BL Ch115

In the internet age, any news could sweep the nation overnight. A bombshell like “City’s Richest Man Suspected of Drug Use” needed little effort to top the local trending searches by the next day.

Zhao Feihua woke up refreshed, brewed a perfect cup of black coffee, and, as always, scrolled through news while eating breakfast, his PR manager instincts ingrained in his core.

Recently, the spotlight in Pingyi City had shifted to Pei Ming, now detained in a hospital by police. After the Myanmar operation, their boss, Young Master Yu, had cleared his name, fading from public outrage. The company’s stocks stabilized, promising a fatter year-end bonus, and Zhao’s mood matched the sunny day—

Until a glaring trending topic stabbed his eyes.

Inside Palace No. 1.

Two Dobermans, basking in the crisp autumn warmth, lounged under a ginkgo tree, only to be jolted awake by an furious car horn. They sprang up, baring teeth and growling menacingly at the intruder.

Yu Duqiu reined in his horse, watching Zhao Feihua leap from his car like an enraged chick, ignoring the snarling dogs, hands on hips, stomping over bow-legged, roaring in disbelief, “Weren’t you on drugs?! The trending posts say you’re half-dead!”

Yu Duqiu waved a hand, signaling Black Cat and Sheriff to back off, then turned his horse, Xiao Bai, replying breezily, “Didn’t take any. Someone spiked my drink. Got my stomach pumped, rested a night, and I’m fine now.”

Zhao Feihua’s heart, racing the whole way, finally settled. He exhaled heavily, “Good, no drugs… You scared me so bad my legs went weak…”

Then he asked, “Found out who did it?”

Yu Duqiu shook his head.

“Ugh, now the rumors are flying again! They’re saying if it’s not drugs, it’s poison, and the Themis project is cursed—first your second uncle, now you.” Zhao Feihua’s nose wrinkled in frustration, his glasses digging into his furrowed brow. “I spent all morning trying to kill the buzz, but it’s only getting hotter. It’s unnatural! Some of the worst instigating media won’t even take my calls. I bet someone’s paying them to blow this up, so I’m here to request PR funds—”

“No need. Let them talk.” Yu Duqiu, astonishingly, trotted off on his horse.

Zhao Feihua froze, then jogged after him. “Are you serious? You finally shook off the curse rumors, and now this? Aren’t you worried someone’ll use it to tank your project?”

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

Zhao Feihua gaped. “How can your 37-degree mouth spit such cold words? After all our years of friendship, you think I’d just watch you sink? Am I that heartless?”

Yu Duqiu didn’t glance over. “Even if the project flops, your salary and bonus won’t lose a cent.”

Zhao Feihua suddenly lunged, grabbing the reins tightly.

Yu Duqiu halted, exasperated. “Now what?”

“Nothing, just touched. You’ve finally learned to let go.” Zhao Feihua sniffled dramatically, wiping nonexistent tears. “That’s the way, Duqiu. You’re like charcoal—black to the core, no need to bleach it. Even if I scrub you white for a bit, you’ll turn black again. Human nature’s tough to change. Accept it, and you’ll live happier. I won’t have to bust my ass cleaning up your messes anymore.”

“…” Yu Duqiu gripped the reins, looping them around Zhao’s wrist and tying a knot.

Zhao Feihua blinked. “?”

“Your body’s not keeping up with that sharp tongue. Come on, let’s get you some exercise.” With that, Yu Duqiu spurred Xiao Bai’s flanks.

Before Zhao could react, his body lurched as the startled horse bolted, yanking him along.

The lawn blurred beneath his feet as he sprinted, mouth filling with wind, still bellowing, “Murder!! Help!! Where’s Bai Zhao?? Save me!”

Yu Duqiu laughed heartily, holding the reins to control the pace, ensuring the poor manager wouldn’t keel over. “Even if he were here, he wouldn’t save you. Keep up—there’s a bigger fight waiting!”

Changhe District, Jiangxue Road.

Beyond the recently troubled Yiqing Bar, now under mandated cleanup, this street teemed with KTVs, barber shops, cheap motels, and arcades. By night, it became a chaotic mix of shady characters. Young men loitering at corners, glancing around furtively, might be touting “candy” or “pork” as much as soliciting customers.

