Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Choice (Part Two)

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To go or not to go, it's a choice some can make, others cannot. Shen Yixia had a choice whether to chat with Sima Bei at the hot pot restaurant; Li Jun had no choice about returning to City A.

After arriving in City A, Nie Yi and Li Jun parted ways temporarily with Zhang Xiaoman, thinking they hadn’t yet visited their main base since returning. They immediately hailed a taxi straight to the detective agency. As soon as they opened the door of Yiming Agency, they saw a man sitting at Nie Yi’s desk, fingers holding a cigarette, back turned to them as he exhaled smoke.

Li Jun pondered briefly, then exaggeratedly pointed at the man with his right hand, nostrils flared, and said, “Who the hell are you? Sitting in our detective agency like that? Stealing? Breaking into someone’s home in broad daylight to steal? Who gave you the nerve? Article 245 of the Criminal Law states that illegally invading someone’s residence is punishable by up to three years imprisonment or detention. Don’t be fooled by this detective agency’s office look; the property registration clearly states it’s a residence. You’re done for—get ready for three years in jail!”

“I’ve heard one of Zhang Xiaoman’s apprentices was a chatterbox. Seeing you today, that reputation is well deserved,” the man turned around, stubbed out his cigarette, and exhaled the last puff of smoke. “Sorry, I got a bit tired waiting, so I just smoked a cigarette here. You shouldn’t mind, right?”

Nie Yi waved his hand nervously and stammered, “It’s… it’s fine! You can… burn incense and worship here if you want… but… could you… tell me… your honorable name?”

The man raised his hand lightly. “No need for formalities.”

Li Jun rolled his eyes impatiently and interrupted, “What’s your surname?”

“Zhou,” the man said, clapping his hands, standing up. “Single name: Bing—soldier, the soldier who catches thieves.”

“Procuratorate’s Zhou Bing?” Nie Yi stopped pretending to stutter and asked clearly, “May I ask what business brings you here?”

“You must be Nie Yi. You’re quite sharp,” Zhou Bing pulled out an arrest warrant with a broad smile. “I’ve come to invite you two to stay somewhere quiet for a while, to cultivate yourselves. That place is isolated from the world, with no worries about food and drink, a set daily routine. I guarantee you’ll be reluctant to leave, completely enchanted. So, what do you say? Interested? To go or not to go?”

Li Jun’s eyes flicked, and while Zhou Bing’s attention was on Nie Yi, he quietly slipped to his own desk, pulled out a notepad and pen, quickly scribbled a string of numbers, tore off the note, opened a drawer, and slipped the note inside. Suddenly, he felt something soft, pulled it out, and exclaimed, “Oh my God!”

Nie Yi and Zhou Bing turned towards the voice. A green snake about a meter long and two fingers wide was lazily coiled on Li Jun’s arm, flicking its tongue persistently trying to lick his face.

Zhou Bing smiled, cocking his head. “Look, your partner already agreed. You can’t say no now. Like husband and wife, like a scale and its weight—you two should be tightly bound together.”

Nie Yi, as if ignoring Zhou Bing, quickly approached Li Jun, pulled the snake off his arm, pinched it seven inches from the head, and examined it carefully. Relaxing his shoulders, he said calmly to Li Jun, “It’s Bang Lao’er, not some other venomous snake.”

“Bang Lao’er?” Li Jun opened his eyes, examined the snake, relaxed, and stroked its head. “It really is. Haven’t seen it in a month or two—looks like it’s put on weight. You scared me just now; I thought it was going to bite me. Turns out it just wanted to kiss me.”

Suddenly, Nie Yi recalled what Zhang Yunxi had said about leaving something at Yiming Agency when they first returned to City A to investigate the villa’s blood drop. He smiled bitterly, then furrowed his brows deeply and fell silent.

Li Jun noticed Nie Yi’s change in expression and softly asked, “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve been deceived by Yunxi,” Nie Yi closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Tell me, who raised Bang Lao’er?”

Without hesitation, Li Jun replied, “Sun Tiantian!”

“But Bang Lao’er was placed here by Yunxi,” Nie Yi stroked his chin. “You must understand, Bang Lao’er isn’t just anything—it’s Xiao Qing’s mother. Sun Tiantian has always treated them like family. No one else is allowed to take her away, not even a casual touch.”

Li Jun paused. “Are you saying Yunxi and Tiantian already knew each other?”

“More than just acquaintances, their relationship runs deep,” Nie Yi muttered. “Bang Lao’er is four years old this year. We only met Tiantian three years ago through Uncle Man. Since then, Yunxi has been either writing or with us, never meeting Tiantian. Yet she managed to bring Bang Lao’er here, which means she knew Tiantian longer than we have. We’ve been used from the start. We really underestimated Yunxi.”

