Chapter Eleven: Negotiating with the Tiger

The two retraced their steps and, upon exiting the Sutra Pavilion, Fang Qing could not help but sigh deeply. She earnestly wished there was someone in the world who knew everything and could answer every confusion in a person’s heart.

She lowered her gaze to her fingers, her expression a mixture of puzzlement and distress. “Mr. Ding, you can’t even imagine how strange Si Qin’s pulse is. A normal woman... a normal woman simply cannot have such a pulse. If I weren’t an educated woman from twenty-first-century China, I might have suspected... that she’s not human, but some demon or spirit who has broken free from the underworld and come to the living realm.”

The young monk who had been chanting nearby stood silently, no longer reciting sutras but smiling gently as he basked in the sunlight. His complexion was extremely dark, his frame thin, his features as unremarkable as a dull stone, yet his smile was heartfelt and sincere—open and genuine without a trace of pretense.

Ding Jun shared Fang Qing’s unease. Had he possessed a rifle, he would have already pressed the trigger aiming at the soon-to-be erratic Si Qin.

He harbored some reservations toward Shi Miaoshou, for inviting so many people to assist yet withholding complete information was unwise.

Could a woman with such a condition give birth normally? If the transformation was caused by the child’s gestation, and the child carried such malevolent energy, wouldn’t the child be even more dangerous than the mother? What kind of conception process could have led to today’s bizarre phenomenon? Fang Qing repeatedly questioned herself, knowing well there was no answer but unable to stop whispering her fears.

It was terrifying. Ding Jun understood her thoughts perfectly.

Had Ping Cuo Jieb used the Six-Syllable Great Bright Mantra and the Lion’s Roar of Sanskrit to suppress Si Qin’s frenzy, who knew what she would have become otherwise? He hoped the baby inside her was safe, for it was the sole heir of the Shi family.

“Two of you, please listen,” the monk enjoying the sunlight finally spoke.

“Please, master,” Fang Qing promptly replied.

“I am no master, merely the lowest-ranking disciple responsible for cleaning the Sutra Pavilion. Every day, I stand here welcoming groups inside and watching them leave. Each group asks the same questions, just like you two. I believe everyone is seeking trouble for themselves because time resolves all things—like the east wind melting snow, fallen leaves turning to spring soil. Everything follows its own course. What meaning is there for humans to forcefully unravel all mysteries, going against the laws of heaven and earth? The baby will be born in two weeks. All unknowns will be solved then, won’t they?” the monk said calmly.

The profound truth was clear to Ding Jun, yet trapped in the midst of it all, one had no choice but to exhaust every ounce of effort trying to think through it.

“Thank you for your guidance, master,” Fang Qing said, folding her hands in gratitude.

The monk turned away, closing his eyes once more to savor the sunlight, no longer speaking.

A few minutes after leaving the Sutra Pavilion and stepping onto the circumambulation path, Fang Qing slipped suddenly and instinctively grabbed Ding Jun’s hand.

Someone was behind them. Instantly, she wrote four characters in his palm.

“Exceptional lightness skill—Ruan Feng,” Ding Jun whispered.

Fang Qing frowned. “That Ruan madman is truly a persistent ghost. What treasure does Tolin Monastery hold that makes him cling like a mosquito refusing to let go?”

They had reached a shadowed stretch where a high wall blocked the sunlight. Ding Jun stopped and said softly, “I want to talk to him.”

Since the shocking events of last night, Ding Jun had felt that Ruan Feng was privy to a series of strange occurrences. Instead of dodging and weaving, it was better to confront directly.

Fang Qing hesitated. “But our troubles are already enough. If we provoke him, won’t that only add chaos? I was thinking we should meet Uncle Shi to clarify Si Qin’s pulse issue and brainstorm to locate the messenger from Guge who called. Ruan Feng acts strangely; talking to him may not be wise.”

They had barely exchanged a few minutes of conversation and hadn’t reached a decision when a shadow flickered and someone gracefully descended from atop the wall, standing five steps away with a mischievous grin—it was the notorious thief Ruan Feng.

“Hey, little brother, how about we find a place to talk?” Ruan Feng crossed his arms, his gaunt face blooming with a radiant smile.

Ding Jun nodded, then told Fang Qing, “You go back, take no action for now, wait for me to return before doing anything. From this moment on, don’t fully trust what you hear, don’t reveal everything you know. Understand?”

Zhu Ye, He Wuqiu, He Xiangjun, the Fire God, and others could not yet be fully trusted. In Ding Jun’s life dictionary, any greedy person was unreliable, as they often chose profit over conscience at critical moments.

Fang Qing was still uncertain, casting a glance at the grinning Ruan Feng and whispering, “Should I leave you a weapon?”

Ding Jun smiled, “Thanks, but if you truly want to kill, every brick and tile is a weapon. You need weapons more than I do. Take care.” Though it was a temporary separation, an unspoken bond of reluctant parting lingered between them.

After Fang Qing left, Ruan Feng swaggered over, circling Ding Jun twice, squinting his small eyes. “Little brother, coming to Tolin Monastery was a huge mistake. You don’t understand what’s going on here, and it’s not your business. Why wade into muddy waters?”

