[I’ll be the one saying it when I’m old]
As soon as Lu Ting’an walked out of the police station, the driver, who had been waiting for a long time, greeted him with a cheerful grin.
The Lu family had two drivers, one old and one young, and recently it had been the elder, Lu Jin, who was responsible for the pick-ups and drop-offs. Since Lu Ting’an’s personality had undergone a massive shift lately, Lu Jin felt comfortable enough to chat with him more.
As he opened the car door, Lu Jin mentioned casually, “Young Master is ten minutes late coming out tonight. Did something tie you up?”
In the Lu family, whether it was Lu Chenhu or the drivers, there was a strange, unspoken indulgence toward Lu Ting’an. Lu Jin genuinely believed that Lu Ting’an went to the police station simply to rest and recuperate. Never mind leaving on time—even if he left several hours early, no one would dare say a word.
And yet, here he was, getting off late. To Lu Jin, this felt like the school principal’s kid being forced to stay for after-class detention.
Lu Ting’an sat into the car with slow, deliberate grace. He let out a lazy “mm” and explained, “I had some unfinished work. I stayed for a few minutes of overtime.”
If any members of Major Crimes Unit 1 heard this, they would likely have the urge to string Lu Ting’an up and beat him.
This counted as overtime? They lived in a world where “overtime” meant pulling back-to-back all-nighters at the station.
Lu Jin, however, was quite dissatisfied. “What kind of work requires you to personally stay late, Young Master?” He grumbled, “Where was Ah Hai? The Master specifically instructed him to handle things.”
Lu Ting’an waved a hand dismissively. “He couldn’t do this job. It wasn’t anything brain-taxing, it’s fine.”
Lu Jin hummed in response, then looked into the rearview mirror with a touch of curiosity. “Who were those people? Why were they crying like that after you spoke to them?”
They looked like honest, poor folks. Surely his Young Master hadn’t done something reckless again?
Then again, that didn’t seem right. So many people at the station were watching, and their attitude toward those two was quite strange. Given his Young Master’s past history of misbehavior, if he had actually done something bad, he’d currently be behind iron bars waiting for Lu Chenhu to bail him out.
Uncle Jin’s curiosity was gnawing at him, but Lu Ting’an was dismissive of the two, not even bothering to glance back.
“The parents of the killer in the Zhou Wanxi case. They’re just wailing at a funeral.”
*Screeech!* The car, which had just started moving, stalled on the spot.
Uncle Jin turned around in disbelief. “How unlucky! Young Master, do you remember the Master’s repeated warnings? With your constitution, you mustn’t come into contact with people who carry such deep sin and heavy yin energy. If the Master finds out about this, he won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
Lu Ting’an narrowed his eyes, his attitude dismissive. “Then don’t let him find out.”
“But—”
“Uncle Jin, you’re being long-winded.”
Lu Jin: “…”
Lu Jin had always been somewhat afraid of Lu Ting’an. He was older and mostly worked for Lu Chenhu, and while the Young Master wouldn’t go as far as setting dogs on him when angry, docked pay and verbal abuse were common occurrences in the past.
The current Lu Ting’an had a much better temper—he wasn’t as fickle or easily enraged—but for some reason, his aura had changed significantly. Especially when he gave a calm command, he carried more and more of Lu Chenhu’s boardroom pressure.
‘Don’t dare to provoke him. Definitely don’t dare.’
Lu Jin fell silent as a winter cicada, carefully stepping on the gas to drive the car out smoothly.
For the rest of the drive, Lu Jin indeed remained silent. Lu Ting’an breathed in the cool evening air, finally feeling the throbbing in his temples subside a little.
However, he soon noticed that this wasn’t the usual way home. Returning to the Lu villa required passing through a long stretch of busy market area; tonight’s road was exceptionally wide and quiet, and the breeze was colder than before.
Lu Ting’an opened his eyes and asked, “Uncle Jin, do we have an errand to run?”