Li Jun put on a serious face, opened his big green coat, and sighed. “They say the prettier the woman, the less you can trust her. It really hurts.”

Zhou Bing twitched at the corner of his eye and interjected, “Hey, you two aren’t being very polite—why are you ignoring me? Am I invisible? At least answer me: going or not?”

Nie Yi approached Zhou Bing, smiling shyly, hands outstretched. “We’d be delighted!”

“Cut the crap,” Zhou Bing rolled his eyes. “I’m not a cop—no handcuffs here. And handcuffs are for criminals; you two are gentlemen, no need for that.”

“Keeping snakes in the office to play with, quite intimidating,” Zhou Bing cleared his throat twice, glanced at the snake on Nie Yi’s hand, and reached out to stroke its head like Li Jun had. Suddenly, the snake’s eyes flashed fiercely, biting him hard on the hand. He quickly withdrew, sucking on the wound. “Why bite? Luckily, it’s not venomous, or that’d be a disaster…”

Li Jun stared at Zhou Bing like he was a fool, a strange smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Who told you it’s not venomous?”

Zhou Bing’s eyes widened, swallowing nervously, including the black blood he just sucked. Pointing at Nie Yi, he muttered, “He just said it himself…”

Nie Yi rubbed his nose, blinking bashfully. “My exact words were ‘not some other venomous snake,’ not that it’s not venomous.”

Zhou Bing suddenly felt dizzy and tongue-tied. “Is the venom… strong?”

“Bang Lao’er’s daughter Xiao Qing has a nickname—‘Seven Steps to Fall,’” Li Jun smirked and pointed at Zhou Bing’s wound. “Look at that bite; the venom’s strength is obvious.”

Zhou Bing looked down at his blackened wound, eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the ground.

Nie Yi squatted down, patted Zhou Bing’s face, but seeing no reaction, turned to Li Jun, pouting. “Why scare him? Bang Lao’er’s venom just looks scary. At worst, it causes numbness and fainting; it won’t kill anyone. With you talking, it sounds like the deadly King of Poison. You scared him into fainting.”

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“Oh, don’t act innocent. Who put Bang Lao’er right in front of me?” Li Jun pouted. “Don’t think I don’t know your plan—raising your hands like that just to stir Bang Lao’er’s protective instincts. Smiling so sweetly, you might as well have written on your forehead, ‘Come touch me, I’m so cute’… Now cut the pretense!”

Just as Nie Yi wanted to argue, a knock came from the detective agency’s door. Nie Yi helped Zhou Bing onto the sofa to lie down, coughed heavily, and called out, “Come in!”

The door creaked open, and Shen Yixia strolled in with a playful grin. She glanced at the steaming hot pot on the table, then at Sima Bei, who had one foot on a stool and was fishing a piece of lamb from the pot with chopsticks. She straightened her clothes and knelt down with a thud.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She knocked three times on the floor, head bowed low, and said clearly and solemnly, “Master above, your unworthy apprentice Shen Yixia has come to pay respects!”

“Get up,” Sima Bei said lazily, glancing at Shen Yixia. He raised his wine cup and took a small sip. “It’s the 21st century; no need for those old feudal rituals. Sit down, let’s eat and drink together and have a good chat.”

“No,” Shen Yixia stood and slowly sat opposite Sima Bei, holding her cup with both hands, raising it slightly lower than his, gently clinking glasses. “This is the respect an apprentice owes. Even after five hundred years, it should still be so.”

“Borrowing five hundred more years from heaven?” Sima Bei glanced sideways and said casually, “You want to be emperor, huh?”

“How dare I…” Shen Yixia’s hand holding the chopsticks paused mid-air. “The Forbidden City is just a tourist spot now. What kind of emperor would I be?”

“Oh, really?” Sima Bei tapped the edge of the hot pot with his chopsticks, raised his cup. “Eat and drink. Tonight, we get drunk together. By the way, after raising you all these years, we’ve never properly drank together. What’s your tolerance? If you pass out after one cup, then don’t drink—I can’t carry you.”

“My tolerance varies. Sometimes I pass out after one cup, sometimes I can drink a thousand cups,” Shen Yixia said respectfully, lifting his cup. “With you, of course, I can drink a thousand cups without getting drunk.”

“That’s enough, no need for a thousand cups. Everything needs moderation, like this hot pot has its temperature, this drink has its alcohol content. Too much and you get drunk,” Sima Bei sipped lightly. “They say people speak the truth after drinking. If we don’t get drunk, how else do we say what’s in our hearts?”

