to have more to say and prompted him.

“Do you take private commissions?”

Chen Qing was momentarily taken aback before he smiled and asked, “Why come to me? Why not just post a request in the club?”

Yin Zhengchu shook his head, a little embarrassed. “That’s true, but… investigators aren’t exactly people we can usually reach. Timing, effectiveness, and whether someone is willing to accept the job—those are all issues. I’d rather not wait centuries after my death to learn someone’s finally picked up my commission.”

Chen Qing nodded in understanding. “What do you need done?”

“I want you to investigate someone! And, if possible…” He hesitated, then continued, “I hope you can inspect my company’s building. We’re having some issues…”

He gave a light, almost carefree laugh. “Maybe it’s a small matter to you, but for us, it’s as if the sky were falling.”

Chen Qing nodded again. “What’s the payment?”

“Cash!” Yin Zhengchu responded, clearly excited, but after he’d said it, he looked a bit regretful. “Of course… it’s not just money. But I’m worried this issue might keep cropping up…”

“Oh?” Chen Qing gave a wry laugh. “If you don’t trust me, you can find someone else. If I take the job, I’ll see it through—so long as you can make the reward worth my while. No need to provoke me.”

Looking a little awkward, Yin Zhengchu nodded and added, “There’ll… also be an address.”

“What address?” Chen Qing tilted his head, unconcerned.

“An address obtained from…” He paused, then, as if resigning himself to fate, bowed his head. “From the Foundation.”

“You can get things from the Foundation?” Chen Qing teased, but the man beside him only forced a bitter smile and shook his head. “No need to provoke me. It’s true—and it should be…”

His tone grew serious as he looked at Chen Qing. “There are likely many within the Foundation who know about it. That’s why…”

“That’s why you’re being watched?” Chen Qing turned to Karans. “And what’s in it for me?”

Karans listened, then glanced at Yin Zhengchu.

“What do I get?” Chen Qing asked again, looking at the man before him.

“It’s a backroom address coveted by Foundation cadres, possibly connected to the root of one of the Foundation’s projects,” Yin Zhengchu replied, opening his eyes wide and fixing them on Chen Qing. With a sigh, he said, “I truly have no other way. I can’t find an investigator willing to meddle with the Five Grand Orders… and you… you’re the one I spent a fortune to learn about—a man who dares defy the Foundation.”

“Nonsense, I…” Chen Qing paused, frowning slightly.

“Where did you get your information?”

Yin Zhengchu immediately confessed, “From a dealer. Everyone’s saying there’s a terrifying investigator in our city—and that this person has conflicts with three of the Five Grand Orders. I thought… maybe he could solve my problem.”

Chen Qing frowned, dissatisfied with the answer. “That still doesn’t explain how you knew it was me.”

Yin Zhengchu laughed. “I took a gamble.” He sighed long and hard, then explained, “Karans is a senior member of the club, and almost no one ever sees him. Yet, he’s helping you, and he greeted you when you first arrived here. Honestly, I don’t believe that’s a coincidence.” He laughed and sighed again before continuing, “When millions of coincidences all converge, then it’s no longer chance—it’s fate, the inevitable outcome.”