Li City was a small city with a backward economy and beautiful scenery. About 100 kilometers away from the river where Ji Shiting had died, there was an ancient residential area that hadn’t been developed into a tourist attraction.
It was almost evening, and the autumn wind was blowing.
With a creak, the wooden door of one of the residences was pushed open, and a tall man walked out.
He was wearing a faded t-shirt and washed-out pants, but the man’s noble and distant aura made the obviously shabby clothes look classy, making people wonder if he was starting a new fashion trend.
The man had handsome facial features, but his face was pale. His lips were pursed as if he had just recovered from a serious illness, but his dark eyes were deep.
He looked up at the sunset and thought of something that made a trace of guilt appear in his eyes.
“Mr. Ji.” A deep voice sounded behind him.
Ji Shiting’s eyes dimmed. He turned around and said, “Mr. Yuan.”
The man he called ‘Mr. Yuan’ was about forty years old. He wasn’t tall, but he was rather muscular, and his eyes were glistening.
“Didn’t I tell you? Just call me Old Yuan.” He laughed. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing. I just came out for a breather,” Ji Shiting said coldly.
“It’s windy. You’ve just recovered from a serious illness. You should sit down and rest.” Old Yuan looked at him.
Ji Shiting smiled and said, “Okay.”
He then walked into the yard.
Old Yuan stood still and watched the man leave. He suddenly sucked his teeth.
“Mr. Ji, don’t blame me for not letting you go,” he said slowly. “Jing Zhiyuan has fallen, and the people who colluded with him are like birds startled by the twang of a bow. If they find your traces, they won’t let you go, and the Qingfeng Gang will be implicated. Since I took the risk to save you, you can’t just watch us suffer because of this.”
Ji Shiting stopped in his tracks, looked back at him and said, “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to run away. Besides, you’re not the one who saved me.”
“Tsk… What do you mean run away? I didn’t lock you up, did I?” Old Yuan chuckled. “It wasn’t me who saved you. It was Old Liang, but so what? I’m his good friend. What’s mine is his, and what’s his is mine.”
Ji Shiting didn’t respond this time. He opened the door and walked in.
The room was very simple. There was only a bed and a desk. Ji Shiting pulled out a chair and sat down, but he had nothing to do.
There wasn’t even a book here, let alone a phone or Internet connection.
He tapped his fingers on the desk, and after some time, someone walked in.
“It’s dinner time,” the person said. He lowered his head and put a bowl in front of Ji Shiting.
He was “Old Liang” who had saved him from the river. Old Liang didn’t look very old, but his face was a bit twisted. There were also a few strange scars that made him look completely disfigured. He always had his head lowered when talking to others, perhaps because he was conscious of his looks.
