Capital, the Luo Family.
In a simple back courtyard.
An old man in plain clothes lay leisurely in a wicker chair, eyes closed as he rested.
Sunlight fell warmly across his wrinkled face. He looked no different from any old man sunning himself in an alley.
At first glance,
no one would ever connect this “country farmer” with the founder of the Luo Family, one of the Capital's Three Great Families.
Luo Wensong.
His name alone was a mountain.
“Tap, tap, tap...”
Footsteps sounded at the entrance.
They were more hurried than usual, lacking their usual composure.
The old man in the wicker chair barely twitched an eyelid, but did not open his eyes.
Before long,
the current Luo Family Head, Luo Jingshan, walked in.
He looked at his father in the reclining chair, then stood respectfully at his side with his hands lowered, waiting.
Until his father spoke, he could not say a word.
That was a rule the Luo Family had followed unchanged for decades.
The only sound in the air was the rustle of bamboo leaves stirred by the wind in the courtyard.
Five minutes later.
“Have you calmed down?”
An aged voice suddenly broke the silence.
Luo Jingshan started, then lowered his head.
“Dad, how did you know...?”
“Your footsteps were too hurried.”
Luo Wensong kept his eyes closed, his voice unhurried.
“I've told you all before: no matter what you do, don't rush. When your heart is in a hurry, your qi becomes unsettled, your eyes grow blurry, and you're most likely to say the wrong thing or make the wrong move.”
“...I understand, Father.”
Luo Jingshan drew a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil inside him.
Only then did the old man slowly open his eyes.
“Go on. What is it?”
Luo Jingshan steadied himself and said in a low voice,
“We just received confirmed word that after leaving the National Security Bureau, Lin Yan went straight to Jiangcheng.”
“Mm.”
The old man gave a brief reply, then closed his eyes again.
Luo Jingshan waited a moment. Seeing that his father had nothing more to say, he couldn't help but ask,
“Dad, he's no longer in the military unit. He's been stripped of his military status and is now adrift with no support. Can we...”
“Has Xiaobin been laid to rest?”
Luo Wensong suddenly interrupted him with a seemingly unrelated question.
Luo Jingshan froze, then answered instinctively,
“...Yes. As you instructed, we kept everything simple.”
“Mm. You may go.”
Luo Jingshan's fist quietly clenched at his side, his nails nearly digging into his palm.
He gritted his teeth and said bitterly,
“Dad! Xiaobin's death... we can't let it go unavenged! I spent more than twenty years raising him and teaching him carefully. He was so close... so close to taking over from me and bringing glory to our Luo Family...”
“So you want to send people to Jiangcheng and make Lin Yan pay with his life, is that it?”
“Yes!”
Luo Jingshan admitted it through clenched teeth, as if he had thrown caution to the wind.
“Foolish!”
The old man rebuked him softly, and the wicker chair rocked slightly.
At last, he opened his eyes again and looked at his son, who was past middle age yet still acted on impulse.
“I told you long ago that the waters in the military weren't easy to wade through. You insisted on pushing Xiaobin in there to gild his résumé... ‘Former member of the Azure Wolf special operations team’? Hah. What an impressive title.”
The old man shook his head, a hint of scorn in his voice.
“But that empty title cost him his life.”
Luo Jingshan's face turned pale, then red, but he had no rebuttal.
It was true that he had let his own ambition run wild, sending his son into the Azure Wolf to gild his résumé.
He had never cared about some military legend.
He wanted to use his son's status to plant a Luo Family mole in Huaxia's most elite combat unit.
Operational routes, combat methods, command structure.
If Luo Bin stayed for a year, the Luo Family would have a direct line into the heart of the military.
He had spent two whole years planning that move.
He had called in favors accumulated over three generations to force his son into the unit.
Who could have guessed that he would never come back?
“Dad, but no matter what... Lin Yan killed Xiaobin with his own hands! I have to avenge him, whatever it takes! Otherwise, how could our Luo Family ever hold its head up again?!”
The old man watched his face twist with hatred and remained silent for a long time.
Bamboo rustled in the courtyard as the sunlight shifted.
“Enough.”
Luo Wensong let out a long sigh.
