Chapter Twelve: Journey to Qiyuan Town

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The police station was somewhat remote, located in the northern part of Lihua County. It was a rather old compound, surrounded by a red brick wall topped with shards of glass plastered along its length. Two stone lions stood guard on either side, separated by an iron gate. Beside the gate, there was a small pavilion where an elderly man in his forties or fifties sat, leisurely drinking tea and fanning himself.

After greeting the old man, Zhang Ye walked straight in and found a policeman to ask for assistance. As expected, Ye Xiuwen had already made arrangements. Upon entering the police station, Zhang Ye stated his purpose and verified his identity, so no further procedures were necessary. He simply signed his name and received a thick envelope containing a twenty thousand yuan cash reward.

It was clear that Ye Xiuwen had thought things through thoroughly, realizing Zhang Ye probably hadn’t yet obtained a national ID or bank card, so he withdrew all the money and exchanged it for cash.

After expressing his gratitude, Zhang Ye left the police station and headed toward his aunt’s house.

Yesterday, Zhang Ye had already arranged with the landlord to sign the lease agreement. Because he hadn’t received the money yet, he couldn’t confirm the exact timing. Now, with twenty thousand yuan in hand, he felt emboldened and determined to settle the matter.

He worried about the couple who had previously run the fruit shop—if they managed to sign the lease first, Zhang Ye would be terribly frustrated.

Fortunately, his worries proved unnecessary. Aunt Wu was a woman of her word and hadn’t rented the shop out. She mentioned that the couple had wanted to rent it, but she refused, and then signed the contract on the spot.

The terms of the lease had been negotiated, drafted, and printed yesterday, so after both parties confirmed everything, they signed their names.

Of course, Zhang Ye signed as Liu Wentao, since he hadn’t yet processed his ID and faced many inconveniences. Liu Wentao had a checkered history—three times in and out, with a bad record. Yet Zhang Ye knew it was all bad luck: either he was framed or caught up in circumstances, and his nature wasn’t bad. The two had been friends since childhood, so Zhang Ye felt comfortable entrusting these matters to him.

“All that’s left is a favorable wind!” Zhang Ye stretched lazily, gazing at the blue sky and white clouds, feeling infinitely cheerful.

“What should we do now?” Liu Wentao followed behind Zhang Ye, already slipping into the role of employee. He strode boldly, exuding a formidable aura, his face stern and fierce—he looked every bit like a bodyguard for a rich boss entering an upscale venue.

Zhang Ye looked up and smiled. “Naturally, we’re heading to Qiyuan Town. Zhao Haidong is already waiting for us there. It’s still early; do you want to tell your family?”

He had already made plans, his tone calm and unhurried.

“No need. With the way things are now, they’d prefer not to see me all day.” When Liu Wentao said this, his expression was calm, but Zhang Ye knew he held a deep sense of frustration.

As a son, he felt filial piety and wished his parents wouldn’t worry, hoping they could enjoy peace. But his luck had been poor and life full of hardship; if he hadn’t met Zhang Ye, he might have lost all hope and fallen in with bad company.

“Still, you should let Grandpa Liu know. After that, we’ll each go home for lunch and then head straight to Qiyuan Town.” Zhang Ye persuaded him.

Liu Wentao stood there, thinking for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

“You can also tell Grandpa Zhang about finding a job. I know you’re skeptical, but as long as this shop exists, your salary will be paid.” Zhang Ye called after him.

Liu Wentao didn’t reply, just nodded forcefully and walked off in silence.

Returning home, Zhang Ye busied himself as usual. Ever since he’d demonstrated his cooking skills, his mother, ostensibly to train him, handed over all the cooking duties to Zhang Ye—though in truth, she was simply shirking the chores.

Zhang Ye didn’t complain and agreed readily. His parents had spent decades taking care of him; cooking a few meals was hardly an inconvenience, nor did he wish to avoid it.

At the dinner table, Zhang Ye mentioned he might be staying at a classmate’s house for a few days, then quietly ate, waiting for a response.

He didn’t dare tell the truth about his business plans; it would raise endless questions and explanations. For matters so significant, he didn’t want to deceive them.

His father, Zhang Haiguang, didn’t press for details, only offered a few words of advice. As a teacher, he encouraged good relationships among classmates and didn’t object. Though staying over at someone’s home felt a bit inappropriate, he didn’t ask further.

His mother, on the other hand, asked questions with a hint of curiosity—she actually suspected Zhang Ye might be dating someone. He wouldn’t mind, actually. Since his rebirth, he’d planned to cherish all those destined to cross his path. But at present, there was nothing of the sort.

“A few classmates are going to Niutou Mountain for a picnic, just to have fun. Everyone’s made plans, so I can’t really miss out.” Niutou Mountain near Qiyuan Town was quite famous—not only for its towering, perilous peak shaped like a giant ox’s head, with two lifelike horns, but also for the renowned temple atop it. The scenery was beautiful, with many unusual sights, attracting hikers and tourists.

Though tourism wasn’t in vogue, the pleasant surroundings and novel sights always inspired longing.

“Alright, but don’t stay too long—one or two days is enough. And be careful.” Hearing this, his mother said nothing more, though she seemed a little disappointed.

“Got it!” Zhang Ye blinked, thinking it was probably his imagination and paid no mind, simply nodding.

...

Lihua County wasn’t far from Qiyuan Town—a bus ride took only twenty or thirty minutes.

This time, there were no mishaps, just the noisy fuss of children and the unpleasant odor of ducks and geese, which left him a bit distracted.

Before setting out, Zhang Ye had phoned Zhao Haidong, so as soon as he got off the bus, he and Liu Wentao spotted the familiar, chubby figure in the crowd.

“How’s it going? Any news?” Zhang Ye jumped off the bus and surveyed the surroundings. Qiyuan Town was known for its watermelons, but otherwise it was much like any other rural town: worn streets and old houses, people either busy or idle—a typical, ordinary small town.