54. Not Quite Lovers Yet

Tang Yiyi returned to the clinic. As she passed through the living room upstairs, she saw Xu Mingtang watching TV. Noticing her lack of energy, he called out to her, “What’s wrong? Did Xiaobin bully you?”

“No, no,” Tang Yiyi quickly waved her hands. “Brother Xiaobin treats me very well. I’m fine.”

“Alright then. If you have any difficulties, just tell your master or mistress—or even Xiaobin.”

“Thank you, Master.” As Tang Yiyi reached the door, she turned back. “Master, I just saw Fifth Uncle downstairs.”

“Old Five? What’s he doing here?”

“Brother Bai next door invited him.”

“Is he here to settle things again?”

“It seems so. A group of punks wandered around next door and then left.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever heard the saying: ‘I haven’t been a boss for years, but the legend of me still circulates in the underworld’?”

“I think I have. Master, what does Fifth Uncle actually do?”

“What does he do? He’s the most unruly one in the Wu family.”

“So Fourth Uncle is number four—does he have three older brothers or sisters?”

“Three older brothers: Wu Yiping, Erping, and Sanping. Then there’s Fourth Uncle, Sipin. Fifth Uncle was originally named Wu Zhangping, but later Old Master Wu, tired of having so many sons, named him Wu Moping—‘Mo’ meaning the last one, to express that he was the final child.”

Tang Yiyi couldn’t help but laugh. “Old Master Wu really took the easy way with names. If he had ten sons, he’d never worry about naming them. But with five boys in one family, things must get wild.”

“The other four were alright. They became sensible as they grew—some focused on studies, others learned a trade. Only Old Five was like the reincarnation of the Monkey King—give him a stick and he’d fight his way from the east to the west end of the city,” Xu Mingtang said, shaking his head.

“Fifth Uncle must have practiced martial arts. He just told me that real bone-setting has to begin with cultivating inner energy—that’s the orthodox Wu family method.”

“He’s not wrong. The Wu family’s ancestors were bodyguards—martial artists by trade. It was a risky profession, injuries were inevitable. So they developed their own unique methods of massage and bone-setting, passing them down through generations. The profession of bodyguard faded, but their bone-setting became famous.”

“Old Five loved martial arts since he was a child, trained with his grandfather. Being the youngest, his grandfather doted on him the most. I grew up with him and got my fair share of beatings, but he was very loyal. If he heard any of us had been bullied, he’d rush over and teach the culprit a lesson. Gradually, he became the local boss.”

“No wonder he has such a leader’s aura. He should open a martial arts school, not a gym.”

He laughed. “Even without a martial arts school, he’s always had a group of followers. Since his youth, people called him Fifth Brother; now, they call him Fifth Uncle.”

“He wasn’t good at studies, had no patience to learn bone-setting and massage, and couldn’t find a job. So he opened a nightclub with some friends. That was just after the economic reforms, and young people had no other entertainment—going to clubs was all the rage. He made a decent amount of money.”

“But those earnings came and went—he was restless. Until he turned fifty, when a man he’d pushed too far sneaked into his house and set it on fire. His daughter was only twelve then, doing her homework at home. The neighbors spotted the fire and called the emergency services, and the fire brigade put it out. That was Bai Ke’s first fire call—it was he who ran inside and carried out her daughter.”

Xu’s wife, hearing her husband mention Fifth Uncle’s past, interjected, “That daughter of his is really lucky—she’s had so many close brushes with death. You know, even when she was in her mother’s womb, it was a miracle she survived.”

“Why? Did they go to great lengths to save the pregnancy?”

“Save? She took abortion pills, but the baby survived.”

“Took abortion pills?”

“That woman and Fifth Uncle never married. Fifth Uncle made some money in those years and was surrounded by women, never settling down. I heard that woman truly wanted to be with him, but she couldn’t bear his unfaithfulness. Heartbroken, she decided to leave. Then she found out she was pregnant and, in a fit of anger, bought abortion pills—but the child survived. Fifth Uncle coaxed her into giving birth, but when the child was just over a year old and Fifth Uncle still hadn’t changed, she finally hardened her heart and left.”

