Chapter 393: Heaven, Please Protect Him from Illness and Misfortune

Li Ye watched Old Song become wildly emotional; even without knowing, he could guess that the tall old man was his enemy.

Old Song had said he had two enemies: one was Major Nakamura, the other was Prince Qi Ming. Nakamura Kenju was a Fusang native, unrelated to Guan Ciwei, so this old man must be the prince.

Guan Ciwei stood motionless on the mainland side of Zhongyingjie, staring calmly across a distance of more than ten meters at the prince opposite him.

Both men stood straight, their gazes clear, their presence strong—as if two swordsmen were silently pressuring each other, forcing one to feel uneasy, to reveal a weakness.

After a long silence, the prince suddenly smiled and struck first.

He took two steps forward, standing on the centerline of the narrow street, and chuckled: "Guan Da, how have you been these past years?"

Guan Ciwei's eyes froze; his expression stiffened as he nodded: "Thanks to your grace, I haven't starved to death."

"Oh, good." The prince spoke coolly. "You came all the way from Jingcheng to Guangdong to see me—that shows you still value 'righteousness.'

You still call me 'Master' when we meet—that means there's still some bond between us. Since you've got both loyalty and righteousness, I won't treat you poorly. You know my nature. So, you know what you should do next, right?"

Guan Ciwei slowly shook his head: "Times have changed. I've changed. Master… you must change too."

The prince curled his lips into a wry smile.

"Then tell me—how should I change? Turn into a toad for you to mock? Or turn into a tiger and swallow you whole?"

Guan Ciwei's pupils shrank sharply; memories flooded back.

This smiling old man had once been more terrifying than a tiger.

Even tigers get full. But this old man's appetite was bottomless—he devoured people down to the last bone fragment.

What now? Throw everything in my pockets at him? Feed the tiger and hope it's satisfied?

As Guan Ciwei hesitated, a staff member spotted the prince standing on the centerline.

Zhongyingjie was narrow, but the centerline divided it strictly—crossing it was forbidden. Normally, people slipped across when staff weren't looking, and the staff pretended not to notice. But standing right on the line to chat? Did you think they were blind?

The staff member immediately barked: "Old comrade, step back! Don't get near the centerline!"

The prince blinked, momentarily furious, but stepped back a few paces. Then he turned to Guan Ciwei: "Guan Da, come over. Let's talk properly."

An invisible centerline had worked its magic.

Guan Ciwei, who had just been afraid, now suddenly found courage.

He slowly shook his head: "No need. I'll say two things and leave. All these years, my brothers and I suffered terribly for that shipment—we deserve an answer."

The prince narrowed his eyes, stared at Guan Ciwei for ten seconds, then nodded slowly: "Fine. I'll give you an answer."

Guan Ciwei immediately said: "Good. We haven't lost a single item. You handle distribution in Hong Kong—we split it fifty-fifty."

"Ha."

The prince laughed coldly: "You dare suggest splitting fifty-fifty with your master? Do you think I won't kill you?"

Guan Ciwei met the prince's gaze, and shook his head slowly, firmly: "You don't even dare go to Jingcheng now. You'll never dare go there again."

The prince's smile vanished. He spoke coolly: "Do you believe I could send one denunciation letter and have you locked up, your goods sent to a museum?"

"Pfft."

Guan Ciwei laughed—laughed several times before saying: "Master, stop joking. A fallen house is still a fallen house. Why pretend to be something you're not?"

The prince stared hard at Guan Ciwei, as if trying to peer into his soul.

Guan Ciwei was still a little afraid of him—but only a little.

Ah, when the tree falls, the monkeys scatter. A fallen house, indeed.

The prince gave a cold laugh, then suddenly turned and walked away—catching Guan Ciwei off guard, making his heart, which had just settled, leap back up.

Guan Ciwei instinctively moved to chase after him—but seeing the old man stride away with such speed, he hesitated, cowed again.

Once bitten by a snake, one fears ropes for ten years. Prince Qi Ming… wasn't he more than just a venomous snake?

Guan Ciwei was cowed. But Old Song wasn't.

He saw the prince heading toward the checkpoint on the Hong Kong side and immediately broke into a run after him.

At this point, he could no longer hide that he was lame.

Amid the surging crowd, a lame man dodged left and right, shoving aside pedestrians blocking his path—like a nimble monkey chasing its own peaches.

But this monkey's eyes burned with malice; his face twisted with fury.

Closer… even closer. Old Song's bloodshot eyes could clearly see the prince's bald scalp.

His iron balls had long been split—one in each hand, wound tight, ready to fly.

Because entering Zhongyingjie required passing a checkpoint, Old Song could only bring these two weapons—if he could've brought a five-shot revolver, he'd have emptied it into the old bastard: "Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

"Die!"

Old Song finally seized his chance—raised his hand to hurl the iron balls.

But two figures suddenly blocked his view.

Two staff members, alert and wary, each grabbed one of Old Song's arms and barked: "Where are you going? Show us your letter of introduction. Behave yourself—submit to inspection!!"

Old Song froze, tensed his whole body to break free—but the next moment, he felt a small stun baton pressed against his waist.

Yeah, if they pressed it just once more, Old Song would convulse on the ground, foaming at the mouth like a man seized by epilepsy.

"I—"

Old Song wanted to cry but couldn't speak.

But the two staff members, seeing his expression, grew even more suspicious—they gripped him tighter and dragged him toward the office.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, brothers! He's my hometown buddy—he just spotted a con artist. That same con artist swindled him 160 yuan last time…"

Li Ye could no longer hide—he stepped forward to rescue Old Song.

"Swindled 160 yuan? How could there be a con artist here? Where did he run off to? Come on, come over there and explain clearly."

They wouldn't let it go. Old Song finally snapped back to his senses.

"No no no—he's my nephew. He believed my tall tales. Brothers, let me speak with you privately."

Moments later, Old Song walked back, head bowed, to Li Ye's side.

Li Ye let out a quiet hum, gripped Old Song's arm, and dragged him into the corner—using five or six tenths of his strength; the bruise would last a week.

In the quieter spot, Li Ye asked coldly: "Tell me—what were you trying to do just now? You've got guts. You dare try to kill someone on our turf? Don't you fear the crackdown?"

"Are you mute? There are plenty of chances—why pick a place under such strict surveillance?"

Li Ye pressed him again, but Old Song kept his head down—no longer the slick, talkative old rogue he used to be. He was as silent as Wei Jiaxian.

Li Ye couldn't press further. After decades of hatred, asking more would be like stabbing him in the heart.

But Li Ye didn't ask—and Old Song suddenly burst into laughter.

"Hahahaha～Hahahaha～"

Li Ye watched Old Song laugh until tears and snot streamed down his face—was he truly happy? Or truly broken?

But Li Ye was certain: a fire had ignited in Old Song's heart—and it was burning out of control.

If those two staff members hadn't stopped him just now, he might have dragged the prince down with him today—burning them both alive together.

"I saw him. I saw him. Heaven has opened its eyes… that beast is still alive. He's still alive. Hahahaha!"

"Hahahaha! He's still alive. Heaven, please protect him—keep him free of illness, free of disaster. Don't let him die too soon. Wait for me… Hahahaha!"

(End of Chapter)