Chapter Sixty-Two: Explanation

His tone was exceptionally calm, but as I listened, I sensed he wasn’t merely making idle talk.

“So, you consider me an insider now?” I asked with a smile.

“There are many kinds of insiders. You’re the eldest son of the Yuan family—many things, you simply can’t escape. Take this time for example—do you really think you had a choice?” Peanut paused, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “But after this, you will have a choice. You can go on living carefreely as the young master, perhaps even forget your father was a tomb raider, and live like an ordinary person under the sun.”

“What gives you the right to determine my future? Hmph, weren’t you the one who told me not to trust you too much?” What I truly wanted to say wasn’t this. Yet, looking at Peanut’s expression, I felt as though the doubts in my heart could almost be ignored. This was just a conversation.

“This is the best path—you ought to cherish it.” Peanut still refused to reveal anything to me, but his words seemed to hint at something, though I remained lost in a fog, unable to discern his meaning. I had come to realize over these past few days that asking him directly would yield nothing. So, my mind turned over countless ways to coax a more detailed answer from him.

But after much deliberation, I found that asking directly was best. I cleared my throat, focused on what I most wanted to know, and said, “I know my own path. But what exactly is the relationship between you and my father? What do you mean by ‘your side’ and ‘our side’? Why did he say he was cornered with no way out? And… why is that bamboo slip so important?”

Once I started, I couldn’t stop; I poured out all my accumulated questions from the past few days. Oddly, even though I was just rambling, I felt a sense of relief after voicing it all—perhaps I’d been bottling it up too long.

After I finished, Peanut looked at me for a long while, leaving me somewhat embarrassed. Who asks so many questions at once?

“You’ve overlooked the most important question,” Peanut replied, to my surprise.

“Wh-what question?”

“With so much happening at once, of course you have many doubts. But these questions aren’t all about the same thing. Much of it I’ve only just learned myself. Besides, these shouldn’t be your main concerns. You still haven’t figured out what’s right in front of you.”

“What’s right in front of me…?” I pondered for a moment, and then a chill ran down my spine.

He was right—I had truly neglected the most important thing. With that thought, I suddenly turned to look at my father on the altar, my gaze fixed on his right hand.

Peanut patted me on the shoulder. “We all have our own problems. You can begin now.”

Only then did I realize how ridiculous I’d been. I’d wanted all my doubts resolved, yet now that Peanut pushed me toward them, I was suddenly afraid to face the truth.

There was only a flashlight and a torch for light; in the dim glow, I couldn’t see my father’s right hand clearly. In truth, if I took just two steps forward, everything would be revealed. Yet I hesitated.

Qin Feng was tending to my father’s wounds when my father suddenly looked over at us. I don’t know what expression was on my face then, but it surely wasn’t what one would expect between father and son.

In that moment, a sense of estrangement crept over me. The memory of those six fingerprints on the dawn redwood, and what Fatty had said, began echoing in my mind… “Either you’re not Old Yuan’s son, or the father you see isn’t Old Yuan at all.”

A resistance rose within me—I tried to force myself not to think about or look at my father’s right hand. But he reached out toward me, beckoning me over.

It was only then that I truly paid attention to his right hand. At one glance, my heart plummeted. I didn’t need to count; it was clear my father’s right hand had an extra finger, its difference from a normal hand too stark to miss. Dread grew within me, and after a long, frozen moment, I finally walked over to him.

“Qin Feng, you… take a break,” my father said. Qin Feng immediately understood, nodded, and stepped aside.

Seeing my father so frail, I crouched down quickly to support him, but my gaze was drawn irresistibly to his hand.

“Heh heh… cough, cough…” My father chuckled and coughed at the same time.

“Dad, you still…” I knew he wanted to talk to me, but wasn’t sure if now was the time.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He smiled at me. Looking closely, though he’d grown thin, the smile on his face was just as I remembered.

“Sigh…” My father let out a heavy sigh and placed his right hand in front of me. I saw that all six fingers were calloused, the calluses thin but covering the entire palm. Never before had I seen his hand look like this.

“This hand is what made Yuan Long famous in the business. Any seasoned pro would recognize it. But it’s not as complicated as you imagine—I just used a little sleight of hand.” As he spoke, he told me to look closer.

The extra finger grew between the middle and ring fingers—when he spread his hand, it was unmistakable. What he did next surprised me even more.

Suddenly, his right pinky bent backward, the extra finger folding away at a hundred and eighty degrees. He waved his hand before my eyes, and indeed, it became much harder to notice what was odd about it.

“I’ve made it this far thanks to these six fingers. Don’t underestimate your old man—if I want them twisted any way, I can do it. Cough, cough… It’s all from childhood training; you wouldn’t understand.” Pride flashed across his face as he spoke of his hand. Then he added, “If you think about it, you’ll realize—every time we met, I was always on your right. That way, you wouldn’t notice my hand. Add a bit of fake skin, and you, kid, would never catch on.”

Relief washed over me. It was true, but why would my father feel the need to hide this from me? “Dad, what’s the point of this? Even if I knew, so what? Isn’t this just making things hard for yourself?”

“Making things hard? Hmph. For you, son, I’d do more than make things hard—I’d die if I had to…”

“Hey, hey, don’t talk about dying! Aren’t you a veteran? Don’t you know better than to tempt fate?”

He chuckled. “Ha, ha… What could I do? In this line of work, I’d keep you out of it at all costs. Every time I visited you in Beijing, I was on edge, afraid an enemy would spot me. Damn, who knows where things went wrong this time, letting those mongrels get word.”

At that, a thought struck me.

“When you came to Beijing before, didn’t you call my dorm room?” I asked.

“Yeah, that Tan Wei in your dorm answered,” my father replied, puzzled.

I knew it—Tan Wei must have leaked the information. I told my father everything that happened on the hillside.

“Him? And he wanted to take you to meet someone?” My father was stunned, bewilderment on his face.

“How should I know? That guy’s slick…” I went on to describe how Tan Wei dealt with Mouse. My father told me to go on and recount everything that had happened over the past few days, every detail.

It took me nearly an hour to tell him all that had happened. I wasn’t sure if I’d remembered everything, but I hadn’t left out anything important.

When I finished, my father was deeply puzzled. “Impossible. I’ve had people watching your surroundings for years—I even had that kid checked out, and nothing came up…”

“What, you planted informants around me too?” I was immediately annoyed.

He gave an awkward laugh. “Well, your grandfather was in this business… I had no choice.”

Damn, passing the buck to grandpa. Careful, he might come teach you a lesson tonight.

“But going by your story, it must be Tan Wei who leaked the info. That bastard—could he be working for Old Wu? Or maybe Bald Zhao? But we made peace last year… Hmm… Old Shun…”

“How many enemies do you have, exactly?” His muttering made me suddenly worry for my own safety.

“Look, as soon as I made the call, those mongrels showed up within two days—it must have been him. But who he really is… We’ve got to find him once we’re out of here. Anyone who knew my whereabouts must be from the business…” My father muttered to himself. I wanted to ask about what happened behind that black iron door in particular.

But just as I was about to speak, someone nearby drawled, “No—that’s not right. After hearing your explanation, I don’t think it was Tan Wei who tipped off those mongrels.”

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(Thank you to “Set Robot” for today’s comment, and thanks to everyone who’s left messages in the comment section these days—you’re all amazing. After reading “Set Robot’s” comment, I truly don’t know how to express my gratitude. The difficulties of a new book need no elaboration, but with friends like you, no hardship is insurmountable. I hope you’ll continue to share your thoughts with me in the comments—praise or criticism, I’ll take it all without complaint. Thank you!)