“Hey? Where are the things?!” Lin Chengyou stomped his feet in place, wildly tugging at his hair.
“Where did they go? She… she was alone… no, she was with Wang Ma—how could they have emptied the entire basement in one go?!”
The basement was stacked high with all kinds of treasures he and his worthless son had spent the past six months collecting, working tirelessly from dawn to dusk. And now, just like that, it was all gone.
Lin Chengyou nearly had a stroke on the spot!
Fuming, he staggered to the wall, clutching it for support, gasping for air, sweat beading down his forehead:
“How could this happen… how could this happen?! I—I don’t believe it… all the work of over half a year, how could it just vanish like this?”
Lin Haojie also wore a face of disbelief, staring around in bewilderment, feeling completely empty inside.
These were supposed to be his raw capital for future success!
Even as a time-traveling outsider from another world, he couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened.
“Yulan said the basement was empty when Lin Xiwei entered. Could it be… a thief got in?”
Even at a time like this, Lin Haojie remained level-headed enough to analyze:
“Lin Xiwei and Wang Ma couldn’t have emptied the entire basement in such a short time. Their small car isn’t a truck, and Yulan was guarding it.”
Lin Chengyou, completely out of his depth, stammered:
“Then… then what do we do now?”
Stars seemed to swim in front of his eyes, his ears rang, and sweat poured from his body. Leaning against the wall, he could barely stand.
Lin Haojie ignored him, heading back outside. He noticed that the big black locks and chains on the basement door were gone.
“Too suspicious!”
He looked around the gallery and saw that even the dirty old valuable antique scrolls were gone.
“A thief definitely got in, no doubt about it.”
Lin Haojie hurried out and headed straight to the local police station.
Lin Chengyou wasn’t that rational; instead, his instincts immediately pointed to Lin Xiwei. He couldn’t explain why—he just felt it had to be her.
On the long, narrow, dim basement stairs, Lin Chengyou clung to the wall, climbing step by step.
The higher he went, the worse he felt. Stars danced in his vision, and even the flickering yellow ceiling lamp seemed to multiply into layers of illusions.
“I—I can’t… ha, ha… Haojie? Haojie, come help me… hao… ah!”
Suddenly!
Lin Chengyou lost control and fell backward straight down!
On the long basement stairs, he tumbled like an uncontrollable short squash, rolling all the way down.
…
One hour later.
Lin Haojie arrived at the scene with two police officers.
“Comrades, this is the place. My father and I manage this gallery on behalf of the public. We just discovered the basement storage room was robbed, and we hope you can help us ordinary citizens get justice.”
It was the end of 1978, the start of the reform era, now mid-1979.
The gallery had never been nationalized and remained in the Lin family’s name, though it hadn’t been operated in years.
Lin Chengyou had returned to the city with his family and taken over its management.
Lin Haojie spoke to the police this way just to avoid complications.
The three rushed to the gallery basement and first discovered Lin Chengyou unconscious.
“What happened to this old gentleman?”
“Oh, that’s my father. He was left here to guard the scene…” Lin Haojie’s words abruptly stopped.
Lin Chengyou… was dead!
A cerebral hemorrhage, combined with rolling down the long basement stairs and being trapped in the thin, oxygen-poor basement… he had passed away.
Lin Haojie hurried to check his pulse—confirmed, no life.
He refused to accept it and tried listening for his father’s heartbeat—truly, he was gone.
“Dad! Dad—”
Lin Haojie began to wail dramatically, tears or not, he had to cry and howl like a grieving son.
“Wake up, Dad! Why are you so hot-headed? The things are gone, but we can still look for them. I even brought the police with me. Why are you so helpless, Dad—”
The two officers didn’t know what to say, exchanging glances with each other and sighing.
…
At the Mao hour, just before dawn, Lin Xiwei was still asleep when someone knocked on her door. Wang Ma’s anxious voice drifted in:
“Miss, Miss! Wake up, Miss?”
“Oh, hold on.” Lin Xiwei sleepily pulled back the covers, got out of bed, quickly slipped on her shoes, and rushed to open the door.
“Wang Ma, what’s the matter so early?”
Wang Ma wiped a tear from her face, her voice unintentionally trembling with sobs:
“Miss, Master Chengyou… has passed away.”
Lin Xiwei jolted awake, half in disbelief:
“What do you mean? Passed away? Where?”
Wang Ma had been an orphan displaced by the war, coming to work at the Lin family as a child just to survive. Lin Chengyou was only a few years younger than her. Though technically master and servant, they had grown up together.
Even though Lin Chengyou had been a scoundrel, now that he was dead, it was natural for Wang Ma to feel grief.
“Lin Haojie and the police carried him back,” Wang Ma said, still choked with tears. “He suffered a sudden cerebral hemorrhage and passed away on the spot.”
Outside, a thunderclap rumbled, jolting Lin Xiwei fully awake. Her completely unfeeling biological father… had died of a cerebral hemorrhage in this lifetime.
In her previous life, it had been her grandfather who suffered a cerebral hemorrhage from the stress caused by Lin Chengyou and his filthy gang, and medical help couldn’t save him.
This time, fate had fallen on Lin Chengyou himself.
Lin Xiwei didn’t quite know how to feel—happy? Or not?
To be fair, even though she had been reborn, she never intended her scoundrel father harm. After all, he was still her father.
A tiger does not eat its cub; a daughter does not kill her father. Lin Xiwei belonged to the latter category.
She had considered draining her father’s wealth, sending him back to the countryside, even cutting off his so-called proud family line, but she had never considered patricide.
From the balcony behind her, a white, jagged bolt of lightning tore across the sky, clawing and twisting in a terrifying display.
Then—boom!
Thunder cracked across the horizon once again.
…
Lin Chengyou was dead. The entire Lin family was summoned to the living room.
The old master wept bitterly, prostrating himself over his son’s body. Even though this son had been worthless, he had never wished for his death.
Fu Cuilian and Lin Juying prostrated themselves on the other side of Lin Chengyou, crying their hearts out.
The sudden death of her husband shattered her dreams of wealth and status.
Lin Haojie knelt miserably beside his stepfather, crying as he wailed:
“My father… he… he must have seen that all the goods in the basement were gone. His heart couldn’t take it… he just couldn’t hold on… and… he passed away, wuwuwu!”
Lin Xiwei listened to the wailing that echoed through the living room. Her eyes were dry; not a single tear fell.
She understood. Because she had emptied the basement of its treasures, her scoundrel father had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage from the shock and passed away.
Though she hadn’t directly killed him, Lin Chengyou had died because of her.
Did Lin Xiwei feel guilty? Not at all!
The boomerang had come back to strike—o(￣︶￣)o~
Lin Haojie had been observing Lin Xiwei all along. His intuition told him that the loss of the basement treasures must be related to her.
“Comrades, before the things disappeared, Lin Xiwei entered the basement. You two also saw her footprints at the scene. There’s no way this matter is unrelated to her.”
Before the officers could speak, Lin Xiwei retorted sharply:
“What a joke! I’m just a weak girl—can’t lift or carry anything, how could I have taken all those things at once? Besides, you sent Lin Yulan to go with me, and she even searched me, tearing my qipao in the process. Don’t come here spouting nonsense and blaming me!”