Hearing Lu Ting’an initiate conversation made Lu Jin relax a bit, and he became talkative again. “You must have forgotten, Young Master. Master eats the sesame Bing [1] Reference jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_1650488_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_1650488_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); from Fu Ding Ji every week. We’re heading to Qinhe Road.”
This fell squarely into Lu Ting’an’s blind spot. He was entirely ignorant of the original owner’s and Lu Chenhu’s lifestyle habits and preferences.
Fortunately, the original owner had been so absurd in his behavior for years—uncaring and distant toward his father—that even if Lu Ting’an looked blank, Lu Jin simply assumed he just hadn’t bothered to remember the things Lu Chenhu liked.
Not only did he not suspect anything, but he also offered a helpful explanation.
Fu Ding Ji was a famous sesame Bing stall in Hong Kong. Don’t be fooled by the simplicity of the food; such delicacies were rare in the city. Especially when one usually ate too many steamed dumplings, chicken feet, and roasted goose, a Bing full of “earthy” flavor became a novelty. Fu Ding Ji had used an excellent recipe to grow its business, becoming a legacy brand loved by both the rich and the poor.
The Qinhe Road area was the recognized “Gold Coast” for the wealthy.
It was the polar opposite of Pingnan Ridge. Both sides of Qinhe Road were lined with skyscrapers; Qinhe Elementary sat to the east, and Gangming University to the south. The roads here were wide asphalt; every hundred meters, you could see a sanitation worker clearing fallen leaves. The storefronts in this area were either luxury goods or food stalls with lines so long they were practically permanent—like Fu Ding Ji.
“Young Master, wait for me in the car.”
Lu Jin parked by the curb, grabbed his wallet, and hopped out nimbly. “I’ll be right back.”
Lu Ting’an nodded, waving his hand lazily.
He turned to look at the Fu Ding Ji storefront. It was about fifteen square meters—quite small compared to the other restaurants on the street—and could only seat a few people inside. However, a Bing shop didn’t really need dine-in space; customers usually just grabbed their bags and left, with some casual folks taking a bite right there on the street.
Judging by the number of ovens and the queue outside, Lu Jin would be waiting at least fifteen minutes. He hadn’t even been at the end of the line for thirty seconds before three more people trailed in behind him.
In his previous life, Lu Ting’an had lived in a run-down neighborhood for over a decade, with several food streets nearby. The elderly lady who lived above him was a master at making flatbreads; she controlled the fillings, the crust, and the heat with absolute precision. Anyone in the building who tasted them would sing her praises.
‘I should have learned from that grandma,’ Lu Ting’an thought. Having a good craft was essential when you were out in the world. If he knew how to toss flatbreads by hand, he’d definitely open a shop to compete with Fu Ding Ji.
Of course, he was just daydreaming.
Lu Ting’an withdrew his gaze, lacking interest. Just as he was about to turn on the car radio to kill some time, a faint sound—almost like a pitiful wail—reached his ears.
Then, several bursts of laughter drifted in as well.
In his memory, children’s laughter should be clear and bright like silver bells, but the laughter outside was snide, laced with malicious mischief.
Lu Ting’an frowned and looked out the window.
Behind the car stood a massive scholar tree, its trunk so thick that two adults couldn’t wrap their arms around it. Behind the trunk, a few figures flickered—children with schoolbags, roughly ten years old.
The three children were busy with something. One was yanking on a plastic skipping rope, while the other two were crouched on the ground messing with something, occasionally standing up to deliver a kick.
“Whimper…”
The boy holding the plastic rope suddenly swung it with force. The rope whistled through the air with a sharp whoosh, and as it fell, it hooked a dark, twitching mass out from behind the tree trunk.
Once he saw clearly what that twitching black shadow was, Lu Ting’an’s eyes instantly turned cold.
It was a cat, pitch-black from head to toe—a tiny, skeletal mass of fur. Its two hind legs were bound tightly together with iron wire. Having been tumbled out from behind the tree, it couldn’t even struggle; it could only let its head droop limply against the pavement, its chest heaving with labored breaths.
