WHF Ch 37 – Who’s This?

Yu Tianbai had a pretty good singing voice.

His voice was strong and clear, undeniably pleasant. Xiu Ma genuinely wanted to enjoy it.

If they weren’t at a factory in the middle of nowhere, if it wasn’t on the roof of a Wuling Hongguang, if it wasn’t in front of this “adult” he inexplicably despised after just one meeting, Xiu Ma would have listened attentively, savoring every note.

He crossed his arms, took a deep breath, and pushed aside the emotions that didn’t belong in such a festive moment. Then he kicked open the car door.

From Sun Jiu’s perspective, a long leg suddenly extended from the driver’s side door of the Wuling Hongguang.

What’s the ultimate mark of a handsome guy? Even if you only saw half a leg, you’d still know he’s handsome. Without a doubt, the person stepping out of the van was just that.

Sun Jiu’s gaze traveled upward, and to his delight, he realized the handsome guy looked familiar.

Wasn’t this the guy who wrecked the wedding?

The lighting must have been dim back then, because Sun Jiu hadn’t gotten a good look at his face. Now, under the four o’clock spring sunset, the guy’s face was glowing—literally glowing.

Maybe because it was sunset.

The handsome guy squinted, standing in the radiant golden light. Tall, long-legged, limbs relaxed, he seemed almost otherworldly, but not entirely, as he was looking toward the factory, apparently searching for someone. His eyesight didn’t seem great. After scanning for a bit and finding nothing, he tilted his head up and said something to the person on the van’s roof.

The two must be close. Yu Tianbai’s tone with him had that teasing, dog-poking familiarity—carefree, nonchalant, but with a genuine smile. Seems like everyone liked this handsome guy.

Perhaps because Factory Manager Sun was already gasping without realizing it, Secretary Yan’s barely concealed grin turned into serene silence. His earlier wailing had vanished into the clouds, and now it was a moment of calm.

As Yan stepped back, ready to make his exit, Sun Jiu turned and called out, “Was that whole act just now because you heard the security guard at the door?”

Yan was sharp—not just with gossip but with sight, hearing, and smell. He must have timed his kneeling perfectly, not lingering a second longer than needed at the factory manager’s feet.

But he’d never admit it. “Factory Manager, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head out.”

Polite, appropriate, as usual.

“Wait,” Sun Jiu spoke again. “This guy—don’t tell me you brought him here too?”

He meant the man standing on the van’s roof.

In the year Yu Tianbai was at Sun Jiu’s side, he never told anyone their real relationship. Yu Tianbai came as a supplier and assistant. Aside from his odd accent, he hadn’t raised any suspicions at the factory, especially not the gossip kind.

“Of course not,” Yan said, beaming. “How would I know about his business? I have no idea what your relationship with him is.”

With that, he didn’t give the factory manager a chance to stop him again. Thermos in hand, shirt straightened, he closed the redwood door. The suona outside blared once more.

Xiu Ma took the microphone Yu Tianbai handed him.

As Sun Jiu looked their way, Xiu Ma had just finished negotiating with his unlucky boss. For no other reason, he wanted to join the duet.

“Wanna come up?” Yu Tianbai made space, and the van visibly wobbled.

“No need. The stage is yours.”

Xiu Ma glanced at the factory. It wasn’t dark yet, but the lights were already on. The workers probably hadn’t clocked out. On the factory’s glass windows closest to them, a crowd of workers—tall, short, fat, thin—lined up. You couldn’t blame them for not focusing on work. With this kind of spectacle during shift hours, no one could keep their eyes on their tasks.

Great. More audience.

Yu Tianbai gave a knowing smile. He knew this would thoroughly annoy the guy in the factory, but he couldn’t say that. This trip was just to get the young master’s stuff back. Adult business—the kid could just watch.

Of course, if he wanted to join the chaos, that was fine too.

The microphone cord was knotted loosely. Yu Tianbai stretched his arm, pulling it over the young master’s head. In his peripheral vision, Xiu Ma glanced up at him. In the beautiful spring light of the setting sun, being looked up at felt nice. Yu Tianbai’s lips curled as he spread his arms. The suona rose alongside the crows flying at the horizon.

“Baby, I’m sorry—it’s not—that I don’t love you—”

“I really don’t want—to make you cry again—”

With the young master’s addition, the song’s pitch soared higher. Though his tone wasn’t as steady as his boss’s, his emotion carried it, doubling the speakers’ intensity.

In contrast, inside the factory’s glass window, Sun Jiu’s face had turned zombie-like—pale white, tinged green, a vibrant mess.

