Chapter 169: Chapter 167: The Eighteen Life-or-Death Passes
"One for me!"
"Hey, kid, get me one!"
"No pushing, no pushing! There’s enough for everyone!"
In an instant, the young paperboy was mobbed by the crowd. Even a few passing rickshaws pulled to a stop at the side of the road.
Before long, more paperboys flooded the streets from every direction. Their similar cries echoed all around, finally beginning to ease the congestion.
A girl of about sixteen or seventeen, dressed as a handmaid, finally managed to snag a newspaper. Squeezing her way out of the throng, she ignored her disheveled hair and rushed toward a figure waiting quietly nearby.
Waiting for her was a slightly older woman with exquisite features.
She wore a simple, elegant, lined qipao of olive-gray satin, with just a few sparse branches of wintersweet embroidered diagonally across the lapel.
The qipao was not cut to be deliberately tight at the waist; instead, it had a certain casual looseness that only further accentuated the woman’s graceful figure. Her every movement carried a calm poise, one that seemed steeped in the wisdom of years.
It was Su Hui.
"Miss, that Zhao fellow who was always pestering you... he’s actually dead?!"
The handmaid, Suisui, read the newspaper as she walked. After a hasty glance at the headline, she let out a shocked gasp.
Su Hui took the newspaper from her hand, its pages still warm from the press, and lowered her gaze to read it closely.
She was far from the only one who had stopped in the middle of the street to read the paper, so she didn’t look out of place.
A buzz of discussion from all around filled her ears:
"Tsk, tsk. So many prominent figures dead in one go... Chairman Zhao’s son, the Huashang Councilor, a chief newspaper editor..."
"That’s not all! Didn’t you see a Western consul got killed too? This is a huge mess now!"
"It’s strange. The paper says the killer claimed to be acting under orders from Young Master Luo, so why has Chairman Zhao turned around to cause trouble for Fu Juemin of the Qinglian Gang?"
"Who can ever make sense of the feuds among these high-society figures..."
Su Hui slowly lowered the newspaper.
Hearing the name "Fu Juemin" in the crowd’s chatter, a familiar figure slowly surfaced in her mind.
’Why... is he still so fond of causing trouble...?’
Su Hui murmured softly, her fine brows knitting together.
After a moment of thought, she uttered a few words and walked away without a backward glance.
"We’re going back."
"Huh?"
Suisui froze. "But Miss, we just got here!
You spent over a week convincing the Old Madam to let you come out!"
But Su Hui paid her no mind, walking straight to the curb and hailing a rickshaw.
Seeing this, Suisui could only swallow her words. With a soft sigh, she hurried to catch up.
...
「Meanwhile, in the tea room of a high-end club in the French Concession.」
BANG!
Luo Chengying kicked over the mahogany tea table in front of him and, muttering curses, slammed the newspaper onto the floor.
"What the hell is wrong with those hacks working for your father?!
They actually dared to print Fu Lingjun’s bullshit story in black and white? They even had the fucking gall to analyze it so convincingly, listing *my* motives for the murders?! They must have a death wish!"
Luo Chengying glared at Chen Qingyuan, who sat on the sofa. His face was livid, and a vein throbbed at his temple.
If it weren’t for their families’ deeply entangled interests, on top of their years of friendship, he probably would have turned on him right then and there.
Chen Qingyuan, however, remained perfectly calm.
"First of all, while my father is the chairman of the Shenghua Press Association, not every newspaper is going to listen to what he says.
The tabloids that are just trying to grab headlines and sell papers couldn’t care less about industry etiquette. They’ve always just printed whatever is most sensational..."
"And second, if I’m not mistaken..."
He glanced at the crumpled newspaper on the floor and said coolly, "Right after it happened, Fu Lingjun must have paid off every newspaper, big or small, that he could. With all of them publishing at the same time, the sheer volume of voices creates its own truth. Naturally, public opinion became completely one-sided."
"Why are you letting a petty trick like this bother you?"
