Chapter 34: Soul (4)

Tan Zhao did not say what he intended to do, and Wen Mingwei could not guess.

To be frank, it was not a matter of whether Tan Zhao could find something to hurt Wen Mingwei; even if Wen Mingwei were to attempt it himself, he would not know what could possibly cause him injury. His status no longer mattered, as all the elders of the Wen family who could exert authority over him were long dead, and his subordinates were loyal to him personally. What did it matter if his surname was Wen or not? If he tried to use their partnership as a threat, it would only be detrimental to Tan Zhao himself, and surely Tan Zhao would not joke about his grandfather’s company. Beyond that, physical harm? That was even less of a concern.

Wen Mingwei had not thought this far ahead when he spoke, but looking back now, he felt a subtle pang of guilt, as if he had deliberately set Tan Zhao an unsolvable problem.

That evening, they returned home from the wilderness. Tan Zhao remained silent on the journey, not uttering a single word. Once home, he parked the car and, refusing dinner, went straight to the third floor, where he kept his private belongings. During the move, there had been too much clutter, and Tan Zhao had personally organized all the important items himself; the room contained some of his grandfather’s mementos, kept for remembrance.

Tan Zhao likely needed the comfort of his grandfather. He stayed on the third floor until midnight before returning to the bedroom. He still had no appetite, and after showering, he lay in bed. Throughout the entire process, he only cast a cold, indifferent glance at Wen Mingwei before personally switching off the light and closing his eyes to sleep.

He could not sleep, and neither could Wen Mingwei.

The two lay side by side in the dark, silent until the early hours of the morning. Wen Mingwei finally turned toward Tan Zhao and asked, "Do you want to?"

He had assumed that since Tan Zhao was in such a rage, he would not be in the mood. To his surprise, there was a response just seconds after the invitation was offered. Tan Zhao leaned over and pressed down on his shoulders. The act began carelessly, and the process could hardly be called intimate. Once finished, he pulled away and returned to his original spot.

Then, Tan Zhao got out of bed and went to take a second shower.

By the time Wen Mingwei had also finished washing and returned, it was almost dawn. Tan Zhao remained wide awake. They were like two strangers sharing a room, having engaged in an inexplicable, purely physical exchange—lacking any warmth and requiring no verbal interaction.

Just as Wen Mingwei was finally drifting off to sleep, Tan Zhao opened the nightstand drawer, fumbled in the darkness for a moment, and pulled something out. He suddenly called his name: "Wen Mingwei."

"Hmm?"

"'Z' isn't me, is it? It’s Jian Qingzheng."

"..."

"This piece of jade was a gift for him, not for me. The flaws on it are part of your fate with him, not yours and mine."

With a sharp "clack," Tan Zhao threw the jade against the door; it was unclear whether it had shattered. Wen Mingwei’s eyelid twitched as he heard him ask again, "The ring was a gift for me, right? It was sized for my finger, not his?"

There was no doubt about this, so Wen Mingwei gave a soft affirmation. Tan Zhao said nothing more; otherwise, his next action likely would have been to throw the ring as well.

Suddenly, Tan Zhao thought of something else: "Is Jian Xinning a relative of Jian Qingzheng?"

He spoke as if settling an account, recalling details one by one. "She manages your company? It’s not just the company, is it? There are the underground operations as well."

Wen Mingwei did not want to discuss this. "Can we not talk about this?"

Tan Zhao seemed not to hear him, his tone icy as he continued to himself: "You trust her so much—is it because her abilities far exceed others, or is it because her surname is Jian?"

"..."

"She knew the truth as well. Everyone around you knew, and only I was kept in the dark."

Tan Zhao let out a scoff, appearing amused by his own predicament. "You are truly remarkable, Wen Mingwei."

After a pause, he added, "Is Gu Jing’s coldness toward me also because of this? In his eyes, I am merely a foolish substitute, not worth respecting, just someone to be humored with a few perfunctory words."

"...No, Gu Jing is just not good at socializing. He doesn't handle external affairs; he is quite reserved."

"Hmm." Whether Tan Zhao believed him or not was irrelevant.

The names Jian Xinning and Gu Jing were all inconsequential; it did not matter if they liked him or not. It was just that the invisible humiliations he had failed to notice in the past had finally manifested today as a slap, landing on Tan Zhao’s face with a delay.

There was no point in continuing to settle these debts; the more he understood, the more he humiliated himself. Tan Zhao touched the ring on his finger and finally closed his eyes, saying nothing more.

Wen Mingwei did not know when he had fallen asleep. The next morning, Tan Zhao went about his routine as usual—getting up, washing, dressing, and eating a quick breakfast before leaving. He did not greet Wen Mingwei, nor did he say what he intended to do. It looked like he was just going to work, but it was Saturday.

Other than the time he went to Renzhou, which Wen Mingwei had sent men to monitor, he had not kept Tan Zhao under private surveillance lately. Tan Zhao likely had his own countermeasures; if he wanted to do something he did not want discovered, he would deliberately avoid being seen.

Wen Mingwei finished his breakfast alone and sat in the living room, listening to Gu Jing report the inspection results of the android. Wen Mingwei had his own private laboratory where he studied everything, but his research focused primarily on living organisms; he did not dabble in the field of androids and was quite an amateur in that regard.

However, he did not need highly technical information; he mostly needed the android dismantled to identify the origins of its key components. Some secondary parts could come from mass-market brands, but the key components could not—especially the core chip. Such high-level androids were rare on the market. Clearly, Wen Mingzhe lacked the scientific resources to manufacture one independently, so he must have commissioned someone else. Moreover, this company—or organization—had a deep partnership with him, allowing for long-term adjustments.

