Someone was trying to kill him.
Ni Xiangdong shed his security guard uniform and changed back into the black cotton jacket hidden under a tree before turning to sprint into the night.
The mountain path was rugged, shadows of trees clustered densely, and jagged rocks concealed malice.
Suddenly, a dark figure flashed out from behind a cypress tree, followed by a punch aimed straight at his right eye.
Ni Xiangdong fell to the ground, his vision spinning. Before he could even see his attacker clearly, a dark green nylon rope descended from above, looping around his neck.
The figure stood behind him, one hand tightening the rope, the other pressing against the back of his head. The noose constricted, gradually digging into his flesh, squeezing his eyeballs until they bulged, tears streaming uncontrollably.
He flailed his hands, trying to claw at it, but his fingers couldn’t find any purchase—only futile struggles and muffled cries remained.
Just as he thought he was done for, the figure suddenly loosened its grip.
The rope slackened, and the person frantically grabbed his chin, covering his mouth.
The next moment, hurried footsteps echoed from beyond the bushes, accompanied by fragmented conversation.
"Where is he?"
"In there. What’s wrong?"
A familiar voice.
"How many exits are here?"
"Just this one."
Ni Xiangdong’s consciousness flickered back. He recognized the voice—it was that policeman—and roughly estimated his current location: likely the dense woods near the public restroom. Meanwhile, the figure behind him held its breath, as if also assessing the situation.
Seizing the moment, Ni Xiangdong grabbed a rock, mustered all his strength, and swung it backward with full force.
The attacker grunted in pain but didn’t let go. After only a slight pause, the grip tightened again, the rope cinching around his throat as he was dragged deeper into the undergrowth.
The two wrestled silently in the dark, the stakes being life itself.
Win, and the other dies. Lose, and it’s his own end.
"He can’t have gone far. Search the area."
The policeman’s voice drew closer, the white beam of a flashlight sweeping around. The figure let out a low growl, a mix of fury and resentment, before Ni Xiangdong felt the rope loosen again, allowing him to breathe. By the time he turned to look, the figure had already vanished, leaving only the swaying trees in the distance.
Was that the same peeper from outside the window?
But there was no time to dwell on it—the policeman’s pursuing footsteps were closing in.
The flashlight beam swept over his head as he lay on the ground, covering his mouth, suppressing the urge to cough.
A small stone dug painfully into his right knee, while coarse weeds teased his face, itching unbearably.
Yet he dared not move, enduring the discomfort as seconds stretched like years.
Only when the footsteps faded did Ni Xiangdong stagger upright, gasping for breath in the darkness.
Someone was out to get him.
His mind was still a haze.
Who could it be?
First, they killed Cao Xiaojun, and now they were coming for him.
Why?
He couldn’t recall any shared enemies with Cao Xiaojun. Since arriving in Qindao, he’d been careful, never offending anyone.
Could it be… they’d uncovered something from his past?
His thoughts raced as the north wind howled, snowflakes beginning to fall.
His wounds throbbed fiercely, his limbs icy, yet his forehead burned—likely a fever.
Right now, he had no money, no clean winter clothes, and his phone card had long been removed, snapped in half and tossed into the grass. Going home was impossible—the police were surely lying in wait nearby. His car was out of the question, and hotels were no safe haven either.
After much deliberation, only Wu Ximei remained.
Perhaps, for old times’ sake, Wu Ximei would hear him out about tonight’s events and vouch for him.
It was New Year’s Eve, the streets filled with tipsy, jubilant revelers.To be safe, Ni Xiangdong stayed hidden in the mountain hollow until midnight before setting off. Stumbling along the way, it was already dawn by the time he reached Anhe Lane Old Street.
As soon as he turned into the courtyard, he noticed a large dark shadow lying on the ground. Moving closer for a better look, he was so startled that he fell backward.
A dead body, lying face up, motionless.
He recognized the deceased—it was Li Qingfu from the second floor.
"Damn it, why do I always run into these things!"
He scrambled to his feet and bolted outside.
"What kind of curse have I gotten myself into? This is some evil shit!"
As he rushed out of the yard, a car suddenly shot out from the intersection. After a screeching halt, it stopped right in front of him.
The headlights were blinding, making it impossible for Ni Xiangdong to see who was inside, but he heard a familiar voice call out:
"Dongzi, is that you?"
At sunrise, the owner of a fried dough stick stall yawned as he stepped out, sleepily removing the wooden panels from his shopfront.
He didn’t notice the van speeding through the streets.
It was the most ordinary secondhand van imaginable, wrapped in advertisements and loaded with fresh vegetables in the back.
Those vegetables were supposed to be delivered to the morning market, but now the van was speeding in the opposite direction.
The driver remained silent, occasionally glancing at the person in the passenger seat.
Several faded prayer charms of varying lengths dangled from the rearview mirror, swaying back and forth with the bumps in the road.
Finally, Ni Xiangdong couldn’t hold back any longer and spoke first.
"Uncle, where are we going?"
"What, scared now?" The driver snorted. "Afraid I’m taking you to the police station?"
"No," Ni Xiangdong chuckled awkwardly. "You wouldn’t."
Despite his words, his hand stealthily reached for the door handle.
"Sit tight," the old man said, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "You saved my life once. Whether you killed someone or not, I owe you this much. Call it repaying a debt."
The van made a turn and entered a narrow alley.
"To my place."
Ni Xiangdong rubbed his hands together and turned to look out the window.
Now that he had relaxed, the pain from his injuries surged through his body, making him grimace.
"Hurts? Should’ve thought about that before doing something wicked!"
"I didn’t do anything!" Suddenly remembering the young security guard he’d left under a tree, he added guiltily, as if to reassure himself, "Really didn’t."
The old man gave him a sidelong glance and continued driving in silence.
After a long pause, he muttered again in a muffled voice.
"Really?"
"Really."
The old man sighed, his expression softening, even showing a faint smile.
"I believe you when you say you didn’t do it. I know you—hardworking and honest, not a killer."
The van stopped at a red light, and the old man took the chance to turn and look at him.
"Besides, you and Xiao Jun were so close. Didn’t you two even start a moving company together? How could you possibly hurt him?"
"Yeah, we were brothers—"
Ni Xiangdong suddenly realized something and sat bolt upright.
"How did you know something happened to Xiao Jun?"
The old man clicked his tongue and slowly accelerated.
"The whole city knows. Your photos are all over the internet, and every chat group is buzzing about it." He shook his head. "You’re lucky you ran into me today. Tsk, with all the surveillance cameras around, how did you even think you could escape?"
Ni Xiangdong slumped back into his seat, watching the drab residential buildings outside gradually brighten in the hazy dawn.
"Uncle, do you believe me?"
"Ah, what good does it do if I believe you? The whole city’s after you now."
"Can you help me hide for a while?""Dongzi, helping you isn't a problem—"
The old man stopped the car, turned off the engine, and parked in a secluded courtyard.
"But you've got to be honest with me."
"I've told you the truth—"
"Let's not talk about that for now—"
The old man waved his hand dismissively.
"I'm asking about the past."
His murky eyes fixed on Dongzi intently.
"Give it to me straight—what exactly did you do before? Why is someone trying to ruin you so badly?"
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