Jianghu people would always have jianghu ways, because jianghu itself was made up of debts and enmity, sentiment and grudges.

The nursing home in the west of Yanning City had a decent environment. There was a long flower-lined path in the garden and from far, the clear and bright spring light seemed to overflow from it. Walking near, one would realise that beneath the vibrant canopy were eyes blurry from age, the gazes turning around half a beat late, heavy with the dust of the mortal world and nothing left in the world to live for, aimlessly watching the coming and going of all living things.

Zhang Meizhen was not willing to stay among the pack of elderly. She strode quickly along the path and came to an activity room beside a large hall in a building.

In the activity room, there was the stuttering sound of piano accompaniment. The university student doing volunteer work might have been assigned to the post at the last minute, his fingers were stuck together without any gaps in between and bustling about busily on the keys. This young man was aware that his skills were lacking. His face and ears were red, and he didn't dare lift his head to look at other people. The singing and the accompaniment were at odds with each other.

More than ten elderly people were seated on plastic chairs scattered sparsely around the room, each of them holding a music score in their hands, singing together but each in their own key. The singing and the accompaniment were heading in different directions, neither interfering with the other, both sides running in parallel in great liveliness.

Among them, the loudest one was an old man who was near the door. His black shirt was tightly buttoned up to his neck and there was a patch on the elbow. He was sitting perfectly straight up and when he opened his mouth, he sang as though there was no one around him, setting his own pitch.

Suddenly, like there were eyes on the back of his head, this black-shirted old man twisted his head around and looked at Zhang Meizhen who was waiting by the back door.

Zhang Meizhen nodded at him.

The black-shirted old man gritted his teeth, then stood up and walked out.

The moment the "pitch-setter" left, the singing voices in the activity room instantly became like a dandelion blown by a gust of wind, scattering to all directions. The university student playing the accompaniment felt his ears getting confused and suspected himself to have gone deaf amidst the braying of the pack of donkeys.

The black-shirted old man closed the door behind him, shutting out the noise. He curled his hands into fists, gripping them behind his back, and asked Zhang Meizhen coldly, "You? What are you here for?"

Zhang Meizhen knew that she didn't have any small talk to make with the other person, so she went straight to the point. "Old Song, I am here on behalf of Yang Qing."

The black-shirted old man snorted a laugh. "Here on behalf of the Old Sect Leader? Who do you think you are? You sure have no shame."

Zheng Meizhen said, "Yang Qing asked me to come here and chat with you about what happened over thirty years ago-"

Zhang Meizhen continued to say, "Your old mother and wife were both in that fire…"

When the black-shirted old man heard this, he suddenly flushed with anger. "Go! Get out!"

Interrupted once again, Zhang Meizhen pursed her lips and fell into silence. The piano in the activity room let out a plonk. The singing and the accompaniment that were tormenting each other both came to a stop in unison, and the surroundings turned quiet at once.

The black-shirted man turned and left.

"Yang Qing said," Zhang Meizhen opened her mouth and said in a mild voice behind him, "that it's been thirty-six years now. We are all people who will soon be buried. Before we leave, we should stop lying to ourselves and to others, and clear all these matters up."

The black-shirted man paused.

"Keeping everything in your heart, bringing up neither the bad nor the good, doesn't it make you feel terrible?" Zhang Meizhen said. "When we go down to the Yellow Springs, we should do so freely and happily. If you have a belly full of stifled thoughts, you'll sink to the bottom."

The black-shirted old man slowly lifted a hand and clutched at the patch on his elbow.

"The last day of this month." Zhang Meizhen picked up her handbag. "No. 110 Courtyard. Please come. Yang Qing has something to say."

Done speaking, she started walking to leave, her pumps knocking crisply against the floor.

"Hey… you," the black-shirted old man suddenly called out to her. He seemed to have called her something but his words were too indistinct and other than himself, no one had heard what he said clearly. "Is everyone going?"

Zhang Meizhen said, "I don't know. In any case, I'm just notifying everyone in turn."

"...Is everyone well?"

"Some are still vigorous, some can't hold on much longer," Zhang Meizhen answered. "Everyone is mostly living on their own. After that incident, hardly anyone started a family again."

The black-shirted man's throat twitched faintly.

"But that's nothing." Zhang Meizhen gave him a barely discernible smile. "At the end of the journey, who isn't left on their own? I'm leaving now, take care of yourself."

Light shone through the entrance of the corridor. When Zhang Meizhen finished speaking, she walked in that direction. The edges of her figure turned hazy in the light, leaving only a silhouette that faintly resembled her graceful and charming appearance when she was young.

At the same time, traffic in the main thoroughfare in the suburbs in the northwest of Yanning had just cleared.

The northern side of the road was a dense residential area. Looking out far, all that could be seen were bald and bare high-rises. In the day, the residents congregated in the various types of transportations on the roads, surging into the city like the high tide. At night, they again flowed back like the low tide and climbed into the rooms in the ants' nest high-rises to sleep. Because there were many people but few roads, compounded by the fact that most people headed in the same direction, the main thoroughfare was frequently congested until it became a carpark.