“And after that?”

“After she left, your Fifth Uncle slowly settled down—probably because of his daughter. Raising a girl alone, being both father and mother, he wanted to set a good example.”

Xu Mingtang nodded. “Having a child means true responsibility. Later, he opened a proper gym, worked out daily, and I heard he often sponsors poor students and volunteers at nursing homes. He probably forgets that he’s a sixty-year-old himself.”

“Fifth Uncle’s rebellious phase has lasted a lifetime.”

“Haha, Old Master Wu must have been furious for the latter half of his life.”

Xu’s wife added, “He almost brought trouble to our Xu family too.”

Xu Mingtang glared at her. “What nonsense are you saying in front of the young people?”

Tang Yiyi wanted to ask how Fifth Uncle almost caused trouble for the Xu family, but seeing her master unwilling to continue, she quickly poured him some tea and changed the topic. “Fifth Uncle said the Wu family’s cultivation method has been lost.”

Xu Mingtang took a sip of tea. “Yes, it’s a pity. Of the five brothers, only Fourth Uncle learned a proper trade from childhood. Fifth Uncle loved martial arts, and the other three excelled academically—one went into politics, another into scholarship. The cultivation method was a practice for the young. By Old Master Wu’s generation, it was lost.”

“So the inner energy in martial arts novels is real?” Tang Yiyi asked.

“It is.”

“There are so many folk masters—maybe the Wu family’s inner energy could be learned from other experts someday.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Tang Yiyi returned to her room and flopped onto the bed, sighing inwardly—for the lost art of the Wu family, for Qin Baike’s endless waiting, and for her own secret love.

Fortunately, she hadn’t acted rashly and confessed; otherwise, things would be terribly awkward the next time they met.

But how long was Qin Baike going to wait? Did Ye Tong know he loved her, that he was waiting for her? One was in Beijing, a documentary director; the other, a noodle shop owner in a small backwater city. The gap wasn’t just distance, but a difference in their very worlds.

Tang Yiyi cheered herself up. She couldn’t give up so easily. It was rare enough to meet someone she truly liked—she had to try harder. Qin Baike was worth loving well.

Though she plucked up her courage again, she still had no idea what to do next.

Upstairs at Qin’s Noodle Shop, Qin Baike said to Ertong, “In a few days, your stitches can be removed. Once they’re out, it would be best to leave Yicheng for a while.”

“I don’t want to leave. I’ve been away from the photography circle and those people for a while—once they forget about me, it’ll be fine. Bro, why don’t I work for you?”

“What can you do?”

“I don’t care. I’m injured now, being alone at home isn’t safe. What if they send another group after me? I’ll just stay here and not go anywhere.”

He fished a bank card from his pocket and pressed it into Qin Baike’s hand. “The tea money you gave Qiuzi and the others—I’ll cover it.” Qin Baike tried to return it, but he insisted. “I have money. Don’t worry about saving it for me. The password’s on the back. I’m going to rest.”

Then he poked his head out of his room again. “Bro, can you get faster internet? With your current speed, no young person would want to eat noodles here.”

“What do you want?”

“Heh, I do photo retouching and editing online—your internet is so slow it’s unbearable.”

Qin Baike said nothing and went downstairs.

The first time he met Ertong, the boy was only eleven, trailing after his sister, not yet grown—just a little brat. At fifteen, Qin Baike was already one meter seventy-eight.

If not for Ye Tong, he never would have met Ertong at all. The moment Ertong saw him, he stuck to him like glue. Just to get close to Ye Tong, Qin Baike tolerated Ertong’s presence.

At one in the morning two days ago, Ye Tong suddenly called, saying Ertong had arranged a fight and pleaded with him to go stop it.

In ten years, they’d only met once—when he visited Beijing as a tourist. He’d called her; she’d come to have a meal with him.

She’d talked excitedly about her work, about the odd jobs she did to pay for school, about amusing stories with new friends, about her admiration for a mentor, and about some promising suitors. Her eyes sparkled with joy—her life was growing ever more vibrant.

