Chapter 12: How Did He Become My Fiancé?

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At the mere mention of the Patriarch, Yuren You’s eyes lit up.

“The Patriarch is a legendary figure, currently the most highly valued rubbings artist on the market. It’s said that individual pieces from the Patriarch have auctioned for tens of millions, with the market rate nearing a million per square foot.”

Qiao Ruyi looked at Yuren You with surprise. “You’re quite burly, yet I didn’t expect you to know so much about the rubbing market, even quoting the rates.”

Yuren You’s face showed a hint of pride. “I understand art pretty well. Hey, young lady, you’re making rubbings in that house? You’re a rubbings artist too? You’d better let us go—I can introduce you to the Patriarch, and from then on, you’ll soar to great heights!”

“Soar to great heights, huh?” Qiao Ruyi smiled and repeated. “Who actually goes by the name Patriarch?”

“That’s the name known outside,” Yuren You said, giving her a look that said, “You really don’t know.” “The Patriarch is very low-key, but his rubbings are incredibly valuable. Everyone in the industry agrees that rubbings done by the Patriarch seem to have a soul; they almost breathe.”

Qiao Ruyi laughed. “So there really is such a figure in the rubbing world—both wealthy and discreet?”

Yuren You’s tone turned earnest. “Look at you, so young, probably just started as a rubbings artist not long ago. Of course, you wouldn’t have access to such big shots. I’m a broad-minded person; I won’t hold this debt against you today. Just let us go, and I guarantee you’ll meet the big shot.”

“You said you came to Guyang City to find murals as a gift offering. It seems you’re not very close with the Patriarch either,” Qiao Ruyi cut to the chase.

Yuren You stiffened as if someone had hit a pressure point. Qiao Ruyi chuckled and patted his shoulder. “I don’t like people who speak without sincerity.”

Just as she was about to get up, Yuren You spoke urgently, “Yes, I’ve never met the Patriarch, but I’m quite familiar with people around him. The Patriarch really wants to find the murals in Guyang City. I need to go find them too, hoping to show my face before him.”

“Show your face?” Qiao Ruyi gave him a scrutinizing look, raising an eyebrow. “You want to become a rubbings artist?”

Yuren You shook his head rapidly. “I want to beg the Patriarch for a piece of calligraphy to help me through… a crisis.”

Qiao Ruyi understood—it was a quest for money.

After a moment’s thought, she asked, “You said you know people around the Patriarch. Who?”

Yuren You, now on the defensive, had no choice but to answer, “I don’t know their real names, but I have their WeChat.” He gestured at his tightly bound hands.

Without a word, Qiao Ruyi began searching him—not because she feared he’d run if freed, but because the hemp ropes were so tightly wound they’d be trouble to untie.

A woman’s hands rummaging over him made Yuren You instantly uncomfortable, stammering, “Hey, hey… this isn’t right, men and women shouldn’t touch like this…”

Qiao Ruyi pulled a phone from a hidden pocket and laughed. “I haven’t said anything yet, but you’re the one blushing.”

The phone had no password, making it easy for Qiao Ruyi to browse through WeChat. Yuren You’s face twitched nervously at her unrestrained snooping.

There weren’t many chat windows, showing the owner rarely used WeChat. Qiao Ruyi pulled up a contact photo and nodded toward Yuren You. “Her?”

He glanced up and nodded.

Qiao Ruyi looked at the avatar and smirked.

—

Qiao Ruyi’s guess was right: the Immortal Man had gone to Uncle Ge’s house. On the Immortal Man’s car, she found her rubbings and neatly arranged rubbing tools.

To be fair, the Immortal Man was not straightforward, but in this matter, he had done her a favor. She had been worried about how to retrieve her things.

As she was thinking of dragging the others back to the car, a phone suddenly rang repeatedly. After some searching, she realized it was the Immortal Man’s phone. Seeing Qiao Ruyi return, Yuren You pleaded, “Please let us go. I’m not lying—I really have close ties to people around the Patriarch and can connect you to him…”

Qiao Ruyi ignored Yuren You, focusing on the phone screen.

The name flashing on the screen made her smile quietly.

Tonight was full of surprises.

The caller was persistent, but Qiao Ruyi wasn’t in a hurry to answer. She leisurely toyed with the phone in her hand. After a while, the ringing stopped. She unlocked the phone, tapped quickly a few times, then put it away.

