Chapter 28: Suspicion

Gu Xianwang knew they had already looked into her background. Although she studied under Shang Ruyun, she was only half a disciple at best—and when it came to treasure spotting, she hadn’t even scratched the surface.

In truth, the only identity anyone could dig up on her was that of an obscure dan role performer in the opera world. Utterly ordinary. Sara’s grave seriousness was nothing but a bluff.

Compared to their outright violent crimes—hijacking the bus and kidnapping everyone—she was small fry indeed.

“Is that so? I have some basic hand-to-hand skills, but I’m probably nowhere near your level.”

“Yo, you’re too modest.”

Gu Xianwang saw this as the perfect chance to ease Ye Chan’s worries, so she continued, “It’s not modesty. I trained in Pear Garden; these are just the fundamentals. I only joined this tour group out of personal interest. Getting caught up in this is just rotten luck. I won’t stand in your way, but the others are innocent. We’re living in a lawful society these days—I hope we can sort this out peacefully.”

She finished and stole a glance at Long Li, curious about her reaction.

By coincidence, Sara was watching her too, as if hoping to confirm the truth of Gu Xianwang’s words from Long Li herself.

Long Li took Gu Xianwang’s deadpan fabrications in stride, her expression unchanging. She even shouldered the blame outright. “Dragging you all into this was a mistake on our part. But we’re not the deranged outlaws you seem to think we are.”

“Chak is my subordinate. For his rough handling, I’ll make it right with you.”

Long Li’s businesslike tone sounded just like a mid-level manager placating an upset customer. If the driver hadn’t zapped them with a stun gun first, followed by Chak brandishing his homemade shotgun, Gu Xianwang might have bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Ye Chan was the type to forget a beating the moment she got fed; this little tag-team performance had her eating it up without a second thought. “Sister Gu, you’re an opera performer? Peking Opera? That’s so cool! Which troupe? Let me know next time you have a show—I’ll come cheer you on for sure.”

Gu Xianwang had no intention of sharing more than necessary. Ideally, once they all got out of this, she’d never cross paths with any of them again.

“Mm. I’ll tell you once we’re out.”

“Deal. No backing out on me—we’re adding WeChat.”

Lame. Sara let out a scornful chuckle, tugged her hat brim low, and clammed up.

The night deepened, insect chirps growing more frantic, until Ye Chan’s snores joined the chorus.

Gu Xianwang sat on the grass for a bit, sneaking peeks at Long Li now and then. Long Li had climbed into the locust tree and perched on a branch, leaning against the trunk in silent contemplation.

After a long quiet stretch, Gu Xianwang retied her hair, stood, and peered toward the back of the tree. She felt grimy all over. The past two days of blood, sweat, and a dunk in the water had left her reeking of sourness—she could barely stand herself. A proper bath was out of the question, but even a quick rinse in the pond would be heaven.

“Something wrong?” Long Li noticed the movement and leaned down to ask softly.

Gu Xianwang rubbed her arm and shook her head. “Nah. Just checking if there’s a stream nearby.”

Long Li dropped lightly from the tree and walked over. “There is, but it’s a ways off.”

She pointed off to the front right. “Hear that water? It’s about a three- or five-minute walk from here.”

Three to five minutes. Without that earlier drainage ditch, Gu Xianwang might have risked it solo—she could see fine in the dark. But traps or an ambush? Not worth gambling her life for a wash.

“Never mind. No sense stirring up more trouble.” She glanced at her watch: already ten at night. “You take first watch. I’ll relieve you at two.”

“Thanks.” Long Li studied her profile with a faint smile, then reached back and somehow plucked a locust leaf from thin air. “Not bathing these past couple days has me miserable. If you’re not ready to turn in yet, mind covering for me a bit? I’ll fetch some clean water from farther out.”

Gu Xianwang’s eyes lit up in surprise, though her brows soon furrowed. “By yourself? It’s dark out—not safe.”

Long Li pressed a finger to her lips, jerked her chin toward the trees behind, and shushed her softly. “In and out quick.”

She pulled a collapsible plastic bucket from her backpack, handed the pack to Gu Xianwang, and slipped into the woods alone.

Gu Xianwang watched her fading silhouette, her mind a tangle of conflict.

This person was a member of the mysterious organization, and she might even count as half a leader. Judging from the current situation, the group wasn’t just composed of a motley crew with top-notch gear—they could very well be involved in the illicit excavation and trafficking of ancient relics. No way were they legitimate operators.

And that so-called subordinate of hers? What else could he be but a reckless outlaw? They’d snatched Senior Brother for reasons unknown. A few bruises would be one thing, but if his life was in danger, her guilt would be immense.

Long Li.

They’d gotten along peacefully the whole way, but was there ever kindness without strings attached? On the other hand, racking her brain, Gu Xianwang couldn’t think of anything about herself worth scheming for.

Long Li had asked several times about why she’d come into the mountains. If there was one thing, it had to be lingering wariness of Master’s reputation.

Logically, she should lump Long Li in with the likes of Sara and keep her guard up without question. But…

She glanced at the dirt-stained bandage on her palm and hefted her backpack.

Who in their right mind would hand their only piece of equipment to the enemy in a situation like this?

Unless her excuse about fetching water had been a ruse to coordinate with those subordinates from inside and out.

Gu Xianwang listened to Ye Chan’s carefree snoring and let out a sigh. A profound sense of helplessness wrapped around her. Right now, it seemed like her only choice was to trust that Long Li wasn’t some cunning viper.