He closed his eyes again, seeming to age several years in an instant.
“You are the Luo Family Head now. You can make your own decisions about everything. I'm old and can't manage things anymore. From now on... there's no need to ask me again.”
After that, he said no more. His breathing grew steady and deep again, as if he had truly fallen asleep.
Luo Jingshan stood where he was, staring at his father's silent profile, his chest tight with frustration.
He clenched his fist, but in the end said nothing more.
He turned and left the small courtyard with heavy steps.
Outside the gate,
Luo Jingshan's expression turned utterly cold.
He took out his phone and dialed a number.
“Notify the Punishment Hall to assemble in the main hall at once. I'll be there shortly.”
He hung up.
He looked back one last time at his “sleeping” father.
Then,
he strode away without looking back.
Only after his footsteps had completely faded
did the old man in the wicker chair in the courtyard
slowly open his eyes. Luo Wensong had been “asleep” only moments before.
He gazed in the direction his son had gone.
For a long while,
then let out a sigh so faint it was almost inaudible.
A storm was brewing.
...
...
Jiangcheng, hospital.
At last, the glaring red light above the emergency room went out.
Panpan lay on a narrow hospital bed as the medical staff carefully wheeled her out.
A clean white sheet covered her, leaving only her small face exposed.
The grime had been carefully cleaned from her face, revealing her naturally pale complexion.
The sutures on her lips were still horrifying to look at.
Her eyes were closed. Her breathing stirred faintly beneath the transparent oxygen mask.
She was still alive.
That knowledge eased the tension in Lin Yan's nerves a little.
Lin Yan hurried over, his gaze fixed on Zhao Yonggang. “Dean, how is she?”
But Zhao Yonggang did not answer right away.
He silently studied Lin Yan for several seconds.
Only then did he speak slowly.
“Forgive me for asking, but... is this little girl your daughter?”
“No. She's the biological daughter of... a comrade-in-arms of mine who has passed away.”
Zhao Yonggang nodded, seemingly unsurprised by the answer.
He waved the other doctors away, signaling for them to go rest.
Once the two of them were alone in the corridor,
he turned to face Lin Yan.
“The child's injuries are much worse than what you saw.”
Lin Yan's breathing stopped.
“Besides the deep lash wound on her back that you saw, her entire body—including her chest, abdomen, and limbs—is covered in injuries, old and new.”
“Lash marks, bruises, burns... there's hardly a patch of uninjured skin.”
“There are old hematomas beneath her scalp, caused by someone repeatedly yanking her hair and smashing her head against hard objects.”
“Three of her ribs on both sides had old fractures that healed with malunion. That means no one treated them when they broke, and they simply healed crooked.”
“The chain marks around her ankles aren't just skin abrasions. They've cut down to the fascia and damaged the deeper tissues.”
“Even if they heal, they will leave permanent scars.”
“And because she was kept chained up for so long, unable to move or stand normally, the muscles in both legs have severely atrophied, leaving her with almost no muscle strength.”
“Even with proper follow-up treatment, whether she'll recover enough to walk normally, let alone run or jump, remains uncertain.”
“Her digestive system... because she was fed moldy, spoiled food for so long, her stomach lining is severely eroded and atrophied, and her ability to digest and absorb nutrients is almost gone. Her liver and kidney function indicators are also impaired to varying degrees.”
“We also found old perforations in both eardrums. Her hearing has suffered permanent damage.”
“This may have been caused by slapping her or by a heavy blow to the head.”
With every word Zhao Yonggang spoke, Lin Yan's face grew paler.
He stood there as darkness swam before his eyes.
This wasn't abuse.
This was...
torture.
Zhao Yonggang paused.
Even the Dean, who had seen life and death countless times, couldn't keep his voice from trembling.
“This wasn't violence inflicted once or twice. It was years of torment.”
“For her to have survived until now... truly, this child made it through Hell by clinging to a single breath.”
Lin Yan stood rooted to the spot, feeling all the blood in his body turn cold.
He couldn't imagine
how such a small child had endured day after day in a dark, airless pigsty.
The person he had saved
was not merely a little girl covered in wounds.
She was a shattered soul who had crawled back from Hell.