—

This time, Xing Lin was driving personally.

Zhou Bie sat in the passenger seat, glancing out the window from time to time, then at Xing Lin’s profile. Hidden in shadows, occasional streetlight flickers illuminated the frost in his eyes.

Zhou Bie didn’t speak throughout the ride; not even music was playing. The atmosphere was suffocating. He wasn’t sure what had happened but felt that despite knowing Xing Lin for nearly a year, he had never seen him so grim.

The car passed Guaxian County and arrived at a pitch-black place. After getting out, Zhou Bie finally saw the surroundings: desolate, sandbags piled one after another, and in the distance, a protective forest planted years ago.

A dilapidated house made of yellow earth and green bricks stood solitary in the wasteland.

Xing Lin closed the car door and narrowed his eyes toward the house. Faint lights shimmered through the broken glass windows. Zhou Bie followed him, peering inside. Was someone there to make Xing Lin so weary?

Seeing Xing Lin stride toward the house, Zhou Bie didn’t hesitate and followed closely.

The door opened with a push.

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A mix of dust and the smell of blood, with a faint hint of medicinal herbs, hit them.

Xing Lin was startled; a bad feeling quickly spread in his chest. He stepped inside but froze when he saw what was inside.

Zhou Bie came in after, also stunned.

The small room was cluttered with many men tied up in disarray, most unconscious. Against the wall diagonally opposite the door, boxes were piled up. Qiao Ruyi sat on the boxes, one leg crossed over the other, arms resting on her knees, playing with a gun in her hand, her gaze half amused, half teasingly fixed on the men who had just entered.

The shock in Xing Lin’s eyes faded as he glanced briefly at Shen Que tied in the corner. His head drooped, but in the dim light, his battered face was visible.

His gaze returned to Qiao Ruyi, and he realized she was the one who had sent him the location from Shen Que’s phone.

Qiao Ruyi jumped down from the boxes, her tone both seductive and languid. “Boss Xing, let’s have a chat.”

—

“His name’s Shen Que?” Qiao Ruyi tossed the gun onto the table. “Using a gun, huh? Your friend sure respects me.”

The people in the old house were dealt with in three groups.

Qiao Ruyi released Yuren You and two others.

This shocked Yuren You; he never expected her to be so straightforward about letting him go without a beating. But Qiao Ruyi didn’t let him relax for long, warning him that someone would come looking for him and that he should wait for it.

Her words terrified Yuren You anew.

She even assigned Yuren You a task: to take those bodyguards away. As for what would happen to them when they woke up, she didn’t care, as long as they didn’t die in the ruins.

Yuren You was worried—seven unconscious bodyguards, what could he do?

Qiao Ruyi ignored such concerns and followed Xing Lin back to the Heart’s Desire. Shen Que accompanied them.

Zhou Bie and Shen Que were not involved in the “negotiations.” They were left downstairs while the study upstairs remained tightly shut. Zhou Bie sat by the coffee table, glancing at the slumped Shen Que with displeasure.

He didn’t know Shen Que but could guess that tonight’s big trouble was caused by this man.

Was this a case of “losing the chicken but gaining the stick”?

Still, Zhou Bie hadn’t expected Qiao Ruyi, who looked delicate and powerless, to take down several big men.

Never judge a book by its cover.

Zhou Bie sighed and looked upstairs.

Good thing he hadn’t offended her.

Upstairs in the study, the atmosphere was different.

It wasn’t friendly—rather, heavy and tense.

A gun lay quietly on the table, the cold muzzle pointed at Xing Lin.

Qiao Ruyi toyed with a bullet, then placed it beside the gun, raising her eyes to Xing Lin. Although there was a smile in her eyes, no warmth was present. She slowly added, “Boss Xing, shouldn’t you give me an explanation?”

Xing Lin stared at the gun, his gaze heavy. From the moment he saw Qiao Ruyi in the old house, his expression had darkened, his eyes harboring a blackness that defied description—like a lightless deep sea, filled with endless pressure and suffocation.

Qiao Ruyi didn’t understand why his gaze was like that. The only explanation was that he might be frustrated Shen Que hadn’t dealt with her.

The next second, Xing Lin spoke in a low, somewhat helpless voice. “I didn’t know Shen Que would come looking for you. You didn’t suffer a loss, and he was injured. Isn’t that even?”