From his perspective, on the makeshift stage of a Wuling Hongguang, his so-called boyfriend was singing passionately with some perfect handsome stranger from who-knows-where. He knew the factory workers below were watching too. He wasn’t the only audience.

This was the kind of scene that’d wake you from a dream in a cold sweat.

But the good news? It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

“Let me believe—let me believe—you’ll be okay—”

“No need to promise—no need to promise—I won’t forget—”

The heartfelt apology song, paired with suona and a rustic megaphone, had a unique flair. It didn’t sound like an apology at all—more like a village memorial for an old man.

At the performance’s climax, the factory’s announcement speaker crackled. After a few test taps, the factory manager’s voice rang out: “Whoever dares look out the window will lose this month’s performance bonus and forget about year-end bonuses!”

A few seconds after cutting the mic, the speaker blared again: “Get back to work! I’m still alive!”

Maybe no one else would compare the free concert outside to a funeral, but Sun Jiu’s factory manager aura hinged on that final shout. As his voice fell, he cut the mic decisively, stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed downstairs.

The suona’s lingering notes still echoed. From the factory’s main gate, someone stormed out as the end-of-shift bell rang. Sun Jiu stopped in front of the van.

“Enough,” he said, maintaining his factory manager composure, still calm and collected. “Get down!”

The guy on the van wasn’t about to obey. Yu Tianbai moved the mic away and stared down at Sun Jiu. He was in the backlight; the man below faced the sun. Their eye contact ended the moment Xiu Ma stepped out.

Yu Tianbai jumped off the roof, naturally positioning himself in front of Xiu Ma.

“Who’s this?” Sun Jiu asked first, referring to the young master. Even without pointing, Yu Tianbai knew who he meant.

Yu Tianbai raised a finger, pointing at the ground by Sun Jiu’s feet. “Talk from there. Don’t come closer.”

The factory manager was surprisingly compliant—or perhaps he was maintaining his dignity on his own turf. He stayed put.

“What brings you two here to see me?”

When he said “you two,” Sun Jiu glanced at Xiu Ma. As expected, Xiu Ma was staring back, his gaze far from friendly. Their incomplete eye contact, unseen by Yu Tianbai, lingered for a while.

Perhaps it should be called a glare-off.

“You said yourself, you never know who you’ll meet in the Northeast,” Yu Tianbai said, breaking their silent standoff. “Besides, you still owe me something.”

A year of romance counted for something. Sun Jiu, who’d been watching Yu Tianbai with his hands behind his back, cleared his throat, brought his left hand forward, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and said, “Whatever you want to say, we can talk at home.”

The moment he said it, even Mudanjiang fell silent.

Nothing’s more awkward than bringing up feelings in a tense standoff. If there was, it’d be saying it with a flirtatious tone. Clearly, Sun Jiu had misread Yu Tianbai’s intent—or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing but had the gall to try.

Sun Jiu had deliberately lowered his voice, but the effect was as loud as if he’d used a mic with suona backing. Yu Tianbai had been smiling a second ago, but now his polite facade was gone. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Do I need to remind you again? We have no relationship anymore.”

Yu Tianbai rarely spoke so seriously. His drawn-out Beijing accent was gone, making the air feel chilly.

Unexpectedly, Sun Jiu responded with a laugh.

A genuine, natural laugh, as if Yu Tianbai was the one throwing a tantrum, waiting to be coaxed. A laugh that made the Northeast’s black soil shiver.

“You’re still the same as before,” Sun Jiu said, finally done laughing, clearing his throat. “Never saying things straight.”

Yu Tianbai’s reply came quick, without hesitation. “You’re the straightforward one, so tell me—what was with sending those two idiots after me?”

Sun Jiu’s smile vanished. He furrowed his brow, thoughtful, then relaxed it, coaxing gently, “When did I send anyone after you?”

The moment he asked, two figures flashed in Sun Jiu’s mind—short, stocky, both in padded jackets and Lei Feng hats, the utterly useless Tu uncle and nephew.

No way.

When the Old Fan incident was half-handled, the two came back saying their car fell into water, that someone saw them on the road, mentioning a bald guy and a blond—then it hit Sun Jiu. A clue that shouldn’t exist connected the dots, forming a picture of what really happened.

The so-called witnesses on the road were his dear boyfriend and this perfect handsome stranger. Driving happily on the highway, they’d run into the Tu uncle and nephew, who tried to rob them at gunpoint. After a scuffle, the duo returned defeated. Under Sun Jiu’s vague instructions, they set out again, only to fail once more—not just fail, but name-drop their boss in the process, like archaeologists handing over their leader’s card before digging a grave. Were they clever or just stupid?

Now the ghost in the grave was alive, following the card to Mudanjiang’s factory. And this ghost was his old flame.

