Chapter 812: If I Were Your Father

They had been hiding all the way, and the two of them arrived at this pawnshop. Though it was late at night, a dim light still burned inside.

This old friend of He Taiyang’s, He Jingjing had actually seen him before. This guy was a lecherous old man; if the debtor couldn’t repay the debt, he’d have them adopt his young and pretty daughter as a goddaughter, which was just a disguised way of taking a young wife. Once he got tired, he’d send her back, shamelessly claiming it was only partial interest and not enough to cover the debt.

He Taiyang probably learned a thing or two from him back in the day. Birds of a feather flock together, so how could they not become friends?

To He Jingjing, the pawnshop business seemed mystical. Old traditions like apprenticeships, secret codes of the underworld—they were all preserved in these dim little shops as if they had been frozen in time a hundred years ago.

The proprietors of these pawnshops were always old-fashioned, money-minded, and shady old men, perpetually smelling of camphor and tobacco leaves.

Walking into the shop, He Jingjing noticed the surveillance camera on the ceiling and furrowed her brow. He Jun said, “It’s fine, he installed it himself. I’ll have him delete the footage later.”

“Uncle X, are you here?” He Jun called inside.

“Come in!” came the reply.

The two entered an office piled high with camphor wood boxes that reached the ceiling. A ruddy-faced old man sat on a carved mahogany chair, with a young woman kneeling beside him, dutifully washing his feet.

He Jingjing had done such things for He Taiyang in the past and now wrinkled her nose in disgust. If it weren’t for her daring gambling days, she might have ended up in a similar miserable situation today.

Whether it was being wanted by the police, in jail, or facing execution, she refused to kneel by a wooden tub and scrub the wrinkled, stinky feet of an old man.

Meanwhile, He Jun was eyeing the young woman’s cleavage, thinking, “It’s really big!”

He said, “Uncle X.”

“Xiao Junzi, it’s been a while. What can I do for you?” The old man smirked, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

“Let’s cut to the chase. You know we’re wanted by the police. Look at us now, living like fugitives. We’re here to do business.”

“I heard your bounty is in the tens of thousands,” he sneered.

“Hmph, just tens of thousands. What we’re offering can make you ten times that and more…” He Jun poured out a painting from his tube and unfolded it.

The old man exclaimed, “Oh!” and instructed his goddaughter to fetch his reading glasses. As she brought them, he casually groped her chest, much to He Jingjing’s disgust.

After drying his feet, the old man approached the painting. “The brushwork, the imagery, this must be the work of Wang Shimin. Truly remarkable!”

“How much can you give us?” He Jun asked.

“Well…” The old man’s eyes shifted.

The girl brought tea for He Jingjing and timidly said, “Have some water.”

“No, I’m not thirsty…” He Jingjing suddenly noticed words scratched into the girl’s chest, written with fingernails: “Run, ambush!”

She looked in shock at the old man, who was also winking. She grabbed He Jun and was about to run out when they realized someone had silently appeared behind them, blocking the door with a knife in hand.

Seeing the man’s face, He Jingjing gasped, “You’re…”

“Yes, it’s me!”

“No, that’s not his voice. Who are you?!”

The man toyed with the knife. “Liet sent me to fetch something.”

With that, it was clear he was from the underworld. He Jun and He Jingjing locked eyes and suddenly swung a chair at him. But he moved like the wind, closing in so fast. In an instant, he had slashed at He Jun’s throat. He staggered, blood gushing.

He dropped the chair, clutching his neck, collapsing from blood loss.

He Jingjing rushed over, crying and holding him. Suddenly, her hair was yanked from behind. Forced upright, tears streamed down her face as she begged, “Please spare us. Take the painting.”

“Liet told me to take your lives,” the man whispered in her ear, the knife resting gently on her throat.

Splurt!

In the blink of an eye, two people were killed. The old man and his goddaughter clung together in fear. This man was a real assassin, not just a street fighter. He was like an emotionless killing machine.

“We… we did as you said… spare us…” begged the old man.

“Did I say I’d spare you?” The man grinned, pointing his knife at him. “I still have one more person to kill. Choose.”

As if clutching at a straw in despair, the old man pushed away his goddaughter, saying, “Her, her, her… her life isn’t worth money.”

“Old man, you sold me!” At this critical moment, the girl changed from her usual meek self. “Kill him, kill him. He’s not got many years left anyway. You won’t lose anything by killing him!”

“This was your choice.” The man touched the knife’s edge, his smile fading…

Three hours later, Lin Qiu Pu stood in a room full of four bodies lying on the floor, feeling dizzy. The two fugitives on the run, He Jun and He Jingjing, had met their end in such a manner.

The three ancient paintings they had were not found on them or at the scene, having presumably been taken by the killer.

He held the window, the back being stabbed five times to the body of an old man, who he recognized as his first time investigating when the owner of this store tried to manipulate him.

The rolled up on watched a photograph inside were from she little boy and of deeply phone it ring.