The scenery on the southern side was different. It was said that there were plans for that area but it hadn't been demolished yet. The environment was somewhere in between a village and a small town. Even though it was not to the point that they had dirt roads, due to many years of disrepair, the surface of the roads were as bumpy as mountain ridges. The curbs on both sides were uneven and the small space squeezed out by the small shops by the road was only enough for a small car to just barely scrape through.

At the end of the street was a small three-storey building. The first floor was a supermarket and above it was a mottled signboard that said "Cardroom." One must enter the supermarket and go through a small door that seemed to lead to the storeroom before they could go upstairs. Non-locals wouldn't be able to find the door at all. From the supermarket to the cardroom, everything looked lonely and desolate, like it was on the verge of shutting down.

The third floor was a completely different story.

The third floor did not have a signboard and even the curtains were closed. To outsiders, this was the workers' dormitory. Between the second and the third floors, there was a metal gate with a passcode lock and the raucous voices upstairs could be heard from the corridor. If one entered, they would see the lights switched on in the dark room, day and night indistinguishable, the air heavy with smoke. Inside were three mahjong tables, one card table, and another one for playing dice. The mahjong tables and the card tables were full; latecomers could only either come forward to watch the battle while staking a leg at the dice table, or gather in small groups to drink and chat.

This was an illegal gambling den.

The metal gate creaked open, followed by light footsteps. Someone had come up. The frenzied gamblers at the tables did not notice and no one turned their heads to look. After coming in, the person did not say anything and quietly found a plastic stool in a corner to sit and watch them play mahjong.

When the attendant in charge of pouring drinks came over, he looked curiously at this customer who had a hood over their head. He could not see the face but he was sure it would be an unfamiliar one because this person was holding a book in their hands. Not one of those pornographic or vulgar publications; it seemed to be a serious and proper book. There was even a paper with notes written on it wedged between the pages. Amidst the crisp sounds of the mahjong tiles being shuffled, the person had their legs crossed and was scribbling with a pen as though there was no one around them.

The attendant who poured drinks here could on average meet a few deranged or mentally unstable people here every day but this was the first time he was seeing such an unusual deranged person. He walked over and asked, "This table just started a new round, you'll have to wait a long while. Why don't you have a look around at other games, or perhaps you would like to have something to drink?"

The strange customer holding a book looked up. "A bottle of mineral water."

The attendant, "..."

The customer looked past the attendant at the gambler who had his back to them and said, "Or something else would be fine too. I won't touch the drinks here. If it isn't appropriate for me to just sit here, I'll buy a bottle of any drink and leave it here. Anything's fine as long as it meets the minimum charge. Don't disturb me."

Her voice wasn't high but her pronunciation was unusually clear. Her words seemed like a "blockhead," yet her tone was slippery like a jianghu veteran.

The attendant sensed that these words were not said to him and followed her gaze to look over. He saw a scruffy middle-aged man at the mahjong table suddenly stiffen his back and slowly turn around, looking at this mysterious customer like he had seen a ghost.

The attendant let out a laugh. "Ma-ge, she's here for you?"

"Ma-ge" was a regular. He lived right nearby and would bring people along to play every three or five days. The pack of people under him were all his hidden backups, going around and cheating, purposely targeting those who had made their fortune from demolition compensations.

This table seemed to be a game of random match-ups but in actual fact, other than the target fat sheep, the other players were all Ma-ge's men. Their method was to first feed tiles to the fat sheep and let him have some losses and some wins. His wins would be big while the losses would be small. They would feed him until he had an addiction; then, other than playing mahjong, they would also treat him to meals and have fun together, laying the groundwork for two months. When the groundwork was nearly done and they were practically sworn brothers, and the demolition compensation was about to be paid, they would gather the net and set a trap to swindle him until his entire fortune was lost and also make him take out a high interest loan on top of that.

Ma-ge lifted a hand like half his body was paralysed. "You…"

"I was released." The customer—Gan Qing—stuffed her book back into her bag. She walked around Ma-ge, a smile that was not quite a smile on her face, and came to stand behind the bearded "fat sheep." She bent down and looked at his tiles, then turned over the stack of won money in his corner of the table.

The "fat sheep" was puzzled. "Hey, what are you doing?"

Gan Qing rolled up the money and pushed them into the fat sheep's chest pocket. She patted his shoulder and jutted her chin at the other two players, indicating that he should take a look. These two had been pretending not to know anyone there but now, they exposed themselves and were standing behind Ma-ge.

Gan Qing said, "Mr. Millionaire, they're setting a trap for you, can you still not see it? Quit when you're ahead; otherwise, you'll take the wrong step."

The "fat sheep" stared blankly. Then, his face changed and he quickly gathered his things and ran off without looking back.

The attendant felt that the atmosphere was not right. However, this person had come on her own and was also a woman. If she was here specially to create trouble, then she was being a little too gutsy. He couldn't be sure if she had called the police and was afraid that if he called more people here, they would end up all being caught in the net. Hence, he quickly gave an eye signal to the people watching the scene.

"No need to fuss," Gan Qing said. "Ma-ge and I were neighbours in the past. I'm just here to talk about the old times with him. It's private business."