“No excuses?” the ghost spoke.

Sun Jiu kept his thumb on the bridge of his nose, slowly raising his head. A stray cloud appeared in the clear sky, making the early spring sunset even prettier. He shifted his gaze back. Yu Tianbai was watching him.

“I’ve got no excuses,” Sun Jiu said, blinking slowly as if drunk, though there was no wine. “It’s all my sins.”

Yu Tianbai was used to hearing him lament fate’s unfairness. He rolled his eyes, pulling his hand from his pocket. “If you really want to come after me, hire some competent people.” He held out his hand, the object glinting in the sunlight. “Let’s move past that debt. On to the next one.”

Perhaps still caught in his cycle-of-fate musings, Sun Jiu took a moment to look up. When he saw what Yu Tianbai held, he squinted, utterly confused. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Not familiar?” Yu Tianbai shook the hammer. “This has nothing to do with the guy you threw in the river?”

Sun Jiu’s reaction seemed genuinely clueless. Yu Tianbai doubted himself for a second, then stuffed the bag back in his pocket. For now, he’d set it aside, but the murder and body-dumping evidence was solid.

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want it back, fine. I saw the guy you tossed in the Songhua River anyway.” He stepped forward, stretching his shoulders. “So, you gonna return what you took from me?”

Facing him, Sun Jiu stood tall, regaining his factory manager poise under the sunset, showing no sign of being accused. “Sure,” he said. “Come to my office. I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

At a time like this, he’s thinking about the office?

Instead of addressing the murder or cover-up, Sun Jiu’s first thought was the office.

Yu Tianbai knew that office well. A hidden door behind the cabinet led straight to the emergency exit. He wasn’t a factory employee, and no one but Sun Jiu had any connection to him. So, whenever Sun Jiu suggested going to the office, the implication was clear.

“Send your two idiot hitmen there,” Yu Tianbai said, his face darkening. “You might not be able to afford replacing what you lost.”

Sun Jiu didn’t reply immediately. He stepped closer. Yu Tianbai didn’t avoid his gaze. They locked eyes, and Sun spoke. “What can’t I afford? I gave you a whole year. What can’t I afford?”

Before the factory at sunset, a spring breeze stirred up dust.

As the dust settled, Yu Tianbai let out a heavy breath. He didn’t want to make a scene on someone else’s turf or waste words with someone he was done with. It wasn’t a good look, and it wasn’t fun. But without getting mad, there wasn’t much left to say. At this moment, he almost wanted to laugh.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, but before he could answer, a hand reached out. The young master, silent until now, made his entrance.

Xiu Ma pushed Yu Tianbai’s chest, making him step back half a pace. Yu Tianbai’s eyes stayed on Sun Jiu. Xiu Ma glanced at him, then turned to face the factory manager.

Sun Jiu returned a hard-to-describe look.

“I don’t need the thing,” Xiu Ma said to Yu Tianbai. Sun Jiu’s glare had successfully ignited his anger.

In the midst of an adult conversation, a kid had butted in. Sun Jiu’s gaze turned appraising. Truth be told, he’d never stopped sizing Xiu Ma up—he was too eye-catching.

Xiu Ma’s hand stayed on Yu Tianbai, and the three-way standoff lasted half a minute. The one being held back moved first.

Yu Tianbai raised his left hand, pushing Xiu Ma’s arm aside with force—swift, precise, ruthless. The young master froze, caught off guard.

Sun Jiu, eyeing them sideways, let out a cold laugh and asked Xiu Ma, “Did you give him the thing?”

“None of your business,” Yu Tianbai shot back, jutting his chin. “This is your place, so I won’t say anything too harsh. Act like an adult, respect me, and don’t let your workers see a joke.”

In the gusty wind, Yu Tianbai’s eyes were slightly red. Sun Jiu’s expression shifted, and he reached for his arm. “Alright, alright, I’ll listen to you, I—”

“Factory Manager!” A loud voice from the other side of the factory plaza broke Sun Jiu’s self-scripted tenderness. “Why’d you lock the gate? No one can leave!”

The factory workers had come to see the show. It was Secretary Yan, holding his thermos, standing in the security office, who-knows-how-long he’d been there.

Sun Jiu was still holding Yu Tianbai’s wrist. Yu Tianbai didn’t pull away, just watched as Sun’s hand slowly slid down and let go. Sun Jiu turned toward the security office and walked off.

In contrast, Xiu Ma, whose arm had been pushed aside, stood to the side. His gaze followed Sun Jiu’s retreating figure for a moment before returning to Yu Tianbai.

His eyes were still red, with tears streaming down.