Chapter 441: with translation of chapter title

Under the brilliant starry sky, before the lawn of the villa east of Aomen, lanterns were strung up all around, and the multicolored fluorescence bathed the place, making it seem like a paradise on earth.

This place is the newly bought villa of Chen Zheng, covering one mu, with a total value exceeding ten million in the 1990s. Perhaps to celebrate surviving the great calamity, or perhaps to tell everyone in Aomen that I, Chen Zheng, have adopted a well-behaved foster daughter. The always thrifty Chen Zheng couple spared no expense, purchasing this villa from a wealthy merchant, then spending a month rushing the renovation, finally completing it on the twelfth birthday of little Shishi.

"In the days ahead, where do you plan to go? Stay in Aomen? Here every inch of land is precious, and with the help of Dong Ling, you'll definitely get by." Fan Wuchang held a glass of red wine, standing beside me, gazing at the lively, lovable children in the center of the lawn, his eyes sinking into contemplation.

I stood shoulder to shoulder with him and smiled as I answered his question.

"Aomen is a place where every inch of land is precious, making money is easy, but dying is also easy. I still want to live a few more years; I don't want to die so young." While answering, I took a small sip of red wine.

Under the brilliant night sky, I and Fan Wuchang just stood quietly in the corner of the lawn. The bustling night scene, the extraordinarily lively villa—all of it was utterly out of place for us.

"When do you plan to leave?" Fan Wuchang sighed, a hint of complex emotion flashing in his dark eyes.

I joked and teased him, saying: "What, you're reluctant to part with us?"

Fan Wuchang curled the corner of his mouth, shrugged his shoulders and gave a faint smile, took a deep drag of his cigar, and his hand, very stylish and cool, threw something at me.

I casually caught it and unfolded it, discovering… that what he had thrown was a gold coin, an ancient foreign gold coin with collectible value.

"What is this?"

"Hold this gold coin, and I guarantee that even if you later rape the daughter of some foreign underworld boss and sleep with his wife, this coin will make them treat you with utmost respect, never daring to harm you in the slightest."

"Er…" I looked at the gold coin in my hand, then glanced at Fan Wuchang. Shocked, yet I couldn't help but feel a mix of laughter and tears. Look at what he's saying—what does "forcing someone's wife, taking someone's daughter" mean… I, Chen Hai Sheng, do I look like that kind of person?

"Just where does this gold coin come from? How did it end up in your hand!" I gripped the coin, asking in bewilderment.

At that moment, a proud smile spread across Fan Wuchang's face.

"This was passed down to me by my master's grandfather; my master's grandfather… is one of the descendants of the founder of the Hung Mun." Fan Wuchang proudly lifted his head, and when he spoke of his master's grandfather, his expression could not hide his proud bearing.

"The Hung Mun is the origin of the Triads, the Chiu Chow gangs, and the native gangs of both Aomen and Gangao; the Triads and Dong Ling all split from the Hung Mun." Fan Wuchang raised his head and said with immense pride: "Ordinary people think only the Mafia and the Yakuza are international gangs. They don't realize that the Hung Mun's footprint has already spread to every corner of the world. Every country, every region, bears the trace of our Chinese Hung Mun. Whether it's Paris or America's Chinatown, you can find the Hung Mun's shadow!"

Fan Wuchang straightened his body, feeling no shame at being a gangster; instead, he felt deep pride. Of course, what Fan Wuchang said is true. The Hung Mun is certainly a top-tier gang internationally. However, what he spoke of was the former Hung Mun.

The former Hung Mun indeed spread to every corner of the world. At that time, the Hung Mun spoke of loyalty, filial piety, trustworthiness, and righteousness, and spoke of serving the country and the people. They were a civilian organization spontaneously formed by anti-Qing loyalists. Even after developing into the Republican era, the Hung Mun had contributed much to the anti-Japanese resistance. After liberation, as the nation moved toward increasing prosperity, it naturally could not tolerate the two words "gangster."

Thus, the Hung Mun's disciples scattered far and wide, spreading throughout Aomen, Gangao, and abroad. Even so, at that time the Hung Mun remained an organization worthy of admiration. The dispersed disciples spontaneously banded together, resisting foreign native gangs and venting their anger on behalf of overseas Chinese who had suffered oppression abroad.

But, unknown when it started, the two words "Hung Mun" underwent a complete transformation in nature from top to bottom. Perhaps as a certain great person said. What truly corrupts the heart is piles of gold and silver stacked like mountains. Sometimes, maggots do not invade from outside; greed often spreads from within.

The vast Hung Mun began to split in the long river of time, giving rise to the Triads, Dong Ling, and countless other big and small factions. To contend for territory, they spared no mutual slaughter, fighting until heads were broken and blood flowed. For money, for power, to satisfy the desires sprouting deep within, they sold drugs, trafficked arms, forced the good into prostitution, committing every evil.

