Bo Yizhen hung up the phone, feeling a massive headache coming on. The expression he gave Bo Nan was slightly more than subtle.
He had just received eight phone calls with nearly identical content. They were essentially asking if he was interested in sending Bo Nan abroad for further studies—all expenses covered by them. If that wasn’t possible, then at the very least… a “jinx” of this caliber should not be allowed to roam free and terrorize humanity.
He thought Bo Nan had gone to the Qian funeral to kill a chicken to warn the monkeys to establish dominance. While the outcome was consistent with that, the process was… a bit mystical?
Bo Yizhen turned to his friend Jing Yizhou, who had called specifically to gossip: “Nan might be a bit reckless, but I’ve never heard of him being a jinx. People are just being superstitious. If the entire Qian family died today, would they say Nan cursed them?”
Before the words had even settled, a news alert popped up on Bo Yizhen’s tablet, sent by Jing Yizhou. The content was, naturally, the news of the entire Qian family getting wiped out in a car crash on their way home. Jing Yizhou’s intel was more precise: while the news reported three in critical condition, Jing’s source confirmed fourteen dead, zero survivors.
Jing Yizhou: “Take a look?”
Bo Yizhen paused, then said without missing a beat, “…Let’s get back to discussing the Qian family’s market shares.”
After hanging up, he glared fiercely at Bo Nan, who was sitting nearby. Bo Nan spread his hands, essentially saying: Yep, that was me.
Bo Yizhen mouthed: Did you clean up the loose ends?
Bo Nan gave an ‘OK’ sign: Of course.
A burst of laughter came from the phone. “Alright, alright, I know you protect your own… So, next…”
The two then dove into a serious discussion on how to successfully and efficiently carve up the Qian family. After all, some of the Qian industries were outside the Bo family’s scope; forcibly acquiring them without resources or experience would be a waste. Furthermore, with industries come employees; they had to consider the unemployment rate for the sake of the local government.
No official likes local enterprises stirring up trouble to the point of social instability. By the time it reaches that stage, the investigators are either on their way or already knocking. Thus, cooperating with the Jing family, whose business scope overlapped with the remaining assets, was the best move.
Of course, the fact that the two families were close friends was the deciding factor.
Once Bo Yizhen finally finished, Bo Nan said, “Brother, lend me the legal and PR departments.”
Bo Yizhen thought for a moment and realized Bo Nan didn’t intend to leave the Qians even a shred of dignity. “Fine. I’ll tell Zhang Li to follow up.”
“Good. Stay busy then.” Bo Nan got up and went to his room. In his previous life, he hadn’t realized the Qians were targeting them, so he didn’t remember their “black materials.” But since Professor Jiang had appeared, who knew how big the iceberg under the surface was? Digging deeper would surely yield delightful results.
Within three days, the entire nation was drowning in a sea of gossip.
It started with a creepy ghost story about a little girl being tortured and coming back for revenge. People read it casually until a major influencer reposted it with the caption: “Holy sht, this family sounds exactly like my neighbors…”* After that, internet sleuths pieced together the beginning and end of the story in no time.
Initially, it was just speculation, but then someone leaked a tip to a gossip account, pointing directly at the Qian family in Suzhou.
The Qians appeared to have died of “accidents,” but they all shared a singular cause of death: A Pierced Heart.
The patriarch and the young master died that way. The three at the funeral died that way. Even the fourteen people in the car crash were each skewered through the heart by the falling steel bars. No exceptions.
Too many coincidences become a certainty. Who wouldn’t find that bone-chilling?
Just as netizens were getting spooked, a famous “wealthy young master” (verified as a board member of a major group) reposted the news with a “Goodbye” emoji and the comment: “They got what they deserved.”
That sparked a explosion of curiosity.
With the power of the internet, everyone soon knew this family was gone. Victims who had previously remained silent out of fear of the Qians’ influence immediately began reporting to the police and venting on social media. Many uploaded videos and photos that served as “smoking guns.”
Normally, such a controversial trending topic involving a dozen deaths would be suppressed, but today, the platform seemed to choose to be “human.” The hashtag #JusticePrevails RetributionIsReal climbed to number one and stayed there for a full 48 hours without losing momentum.
Within 12 hours of the hashtag hitting #1, the authorities issued a notice asking netizens to remain calm and not be led by the hype.
At 24 hours, they announced that the matter was under investigation and that the law would not shield any criminal—even the dead ones.
At 48 hours, a long-form article was published: The Story of a Murderer.
