Chapter 39: A Man Dies for One Who Understands Him

He extended his hand. On his right hand, only the thumb remained; the other four fingers had been cleanly severed, leaving behind scars that looked incredibly gruesome.

In the world of the underworld, there is a saying for failure: "losing a hand." This term actually originated from the "Blue Path" of the swindler’s trade. If a card shark was caught cheating, their hand would be chopped off; thus, "losing a hand" eventually became a synonym for failure.

As our hands met in that fashion, he offered a bitter smile and said, "My surname is Lin. Junior Brother, you can call me Lin Reborn."

He asked to be called "Lin Reborn."

The phrase was quite intriguing—he truly wanted to live his life over again, and the vow he made to himself was embodied in the name "Reborn."

"Have you eaten? Let me host a welcoming meal for you," I said.

"I had instant noodles on the road; I'm not really hungry," he replied.

I took hold of his arm and said, "Let's get your living arrangements settled first, then we'll go out to eat. Uncle Yong, are there any vacant rooms upstairs?"

Uncle Yong set the small flowerpot he was holding onto the ground and said, "There's one on the third floor. It’s got everything you need, except for a kitchen. Will that work?"

I looked at Lin Reborn. He said, "As long as I have a place to stay, I’m not picky."

The disappointment in my senior brother’s eyes was impossible to hide. This was precisely why I felt so awkward and even at a loss. He was a seasoned veteran who had experienced the great ups and downs of life; was he really going to throw his lot in with a minor security guard who rented a room and made four hundred yuan a month?

Thinking back on it now, I felt naive for having asked him to come and work with me. I was struggling to keep my own footing and treading carefully—what right did I have to ask someone to entrust their future to me?

While we were cleaning the room upstairs, he leaned against the doorway smoking, while I cleared away the clutter. As I worked, I tried to figure out how to phrase things so I could tell my senior brother that although I was poor now, my future was undoubtedly limitless. In short, I needed to paint a grand picture to keep him around.

But then I reconsidered: my version of the "Bible" was a watered-down copy, while his was the "complete edition." Anything I knew, he knew; anything he knew, I didn't. How could I use my meager skills to persuade a man with such a wealth of experience?

A silver tongue? I didn't consider myself much of an orator. Sincerity? Could you eat that for dinner?

Just as my mind was racing, Xiao Wen walked upstairs. She was wearing the same light blue washed jeans and a short-sleeved white top, yet such simple attire only served to highlight her ethereal, lotus-like beauty. Most of all, there was her stunning, cold face. For the past few days, I had been searching for a word to describe her, and eventually, in my not-so-extensive vocabulary, I found a word that, while perhaps not entirely appropriate, fit: a femme fatale.

Even my senior brother, Lin Reborn, who looked as if he had seen through the vanity of the world, was momentarily taken aback when he saw her. He seemed amazed that such a beautiful woman could exist in this cheap, rented apartment.

Xiao Wen walked straight over and took the broom from my hands. "Since we have a guest, you should go entertain him. I can handle this little chore. Senior Brother, I assume you aren't picky about bedding and toiletries? Let me know if you have a preferred color, otherwise, I’ll just go to the store later and pick out the standard men’s version for you."

The ash from the cigarette in Lin Reborn’s hand had nearly burned down to the filter. He took a deep drag, and the scorching smoke made him cough violently. Once he recovered, he quickly said, "It’s fine, anything will do."

Then he asked me, "Junior Brother, who is this? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Before I could speak, Xiao Wen said, "My name is Zhang Xiaowen. As for my relationship with him—well, I’m already calling him 'Senior Brother' just like he does, isn't that obvious? This kid has painted a very big picture for me, promising that in the future, he’ll take me back to his hometown, a village called Shili Pu, in a bridal sedan chair. Senior Brother, do you think I’ve been swindled by him?"

The cigarette butt in my senior brother’s hand dropped to the floor. His expression shifted quickly from disbelief to calm. "So, you are his lady. Don't worry, if he ever dares to treat you poorly, I’ll be the one to slap him silly."

"You heard that, so you’d better work hard," Xiao Wen said with a light smile, beginning to tidy up the room with practiced ease. As she worked, she added, "Go on, take your senior brother out for a meal. Remember not to drink too much; there’s plenty of time ahead."

In that moment, I suddenly felt the urge to die for one who truly understood me. I felt that if this girl, Zhang Xiaowen, wanted to slit my throat right then, I wouldn't offer the slightest resistance—I would willingly die under the edge of that razor blade.

I knew she had come to bolster my image. I had told her about that phone call, and she knew that as a young man, I had nothing impressive to offer to keep this suddenly arrived senior brother. So, she stepped in to play the role of my fiancée. She was telling my senior brother that I wasn't as simple as I appeared on the surface, that I had my own merits—otherwise, how could I have won the heart of a woman like her?

Her comment about there being "plenty of time ahead" was an indirect way of anchoring the senior brother to us. Because of her lie, the sense of inferiority I felt in front of my senior brother vanished. It was as if this exquisite woman was proof of my own capability, giving me the capital to converse with this old veteran as an equal. I hooked my arm around my senior brother’s shoulder and said, "Dear, we’re off!"

Xiao Wen looked up and offered a faint smile. That smile could topple cities. I felt a pang of regret; if I had been a little bolder, it wouldn't have just been a verbal tease. If I had rushed over to hug or kiss her, she probably wouldn't have embarrassed me, right?

But then I thought, to take advantage of the situation at a time like this—I would probably despise myself for it.

Downstairs, we went back to Old Hai’s place. I wouldn't call myself nostalgic, nor particularly prone to accepting new things. Subconsciously, I preferred staying in familiar spaces, just as I had spent my high school years subconsciously eating at the same cafeteria window and walking the exact same route home, even if it was a detour. I didn't know why I did this; perhaps it was paranoia, or perhaps it was just a way to ensure I felt safe.

To welcome my senior brother, I ordered four dishes: spicy stir-fried snails, five-spice clams, steamed sea bass, and a small stir-fry of meat. For the staple, I ordered stir-fried vermicelli—a dish I had a particular fondness for.

I couldn't tell if my senior brother wasn't hungry or if he was just being reserved since we had only just met. He didn't touch the food, just sipped his beer glass by glass.

He didn't eat, so I did. Those dishes cost dozens of yuan, and if he didn't feel the sting, I certainly did. I deliberately put on an air of ease. He didn't speak, and I tried my best to remain silent, keeping the atmosphere at that critical point—chilly, but not quite awkward.

"If not for your beautiful girlfriend, I would have been planning to leave first thing tomorrow morning," he said after finishing three bottles of beer.

I didn't take well to that. What did he mean, if not for my beautiful girlfriend, he would have left? Was he only befriending me because he thought my woman was beautiful?

I set my chopsticks down on the table and asked, "Senior Brother, do I look that much like Wu Dalang?"