Chen Qingyuan looked Luo Chengying in the eye and said calmly, "I’ve already contacted several major papers. They’ll publish articles tomorrow to clear your name. This smear campaign won’t amount to anything."
At these words, the anger on Luo Chengying’s face finally began to subside.
But he still felt frustrated and sullen. He, Luo Chengying, was always the one making others suffer—this was the first time he’d been on the receiving end!
"I want Fu Lingjun dead!"
Luo Chengying enunciated each word, his eyes filled with undisguised killing intent. He turned to Chen Qingyuan. "Do you have a plan?"
Chen Qingyuan narrowed his eyes and said softly, "Yesterday, Zhao Jigang sent someone to find me. He wants to use my connections in the press to put more pressure on Fu Lingjun and, by extension, his backer Ding Moshan, to force them into the open..."
Chen Qingyuan casually relayed the Martial Dao Association’s plan. When he finished, Luo Chengying couldn’t help but sneer.
"That old dog Zhao Jigang... his own son is dead, and he’s still so ’thoughtful’ of my Luo Family. Such touching loyalty..."
"Since he’s so willing to be our weapon, we might as well give him another push.
Either way, succeed or fail, we’re not the ones who will lose out in the end."
Chen Qingyuan looked up at Luo Chengying. "What do you think?"
"Let’s do it your way."
Luo Chengying nodded, a cold glint in his eyes. He suddenly chuckled. "I’m actually starting to admire this fellow a bit.
If he really manages to take down Ding Moshan with this, then in the future... we could even let him tag along with us."
Luo Chengying’s deep, faintly cruel laughter echoed through the tea room.
....
「The Ding Family Estate, Ink Garden.」
On a curved bridge, Fu Juemin leaned lazily against the railing, idly tossing fish food to a few Cinnabar Carp swimming in the pond below.
Madam Ding sat in a nearby heated pavilion, arranging the tea set on the table as she spoke to him in a calm voice.
"You’ve caused quite a stir this time... a little too much, perhaps."
Upon hearing this, Fu Juemin, still on the stone bridge, immediately turned his head. "I was wrong, Aunt Ding."
Seeing that his words of apology held not the slightest trace of guilt or remorse, Madam Ding shook her head in amusement.
"I’m not blaming you. You can’t just stand there and let people walk all over you without fighting back.
Her tone paused slightly before she continued, "However, there was a Westerner among the dead this time... Although you pinned it all on Luo Chengying, it still took some effort to placate the consulate."
"Did I get you in trouble with Mayor Wen, Aunt Ding?"
Fu Juemin tossed the rest of the fish food into the pond, brushed off his hands, and strolled toward the heated pavilion with a curious air.
"He just had a few words for me, that’s all. But I did cause him trouble, in the end.
At least now he has a better idea of what kind of person you are..."
Madam Ding shot him a glance, her tone laced with resignation. "That business about him wanting to meet you in person—don’t bring it up again."
Fu Juemin entered the pavilion, casually picking up the fragrant tea Madam Ding had poured for him from the stone table. He couldn’t help but smile. "Well, as far as I’m concerned, that’s good news."
Madam Ding feigned a slap, but Fu Juemin didn’t flinch. Instead, he just grinned and offered his arm.
Truly at a loss with him, Madam Ding tapped his arm lightly a couple of times before her expression turned serious. "Back to the matter at hand.
This business... isn’t over yet."
"Oh?"
The playful look on Fu Juemin’s face gradually faded. His eyes narrowed slightly as he asked in a low voice, "So this time... how do they plan to deal with me?"
Madam Ding’s gaze slowly turned cold, and a grim, chilling aura began to emanate from her—the air of one long accustomed to power, one who makes decisions of life and death.
"Zhao Jigang has gathered men from the Martial Arts Association. Under the pretext of avenging his son and his comrades, he plans to set up the Eighteen Gates of Life and Death on the Xuanwu Platform..."
She enunciated each word, her voice as cold as if laced with shards of ice. "And they are calling you out by name... demanding that *you* be the one to face it!"
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