Kind words can't save the damned.
Whether those people lived or died was no concern of Chen Qing's.
On the way back to the hotel, Chen Qing stopped in once more at the outdoor camping shop.
The shopkeeper welcomed him in like the God of Wealth himself.
"Do you have... a necklace, or something, that could hold half a cigarette on you at all times?"
Chen Qing produced half a cigarette for comparison.
He didn't take out the shrunken Demon-Suppressing Pagoda—no one would recognize it, but better safe than sorry.
In the apocalypse, human hearts were too terrifying.
"It has to be sturdy. Can't be cut by a blade, not afraid of water or fire."
"I've got just the thing!"
The shopkeeper fetched a braided cord at once:
"This is Dyneema—an ultra-high-strength polyethylene fiber, fifteen times stronger than steel, tougher even than aramid fiber. Thin as it looks, it'll tow a five-ton car, no problem."
Then he brought out a finger-sized mummy figurine.
He pressed the base and turned it counterclockwise to open it.
Inside was a hollow, just big enough to hold half a cigarette.
"This one's called a Death's-Door Necklace. Supposedly agents used to wear them—loaded with a lethal poison, to kill someone, or yourself."
"These days I hear extreme-sports fanatics put adrenaline in them. Can save your life at the critical moment."
Chen Qing examined it. Just big enough to hold the shrunken Demon-Suppressing Pagoda.
He had the shopkeeper fasten it around his neck. "Weld it shut on my neck."
"Handsome, think it over—once it's really locked on, getting it off again without proper tools could take days."
"Mm."
All set.
"How much?"
"You're this shop's supreme client—what money?"
Chen Qing didn't press it. He simply left.
Downstairs at the hotel, Chen Qing got a call.
From Chenxi.
The moment it connected, her voice came through in pieces:
"Chen Qing! What... what's the meaning of this?! Boohoo... I—you bastard!"
Still cursing me?
Chen Qing sneered inwardly and hung up on the spot.
The phone rang again.
"Chen Qing! Chen Qing! Don't hang up! Don't hang up! I'm begging you, don't hang up!"
Chenxi's voice had cracked into desperation. "Please! I was wrong! Come explain this, quickly..."
Chen Qing feigned confusion. "Explain what?"
Another voice came over the line:
"Today you reported that someone robbed your phone, but this young lady says you two are boyfriend and girlfriend, just fooling around. Please come down to the station. Otherwise this young lady is looking at three years, minimum."
Hanging up, Chen Qing was a little surprised.
He truly hadn't expected it to be this serious—he'd figured she'd get fifteen days' detention, not three years and up.
Wasn't that as good as leaving her to die in there?
But wouldn't that be letting her off easy!
Of all those snarling faces from his last life, Chenxi and Chenkun were the two who must not be allowed to die easily!
Besides, this woman was still useful to him. Very useful. Absolutely could not be allowed to die in a police station!
Pah!
What rotten damn luck.
At the station, Chen Qing found Chenxi already sobbing, her eyes swollen red, her makeup smeared across her face like grime.
The moment she saw Chen Qing, she flung herself at him.
Chen Qing dodged sharply aside and shoved her hard into a nearby desk, shouting, "What is this thing?!"
Chenxi's hip slammed into the desk corner; the pain twisted her whole face.
"Chen... Chen Qing, it's me." She forced out a smile, uglier than crying.
"Eh? Chenxi?! You... is your family really that hard up? Since when do you steal?" Chen Qing's face was pure disgust. "And robbery, no less?"
"It's a misunderstanding!" Chenxi hissed through the pain.
Just then a middle-aged woman came out of the restroom, and the instant she saw Chen Qing she flew into a rage!
"Aah! It's you, you death-deserving wretch!!"
The middle-aged woman shrieked and lunged to claw at Chen Qing. "You're the one who got my little Xi locked up! You death-deserving wretch!!"
She was pinned down at once.
Chen Qing didn't say a word. He turned and walked off.
Chenxi panicked!
So did the middle-aged woman!
"Stop right there!"
The police stopped Chen Qing too.
"What?"
Chen Qing frowned.
"You filed the report, and this young lady says you're friends, just messing around..."