Police had raided multiple times, improving things somewhat, but cunning rabbits still slipped through, darting between burrows, playing guerrilla with the cops.

The real challenge was the area’s mixed commercial-residential setup. Most shops sat beneath aging apartment blocks from last century, with scant modern surveillance.

The city planned a hardline overhaul of the street’s layout, but over 70% of the residents were elderly, either too old to relocate or demanding exorbitant relocation fees. The plan stalled, and to this day, those blood-eyed rabbits lurked in the shadows, watching.

Eleven a.m.

The nocturnal rabbits hadn’t stirred yet. Street vendors and shopkeepers, mostly honest citizens scraping by, filled the scene. The aroma of food from diners and the chime of convenience store doors painted a typical urban picture.

Bai Zhao arrived at the address from the email on time, surprised to find an unremarkable general store.

The red sign’s paint was peeling, rusted metal exposed—a shop open for decades. The owner, fanning himself, watched a drama behind the counter. A tall man stood at the counter, browsing goods.

Bai Zhao approached silently, overhearing the owner ask familiarly, “No work today?”

The man smiled warmly. “Nah, on break. Can you grab me a box of candy?”

“Sure thing, this one, right? You always get this kind.”

“Yeah, tastes like childhood.”

“That candy’s out of style now,” the owner sighed. “Used to be a treat—kids fought over it. Now they want pricey imports. Small shops like us can’t stock those… Five yuan eighty, scan here.”

“Got it. Hey, you smoke, Bai Zhao?”

Bai Zhao, a step away, froze. “…Don’t smoke.”

“Then I’ll grab a pack.” Fei Zheng paid, turned, and tapped the glass display case. “Reflection’s too obvious. Watch it next time.”

Bai Zhao noticed Fei Zheng held not just cigarettes but a box of fruit candy—the kind he often ate.

In that split-second distraction, Fei Zheng slipped into the alley beside the store, calling back, “Keep up.”

Bai Zhao quickly checked the glass case’s reflection, spotting several “loiterers” nodding subtly—Yu Jiangyue’s bodyguards, brought from abroad.

The more Fei Zheng fixated on him, the less he’d notice others lingering nearby.

Ji Lin had wanted to send detectives, but many officers were at the banquet the previous day, risking recognition by Fei Zheng, so they scrapped the idea.

Bai Zhao hurried after him into the alley.

The lanes here mirrored the infamous one by Yiqing Bar—narrow, cold, and sunless. Concrete walls muffled sound; a few steps in, the main road’s noise felt worlds away, an ideal spot for dirty deeds.

But Fei Zheng didn’t linger, abruptly turning right at a revolving iron gate into a residential complex.

Bai Zhao glanced at the buildings, surprised—Fei Zheng had brought him to Jiangxue District.

This was where Bai Zhiming and Jiang Sheng received overseas packages, where Mu Hao was first held, where Fei Zheng killed Huang Hanxiang. Police had combed it countless times, installing cameras in the rental. Any entry would trigger an instant alert to the bureau.

Returning here was bold, to say the least.

Yet Fei Zheng wasn’t as reckless as Bai Zhao expected, weaving through twists and turns to dodge cameras, entering another building. No elevator—they climbed stairs to the sixth floor. Fei Zheng pulled out a key and opened a door.

His movements were so natural, it felt like coming home.

Bai Zhao stepped inside, stunned to find the place truly resembled a “home.”

Though only thirty or forty square meters, it had a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and bedroom, all neatly furnished. Two potted pothos plants thrived on the windowsill, glossy and green, clearly tended regularly.

“Police didn’t find you rented this place?” Bai Zhao asked. “I thought they checked every tenant in the complex.”

Fei Zheng tossed the keys onto the coffee table. “I bought it, under a friend’s name. Cops can’t trace it to me.”

“I figured you’d live closer to your boss.”

Fei Zheng smiled. “I stay at his place usually, come back here on weekends. Sit, I’ll get tea.”

Bai Zhao noticed Fei Zheng’s peculiar talent: he could interact with anyone—friends, strangers, even enemies—with complete ease.