His jacket, taken by Ding Jun last night, had been replaced by a loose, earth-colored jacket obviously pilfered elsewhere.

“I’m Shi Hai’s comrade-in-arms. Shi Hai is Shi Miaoshou’s son. I’m here waiting for Shi Hai’s posthumous child to be born and will ensure the baby’s safety. Mr. Ruan, we have no grudges past or future, right?” Ding Jun asked.

Ruan Feng casually grabbed a broken stalk of grass from a crevice in the wall, biting it with a crooked grin, “Yeah, we have no conflict of interest, so why cause trouble? But—” He scratched his head. “I have some news to sell you. Interested?”

Ding Jun replied calmly, “Sure, no problem.”

Surprised by the prompt acceptance, Ruan Feng eyed him suspiciously. “You agreed?”

Ding Jun nodded. “With the legendary thief Ruan Feng’s reputation, name your price—I’ll buy any information you have.”

Ruan Feng leapt back, his gaunt face twisting into a wry smile. “You... you... no wonder Old Lei says you’re a straightforward real man, Ding Jun. Trading with you is so smooth. I’ve been around a long time and never met a little brother as straightforward as you!”

No further explanation was needed; Ding Jun immediately understood who Old Lei was.

“You’re honorable, so I won’t trick you. Forget it, the news is on the house—consider it a gift for Old Lei, a token of goodwill,” Ruan Feng said, smacking his lips.

Old Lei referred to Lei Zhentong, the head of the Thunder Hall gang in Hong Kong—an influential figure who operated in both legal and illegal spheres. Those close to him called him Uncle Lei, Old Lei, or Brother Lei; acquaintances referred to him as a tycoon. Hong Kong had many tycoons, but none as skillful and ruthless as Lei Zhentong.

Lei Zhentong was of Ding Jun’s elder generation. When Ding Jun returned to Hong Kong after retiring from Afghanistan, the first person he visited was Lei Zhentong, who had provided him with careful guidance.

“Speak,” Ding Jun said succinctly, keeping to the point.

“There’s time to reminisce and build rapport later. For now, the most important thing is to unravel the mysteries and seize control of the situation’s development.”

“I heard you’re looking for the person who called Shi Miaoshou? The person is hiding in a cave with dripping water? Stop guessing. Eavesdropping on your conversations is easy—I know a place that fits that description,” Ruan Feng said cooperatively, laying his cards on the table.

“Where?” Ding Jun asked.

“Just over ten kilometers west from here, a little south of due west—”

Before Ruan Feng could finish, Ding Jun interrupted, “The ruins of the Guge Kingdom?”

The Guge Kingdom ruins were among the nation’s first protected cultural heritage sites. Rising over 300 meters from the foothills to the summit, the area was dotted with clusters of buildings and cave dwellings. Except for a few temples, the rest of the houses had collapsed roofs, leaving only earthen walls. The perimeter was fortified with walls and watchtowers at the four corners.

It was a famous tourist spot in the Ali region. Fang Qing had likely judged that the enemy would not hide there for this reason. The ruins sat atop a small earthen hill with three tiers of architecture: palace at the top, temples in the middle, and residences below. The surrounding cave dwellings scattered around the hill could well produce the sound of dripping water.

“I have a vehicle. Interested? We can go check it out right now,” Ruan Feng suggested.

Ding Jun considered for ten seconds and replied decisively, “Alright.”

Ten minutes later, they were already riding in Ruan Feng’s off-road jeep, driving westward.

“Hey, you lot gathered at Tolin Monastery working for Shi Miaoshou—what benefits did he promise you? Is it worth risking your lives for him?” Ruan Feng asked loudly.

All the jeep’s windows were broken; the cold wind blew inside unchecked.

The vehicle was stolen by Ruan Feng from Lhasa a few months ago, growing more battered the further west they went, but it would have to do.

“No benefits, voluntary,” Ding Jun replied.

“Cut the act. You’re voluntary, but the Five Poisons Sect wouldn’t have people working for free. I bet they’re plotting a big conspiracy. Brother, don’t get too close to those sect folks—they have no humanity and can betray you at any moment. Even if they don’t kill you, they’ll skin you alive,” Ruan Feng warned.

After leaving the monastery, they followed the winding banks of the Xiangquan River. About half an hour later, the Guge ruins appeared in sight.

The earthen forest stretched like a sprawling dragon. The north-south oriented hill where the Guge ruins stood resembled the dragon’s claw. The architecture ascending the hill resembled ancestral temples and fortresses in central Tibet—residences below, temples in the middle, and the palace atop.

“Mr. Ruan—” Ding Jun mused.

“Just call me Ruan Feng. Let’s keep it casual—no need for formalities,” Ruan Feng said.

Ding Jun smiled. “Alright, I’ll call you Ruan Feng, and you call me Ding Jun. I get the feeling you brought me here with some expectation of reward. I’ve heard the legendary thief Ruan Feng never makes a losing deal, following the ancestral rule: ‘A thief never leaves empty-handed,’ right?”

Ruan Feng slammed the brakes suddenly, the jeep screeching to a halt.

“My good intentions... I had good intentions...” Ruan Feng’s small eyes widened.

Ding Jun said nothing, quietly gazing at the distant broken walls and ruins that once belonged to the glorious Guge Kingdom.