“No need to get drunk,” Shen Yixia gulped the cup dry. “Master, whatever you want to hear, I can say it now.”

“Not so fast. Eat first,” Sima Bei picked up a piece of lamb from the pot, chewed thoughtfully. “I just threw in two plates—both lamb. They’re perfectly cooked now…”

“Yes, yes…” Shen Yixia ladled some lamb into his bowl, dipped it in sauce, picked up a piece elegantly, chewed slowly, wiped his mouth and praised, “Tastes good, but the meat’s a bit tough—hard to chew.”

“I purposely cooked it longer. Tough meat has its own flavor, and at least it won’t give you diarrhea,” Sima Bei glanced at Shen Yixia’s dipping sauce. “No wonder you didn’t add coriander. Eating hot pot without coriander is tough to swallow. You need a few spoons of chopped coriander; that makes it easier.”

“Oh, really? I never heard that before. You’re not making it up, are you?”

“When have I ever lied to you? Coriander has ‘fragrant’ in its name, so of course it’s fragrant. The coriander here is excellent. Truth be told, I’m eating this hot pot just for the coriander.”

Shen Yixia added a few spoons of coriander to his bowl, stirred, picked up a piece with several coriander leaves, swallowed it whole, eyes wide, mouth agape. “It really is! You learn something new every day!”

Sima Bei raised his cup, took a sip, and declared heartily, “Drink up! Don’t just eat the food. Wine is the essence of grain—drinking makes you younger!”

“All right, all right!” Shen Yixia refilled his cup, lifted it decisively, and downed it in one gulp. Setting the cup down, he sat upright and looked at Sima Bei. “Master, now that we’ve eaten and drunk, isn’t it time to speak honestly?”

“Hey, not so fast. Let me show you something first…” Sima Bei pulled a black token from his pocket, tossed it with a clink on the table, then resumed fishing in the hot pot casually. “Take a look.”

A complex expression flashed in Shen Yixia’s eyes as he carefully picked up the black iron token, turning it over several times. Feigning confusion, he pointed at the two crooked characters inscribed on it. “Exoneration token?”

“Correct!” Sima Bei said proudly. “See, although I’m just the deputy director, if you want an exoneration token, I can get one for you with no trouble.”

“This is the director’s token,” Sima Bei carefully put the Exoneration token back in place. “You better keep it safe. If you lose it, I can’t afford to compensate.”

“No need for compensation,” Sima Bei shrugged. “This belongs to you originally. If I lose it, would you ask me for compensation? No, right? We’re family.”

“Mine?” Shen Yixia feigned surprise, pointing at his nose. “No way. Though we are the legitimate line, the position was given to Zhang Xiaoman. Now it’s his. As for the successor, Zhang has two apprentices and a daughter—there’s no way it’s me.”

“No, that’s not how it works. The director’s position can be passed around, but this token can’t be given out to just anyone. We’re not deliverymen…” Sima Bei put down his chopsticks and raised his cup. “At its root, this Exoneration token is your family’s heirloom.”

Shen Yixia’s eyes brightened. “Oh? How so?”

“In the twelfth year of the Tianqi era,” Sima Bei licked his lips and gazed distantly, “your ancestor solved many mysteries in the capital. The emperor was greatly impressed and ordered four tokens made—gold, silver, bronze, and iron—to be gifted to your ancestor. But your ancestor only accepted the black iron token. Then a little eunuch came with an imperial order summoning your ancestor to the Imperial Study.”

After a dry cough, Sima Bei continued, “Once inside, the emperor pinned your ancestor to the kang bed, holding a dagger to his lower back. With a dark expression, he asked, ‘I gave you four tokens—gold, silver, bronze, and iron—why only accept the iron? Do you look down on me?’”

Shen Yixia scratched his head eagerly. “What did my ancestor say?”

“Your ancestor stood straight and replied solemnly, ‘Your Majesty, I do not look down on you, but rather on myself. I call myself humble because my deeds are insignificant and unworthy of your gold, silver, and bronze tokens. Only the iron token suits me, barely. Moreover, iron tokens are like mountains—possessing this Exoneration iron token means I can go anywhere under heaven and sweep away all evils on your behalf! That is enough.’” Sima Bei rubbed his hands on the cup, squinting.

“Well said! Well answered!” Shen Yixia refilled his cup, downed it, and instinctively touched the Exoneration token, closing his eyes. “Holding this token, I can already feel the call from my bloodline…”

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“That’s what they call blood being thicker than water. After all, you are the grandson…” Sima Bei took the wine bottle from Shen Yixia, shook it, puckered his lips, squinted one eye, and asked softly, “So, do you want it?”