This composure differed from Yu Duqiu’s cool-headedness. Yu Duqiu, always quick with a laugh, carried an air of distance and intimidation. His fearlessness stemmed from confidence he could hold up the sky if it fell.

Fei Zheng, though, seemed indifferent to the sky falling.

This gave him a detached, cold-blooded demeanor—polite to all, yet capable of killing anyone, as if death was inevitable for everyone.

Of course, that was just a hunch.

The kitchen echoed with the gurgle of boiling water. Fei Zheng steeped a red tea bag simply, bringing it to the small living room.

The tea was scalding, possibly poisoned, so Bai Zhao left it untouched. Seeing Fei Zheng pull a cigarette from the pack, he said, “Smoke outside. Don’t stink up the place.”

Fei Zheng ignored him, flicking the lighter and lighting the cigarette, grinning. “No parents to raise you, huh? No manners, little bastard.”

Bai Zhao’s eyes narrowed, lunging to grab his collar. “Say that again?”

Fei Zheng raised his hands. “Easy, I’ve been called that too.”

“Like I care.” Bai Zhao shoved him back, pointing a finger in warning. “I’ll let it slide once. There won’t be a second time.”

Fei Zheng straightened his collar. “I like your fire and guts. You know when to bend, when to stand—made for big things. Not like Bai Zhiming’s other two useless sons, good for nothing but taking the fall.”

Bai Zhao snorted as a reply.

Winning trust varied by criminal. For a cunning, ambitious type like Bai Zhiming, flattery and submission worked best. For cautious, approval-hungry Pei Ming, constant reassurance did the trick. For arrogant, cruel eccentrics like Fei Zheng, only a kindred spirit might draw him in.

So far, the plan was on track.

Fei Zheng lit the cigarette but didn’t smoke, walking to the windowsill and placing it in an incense burner, lighting two incense sticks.

No wonder the air carried a faint smoky scent, like a temple.

Such things would never appear in Yu Duqiu’s materialist home, and even in ordinary households, they were rare. Oddly, the burner had no memorial tablet or deity behind it, leaving unclear who the cigarette was for.

Fei Zheng turned back, explaining, “For my father.”

“Why no photo?”

“Didn’t have one.” Fei Zheng sat again. “He left when I was young. When he came back, he was just a box of ashes.”

Bai Zhao stayed quiet, listening, memorizing every word to relay to the police, hoping for clues.

But Fei Zheng spoke only of trivial matters. “I don’t remember his face, just that every time he sent money, he’d include a box of candy, like this.”

He opened the candy box—a round tin with colorful fruit images, filled with vibrant, gem-like hard candies in various flavors, gleaming transparently.

“I thought ‘candy’ was a code.” Bai Zhao said.

Raised by Bai Zhiming, he knew the trade’s jargon. “Candy” often meant drugs in certain deals.

Fei Zheng laughed, popping a random candy into his mouth. “Spending too much time with Yu Duqiu makes everyone paranoid.”

Bai Zhao eyed his candy-holding fingers, saying abruptly, “Those candies look like gems. You could hide a real gem in there, and no one would notice.”

Fei Zheng’s empty fingers paused, then he praised, “You’re sharp. No wonder Bai Zhiming, Pei Ming, and Yu Duqiu all saw something in you.”

With a flick, like magic, he produced a ring from his pocket—a ruby, impure and worth maybe a hundred thousand.

“Sometimes doubles as a disguise. No one suspects.” Fei Zheng tossed it carelessly. The ring clinked into the tin, blending instantly with candies of similar size.

Unless you scrutinized the setting, no one would spot the deadly weapon hidden in the sweet-filled tin.

Security checks at Yiqing Bar or jewelry expos relied on human operators. In most people’s minds, candy—symbol of innocent childhood—didn’t scream crime.

Admittedly, this weapon was stealthier, cleverer than Yu Duqiu’s blade necklace.

But Bai Zhao still had a question. “Jiang Sheng had a gun. Why not use one? Cold weapons and assassinations are outdated.”

“Don’t like guns. Too loud.” Fei Zheng shrugged. “But if push comes to shove, I’ll use one.”

A useless answer, killing the topic. Bai Zhao circled back. “So, what’s special about this candy? Keeps you eating it?”