"Robbery, three years. Go with that. The sight of this woman makes me sick." Chen Qing jabbed a finger at the ranting middle-aged woman, then, unwilling to argue further, made to leave again.
"You!! You just want money, don't you?! We'll pay!"
Chenxi rushed to hold her back. "Mom! Mom! Stop making it worse! He's not short on money!"
"I did come to explain. But now I don't feel like it," Chen Qing sneered. "The facts are clear, the evidence is solid—three years it is!"
The middle-aged woman was livid!
Her pointing finger trembled.
"You... you..."
"One more word out of you and I turn around and leave."
Chen Qing smiled sweetly at the woman. "Please, apologize for what you just did."
"Apologize! Not a chance! You trash, you cursed your own parents into their graves!"
Chen Qing turned to leave once more.
"Come back!!"
"Get back here!!"
Chen Qing didn't humor them.
He switched off his phone and went back to the hotel.
"Chen Qing, you're back."
Chen Man said it flatly.
He was gnawing on a chicken drumstick while doing his homework, an attendant seated beside him to help.
The attendant gave Chen Qing a wry, weary smile—sitting here tutoring Chen Man's homework was more exhausting than two night shifts!
"Thanks for the trouble. You can go." Chen Qing offhandedly produced two hundred-yuan bills.
The attendant took them and left, beaming.
Before Chen Qing and Chen Man could exchange more than a few words, there was a knock at the door.
Chen Qing looked—two officers. One old, one young.
"Young man, don't be so rash about things!" The old officer was all geniality. "If it can be settled amicably, settle it—would locking a young girl away for a few years really make you feel good?"
Chen Qing thought it over seriously. "I'd feel great."
"There you go—huh?" The old officer stalled out.
That one sentence had derailed everything he'd meant to say next.
The mood turned oddly awkward.
The young officer picked up the thread. "How would you like this resolved, then?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Chen Qing saw someone hiding by the stairwell a short way off.
"An apology, obviously."
"The daughter commits robbery, the mother hits and curses people—what kind of household raises something this ill-bred?"
The figure by the stairwell shook with fury.
Which made Chen Qing feel even better.
"Did you two see that menopausal woman earlier? All fangs and flailing claws—scared me half to death. I honestly thought a fucking ghost had shown up!"
"My cat in heat isn't that vicious!"
The figure trembled harder still.
"Ahem! Ahem!" The officer coughed awkwardly and waved his hands. "All right, all right, enough of that ugly talk."
He beckoned toward the back:
"Yu Jinxiu, come apologize."
Sure enough!
It was that middle-aged woman.
Her face was flushed crimson now, her hands shaking.
She ground out, heavily, "I'm sorry."
Chen Qing shut the door in her face.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" The young officer wedged his foot against the door, frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Did you not see how she apologized?"
Chen Qing sneered. "Who the hell is she making faces at?"
The old officer looked displeased. He glanced at Chen Qing, then at the middle-aged woman. "If this mediation falls through, I'm washing my hands of it—and your daughter really does go in."
At those words the woman's face changed. She drew several deep breaths and forced through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry!"
"Not sincere enough," said Chen Qing, cleaning the dirt from under his nails from the digging, not even looking at her.
The woman shook with rage, drew a few long breaths, and said, "What I did today was wrong. I apologize to you. I'm sorry!"
"And the part where you cursed my parents?"
Chen Qing flicked away a few flecks of black grime. "You called me trash who cursed his own parents into their graves?"
The woman went blank for a moment, drew a long breath, her body trembling, her voice thick with tears:
"I... I'm the trash! I'm the one who's trash!"
"I'm the trash who cursed my own parents into their graves!"
"Is that enough?!"
She stared at Chen Qing, struggling to stay steady, eyes red.
Chen Qing laughed. "No, seriously—I say 'trash,' and this is how your family apologizes, looking ready to commit murder?"
The woman clenched her fists so hard the nails bit into her flesh.
She dragged a hand down her face.
"I'm sorry, I've got a foul mouth! I said things today I shouldn't have—please, in your magnanimity, let it go!"
Slap!
And with that, the woman actually began slapping herself, hard.
Slap!
Chen Qing watched calmly, unmoved.
"That's enough, isn't it?" The old officer frowned.
"It'll do," Chen Qing said with a smile. "This is more the look I like to see. You can clear off now."