“Master, you’re joking,” Shen Yixia set the Exoneration token down like a hot potato. “This is the director’s token. How could I take it?”

“You can,” Sima Bei licked his greasy lips. “If you want, I can throw some money at Zhang Xiaoman later and say we bought it.”

“That’d cost you a lot,” Shen Yixia shook his head. “No, no. The economy’s bad. It’s better to keep money in your own pocket. Not worth it for a token.”

“You’re silly. This is an antique,” Sima Bei winked. “We could buy it cheap from Zhang Xiaoman and sell it for a high price at an auction. Eight hundred years of history—it’s worth a lot. We split the profit two to one—enough for you to eat hot pot for life.”

“That’s smuggling cultural relics. You can get sentenced for five to ten years. Even if we buy from Zhang Xiaoman, it probably has to be handed over to authorities, exchanged for a few hundred bucks and a big red flower,” Shen Yixia frowned. “Forget it, better not. Losing money and living in fear isn’t worth it.”

“No need to hand it over. The Exoneration token is different—not taken from a tomb,” Sima Bei lowered his voice. “Your master, Chang Gong Nanning, found it while taking a dump in the reed marshes. Later, we found out it belonged to your ancestors. He’s been urging me to search for your descendants, hoping to return it to its rightful owner… So once this token’s in your hands, it’s your family heirloom. How you handle it is up to you.”

“That’s not certain. I recently saw news about an old family house occupied after generations, declared a non-cultural heritage…” Shen Yixia waved his hand. “No, no. Things never hurt unless you’ve owned them.”

“Really don’t want it?”

“Really don’t!”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure!”

“Truly?”

“Truly!”

“All right, that’s enough of this back and forth…” Sima Bei lightly brushed the table, making the Exoneration token vanish without a trace. “You don’t know how happy I was earlier. My master used to scold me for having no ambition. Then I raised you. Seeing you’re about the same as me, I thought you’d be a supporting actor like me all your life, totally disappointed. Today, hearing you stand toe to toe with Nie Yi, I was overjoyed, jumped off someone’s wall, rushed here at full speed, hoping to help you fight for your place.”

“No fight, no fight!” Shen Yixia lowered his head, staring at his reflection in the cup. “What’s yours doesn’t need to be fought for; what isn’t yours can’t be kept even if you fight.”

“That suits me!” Sima Bei raised his cup in toast. “Here’s to your ‘no fight’ attitude!”

Shen Yixia obediently clinked cups with him. “Master, you know why we’re so well matched? Because we’re open-minded and magnanimous!”

“Exactly,” Sima Bei drank deeply, face flushed. “We have no selfishness in our hearts.”

“Only the will to uphold justice!” Shen Yixia drained his cup, quietly setting the bottle beside him, emphatically agreeing.

“Well said! A soldier trained for a thousand days is ready for the moment,” Sima Bei rubbed his reddened nose. “Now you’ve come into your own, become a soldier crossing the river. I’m truly comforted.”

“Have you been raising me all these years just to use me as a foot soldier?” Shen Yixia sighed. “I thought we were father and son…”

“We are!” Sima Bei rubbed his toes, sniffed them, frowned. “When your mother gave birth to you, I was right by the bedside. The first person you saw when you opened your eyes was me. So, aren’t we father and son?”

Shen Yixia twitched at the corner of his eye, took a deep breath, and said seriously, “There’s a saying that a dragon’s nine sons are all different. Since we’re father and son, does that mean I can do what I want and walk the path I choose?”

“Why ask so bluntly?”

“Because I’m straightforward. Even before birth, the fortune teller told my mother my biggest flaw is being too direct—speaking and acting too directly, can’t change it! Give me a straight answer, okay? Can I or not?”

Sima Bei sighed deeply, tone calm. “Howl! You’re a soldier crossing the river, of course you can go where you want. But I must warn you, all roads in this world have no turning back. Especially for a soldier crossing the river, there’s no going back.”

“My dictionary doesn’t have the words ‘turn back’—those two were pecked away by wild pheasants in the mountains,” Shen Yixia clapped his hands, pointing to a waiter slowly entering the private room carrying a large platter. “Master, I didn’t come empty-handed today. You treated me to hot pot, so I have to return the favor.” When the waiter set the dish on the table, Shen Yixia stood, lifted the lid, picked up a small wooden mallet, and smashed the yellow oval object on the plate. “I personally made you a famous dish—Beggar’s Chicken!”

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