Qiao Ruyi smiled. “I didn’t suffer a loss because I have some skill. One careless move and I’d be dead. Seven bodyguards and a gun—Boss Xing, your idea of even is very casual.”

“Yes, I admit Shen Que went too far,” Xing Lin said sincerely, not trying to downplay it. “You can resolve this however you want. I have no objection.”

Qiao Ruyi snorted. Her slender fingers pressed on the bullet, flicking it so it spun across the table. Xing Lin looked up at her. Her eyes were charming and shimmering, casually radiating a dangerous aura that made him momentarily dazed.

The image in his mind flickered again.

The wind and sand of Guyang City raised the red dress, the hem fluttering. Gradually, that figure vanished into the yellow sand, not looking back.

How long had it been?

Long enough that when Xing Lin recalled it now, he forgot whether the dress raised by the sand was red or stained with blood.

Qiao Ruyi felt his gaze was strange.

He seemed to be looking at her, but also as if looking through her at someone else. Focused yet distant, unreachable.

A strange feeling stirred in her heart—the same feeling as when they first locked eyes.

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A very strange familiarity.

But Qiao Ruyi wasn’t one to be led by feelings. She asked calmly, “You said you didn’t know Shen Que came looking for me. Why did Shen Que come?”

Xing Lin was silent for a moment. “It has nothing to do with Miss Qiao. Shen Que misunderstood and dragged you into it. I’m sorry.”

Qiao Ruyi sneered. “That excuse is really perfunctory.”

“Or if you want compensation, I’ll promise whatever is within my power,” Xing Lin said, looking at her. “Except entry into Guyang City.”

“I want to enter Guyang City,” Qiao Ruyi said, defying him with a smile. Then with cold intent, “Or your friend won’t have a good life from now on.”

Xing Lin’s brow furrowed solemnly. “Threat?”

“Isn’t it?” Qiao Ruyi raised her pale finger and lightly tapped the gun. “Just possessing a gun is enough to punish your friend.”

Xing Lin’s pupils contracted slightly.

“I believe with your connections, Boss Xing, getting Shen Que out of trouble wouldn’t be difficult. But don’t forget,” Qiao Ruyi paused, her tone steady, “I work for the Research Institute, doing honest work. If your friend causes public scandal, he won’t be spared either.”

She glanced up slightly. “Of course, if Shen Que is shameless, he might survive the public backlash, but what about you? Aren’t you afraid some unmentionable secrets might be dug up?”

Xing Lin stared at her, lips pressed tight.

Even the air around them grew cold—it was palpable.

They were locked in a standoff.

Suddenly, Xing Lin smiled.

A faint smile played at the corners of his eyes, like rippling water. Qiao Ruyi didn’t know why he smiled and became alert.

“Miss Qiao went to Uncle Ge’s house?”

Qiao Ruyi was open. “Yes.”

“What for?”

“To make rubbings.”

“Rubbings?”

“To make rubbings of Uncle Ge’s death tableau.”

Xing Lin was startled.

“We both saw the death scenes of Uncle Ge’s family,” Qiao Ruyi said slowly and clearly. “I just want to know if their deaths are related to Guyang City.”

Xing Lin didn’t answer but stared at her for a long moment before asking, “Why exactly are you entering Guyang City?”

He had asked this before.

Qiao Ruyi had answered.

To find the ancient murals hidden by the sandstorm. She was a rubbings artist; rubbing ancient paintings was a way to earn money and her responsibility.

But this time, Qiao Ruyi gave him a different answer: “To find someone.”

A deep, meaningful glint appeared in Xing Lin’s eyes, as if not surprised but still stifled. His voice was husky and almost unnoticeably hoarse. “Who?”

“My boyfriend. To be precise, my fiancé,” Qiao Ruyi didn’t hide it. “He went to Guyang City and disappeared.”

Xing Lin’s breath caught briefly; his calm face darkened slightly. “Why is he a fiancé now?”

The question was odd.

Qiao Ruyi sensed it but couldn’t put her finger on why. She countered, “Why can’t he be a fiancé?”

Well, her answer was strange too.

For a moment, they fell silent.

It was as if the conversation died suddenly, stuck on the words “fiancé,” unable to move forward. But not quite disengaged—Xing Lin kept staring at her, his eyes complex and inscrutable.

“My point is,” Qiao Ruyi didn’t even know why she was explaining this, pondering long and hard, feeling she had to keep the topic going, “why can’t I have a fiancé?”