“Nothing special, just ordinary candy.” Fei Zheng said. “But back in my hometown, a dead-end dump, it was a rare treat.”

Smiling, he recounted the past, a faint bloody tang from the ring slowly overtaking the candy’s sweetness.

“I used to share with classmates; they loved it. But even rare things lose their charm over time. By high school, who craves a piece of candy? Mine stopped being popular. I was the only one still eating it.”

“After my dad died, my mom remarried. In a small town, gossip spreads fast. A kid with no parents is an easy target. Even old friends shunned me, got me expelled… The world’s unfair. I gave them sweetness; they gave me bitterness.”

A man in his thirties savoring a hard candy was, frankly, a bit comical, even embarrassing. Yet Fei Zheng’s tone remained warm and steady, his tale of hardship likely stirring sympathy in most listeners.

If Bai Zhao didn’t know the truth, he might’ve been fooled.

Police records showed Fei Zheng was expelled for a fight that blinded a classmate.

The retired teacher, contacted by police, still trembled recalling it. “That kid used candy… hard candy, sharpened to a point, tied to his finger. During the brawl, he blinded a classmate’s eye… So well-hidden, no one noticed… Scariest part? He ate the candy after, denied everything, said the kid tripped. No evidence, so the police downplayed it…”

Fei Zheng took another candy from the tin—strawberry, red and translucent, glinting like a ruby in the sunlight.

“Want one?”

Bai Zhao shook his head.

No wonder he used a gemstone ring as a weapon—evil roots planted young.

“I’m older now, don’t care much for candy. But without something to taste, I crave more addictive stuff… like that water you gave Yu Duqiu yesterday.” Fei Zheng raised a brow, finally getting to the point. “By the way, did they figure out what it was?”

Bai Zhao nodded. “Yeah, he got his stomach pumped. He’s fine for now, but the doctor says he needs monitoring a few days. It was drugs, after all.”

“Didn’t trace it to you?”

“I siphoned off a small vial beforehand, mixed it into a dessert he ate, then cleared the drinks and shards. They’re suspecting the kitchen now. Surveillance clips are handled too.”

Fei Zheng gave an approving look. “Not hard to pull off, but pulling it off clean? Impressive. You’re way better than Jiang Sheng.”

Bai Zhao ignored the praise.

Fei Zheng was complimenting him, but after all this time indoors, he still hadn’t touched the main issue, still wary. So Bai Zhao took the lead. “I did what you asked. Trust me yet? If not, I’ve got a trump card to ruin Yu Duqiu completely.”

Fei Zheng perked up. “Let’s hear it.”

“No free labor, Secretary Fei.” Bai Zhao said coldly. “I need your next steps. You’re barely safe yourself—how’ll you get me out? How’ll you dodge the police?”

Fei Zheng grinned, teeth crunching the candy with a glass-grinding sound. “Heard President Yu’s got an ocean-going yacht?”

Central City Hospital.

In the inpatient ward’s corridor, Ji Lin carried a thermos, stepping lightly to a familiar room. He eased the door open, peeking in, seeing only the patient awake and looking at him. Awkwardly, he called, “Mu-ge, you’re up?”

“Yeah, come sit.” Mu Hao looked far better than when first rescued. Though his cheeks were still sunken, a spark of his old vigor and charm was returning.

Ji Lin shut the door nervously, trying to stay composed as he approached.

Since returning from Myanmar, he’d visited daily, justifying it when Mu Hao was helpless as easing his parents’ burden. But now that Mu Hao could talk and move a bit, lingering felt suspicious, so he’d stayed away a few days. He hadn’t expected Mu Hao to reach out.

This was their first time alone since Mu Hao’s voice returned.

Ji Lin, heart pounding, set down the thermos. “I made chicken soup, brought some for you. Captain Feng said… you wanted to see me?”

Mu Hao nodded. “Yeah, Feng said yesterday you’re on a classified mission, Duqiu’s idea. He looked off, so I wanted to ask privately—Duqiu’s involved, right? He hasn’t backed out of the investigation, has he?”

Ji Lin froze, his excited heartbeat cooling fast.

It was about Yu Duqiu.