The books she read, her words, her dress, everything about her was quietly changing. She was still herself, but up close, it was clear she was different.

After dinner, he took her home. She left behind a newly bought book in the taxi, and he never returned it.

When her parents died in a car accident, he went to the mourning hall to light incense. Ertong was there, crying helplessly, utterly lost. Ye Tong was abroad for work and unreachable, so he stayed to help Ertong handle the funeral.

By the time she returned, her parents had been buried for days. After she paid her respects, she left in haste, calling him from the airport before boarding.

She had returned with her boyfriend and didn’t want him to meet Qin Baike. “You belong to me alone,” she’d said.

Now, when Ertong was in danger, she called again. “It’s me.” No pleasantries, no small talk, and he didn’t ask much. That was their relationship—less than lovers, more than friends.

He drove to the site of the fight. Unexpectedly, the other side had brought gangsters, brandishing watermelon knives. He arrived just in time to see Ertong being chased and hacked at. He called the police, grabbed a metal rod from the roadside, and managed to block the attackers long enough for them to escape by car.

He hadn’t gone too far, or else tonight’s trouble would have been endless.

All these years, he knew he should find a girlfriend, get married, and start a family. He’d been to matchmaking events, and girls eager to confess their feelings were never in short supply—but none of it worked.

Xu Mingjie and the others said he was waiting for her, but he knew that wasn’t it. He hadn’t dated because no girl could open the door in his heart.

What kind of person was he looking for? He couldn’t say. When he’d tried therapy, the counselor told him one word: “family of origin.”

Though he’d suffered abuse from his mother as a child, his father and grandfather’s love made “home” still feel happy—until his grandfather died suddenly at fifteen, and his father left without warning. Forced to face his mother alone, he grew up overnight.

During his most rebellious years, after several fierce arguments with his mother, they reached a superficial peace through her concessions. But deep down, he concluded that women were terrifying, volatile, troublesome, and not to be approached.

But then she appeared and caught his attention. Adolescent instinct drew him to her. She was not frightening or volatile—on the contrary, she was frail and needed his protection.

Later, she pushed him to study, tugged at his sleeve, joked and scolded him for being slow, caring more about his test scores than he did.

Only after she left, and after he started meeting other girls, did he realize he had locked his heart away, waiting for a girl who could unlock it and walk in naturally.

Perhaps only when she did would he finally realize: it was her he liked all along.

At Xu Mingjie’s supermarket, Wu Moping sat beside her. She said, “You haven’t come back in a long time.”

“You’re here. I wanted to avoid you.” Wu Moping, once so upright, now seemed a little stooped.

“Do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why don’t you dare see me?”

“I’m too ashamed to face you.”

“Why say that? You never wronged me.”

“I did so many foolish things in those years. Your father was right to stop us from being together. If someone like me wanted to pursue my daughter now, I’d break his legs and never show him any kindness. Your father was already very polite to me back then.”

“Who calls themselves a fool?”

Fidgeting, Wu Moping rubbed his hands. “Have you… tried to find someone since your divorce?”

“I tried, but nothing worked. Some people weren’t interested in marriage—they just wanted to play around.”

“Who? Who dared treat you like that? Tell me.”

“What are you so anxious for? I’m not some naïve girl. Haven’t you been the same, with one woman after another?”

“As heaven is my witness, I was always sincere with you!”

“I know.” Xu Mingjie lowered her head and murmured, “Forty years have passed in a blink. I’m so old now.” She touched her hair.

“You’re not old. You still look the same as before.”

“Save your sweet words. I don’t fall for that.” She shot him a sideways glance, then eyed his shoulder. “You still work out all the time—you’re as strong as ever.”

“Do you… like it?” He raised his arm, flexing a muscle for her to see.

“What’s it to me? Work out all you want.”

Seeing that, for all her years, she still acted bashful before him, he couldn’t help but laugh heartily. Xu Mingjie, unable to hold her stern face, burst out laughing too.