Chapter 29

Chen Yan arrived at the hospital and entered Fang Zong’s ward.

No sooner had he pushed the door open than he saw Fang Zong sitting upright on the bed, his expression grim.

Seeing Chen Yan enter, Fang Zong immediately sat straighter and said in a low voice: “Mr. Chen, please sit. I’m not in a position to rise and greet you.”

Chen Yan nodded, turned to close the door, then slowly sat down on the chair beside Fang Zong’s bed.

He glanced at Fang Zong—the man’s complexion looked decent, clearly having recovered considerably from his two days of hospital rest.

“How have you been these past two days?” Chen Yan asked with a smile. “Your appetite and sleep, I assume, have improved?”

Fang Zong sighed. “Fair enough. Being here has calmed my nerves. Before, I’d wake up startled every night, but lately I’ve slept better. Still, I’m anxious every day—until this matter is settled, I can’t rest easy.”

After a pause, Fang Zong ventured: “I heard from Secretary Yan that you visited the company a few days ago. But you haven’t come to my home yet—since you no longer have your talismans these past few days, I wondered…”

Chen Yan cut him off: “You don’t need me to go to your home.”

Fang Zong was sharp—he instantly caught the implication. “Does that mean… Mr. Chen has already found the source of the problem?”

“Mm.” Chen Yan nodded.

He sat up straighter and spoke slowly: “I told you before—your issue doesn’t stem from that villa.”

Fang Zong’s heart stirred—he’d believed that statement seventy or eighty percent already. The Qing Shu from Luoyunzhai had given him a different reading.

But after everything that had happened, he now trusted this young man more.

He thought for a moment, then asked: “If the rituals at the villa were useless, I believe you. So where is the real problem?”

“Fang Zong, first promise me one thing—otherwise, I won’t intervene in your case.”

At once, Fang Zong said: “No problem! If Mr. Chen is willing to help, I’ll do anything you ask!”

“If it’s about payment…”

Chen Yan shook his head. “Not yet. Listen first. If you can do it, then I’ll speak.”

Fang Zong felt a strange unease, but nodded eagerly: “Go ahead, please!”

“Today, I came to see you alone. This matter stays between you and me—I don’t want a third person to know.”

“Not even Secretary Yan.”

“Let me be clear: I’ve found the root of your problem, and I can resolve it for you.”

“But you must keep it secret. Say nothing to anyone. Don’t let anyone know you consulted me—or that I acted on your behalf.”

“Secretary Yan knows little. Just tell him I found no results and won’t be involved further—that’s all you need to say.”

“Also, warn Secretary Yan to keep his mouth shut. Best if you both pretend you never contacted me at all.”

“Beyond that, I trust you, Fang Zong—you know the rules. You won’t blab.”

Fang Zong’s heart pounded, but after years in business, he read the signs clearly: this was no ordinary matter. “Fine! Whatever concerns Mr. Chen, I’ll take it to my grave.”

“I’ll tell Yan to stay quiet too—he’s been with me for years, the most discreet man I know. He won’t say a word.”

Chen Yan nodded. “Then I’ll speak.” He paused deliberately, then said slowly: “Your recent misfortune stems from touching something you shouldn’t have.”

“Something cursed?” Fang Zong immediately understood.

He thought a moment, then blurted: “Is it something in your company?”

It wasn’t hard to guess—Chen Yan had gone to the company with Secretary Yan, then never visited Fang Zong’s home again.

Logically, if he’d now found the root cause, it must be in the company.

But what exactly? Fang Zong couldn’t guess.

He’d asked Yan about the inspection—Yan said Chen Yan had examined many items but found nothing suspicious.

Chen Yan didn’t answer. Instead, he said slowly: “Clear out everything in your office—Fang Zong, you’re not short on money. Ordinary trinkets—just throw them away. You won’t miss them.”

Fang Zong nodded at once: “No problem! I’ll have my office stripped clean—no paper left, everything replaced!”

Chen Yan nodded, then slowly pulled something from his jacket pocket and placed it gently on Fang Zong’s blanket—but didn’t let go, only resting his hand lightly atop it.

Fang Zong glanced—it was a stack of paper talismans.

“There are four talismans here. Place one in each corner of your office—southeast, southwest, northeast, northwest. You can put them under the ceiling tiles or tuck them inside books—anywhere, as long as they’re in the four corners.”

These four talismans were drawn by Chen Yan at home yesterday—simple, basic charms for warding off evil and attracting luck, their effect mediocre at best.

But really… if Fang Zong stops burning that adulterated sandalwood incense, he won’t need them at all. They’re just for peace of mind.

A performance must be complete.

