After coming out of Chen Cuijin’s house, Ji Xun sorted through the clues he had obtained so far.
His grandfather, Ji Xingfa, originally named Chu Xingfa, was the head chef on the Dingbo forty years ago. Afterward, he stayed far away from Fu Province, obtained Hong Kong residency, and settled down in Ning City. He married Grandma and raised a child who was not of his own bloodline. During this time, he adhered to a vegetarian diet and never entered a kitchen again.
Hu Kun, originally named Lu Kun, was the chief engineer on the Dingbo forty years ago. On a ship, the chief engineer is responsible for all mechanical, electrical, and propulsion equipment, which is always hidden beneath the ship’s deck, inside a “storehouse.”
This aligned with Hu Kun’s description of his youth when they met. At the time, they had taken it for granted that Hu Kun was a warehouse manager—a warehouse manager for a company on land.
This misunderstanding was by no means a coincidence; it was a deliberate misdirection by Hu Kun.
This included that one sentence he had once thought referred to Huo Ranyin’s mother.
“Rewind a few decades, and who in the city didn’t know Miss Huo?”
Combined with the information obtained from Chen Cuijin, the riddle regarding the age of the girl Hu Kun had met on the ship—which had long troubled him and Huo Ranyin—was finally solved. Hu Kun had not been talking about Huo Xiyu, who was just a child back then, but rather “this girl,” Huo Xiying. She had been hidden in a crate, and when he opened it, it was as if he saw a sapphire gleaming in the darkness.
A girl as beautiful as a fairy.
Perhaps, also like Mazu.
This man was very interesting. It seemed not a single word out of his mouth was the truth—even his name was fake—yet not a single sentence he spoke was a lie either. He held himself in high regard, too proud to stoop to lying. Moreover, it was likely that… as an old man who knew his days were numbered, he simply couldn’t help but want to say something when he crossed paths with people connected to his past.
After all, a secret is a furry monster harboring hidden thorns.
Kept in the heart, it feels numb, itchy, sore, and painful.
In addition to Hu Kun and his grandfather, Ji Xun had also obtained from Chen Cuijin the address of the Huo family relatives who were still in this city.
As a shrewd businesswoman, Chen Cuijin was indeed exceptionally well-informed.
Seeking her out first had been the right call, saving Ji Xun a great deal of trouble.
Following the address, he found the place. It wasn’t a towering skyscraper, just a self-built, three-story house. He went up and knocked on the door. After a moment, a young man wearing pajamas and yawning came out to open the door, asking him, “Who are you looking for?”
Looking at this member of the Huo family who appeared to be around his own age, Ji Xun asked, “Are your parents or grandparents home?”
The young man’s groggy expression instantly sharpened into the alertness one saves for a suspected scammer: “Who exactly are you looking for? What’s this about?”
Ji Xun followed his usual routine, explaining his purpose while bringing out his title as a special consultant for the police department to use once again.
The young man relaxed: “Oh, so you’re here to investigate that… My parents took my grandparents to the countryside for a farmhouse holiday. They won’t be back for another two or three days. But if you’re just here to ask about what children or relatives Second Great-Uncle had, you don’t need to wait for them. We keep a photocopy of the Huo family genealogy record at home. Want me to find it for you?”
“That would be great. Sorry to trouble you.”
“No trouble at all, it’s easy enough.”
The young man turned and went into the house, leading Ji Xun straight to the study, and began pulling things off the shelves to search for him.
During the short walk, Ji Xun engaged in casual small talk and learned the young man’s name was Huo Heqia. He belonged to the same generation as Huo Ranyin. True to his name, his demeanor was peaceful and friendly. He just didn’t seem used to waking up in the morning; in this short span of time, his yawn count had already passed ten.
“Hold on a second, I remember it being right here… Ah, found it!”
Huo Heqia finally unearthed a crumpled booklet from behind a stack of books.
The booklet was printed in black and white, wrinkled like aged pickled vegetables buried deep in a jar. Ji Xun took it into his hands and smoothed it down several times before it finally lay relatively flat. Turning the pages of the genealogy record, he located the name Huo Shanyuan.
Without needing to look any further, he easily spotted a blackened, obliterated section directly beneath Huo Shanyuan’s name.
To the left and right of this redacted spot were two names: one was Huo Dongwang, and the other was Huo Xiyu.
Huo Ranyin’s uncle and mother both had their names recorded. Only the final one was missing.
“This…”
Ji Xun felt a slight wave of disappointment. He had hoped to see the clearly recorded characters for “Huo Xiying” here, but instead, he was met with nothing but a block of graphite black.
He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly a daughter could have done to make a father so utterly heartless toward her? It was as if he wanted to erase her existence from this world entirely.
“What’s wrong with this spot?” Huo Heqia asked, leaning in.
“Why is it blacked out?” Ji Xun seized the opportunity to ask.
“I actually asked about this when I was a kid. Grandpa refused to say, but Grandma told me in secret,” Huo Heqia said. “She said the girl was improper, and the family found it disgraceful, so they struck her from the record.”