“I… can’t say much now.” He lowered his eyes to hide disappointment, opening the thermos. “But don’t worry, Mu-ge, it’s all under our watch. He’ll be fine.”

“Don’t lie. I saw the news this morning. He’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

“That’s part of the plan. He’s unharmed, that’s all I can say. Trust me, Mu-ge.”

Mu Hao sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. But Duqiu came back from the U.S. for me, saved me from Bai Zhiming, arranged top medical care for my recovery… If he gets hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Ji Lin’s hand shook ladling soup, scalding broth splashing his hand. He hissed softly.

Mu Hao heard. “What’s wrong?”

Ji Lin shook his head, passing him the soup, reassuring, “Focus on recovering, don’t stress about this. I’m a cop—it’s my job to protect people. Yu Duqiu’s one of them. I’d risk my life to keep him safe.”

Mu Hao paused, his one-track mind realizing his words had been too narrow—Yu Duqiu wasn’t his only savior. He blurted, “Xiao Ji, I don’t want you hurt either.”

Ji Lin grinned. “We’re brothers, no need for formalities.”

Mu Hao wanted to say more, but a phone’s ring cut through the quiet ward, a familiar military tune. He remarked, surprised, “What a coincidence, that’s my favorite army song.”

Ji Lin fumbled for his phone, silencing the deadly ringtone. “Yeah, haha, I love it too… Yo, Yu, what’s up?”

Yu Duqiu’s teasing came through. “Sounding panicked, Comrade Xiao Ji. Up to no good?”

“You…” Ji Lin glanced at Mu Hao, swallowing a curse, lowering his voice. “No time for your nonsense. Spit it out.”

Yu Duqiu got serious. “Bai Zhao sealed the deal. The Queen knows the truth about Themis. Within three days, they’ll leak it. You’ll see my pretty face plastered on headlines, torn apart by media, infamous and despised. Excited?”

Ji Lin scoffed, “Thrilled. Karma’s a bitch.”

“What’s so thrilling?” Mu Hao misunderstood. “Caught the killer?”

Yu Duqiu, hearing him, perked up. “Oh, you’re at the hospital? Makes sense. Put it on speaker.”

“Don’t start trouble.”

“With our life-and-death bond, you don’t trust me?”

Ji Lin hesitated, thinking he might want to strategize together, and hit speaker. “It’s on.”

Yu Duqiu cleared his throat, raising his voice. “Mu Hao, did you know, before we saved you, Captain Ji went to where you got nabbed almost every night to stake—”

Ji Lin cut the call.

But Mu Hao caught most of it, puzzled. “You staked out where I was taken?”

Ji Lin’s face burned, eyes darting, stammering, “I-I was watching for suspects! Just once or twice, don’t listen to his crap!”

Mu Hao was touched. “You went there for my case? That’s tough work, thanks.”

“No big deal, old classmate…”

The phone rang again—same song, When That Day Comes.

Ji Lin wanted to smash it but had to answer. “What! Can’t you say it all at once?”

“I tried, you hung up. What, scared Mu Hao’ll learn your secret?” Yu Duqiu chuckled ambiguously, then got to business before Ji Lin exploded. “By the way, Bai Zhao sniffed out Fei Zheng’s got an escape plan.”

Ji Lin’s anger screeched to a halt, grumbling, “Escape where? Xu Sheng sent their photos to every transport hub. Car, train, plane—they’re not leaving the city.”

Yu Duqiu clicked his tongue. “Your imagination’s too small.”

“Then what? He’s not swimming to America.”

“Without me, no way. With me, anything’s possible.” Few could boast like Yu Duqiu. “Three days from now, my yacht’s seaworthy. Class 1, unlimited range. Forget America, it could hit Antarctica for penguins.”

“Fei Zheng wants Bai Zhao to convince me to take them sailing, then kill me, hijack the ship, and flee. He’d take the fall, escape clean, while his King stays spotless back home.”

Ji Lin ground his teeth. “Dream on. None of them are going anywhere.”

“Not only won’t they escape, this ship’ll sail them to a dead end.” Yu Duqiu’s laugh dripped with malice, blurring who was the villain in this game. “Maybe ours too, who knows? The unknown’s what makes it fun, right?”