Chapter 32: Entrusted…

What was going on in that dead-end alley at this moment?

The moment Jia Dabiao ran into the alley, he abruptly stopped just a meter or so from the entrance. He pressed his back against the wall facing the direction he had come from, dagger in hand, ready to strike.

As soon as the man tailing him rushed into the alley, Jia Dabiao didn’t wait for him to react—his dagger stabbed forward, striking the man in the long robe directly in the chest. Unfortunately, he didn’t hit the heart, but it was still a serious, potentially fatal wound.

“Ahhh!”

Though the stab was successful, Jia Dabiao had no chance to finish the job—because right behind the injured man, the rickshaw puller had also charged into the alley. His instinctive forward momentum pushed the wounded man forward instead of letting him fall, sending him crashing into Jia Dabiao.

Jia Dabiao wanted to step back and find another opening, but by now, the man he’d stabbed was also reacting through the pain. He grabbed Jia Dabiao’s wrist in a death grip, trying to pin him down and give his companion a chance to attack.

The rickshaw puller responded swiftly too. Once he took stock of the scene, he immediately widened the distance, preparing to circle around his wounded companion and flank Jia Dabiao.

Jia Dabiao, whose arm was still being held, did the only thing he could—he raised his leg and kicked at the rickshaw puller to try and slow him down and buy himself time.

But this wasn’t the rickshaw puller’s first fight. He had predicted Jia Dabiao’s move. Pressing his back against the wall, he tilted slightly to dodge the kick. His steps slowed a little, but it didn’t stop him. He had already slipped out from behind his companion and was now flanking Jia Dabiao from the side.

At this point, Jia Dabiao was in serious danger.

Just then—Fang Dahai arrived.

In a flash, like a bolt of lightning, he jumped into the alley from the surrounding rooftops. Entering the fray in a low crouch, he immediately launched an attack with his dagger. One strike—then a swift pull—and a spray of blood shot out from the waist of the man in the long robe.

The man’s body instantly lost strength. He let go of Jia Dabiao’s wrist and began collapsing to the ground.

Jia Dabiao was finally free. He swiftly stepped back—just in time to avoid the dagger strike from the rickshaw puller. But the danger wasn’t over yet. From Fang Dahai’s angle, he could see the rickshaw puller reaching behind his back—and that black object on his lower back… what else could it be but a gun?

If that thing was pulled out, even if they took both enemies down, the gunshot would still bring huge trouble.

Thankfully, Fang Dahai was still there.

With a flick of his wrist, a throwing knife flashed through the air—a streak of silver—and slashed open the rickshaw puller’s throat. Blood sprayed, and in the blink of an eye, the man dropped dead.

Seeing this, Jia Dabiao exhaled heavily in relief and looked up to speak to Fang Dahai. But Fang didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he turned back, dagger still in hand, and slashed the throat of the man in the long robe—making sure he was dead too. Only then did he straighten up, panting from the effort.

“Brother Fang, I really owe you my life today.”

After that life-or-death battle, Jia Dabiao was filled with gratitude. If Fang Dahai hadn’t shown up, he would have died right here—and never even known who his attackers were.

“We’re all familiar faces. I couldn’t just stand there and watch you get killed. But who were they? Why were they following you?”

Even after helping, Fang Dahai still played the role of someone “unaware” of their real identities. His words were casual, believable.

“I don’t know either. I just came to deliver a message for Zhang Cheng—told his relatives he was injured and wouldn’t be back for a while. That’s all. I’ve no idea how it turned into this.”

Jia Dabiao also had no intention of revealing his true identity. He quickly gave a cover story to conceal his real mission. Clearly, even after being saved twice, people like him still didn’t fully trust others with classified information.

Fang Dahai wasn’t bothered. He had once been that kind of person himself—trained, disciplined, and raised in a world where secrecy was everything.

So whether the excuse was believable or not, he pretended to accept it. He even helped analyze the reason Jia Dabiao had been targeted:

“You didn’t bring anything into the city?”

“No. Just delivering a message. What would I be carrying?”

“Then that’s probably the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw it yourself—look how many refugees are gathered around the city gates. This place is full of all kinds of people. Anything could happen. Most folks from the countryside travel in groups, especially if they’re timid—safety in numbers. And even if they come alone, they dress in rags so no one takes notice. But you…”

Fang Dahai didn’t need to finish. Jia Dabiao realized it himself.

He had come alone, dressed neatly and cleanly, and hadn’t even brought a bag. He didn’t look like he was visiting relatives, didn’t look like a refugee, and he carried himself with confidence. No wonder he stood out.

The problem was—he knew it himself.
Ever since entering the city, fearing he might be followed, he had deliberately looped around several streets and kept scanning his surroundings, just like he’d been trained to. But ironically, that kind of behavior only made him appear more suspicious.

“Aiya, look at the mess I’ve made. I was worried that dressing too shabbily would make people look down on me, so I deliberately picked my best outfit… Who knew it would backfire like this?”