The night breeze rustled through the trees, leaves whispering in reply. Moonlight rippled like chill tides. Sitting alone in the sinkhole’s forest, she felt that familiar helplessness stretch like a shadow in the shifting glow, taking on her very shape.

After a moment of brooding, Gu Xianwang rubbed her face and forced some energy back into herself. She pulled the Undying Turtle from her bosom and set it in the Ink Jade Plate, trying once more to pinpoint the Tour Guide’s location.

But this time, nothing happened. The Undying Turtle lay still for ages.

Had it gone without praise again? Or had the sample from before expired?

She prodded the cotton wick with her finger and rotated the Ink Jade Plate a few times, but the Undying Turtle might as well have been dead to the world.

Gu Xianwang: “…”

She swore to herself that once she got back, she’d beg, bargain, and bully her way into getting Master’s notes, come hell or high water. She wouldn’t rest until she’d figured it out.

“Looking for something?”

Lost in thought, she nearly jumped when Long Li’s voice sounded right behind her. Gu Xianwang’s hand clenched, almost sending the Undying Turtle tumbling.

She spun around, shoving her hand into her pocket. Shaking her head, she said, “Nah, nothing. Just bored, fiddling with the jade. It’s good for the skin.”

Long Li didn’t press. She set the water bucket next to the backpack, pulled out two compressed towels, and dropped them in along with some purification tablets.

“Best we can do under the circumstances. Just a quick wipe.”

Gu Xianwang lingered by the locust tree, securing the Undying Turtle properly before stepping over to grab a wet towel.

Finally, some relief. She sighed contentedly, wiping her neck clean. Long Li was still just standing there, watching. Gu Xianwang held out the towel awkwardly. “You gonna wipe down or what?”

“I’m waiting for you.”

Gu Xianwang’s fingers tingled with warmth. She murmured, “Go ahead. I don’t want to muck up the water.”

Long Li’s lips quirked. She squatted down, scooped some water one-handed from the bucket, and drenched her arm and neck before giving them a quick pass with the towel.

Efficient. No fuss. She clearly thrived in rough conditions like this.

Gu Xianwang hesitated, then ventured, “Have you always done work like this?”

The words landed awkwardly, like she was preaching to someone on the wrong path.

She tacked on, “I mean, always out in the wild hunting for stuff.”

Long Li met her gaze, perfectly straightforward. “Pretty much. That’s how I spend most of my time—searching for things.”

It sounded downright foolish said aloud: searching for things outdoors. But Gu Xianwang held back from digging deeper, afraid of shattering that fragile veil.

Sensing her unease, Long Li added, “You’re worried about the tour guide and your friend?”

Gu Xianwang nodded. “They’re bystanders. They never should have gotten pulled into this.”

“And you? You’re in the thick of it?”

There it was again. Gu Xianwang shot her a sidelong glance, weighing her motives.

“It doesn’t matter what happens to me. I just want them to get out safe.”

Long Li folded the towel neatly and tucked it away before sitting down. “Why do you care so much?”

Gu Xianwang found the question a bit baffling. She sat down as well and said coolly, “Because I have my own motives, I should bear the corresponding risks, shouldn’t I?”

Long Li offered no judgment. Instead, she said, “The men who grabbed your Senior Brother—one’s named Chak, the other’s nicknamed Old Dog. You’ve met Old Dog before; he was the one disguised as the Driver.”

Gu Xianwang murmured a soft “Mm” and listened patiently.

“The Equipment Pack we have was left behind by Old Dog. It’s a shame the Gu Poison wasn’t inside.”

It was only then that Gu Xianwang suddenly remembered: when the Cave Lord had strung her up, she’d vaguely overheard the words “Gu Poison.” So it hadn’t been her imagination after all.

Long Li went on. “Before he joined us, Old Dog worked as a mercenary in the Middle East. From his teenage years through middle age, he drifted through hailstorms of bullets—starting out as a deminer, advancing to sniper, and eventually becoming a private bodyguard for rich tycoons.”

“He has a daughter. She came from a one-night stand in Cambodia, but he had her anyway. She’s six now.”

“When she was two, he brought her back to the country alone. Tests revealed high-functioning autism. The little girl is strikingly beautiful, with a real talent for painting.”

Gu Xianwang nodded, unsure why Long Li was sharing all this.

“So you’re saying he has his reasons for what he does?”

Long Li let out a chuckle and shook her head. “By the age of six, that girl had only ever called out to anyone twice—and only once was it for Old Dog. Even then, she used his full name. That single time, Old Dog shelled out three thousand yuan from his own pocket to buy the whole crew drinks all night long.”

“He’s a man who licks blood from his blade, who’s stared death in the face more times than he can count. He figures he’s destined to die on some battlefield anyway—life for a life, fair trade. But I can’t help thinking: if the day comes when I’m the one carrying his Badge to his family’s door, I doubt I’d be able to meet his daughter’s eyes without losing my composure.”

Gu Xianwang’s mouth fell open slightly. An odd prickling sensation stirred in her chest, like a ripe chestnut tumbling down, its barbed husk curling tight.

Watching someone transform from a mere label into a flesh-and-blood person, full of virtues and flaws alike—it was a peculiar feeling. Like taking a cheap balloon and pumping it full of raw human emotion until it bloated with the creases of joy, rage, grief, and terror.

All those neat, clinical accounts unraveled in an instant.

Gu Xianwang gazed at her steadily. Long Li sat ramrod straight, her eyes fixed on the fathomless night. Her long lashes fanned out like the ribs of an umbrella, as if holding the moonlight aloft.

“Your friend will come back safe.”

“I guarantee it.”