The results were as expected. Gu Jing presented the company's profile to Wen Mingwei and, by digging through economic transaction records, uncovered Wen Mingzhe’s current fake identity: an executive of an energy company registered in Xinzhou.

"He certainly is attached to home," Wen Mingwei remarked sarcastically. "But this is likely fake information as well, unless he is bold enough not to fear being captured by me."

Gu Jing bowed his head in agreement.

In truth, Wen Mingwei had used his second brother’s banner over the years to conduct many illicit affairs, especially in the arms trade. Whenever the Marshal grew suspicious, Wen Mingwei would deflect by claiming, "Wen Mingzhe might still be alive and stirring up trouble." The Marshal knew it, but without concrete evidence, he could do nothing. It was unexpected that, after so many times, he had actually succeeded in "summoning a spirit"—Wen Mingzhe had truly returned from the dead.

"Send people to Xinzhou to investigate that energy company. Find whatever you can," Wen Mingwei said. "He was silent for nine whole years, and now he suddenly jumps out to play ghost. If he hasn't made proper preparations, he is too stupid."

Then again, Wen Mingzhe had always been a fool. The threat he posed to Wen Mingwei was far less significant than the disgust he inspired. Wen Mingwei did not take him to heart, nor did he go to see the android again. His order to Gu Jing was to destroy it; he did not want a fake, soulless "Jian Qingzheng" left in the world—that would be a desecration of the deceased.

Wen Mingwei and Tan Zhao passed three days in peace. Once September arrived, the rains in Xijing brought a chill, and their relationship grew increasingly cold. In those three days, Tan Zhao had not said more than five sentences to him. His temper had not vanished, but he no longer vented it; he seemed to be brewing something in his heart, leaving one unable to guess his thoughts.

The closest they had been was when Wen Mingwei initiated a kiss, and Tan Zhao did not refuse. But the kiss was formulaic, performed like a task, devoid of any enjoyment.

Wen Mingwei could not help but ask: "Are you unable to come up with a plan?"

After listening, Tan Zhao stared at him for a few seconds and said, "I am afraid you will regret it."

"How could I possibly regret it?" Wen Mingwei replied, following his lead. "I keep my word."

—Keep my word.

If he could have foreseen what Tan Zhao was going to do, Wen Mingwei would not have been so certain.

It happened on September 3rd.

That day, Tan Zhao went out as usual. Apart from his aura becoming increasingly somber, there was no obvious change. Several hours after he left, Wen Mingwei received a message from him: "I’ve arrived in Longdu. You should come over, too."

Wen Mingwei asked, "Why are you in Longdu? Is something the matter?"

"A surprise for you."

Tan Zhao had even thoughtfully arranged a flight for him in advance, allowing enough time to get from their home to the airport. He asked him to leave in half an hour to arrive on time. Seeing the word "surprise" on the screen, Wen Mingwei’s right eyelid twitched twice. Rationally, he knew Tan Zhao could not do much to him, but he had an inexplicably ominous premonition.

Wen Mingwei kept his word and boarded the flight Tan Zhao had arranged.

When he arrived at Longdu Airport, it was already past four in the afternoon. As if everything were within Tan Zhao’s control, Wen Mingwei received a location from him right on time—the place for their next meeting.

It was a location Wen Mingwei knew all too well; it was the cemetery of Jian Qingzheng, which he had visited countless times.

His eyelid twitched even more violently. Wen Mingwei frowned and told the driver to drive faster. The driver was one of his local subordinates, and Gu Jing had come along as well. He accompanied Wen Mingwei into the cemetery to look for Tan Zhao.

As expected, Tan Zhao was standing before Jian Qingzheng’s tombstone. Dressed in a dark gray suit, he turned around under the foggy sky. His appearance was strikingly similar to the photo on the tombstone, a sight that made one’s heart jump.

Wen Mingwei stopped at a distance, instinctively wanting to call Tan Zhao over, to have him step away from that spot.

"...What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Didn't I say? A surprise for you." Tan Zhao was expressionless. He asked inexplicably, "Do you like watching fireworks, Wen Mingwei?"

Tan Zhao suddenly lifted his wrist to check the time. Without waiting for Wen Mingwei to invite him, he stepped away from the grave on his own, as if he had no further plans and had only brought Wen Mingwei here for the three of them to meet—Jian Qingzheng himself being absent, and the photograph on the tombstone serving as a reluctant substitute.

Wen Mingwei breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the matter was over, and answered, "I do. Why?"

"—Then watch closely."

As soon as the words left his lips, a pillar of fire suddenly erupted behind Tan Zhao.

A deafening roar of "BOOM" shook the air, leaving one momentarily deaf. Gu Jing shielded Wen Mingwei amidst the gust of wind caused by the shockwave, instinctively pulling him back. For a moment, no one could see what had happened.

It was an explosion.

But what had exploded? The momentum was massive, yet the range was limited; it was a precision demolition.

The fire rose like fireworks, briefly ascending before vanishing. As the thick smoke drifted away with the wind, Wen Mingwei finally saw it clearly—

Jian Qingzheng’s stone-built grave had been torn to pieces. The tombstone had turned into a pile of gravel, and the photograph had long since burned to ash. It was a scene of utter devastation.

Wen Mingwei stood frozen on the spot. For three full minutes, he stared silently at the blown-open grave, unable to react.

The air was filled with the lingering scent of gunpowder from the explosion and a faint smell of ash, reminiscent of burning paper money from his memories. A corner of the coffin, buried deep for years, was now exposed—damaged and decaying—silently emitting the scent of… human remains, which no one could smell but seemed to exist nonetheless.

Wen Mingwei’s face turned deathly pale. He slowly lifted his head to look at Tan Zhao.

Tan Zhao had been waiting for this very look. It was as if his anger and pain from the past few days had finally found a release; he had plunged a knife deep into Wen Mingwei’s heart.