Hmm, not a bad excuse—at least one that would pass with an average person. So Fang Dahai gave him some face, nodded understandingly, and said with a reassuring tone:

“Yeah, things are just too chaotic in the city right now. Normally, nobody would care about any of that. Alright, enough talking—let’s deal with these two. If someone finds the bodies, it’ll become a whole new problem.”

Ah, right. That is a problem. But… what should they do with the corpses? Whether burying or burning them, this spot wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Behind us, near the city wall, there are a few collapsed courtyards. We’ll carry the bodies there. No one lives nearby, and not many people pass through. Plus, it’s winter—bodies decay slower. At the very least, no one should discover them for a day or two. And if we make it through the next day, we’ll be in the clear.”

That plan would work.
Not only would it get them off the hook, but it also wouldn’t drag any innocent civilians in the area into trouble—perfectly aligned with their principles.

But… this kid…
So young, yet not only does he kill decisively, he’s also so skilled at handling the aftermath. Just what kind of person is he?

“Say, Brother Fang, you’re something else! You even know how to throw knives? Who taught you that?”

And this—this is exactly why Fang Dahai chose to play dumb, rather than jumping into underground Party work like many transmigrator protagonists in novels do at the first sign of a revolutionary.

Real life isn’t a novel.
That kind of instant trust people show in fiction? You’d never see that here. Quite the opposite. People in intelligence work are trained to suspect everything. You’d never know when someone might turn on you, and every question could be a trap.

Fang Dahai had finally escaped that life. Why would he throw himself back into it like a moth to a flame? Sure, maybe part of him did hope to earn an official identity someday and live a stable life post-liberation—but not through this route. At least for now, that wasn’t his goal. He also had no intention of getting deeply involved with these people.

Still, not wanting to get involved didn’t mean he could afford to leave them with doubts. Since Jia Dabiao asked, Fang Dahai naturally needed to give a plausible explanation.

“How else would I learn it? Passed down in the family. My dad used this skill to protect us when we fled from our hometown back in ‘42.”

’42? Fled?
Jia Dabiao didn’t need further explanation to understand what he meant. Just a few years ago, Henan had gone through a devastating famine. Who didn’t remember the catastrophe that left 30 million affected and 3 million dead? In that survival competition known as “fleeing the famine,” life was as fragile as a mayfly. Anyone who made it out alive had to be lucky—and capable.

The Fang family, surviving thanks to throwing knives? Seemed entirely reasonable.

“Your family’s got some serious skills. Wait—hang on. Didn’t Zhang Cheng say your dad was a carpenter?”

Ah… classic probe. Jia Dabiao’s interrogation skills were no joke, and his suspicion was deep. Even though he seemed to believe the story, he still smoothly and subtly kept digging.

“So what? ‘Better offend the King of Hell than offend a carpenter’—that’s the saying, right? It’s completely normal for carpenters to know some self-defense. Even I—a little carpenter—know how to shoot arrows. My dad used to say: ‘In times like these, survival means having at least one useful skill.’”

As he spoke, Fang Dahai moved slowly, directing Jia Dabiao to get into position so they could carry the corpse together. He answered lightly, as if it were no big deal, but the weariness in his downcast eyes told a different story—a silent rejection of all the probing and suspicion.

“You’re right. In this world, having extra skills is always a good thing…”

“Dahai, this, uh… this—”

Just as Jia Dabiao was trying to end the conversation after what looked like casual chit-chat—but was really interrogation—Old Uncle Gen finally showed up. He had been hiding behind the laundry line earlier, and now that he’d caught up, he walked right into the middle of a corpse transport operation.

The sight nearly made him freeze.
His eyes went wide, his jaw dropped, and his legs began to shake uncontrollably.

“Da–Dahai… What—what are you doing? Wha–what the…”

“Uncle Gen, help us out. We need to move the bodies to the abandoned house behind here.”

“Huh?”

“No time for that. Come on—if someone sees this, it’ll be trouble.”

“O–okay! I’m coming, coming!”

Even though his legs were trembling, this was his neighbor’s nephew—a very close one at that. If the boy asked for help, no matter how scared or shocked he felt, he had to pitch in.

Uncle Gen’s mind was a mess, but when it came to action, he didn’t hold back. Grabbing one of the bodies, he began dragging it without complaint, ignoring the blood trails and just focusing on moving it out of sight as fast as possible.

Fang Dahai noticed the blood smearing the ground. He frowned instinctively, scanned the surroundings, then set down the corpse’s head and quickly walked over to a corner. There, someone had left a large straw broom—and he picked it up.

Then he ran to the back and tied the broom to the rickshaw puller’s legs.

“Uncle Laogen, be careful in a moment. Try to drag the broom along the same path where you pulled the body—that way, it’ll help cover up the tracks. Oh, and this…”

Fang Dahai pulled off the sweaty neck cloth from the rickshaw driver’s body and tightly wrapped it around the wound at his throat, tying a firm knot.

“This will keep the blood from dripping anymore.”

Once that was done, he quickly returned to his position, lifted the upper half of the man in the long robe again, and resumed walking toward the city wall.