The professor was a good man. He was respected, humorous, happily married, and lived a fulfilled life. He had published enough history papers to reach a man’s height and had pushed the known history of the nation back another thousand years. But he was a murderer.
He was a murderer because his 13-year-old twins were raped and killed. His phones were monitored. His wife wanted justice and tried to go to the police, only to be abducted and raped to death by the same group on her way there. His parents’ legs were crushed in a “hit and run.” He lost his job. And the killer laughed as he sent the professor videos of the assault on his wife and children, telling him to keep his mouth shut.
So he became a murderer. He killed three of the culprits and surrendered.
The final paragraph of the article read:
Do you think this is just a story? No. The professor’s name is Jiang Dongliu, former History Professor at S University, author of “Six Thousand Years of History”… etc. His wife and children were murdered in March 2021. The killers share the surname Qian. There may be more, but he only knew of the main culprits. One died in an “accident” days ago, much to the professor’s regret, so he only settled three personally. In his final moments before the police took him, he told a former student: “I’m sorry, I’m not fit to be a teacher.” Quite the coincidence, isn’t it?
The post included three photos and two GIFs. Though heavily pixelated, the mix of screams, sneers, and heavy breathing made everyone nauseous.
The second video was from Bo Nan’s perspective: the refined, gentle man sitting on a corpse, apologizing to Bo Nan. On his arm was a black cloth—a Suzhou custom worn when a spouse passes away.
Countless people tagged official media outlets, demanding a thorough investigation. If true, give Professor Jiang justice. If false, send the poster to jail for defamation.
An official media account “liked” this post, allowing the public to breathe a sigh of relief.
Bo Nan sent a few instructions to Zhang Li to keep the momentum going. Most of these “insiders” were actually data points he had gathered over the last few days. He wasn’t worried about anyone blocking the progress the Qians who could speak were mostly dead, and any relatives with half a brain would be hiding from the public storm.
As for their “connections” higher up? The Qians had lost all utility. No one would step into this mess to protect a sinking ship. Survival is instinctual.
After 480 hours, the dust finally settled.
The Qian family was nailed to a pillar of shame. People were shocked to discover that in the entire family, not a single one was innocent. They were linked to the murders of 32 young men and women, 8 suicides due to harassment, and 17 cases of permanent disability.
Passersby spat on the gates of their old manor every day. People even found the Qian ancestral graves and trampled them.
This was exactly the result Bo Nan wanted. He lowered his gaze. Time to finish the sweep.
Li Zhou had been miserable lately. Living next door to the Qian manor was a nightmare. He didn’t mind the sentiment, but could people please distinguish which villa was which when throwing rotten eggs? His house had been collateral damage several times!
Fortunately, the community security was tight, otherwise his house would have been buried in trash.
“Hello? Old Bo?” Li Zhou answered the phone.
Bo Nan, driving, said: “I’m almost at your house. Have the security open the gate. By the way, is your dad home?”
“Huh? You’re looking for my dad?” Li Zhou opened his door and leaned toward the study. “Yeah, he’s in there on a call. Come on in.”
Bo Nan arrived shortly after and met Li He in the study.
Bo Nan got straight to the point: “Uncle Li, you’re not an outsider, so I have something I want to discuss with you.”
Li He looked into Bo Nan’s eyes. For some reason, he felt these weren’t the eyes of a 20-year-old. They were mature, sharp, and possessed a calm born of having seen everything. He said instinctively, “Alright, let’s hear it.”
Bo Nan said: “I want your house.”
Bo Nan stopped there. He didn’t say “buy,” he said “want.” This meant Bo Nan was confident Li He would give it to him—meaning Bo Nan held something he couldn’t refuse. But since he didn’t name it… it was a test of sincerity.
Should I gamble?
Li He looked at Bo Nan. Their gazes met. After a moment of deliberation, he nodded. “Since you put it that way, Nan… fine.”
Bo Nan smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll be satisfied.”
Bo Nan left with the agreement. From now on, the Bo and Li families were in the same boat. Normally, Bo Yizhen should have handled this, but Bo Nan took the job because what he could give the Li family was far more valuable than a simple business deal. The Bo family needed expansion and allies, but they also needed “eyes and ears.” The fact that they hadn’t heard a whisper of the Qians’ plot earlier proved their intelligence network was weak.
He walked to the tree at the northwest corner of the Qian manor, dug up the Heart-Piercing Inkstone, and tossed it onto the Qian’s front gate with a laugh.
He was issuing a declaration
I did this. If you aren’t afraid of ending up like the Qians, feel free to try me!