“Do you know the specifics?”
“No idea about that,” Huo Heqia shook his head.
It was just the usual vague gossip about being ‘improper’—hardly enough substance to form a concrete picture of who Huo Xiying really was.
However, the fact that Huo Heqia’s grandparents were still alive and knew about the matter was the best news of this trip.
“Let’s exchange contact info. Could you send me a message when your grandparents get back? I’d like to learn more about this girl,” Ji Xun said.
Huo Heqia hesitated slightly: “I don’t mind, but I don’t know if they’ll talk. People from Grandpa’s generation are a bit traditional—you know, the whole ‘family scandals shouldn’t be aired in public’ mindset…”
“I’m not an outsider.” Ji Xun opened his phone, pulled up a photo of Huo Ranyin, and showed it to Huo Heqia: “This is Huo Shanyuan’s grandson. We just want to understand our own family’s history.”
In a slip of the tongue, Ji Xun had inadvertently grouped himself into Huo Ranyin’s family.
Fortunately, Huo Heqia wasn’t particularly observant and paid no attention to the phrasing. The moment he saw the photo, he blurted out, “He looks so familiar! Is he really a relative of ours?”
“There’s no point in faking something like this,” Ji Xun smiled.
“Alright then,” Huo Heqia agreed. “When my grandparents get back, I’ll explain it to them and then call you over.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, it’s all family business anyway…”
Huo Heqia saw Ji Xun all the way out the door. Turning back to climb into his bed, just before drifting off to sleep, the brief glimpse of Huo Ranyin’s photo popped into his head again. He couldn’t help but mutter to himself twice more:
“He really looks so familiar. Strange. I shouldn’t have met him before, so why does he look so familiar? Have I actually seen him somewhere?”
Stepping out of Huo Heqia’s house, the morning’s tasks were largely wrapped up, and Ji Xun finally felt relaxed enough to slow his pace.
He walked down the road for a while until he spotted a park in the distance. A directional signpost stood near the park, displaying three lines of text.
The first line read: Shanhu Park.
The second line read: Anran Nursing Home.
The third line read: Zhang Meimei Cafe.
Feeling thirsty, Ji Xun veered off his path and headed toward Zhang Meimei Cafe.
Since it was still morning, there were no other customers in the cafe besides two baristas wearing aprons.
Ji Xun chose a seat by the window. Outside, the park offered a lovely view; through the overlapping green foliage, a wooden waterwheel could be seen churning in the canal.
“A latte, please. Thank you.” Ji Xun opened his phone, pulled up a joint photo of himself and Huo Ranyin, and mindlessly scrolled through it.
This was a little habit he had developed over the past couple of days.
Since he couldn’t call Huo Ranyin at every waking moment, taking a quiet break to flip through photos and poke the face of the person in the picture was a therapeutic activity.
Ji Xun noticed the barista who came over to take his order glance at his phone screen.
He didn’t think much of it.
The barista returned to the counter, and the sounds of coffee-making commenced. However, alongside the grinding and steaming, there was the sound of hushed whispering.
The two baristas were talking. Were they discussing him?
Ji Xun’s mind wandered. He cast a casual, indifferent glance toward the counter and caught the barista’s lip movements: “phone screen.”
Only these few words, and the two baristas ended their chatter and returned to their respective tasks.
Ji Xun withdrew his gaze and continued tapping the screen. He figured the barista had caught a glimpse of Huo Ranyin’s photo and was praising his good looks. He didn’t care much; living in this world meant inevitably being talked about by others—just like “that girl” from the Huo family.
“Sir, your coffee.” The barista brought the freshly made coffee to Ji Xun’s table.
But on the round tray, alongside the coffee, sat a slice of cake.
“I didn’t order cake,” Ji Xun noted.
“Yes, it’s on the house,” the barista smiled.
“Is there some sort of promotion running?” Ji Xun asked, puzzled.
“You’re a friend of Yingying’s relative, right? Yingying always brings us coffee beans for free, and we’re all very grateful to her. This is just a small token of our appreciation,” the barista said, pointing at Ji Xun’s phone.
“Yingying.” Ji Xun first looked at the barista because of the syllables of the name, and then followed the barista’s finger to look down at his screen.
He saw Huo Ranyin’s face.
“Relative.”
Suddenly, Huo Heqia’s startled remark echoed in his mind: “He looks so familiar.” He hadn’t noticed anything amiss at the time, but was the familiarity Huo Heqia felt actually because of “Yingying”?
And “bringing goods.”
A streamer named “Yingying” who looked strikingly similar to Huo Ranyin?
Ji Xun asked the barista to help him open Yingying’s profile page, which featured her photos.
The moment the images loaded on the screen, Ji Xun’s gaze froze.
He tapped on a photo to enlarge it, staring back at a face that was almost a feminized version of Huo Ranyin.
Was she just similar to Huo Ranyin?
No. Yu Fanhai’s involuntary exclamation—”They look so alike!”—flashed through Ji Xun’s mind. She didn’t just look like Huo Ranyin; she looked like Huo Xiying.