Jia Dabiao, watching how efficiently Fang Dahai cleaned up the scene, had a glint in his eye. He wanted to ask more questions, but when he looked behind him and saw Uncle Laogen—clearly a simple country farmer—he opened his mouth, then chose to stay silent.

But even though Jia Dabiao said nothing, Uncle Laogen spoke up instead, looking both impressed and relieved.

“I almost forgot about that. Good thing you’ve got some hunting experience from the mountains—knew what to do. Otherwise, even if we hid the bodies, someone could’ve found them from the tracks.”

Could this really be explained by mountain hunting? Actually… maybe. After all, when hunting in the mountains, it is necessary to hide traces of blood and movement to avoid attracting wild beasts.

That’s what Jia Dabiao told himself, though he couldn’t completely shake off his suspicion of Fang Dahai’s skillset. He made a mental note to question Zhang Cheng again when he got back.

Still, suspicion or not, since he roughly understood Fang Dahai’s background—just a teenage boy newly arrived from the countryside—he didn’t think he was some underground party member or spy. Instead, he wondered if the boy’s family had an unusual past. He even began to think: Could this kid be brought in to help ease the current shortage of manpower?

With that in mind, and since the situation conveniently gave him an excuse, Jia Dabiao decided to test Fang Dahai.

After they’d finished disposing of the bodies and cleaning the traces again, Jia Dabiao quietly asked:

“With all this trouble, I probably can’t deliver that message anymore.”

As he spoke, he tugged at the bloody front of his shirt and sleeves. Then he looked at Fang Dahai, who remained spotless, and gave a wry smile.

“Dahai, why don’t you deliver it for me instead? I need to find a place to change clothes, or I won’t make it out of this district.”

That was a perfectly reasonable excuse… except, if he was confident he could find new clothes, why not change first and deliver the message himself? The test was too obvious.

Even the way he addressed him had changed—from “Brother Fang” to “Dahai”—getting familiar a little too quickly. Was it really just because they’d survived a battle together? Sigh. I’m just too painfully clear-headed for this world.

Fang Dahai looked up at him, gave a knowingly fake nod, and said:

“Uncle Jia, I get what you mean. You’re worried those two might have companions and don’t want to risk being followed again. Fine, I’ll deliver it for you.”

Hey hey hey! That’s not what I meant—I’m not scared! …Wait, companions? Actually, that’s possible. If those two were just scouts acting on orders, there could be others nearby. Better to avoid showing my face again so soon.

“Then… should I follow from a distance later?”

“Too obvious. Here’s what we’ll do—after you change, go to Qianmen Street and wait at the day-laborer spot near the brick kilns. Once I’ve passed on the message, I’ll come find you and report back.”

That made sense. The location suited someone in his current condition, and if he got a reply, the mission would be complete.

“Alright, sounds good. I’ll head off now and find something to wear. Oh, and the message—take it to the incense shop at the back of Rouge Lane and give it to Manager Lu. Tell him his nephew injured his leg and is recovering at home. He’ll be back in about five days.”

Jia Dabiao pulled a sealed envelope from his chest as he spoke, shoved it into Fang Dahai’s hands, then glanced around and quickly slipped away.

Fang Dahai looked down at the envelope, then up at the departing figure of Jia Dabiao, shaking his head with a smile.

So cautious. Even this simple hand-delivered message uses code. The envelope is probably just for show… or maybe there’s a code inside too? Who knows. Either way—”I know nothing.”

“Dahai, who was that? What are you… That was murder. How could you get involved?”

Uncle Laogen, having seen the stranger leave, quickly came over with questions.

Fang Dahai had already thought through this answer while they were dragging the bodies earlier.

“An acquaintance. Met him before while hunting. He came today to deliver a message for someone, but got followed and targeted.”

“Targeted? But he doesn’t look rich. Why would someone go after him?”

“Maybe he flashed too much money by accident.”

“And that killing…”

“Those men were like bloodsucking leeches. If we didn’t kill them, it’d be us next—ruined and dead.”

Not wrong. The local gangs in the capital are ruthless. Still, even so—look around the capital, how many commoners actually dare to kill in self-defense?

“Kid, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But if that stab had missed, would you still be alive? Be more careful next time. Don’t forget you’ve got siblings at home who depend on you. No matter what, your own life comes first. And remember—helping people is fine, but know your limits, alright?”

“Understood, respect others’ destinies, and prioritize saving yourself.”

He was no stranger to the life-preserving philosophy of chaotic times.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore. Uncle Laogen, are you leaving straight away, or do you want to come to my place for a while?”

“Aren’t you still delivering that message?”

Uncle Laogen pointed with dissatisfaction at the chest where Fang Dahai had just hidden the letter, sighed, and said:

“Forget it. You’re a man now, handling things decisively. Take care of that first. I won’t delay you. I’ll just head home.”

“Home, huh? Well, that works! Two people just died here, and who knows what chaos will unfold in the city in the next few days. Leaving early will help avoid some trouble.”