In the opulent office atop the Ling Family Film Company, a Western oil painting graced the wall, capturing Ling Miaoying in a moment of tranquil lakeside meditation.
Below this artwork lay a bed, upon which He Jiaqing was currently resting.
As the early morning light broke, He Jiaqing’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a man seated by his bedside, engrossed in the rhythmic manipulation of two walnuts.
In days past, such a sight would have been dismissed as a figment of a nightmare. Now, however, He Jiaqing understood it was something far more terrifying.
Zhang Gunli’s fingers quivered subtly, causing the walnuts to perform a brief dance within his palm. "I have graced you with additional lifespan, have I not? Is it not then time for you to settle your outstanding obligation?"
A faint smile touched He Jiaqing’s lips. "Brother Zhang, might you be moving a tad too swiftly?"
Zhang Gunli produced a small ledger from his pocket. "This is the established procedure for borrowing life. Once the borrowed time has been granted, the repayment is due immediately. Should you perish before settling the debt, from whom shall I collect?"
The practice of borrowing life did indeed adhere to such stringent rules. He Jiaqing had previously assessed his own dwindling time, leading him to borrow one month from Zhang Gunli, who in turn allocated him twenty-seven days.
The discrepancy—why merely twenty-seven days?
This too was a peculiar regulation within their clandestine profession. A month, presumed to be thirty days, would see only ninety percent granted by Zhang Gunli, a practice colloquially known as 'nine out.'
The repayment, however, demanded the full principal of one month, plus an additional thirty percent interest, a transaction termed 'thirteen return.'
With the twenty-seven days now dispensed, He Jiaqing was compelled to repay the loan posthaste. Zhang Gunli remained uncertain of He Jiaqing’s remaining days, and any unforeseen demise would render his investment unrecoverable—a significant loss for him.
He Jiaqing slowly rose, asserting, "Brother Zhang, observe my current state. My affliction has been vanquished, and I am unequivocally capable of fulfilling my repayment."
Zhang Gunli’s gaze swept over him. "While I am no physician, your injuries appear to be quite severe."
The truth was, He Jiaqing had sustained grievous harm; his skull had been fractured by the Green Flower, leaving his head noticeably deformed.
"These are merely superficial wounds, of no grave consequence," He Jiaqing maintained.
Zhang Gunli let out a dry chuckle. "Whether grave or not is of no concern to me. As long as breath still graces your lungs, the debt remains payable upon its due date."
He Jiaqing pleaded, "Brother Zhang, I implore you, grant me until this very evening, precisely eleven o'clock. I shall settle the entirety of the debt, principal and interest, in full."
Having secured an extension, Zhang Gunli departed. He Jiaqing, dabbing sweat from his brow, promptly initiated contact with He Haisheng.
"Third Uncle, has your journey proceeded without incident?"
"The voyage has been exceedingly smooth; we are certain to arrive in Greenwater City before nightfall."
He Jiaqing disembarked from the bed, adjusted his attire, and exited the premises of the Film Industry Company.
Within the frame of the oil painting, Ling Miaoying’s visage seemed etched with a subtle melancholy, as if casting a sorrowful gaze upon He Jiaqing’s departing form.
He Jiaqing soon found himself on Longmen Road, directly across from the imposing Peace Mansion. He ambled along the roadside, traversing the area twice.
Adorning his left index finger was a ring, distinguished by its sharp contours and intricate craftsmanship—a piece far more than mere adornment, serving as a specialized tool within their trade for bypassing locked entrances.
The ring rotated elegantly on He Jiaqing’s finger, guiding him towards the concealed entrance of The Unnameable Place and pinpointing the residence of the Greenwater Beggar.
But how did He Jiaqing possess this specific knowledge of the Greenwater Beggar’s abode?
It transpired during his prior infiltration of Greenwater City, disguised as Zhou Changhong. He had been cornered by Green Flower on Longmen Road, forcing him to seek refuge within Green Flower’s dwelling, a place where he had narrowly escaped losing his life.
Such a memorable locale, He Jiaqing had naturally committed to memory.
Procuring a newspaper, he feigned absorption in its contents while discreetly and continuously altering the ring's detection parameters.
After cycling through over a dozen different positions, the ring remained stubbornly unresponsive.
Just as He Jiaqing contemplated venturing further, a woman approached, holding a paper umbrella. Noticing He Jiaqing’s sole focus on the newspaper, oblivious to his surroundings, she cast him a cursory glance, adeptly sidestepped, and continued on her way.
...
At the renowned Auspicious Theater, Zhang Gunli occupied a seat, his attention captivated by the unfolding opera, "Tears of the Barren Mountain." The lead role of Zhang Huizhu was masterfully portrayed by the celebrated actress Cheng Juqing.
The performance on stage resonated with profound emotion, holding the entire audience spellbound. Tears streamed unceasingly down Zhang Gunli’s cheeks.
Mu Yuejuan, a practitioner of Painting Cultivation, gracefully closed her paper umbrella and settled beside Zhang Gunli, offering him a pristine handkerchief.
Zhang Gunli declined the gesture, opting instead to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his own garment.
Mu Yuejuan’s brow furrowed in mild annoyance. "What is the meaning of this? Is my handkerchief somehow insufficient for your use?"
Zhang Gunli, with a slight shake of his head, replied, "It is not that your handkerchief is wanting, but rather I fear I lack the means to ever repay such a kindness."
"Such audacious impudence!" Mu Yuejuan retorted with a sneer. "Do you presume me to be like you? Someone who demands three returns for a single lost hair?"
"Miss Mu, if you have something to say, say it quickly. I paid for this ticket, and it’s at the heart-wrenching part right now." Zhang Gunli appeared to really enjoy the opera.
"Heart-wrenching? Do you even have a heart?" Mu Yuejuan asked, "Is it true that He Jiaqing owes you money?"
Zhang Gunli did not directly answer, but rather asked, "What’s it to you?"
Mu Yuejuan smiled and stated: "It is. I’m planning to kill him shortly, and once he’s dead, you won’t have anyone to collect your money from."
Zhang Gunli nodded in agreement, "Go ahead, it’s just a little money, I can do without it."
Though the two were speaking inside the theater, no one around could hear their hushed conversation.
Mu Yuejuan then pulled out a painting scroll and stuffed it into Zhang Gunli’s hand: "This is my latest work. See what you think of its quality?"
Zhang Gunli glanced at it, then asked, "Are you looking to pawn it? What’s the asking price?"
"I don’t want money, the painting is a gift to you. I just want some information from you. Why did He Jiaqing come to buy life from you?"
Zhang Gunli replied: "Because he contracted the disease from Green Flower."
"Is he cured now?"
"It’s hard to say for sure right now. If he can survive until tomorrow, then it’s truly cured."
Mu Yuejuan inquired further: "The disease from Green Flower is notoriously hard to resolve. Do you think it’s because Green Flower spared him, or is there another reason?"
Zhang Gunli stated: "I am not Green Flower, so it’s hard to be certain about these matters. However, I haven’t seen Green Flower for several days, and I don’t know where he’s gone."
"Do you think Green Flower is still alive?"
"That’s also uncertain, but I feel that if Green Flower were still alive, He Jiaqing wouldn’t dare to loiter around his doorstep."