Who could have imagined that several students—looking clean, neat, and cute with their schoolbags—would commit such an act of violence against a cat in broad daylight? The black cat was at death’s door, the fur on its head and back matted into sticky clumps.
Even after it had been tossed onto the curb, the three of them weren’t finished. One boy jogged over, grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, and pinned it forcefully against the tree trunk. The one with the rope looped it around the cat’s neck, circled the tree twice, and tied a tight knot at the end. When he let go, the black cat hung vertically against the bark, the rope tightening around its throat.
The three of them intended to hang this cat to death right here!
Lu Ting’an had never entertained the thought of owning a pet; his instinct told him he was indifferent to furry creatures. But seeing this scene, he couldn’t suppress the urge to punch someone. He kicked the car door open.
“What school are you kids from?!”
His sharp roar carried several meters. The laughing students jumped in fright. When they turned and saw a young man in a crisp white shirt with a stern, imposing expression, their faces turned ashen. They tried frantically to shield the tree behind them.
Lu Ting’an pointed a finger at them, his voice adopting the authoritative tone of a dean. “What is your homeroom teacher’s name?!”
“…”
The students hid their blood-stained hands behind their backs. They gritted their teeth and kept their heads down, terrified that Lu Ting’an might pull out a camera and take their photos at any second.
However, they soon realized that this man didn’t actually know them, and it was impossible for him to pick them out from a school of thousands. As long as they denied everything, the school couldn’t punish them.
After exchanging a few secret signals, the three of them turned simultaneously and fled in a panicked, clumsy scramble. Two of them were so frantic they tripped over each other’s feet and collapsed in a heap. Without making a sound, they scrambled back up and vanished around the corner.
Lu Ting’an didn’t bother to give chase. Students like these were already rotten at the roots; life would teach them a lesson eventually when they grew up. He didn’t care to manage them.
“Meow…” The black cat on the tree let out a weak cry.
Without much hesitation, Lu Ting’an took his jacket from the car and draped it over the cat. He carefully untied the rope—acting in a way that wouldn’t hurt the animal, nor soil his own hands.
The cat’s hind legs were bound so tightly with wire that during its struggle, a sharp end had pierced deep into its thigh. Fortunately, it hadn’t been bound for long, so the wire hadn’t had time to become completely embedded in the muscle.
Lu Ting’an used his jacket sleeves to protect his hands and managed to pry the wire off. But then, he found himself at a loss as to what to do next.
When Lu Jin hurried back with a bag of piping-hot sesame Bing, he immediately spotted Lu Ting’an crouching by the roadside. His expensive jacket—hardly worn a few times—was discarded on the ground, and on top of it was a dark, messy… pile of trash?
Looking closer, Lu Jin cursed under his breath. To hell with “trash”—that was a black cat, and it was moving!
Lu Jin quickened his pace, unable to hide the disgust in his eyes. “Young Master, what are you doing messing with that thing? It’s filthy!”
Lu Ting’an was even using his own clothes as a bed for the cat. If Lu Jin remembered correctly, that jacket cost more than two months of his salary; the sight of it made his heart bleed.
Seeing Lu Jin, the confused Lu Ting’an suddenly had an idea. He stood up, his gaze softening. “Uncle Jin, do we have any pets at home?”
Lu Jin shook his head, puzzled. “No.”
There was a dog chained at the gate for security, but that was just a “leftover scraps” type of relationship. They didn’t pamper it; it didn’t count as a pet.
Lu Ting’an’s eyes lit up. He immediately pointed at the black cat. “Then you take it home and raise it. I’ll pay you extra for its food.”
Lu Jin: “?!” ‘What!’
He took two steps back. “Young Master, why raise this? Look at it—it’s so black you can’t even see its eyes. It’s bad luck!”
“Nonsense,” Lu Ting’an interrupted him, dissatisfied. “The elders always say: a stray cat brings fortune, a stray dog brings wealth. A black cat is the luckiest of all.”
Lu Jin pressed, “Which elders said that?”
Lu Ting’an didn’t even blink. “I’ll be the one saying it when I’m old.”
Lu Jin: “…”
References[+]