Thus, in the later period, the factions that split from the Hung Mun became genuine gangsters without qualm, or rather, only then did the Hung Mun truly become forever bound to the word "dark."

Therefore, I do not agree with Fan Wuchang's pride. At least, he merely remembers the Hung Mun's glory, overlooking the harm this organization later inflicted on the populace.

"I've accepted this gold coin, but I only remember that it was a gift from my friend! I don't know what kind of thing it is, where it comes from, and I don't want to know." Gripping the coin, I stared at Fan Wuchang with a burning gaze and said.

My answer was Fan Wuchang's faint smile. He just turned around inexplicably, then left me a suave back view.

"I still owe you a life; if I get the chance, I will surely repay you. Farewell, jianghu!" As he gradually walked away, he waved his hand, his feigned nonchalant tone unable to hide the sorrow and loneliness within. Even as he vanished into the dark night, he never came to his senses to glance back at me once.

Perhaps, deep down he wanted to turn back and give me a fierce bear hug. But at the same time, hidden within this sincere righteousness lay a deep guilt.

I know. Fan Wuchang actually wanted to give this gold coin to Pangzi more than to me. But he had never been able to open his heart and have a proper, heartfelt chat with Pangzi.

That night, on Chen Mo's rooftop, he ordered his men to surround Pangzi, to surround his own lifesaver. He raised the knife in his hand and ruthlessly stabbed toward us. His heart was dripping blood. This scene might become an eternal nightmare he can never free himself from in his heart.

Standing in the wind for a long, long time, watching his fading silhouette, I ultimately let out a helpless sigh, gripped the gold coin, and walked into the splendid villa.

Inside the villa, Shishi and a group of children were happily playing, while Red Granny stood beside them, affectionately guarding her. Seeing me enter, she seemed to recall me as well, and gave me a sweet smile.

Looking straight in from the doorway, on the wall of the villa's main hall hung a gradually rusting silver small sword. This sword was precisely the flying sword that had several times attempted to assassinate us when we had no way out. Its master, hired by the Downhill Tiger, was finally killed by me in a magical duel. Chen Zheng retrieved the sword and hung it in the main hall.

Three days earlier, Chen Zheng knelt before me and Pangzi in front of everyone from Dong Ling. Despite the opposition of the crowd, he resolutely accepted Dong Ling's punishment of the "Righteousness" character—thirty-six blows, each breaking his body. Seventy-two liquor bottles, each shattering his skull.

This is Chen Zheng's confession for his own deeds; no one can stop his break with them. Moreover, Chen Zheng hung this silver small sword in his own home, and even engraved our names on it—mine and Pangzi's.

In Chen Zheng's words, this is the mistake he made—he once unforgivably attacked his own lifesaver. He wants to forever remember this lesson. He wants his descendants to eternally remember this favor. He wants to forever remember that his and Dong Yumin's lives were given by two Daoists.

Compared to Fan Wuchang's avoidance and weakness, Chen Zheng instead showed more courage to act and take responsibility.

Night gradually drew its curtain. Pangzi and Yuan Qiu drank until they were dead drunk, calling anyone they saw brothers and comrades.

Pangzi was wild and crazy all night, spouting nonsense, sometimes lewd, sometimes like a proper gentleman. In short, Pangzi had a great time playing tonight, seemingly forgetting Fan Wuchang's existence.

Although he seemed carefree on the surface, I actually know that inside his round head lies the wisdom of great cleverness appearing foolish. He understands Fan Wuchang and has seen through Fan Wuchang's true inner thoughts.

All along, whenever he saw Fan Wuchang, Pangzi would make two cutting remarks. Or, he would make two improper, lewd jokes, leaving everyone speechless while also nearly making Fan Wuchang explode. He is not like this by nature; he does it on purpose.

When two people are unhappy, someone must pretend to be unserious; otherwise, the repressed feelings would leak out, and how could this sorrow dissipate?

But tonight, all pretense was futile; parting is always sorrowful, and when sorrowful, people always feel pent up.

He very much wanted to tell Fan Wuchang: "Actually, I don't even remember that stab of yours. Those few tomatoes and rotten eggs that surrounded my attack—I also know you got them because you were afraid I'd be bored, to give me practice."

But even if he is naturally cheerful, Fan Wuchang wouldn't think that way. Although Fan Wuchang is cold, he values righteousness, and his nature also has a pedantic quality that does not match his outward appearance.

No one knows how much pain Fan Wuchang's heart felt that night, nor does anyone realize how his pedantic nature subjected him to multiple torments.

Sometimes people are like this. Even when they know the root of the problem, they are still unable to untie this knot. Because this fluctuating world of humanity gives rise to all kinds of personalities. Thus, all seemingly perfect methods end up dimmed in the face of this extreme nature…

Volume Six: Red An Suspicious Road