Chapter 719: Yang Huaixi's Brothers Died
Suddenly, a familiar smell of herbs wafted in the air. His heart was startled and he quickly chased after him, but he only saw an old man carrying a shoulder pole, and the bamboo basket was filled with ordinary mugwort and mint.
Dusk seeped in through the holes in the black market's ceiling, staining the damp ground dark purple.
Wang Jianguo leaned against the wall pillar with peeling paint, and the old injury in his lower back began to ache again.
He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his arms, on which was written in pencil the address of Yang Huaixi's rental house - that was what he had heard from a black market vendor last time, and now it became his only hope.
The sound of clappers came from the alley entrance. The night watchman was walking towards us from a distance, knocking the third watch clapper. He took a deep breath, turned up his collar, and walked towards the shantytown deeper in the city.
The street lamps cast fragmented light in the puddles, illuminating the coal slag and medicine residue on his cloth shoes, which were the marks left by crossing half the city.
The dusk was like spilled ink, gradually dyeing the bricks and tiles of the shantytown into dark gray.
Wang Jianguo walked through the crisscrossing alleys, stepping on the broken bricks and rotten vegetable leaves. The pungent smell of coal smoke wafting from afar, mixed with the stench of sewage, made him feel nauseous in his already tired stomach.
As he turned the last corner, he saw the familiar gray brick building—but the scene before him was completely different from what he remembered.
The wooden door that was tightly closed in my memory was now leaning crookedly against the wall, with the iron nails on the door panel exposed, like a wound torn by the claws of a wild beast.
Large flakes of plaster had peeled off around the door frame, revealing the dark red brick joints inside, as if it had just experienced a violent collision.
Wang Jianguo's pace slowed down involuntarily, and the sound of his shoes crushing gravel was particularly harsh in the silent alley.
He clearly remembered how Yang Huaixi carefully took out the rusty copper lock from his arms and covered the gap in the door tightly with dry grass when he came here last time, for fear of revealing any trace of human habitation.
The wild wormwood in the corner trembled in the draft, and a few yellow leaves were blown to the crooked threshold.
Wang Jianguo squatted down and his fingertips touched the rough wood chips at the broken part of the door panel, which still had a fresh tearing feeling.
The door lock was gone, replaced by deep pry marks on the door frame. The place where the metal rubbed against each other emitted a cold white light, like a scar that had not yet healed.
His heartbeat quickened suddenly, and his eyes swept across the muddy ground in front of the door, vaguely visible several footprints of varying depths - some of which were stained with dark red, emitting an eerie luster in the twilight.
"Yang Huaixi? Dou'er?"
He opened his mouth tentatively, his voice echoing in the empty alley. The house was terribly quiet, with only the sound of the wind blowing through the broken window frames, making a whimpering sound.
Wang Jianguo reached out to hold the door frame; the rotten wood shattered in his palm, raising fine dust.
He remembered that Yang Huaixi always said that this was the safest hiding place. Precious medicinal herbs were hidden in the secret compartment where the paint had peeled off, and the account books and savings were locked in the compartment under the bed.
But now, this door that should have been closed tightly is like a desperate mouth, exposing all the secrets in broad daylight.
A chill ran up his spine and onto the back of his neck. Wang Jianguo suddenly noticed that the mugwort hanging on the door lintel had already dried up and turned black, with its leaves curled up into strange shapes.
That is used to ward off evil spirits, Yang Huaixi once said with a smile, but at this moment, the dry grass stems swaying in the wind seemed like some kind of ominous omen.
He took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. The sound of his shoes rolling over broken porcelain pieces seemed like he had broken some taboo.
The scene in the room made his pupils shrink suddenly - the pottery jar in the corner was shattered into pieces, the bed board was overturned on the ground, and the secret compartment was empty.
There was only a yellowed photo lying in the dust. In the photo, Yang Huaixi was hugging Dou'er's shoulders. Their smiles formed a glaring contrast with the mess before them.
The night fog spread over the wall like thick ink, making the courtyard eerie and scary.
Wang Jianguo leaned against the mottled brick wall, digging his fingernails deep into his palms to stop his body from trembling.
Suppressed sobbing came from the backyard, mixed with the rustling sound of shoes soles rolling over gravel, like countless tiny needles beating on the eardrums.
He slowly stuck his head out. The moonlight passed through the broken grape trellis, casting crisscross shadows on the ground, reflecting a dozen swaying figures.
Yang Huaixi curled up in the corner, his faded blue shirt covered in mud, his left eye swollen to a slit, and blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Dou'er beside him was even worse off, with bruises all over his face.
His thin clothes were torn to tatters, his knees were on the sharp rubble, blood was flowing down his calves.
The two were surrounded by seven or eight sturdy men holding sticks. The cold moonlight reflected on the blade looked like a poisonous snake spitting out its tongue.
"Bang!" The scarred man's leather shoes stepped hard on the back of Yang Huaixi's hand. The dull sound of dislocated bones made Wang Jianguo tremble all over.
The man was at least two meters tall, with dark tattoos on his shoulders and a cigarette that flickered in the night.
“I’ll give you three seconds.”
He lifted Dou'er's chin with the tip of the knife, and the boy's terrified sob was caught in his throat.
"Either chop off his right hand or cripple your leg - you dare to ruin Mr. Huang's business, and treat the black market as a game?"
The air in the yard seemed to freeze. Wang Jianguo saw Yang Huaixi suddenly straighten his back, and a smile appeared on his bloody mouth:
“Come at me.”
Before he could finish his words, the scarred man had already grabbed his hair with his other hand, and with a flash of cold light, the blade brushed against his cheek.
Dou'er suddenly screamed and rushed forward, but was kicked in the chest and fell heavily on the mortar, and the groaning stopped abruptly.
“Two seconds.”
The scarred man put the knife against Yang Huaixi's elbow. At the moment his muscles tensed, Wang Jianguo noticed an old centipede-like scar on the back of his neck, which moved slightly as he swallowed.
The night wind blew in with a bloody smell. The undried sheets on the clothesline were suddenly blown up and fluttered into pale flags in the moonlight, startling the wild cat at the foot of the wall, and its shrill cry broke the silence.
The wet soil made a dull sound under Yang Huaixi's knees. He hit the ground heavily with broken porcelain pieces. The sharp porcelain slag instantly pierced his coarse cloth trouser legs, and blood beads flowed down his calves.
The moonlight leaked in through the cracks in the broken eaves, casting a hideous shadow on Scarface's greasy face.
Yang Huaixi raised his blood-stained face, and turbid tears mixed with blood slid into the corners of his mouth. His voice was hoarse like sandpaper grinding against rust:
“Brother, brother! My brother doesn’t know anything! He is just a child…”
"child?"
The scarred man suddenly burst into wild laughter, and the dagger in his hand flashed a cold light in the halo of the kerosene lamp.
He leaned over and approached Yang Huaixi, spraying the stench of cheap tobacco on his face:
"The 'Golden Gun Pill' that slipped out of your hands last month caused a certain nobleman to lie in bed for half a month, and you're talking to me about the child?"