Fang Zong didn’t know what was drawn on them, but he could tell they were genuine—he nodded eagerly: “Good, good! Thank you, Mr. Chen, for the talismans!”

He reached out to take them, but Chen Yan smiled faintly and didn’t release his grip.

Fang Zong froze, then immediately realized his mistake and laughed: “I’m sorry—I forgot the etiquette!”

He thought a moment, then said: “Mr. Chen, though we spoke little last time, I’ve come to understand your nature.”

“Let’s cut the formalities.”

“I checked our lease agreement—it’s for two years.”

“You’ve paid six months’ rent. That leaves one and a half years—eighteen months.”

Saying this, Fang Zong struggled to turn and pulled an envelope from the bedside drawer.

“Inside is the original lease agreement,” he paused. “I’ve also paid eighteen months of property fees—the receipts are here too.”

“I’m giving you all of this.”

“Live here as long as you like—I won’t take a single cent. Consider it payment for your efforts.”

“Is that acceptable?”

Chen Yan’s heart stirred—he understood Fang Zong’s meaning.

How to put it? Fang Zong seemed generous—but not foolishly so.

His words weren’t explicit, but the implication was clear.

He was giving Chen Yan free rent.

But not forever.

He’d pointed out: the lease was two years, and he’d paid eighteen months of property fees—adding to the six months already paid, that made two full years.

The message was clear: free rent for two years.

Calculating it: beyond the six months Chen Yan had already paid,

the remaining eighteen months of rent amounted to 270,000 yuan. The property fees added another 54,000.

Fang Zong had just paid over 300,000 yuan.

Add the 100,000 yuan he’d paid earlier for Chen Yan’s compass,

and the total was over 400,000 yuan.

Not stingy—but shrewd.

Chen Yan nodded, released the talismans, and took the envelope, tucking it into his chest.

“Mr. Chen,” Fang Zong said, relieved now that Chen Yan had accepted the gift, holding the stack of talismans in his hand. “I have another question. You said something in my company is harming me—what is it?”

“When I clear out my office, I need to know what to remove.”

Chen Yan replied coolly: “It doesn’t matter. Just empty and replace everything in your office—everything will be fine.”

Fang Zong blinked, stunned.

But he was clever—he thought for a moment, then his face changed.

He understood Chen Yan’s meaning.

The chubby businessman suddenly narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice: “Mr. Chen… you mean you can’t say it outright?”

Chen Yan sighed and pointed to the ward door.

“Fang Zong, you’re a businessman—you understand the rules.”

“Think of it like this: you’re beaten, your leg broken, brought to the hospital for treatment.”

“The hospital mends your leg—that’s their duty.”

“But if you ask them to catch the man who broke your leg…”

“That goes beyond their duty. You understand, don’t you?”

Fang Zong’s narrowed eyes flashed with sudden menace.

His voice turned hoarse and sharp: “So it’s not bad luck from touching something forbidden—it’s… human malice?”

Chen Yan shook his head, silent.

Fang Zong pondered Chen Yan’s words—and suddenly understood.

Got it. This young man had seen something.

He wouldn’t say it outright—just as he’d explained.

You hired him to reverse your fortune—he’d reverse it.

Anything more…

That’s another price.

And… his demand for secrecy? He didn’t want to make enemies.

Realizing this, Fang Zong straightened.

“Mr. Chen, if it’s human malice, you can’t guard against thieves forever.”

“If I don’t find out who’s behind this, I won’t sleep or eat. They might fail once—and try again.”

If I don’t find out who’s behind this, I won’t be able to sleep or eat—maybe they’ll fail once and come up with another scheme to harm me.

“I’ll pay another 200,000 yuan. Is that acceptable?”

“You don’t need to act—just give me one answer. One name.”

Guide me, sir—I don’t need you to lift a finger, I just want your word, one answer.

Moreover, this is between you and me—I won’t let a third person know it was you who guided me.

Chen Yan thought for a moment: “Fine. Then remember, I never came here today.”

“Yes, we never met today,” Fang Zong agreed promptly.

Chen Yan stood up, took out his phone, and opened the system…

Fang Zong didn’t hesitate, also pulling out his phone.

Less than two minutes later, Chen Yan received a bank text message: two hundred thousand yuan had been deposited.

Chen Yan nodded, then leaned close to Fang Zong’s ear and swiftly whispered two words:

“Sandalwood.”

After speaking, Chen Yan coldly said: “Remember your words, Fang Zong—we never met today.”

Then he turned and walked away.

·

[Please click “Add to Shelf” and help put this book in your bookcase.]

[Also, please click “Recommend”!]

·