Ma-ge kept his voice low and said, "Don't… Let's not talk here in someone else's space. We'll go outside."

Gan Qing seemed to let out a low laugh. She raised a hand and pulled her hood and a small blade glinted between her fingers. Cold sweat appeared on the corners of Ma-ge's forehead. Ten years ago, the person in front of him still had the air of a student. When she found him at a nightclub, she had not been willing to drink what was served there and had frankly told the attendant to give her a bottle of any drink that was enough to meet the minimum charge.

Later on, he heard that she killed someone.

Ma-ge had always remembered that young girl that appeared painfully immature, yet could make a person's blood run cold. When he heard those familiar words just now, his hair stood on end.

Ma-ge brought her to an open-air breakfast stall. He looked furtively left and right; seeing that there were people coming and going on the main road, he seemed to gain a sense of security. He lit a cigarette and took a long inhale. "How did you find me?"

"The residents of Mudpool Backlane were relocated here after the demolition," Gan Qing said. "Anyone who wants to find you only needs to ask around. You're doing pretty well, Ma-ge. Back then, you gambled and had a pile of debts on your head but in a flash, you've turned into the person running the game. What do they call this? An industrial upgrade?"

Ma-ge nervously dug his fingers into the corner of the table and stammered, "But I… I've done nothing wrong to you, I even helped you…"

Ma-ge was a ruffian who had stayed in Mudpool Backlane before there was a crackdown on the place. He had done every possible thing that fell under the purview of being a ruffian and was also an irredeemable gambler. Not only did he not get beaten to death by the debt-collectors, he even joined the other camp, and it was all due to his ruffian skills of slipping into any crack like a loach. He was especially good at networking and getting information.

Back then, when Gan Qing was looking for Wei Huan for revenge, it was through none other than this person that she had entered the dark underground world.

"I know." Gan Qing cut him off without much care. "I'm here today to ask you something."

Ma-ge looked at her nervously.

The smile on Gan Qing's face disappeared. "How did you find Wei Huan back then?"

Wei Huan's tracks were as indistinct as mist. Wei Xiao had pursued his unfilial disciple for many years but still failed to find his whereabouts. Why had he been able to locate him immediately?

And at that time, why had Wei Huan coincidentally appear in Yanning?

Ma-ge said, "He came from out of town and didn't have a place to stay. He only had fake I.D.s on him so of course he wouldn't dare stay in proper guest houses. He could only stay in those illegal places that turn a blind eye to these things. A buddy of mine was working as an attendant there and coincidentally-"

Gan Qing interrupted, "Your buddy was working as an attendant in an illegal hotel. Was he part of Travellers' Sect?"

Ma-ge was stuck for words. He forgot to put his cigarette in his mouth and was just neurotically flicking the ashes without a pause. "W-What sect? This is not the underworld…"

Gan Qing's fingers brushed lightly against the tabletop. A sliver of wood shaving was carved up by something sharp, curling into a circle beside her fingers.

Ma-ge recalled the rumours about "three cun and two fen" and started cold-sweating even more.

"I'm going to ask you another question. Think carefully before you answer, Ma-ge." Gan Qing rubbed the surface of the table until there was a tooth-aching sound. She lowered her eyes and blew off the wood shavings on her fingertips, a sinister half-smile once again on her face like she was there to demand his life. "Back then, was it me who first went to look for you to buy information, or was it those shop-keeping good friends of yours who first informed you and purposely let you hold that piece of information and wait for me?"

Ma-ge, "..."

"On the opposite side of the road, Taiping District, Building No. 4, Unit 303. That's where your family settled down. After your wife divorced you, she took your child with her and divided up this unit with you. Mother and son are still staying here," Gan Qing said softly. "You're usually swindling and cheating others. Afraid that other people would look for you to cause trouble, like a wily rabbit with three burrows, you sometimes stay at the street-facing shop at Building No. 13 and sometimes switch between the few gambling dens hidden at the rural tourism places in the outskirts… None of them are hard to find."

Ma-ge blanched.

Gan Qing reached out a finger and brushed lightly against the side of his head. Her fingertips seemed to have touched him, and also seemed to have not. Like a viper flicking its tongue as it slithered past.

Gan Qing kept her voice low. "If you feel that it's not convenient to talk here, why don't you take me to your house and we'll talk there?"

"Someone told me to say those things," Ma-ge blurted out involuntarily. Trembling, he dug out his phone from his pocket and opened up the contact list. "This person, a-and also this one…"

Before he could finish speaking, police sirens suddenly sounded. Ma-ge trembled in shock and looked around in a fluster. He saw a pack of police emerge from somewhere and charged into the gambling den masquerading as a cardroom, swift and without warning, raiding the place in just a few efficient minutes.

Ma-ge twisted his head around in alarm and realised that the female ghost seated opposite him just now had vanished. Only a few identical carved notches were left on the tabletop, each one measuring three cun and two fen long. He stared at these blade marks for a few seconds, then leaped up with a jolt and charged towards the police cars. "I surrender! Captain, arrest me. I surrender! Someone wants to kill me!"