Chapter Fifteen: Chasing One’s Tail

Wang Hou put his reconnaissance skills to use, leading us with our luggage through a series of twists and turns until we entered a narrow alley cluttered with all manner of debris.

The moment we stepped inside, Wang Hou whispered to me, "If the 'tail' following us dares to come in, knock him down right away! Find out exactly what Lei Ren means by this—why all the taxi drivers refuse to go to Stone Man Bluff. And then..."

I nodded, signaling my understanding.

We quickly arranged our positions...

Moments later, the man who was tailing us entered the narrow alley.

I looked up. I didn’t recognize him—a short, stout man with dark skin. The instant he saw me, his expression froze.

He must have been puzzled: why was the team of four now just me, standing there alone, smiling at him?

“You’re here! Didn’t expect this, did you?” I chuckled.

“Yes, well… you…” The man was clearly taken aback. He muttered uncertainty while glancing around, inching back toward the mouth of the alley.

He seemed to want to retreat, but how could we let him escape? Just then, Wang Hou burst from his hiding place among the junk and pinned the short, stout man to the ground from behind.

The man tried to mumble something, but Wang Hou’s powerful grip soon had him gasping for breath.

Triumphant, Wang Hou laughed and said to the man pinned beneath him, “Dared to follow me, did you? Didn’t know your grandpa used to be a scout, huh? Don’t make a sound. Trying to call your pals, are you…”

The man gurgled a few words, struggling to point at me, his face turning as purple as an eggplant.

I was not bothered by Wang Hou’s violence, but Xian Hongye couldn’t stand it for long.

“Let him go!” she said at the right moment. “If you keep this up, someone will get killed!”

To Wang Hou, Hongye’s word was as good as an imperial edict. He could not refuse her. At once, he released his grip on the man’s neck, leaving him merely pinned to the ground.

Regaining his breath, the man exhaled a long sigh, then looked at me and burst out in a fit of hysterical cursing:

“Tian Bu’er! You bastard!”

What the—? He dared to curse me?

I was instantly furious. Wang Hou was the one who’d hit him! What did it have to do with me? Was he hypoxic from being pinned down, or had Lei Ren ordered him to insult me?

Whatever the reason, his words made my blood boil. I immediately barked at Wang Hou, “He dares insult me? Beat him senseless! If he ends up crippled, I’ll pay the medical bills!”

But just as I fumed and called for vengeance, the man uttered something that filled me with regret.

He only got halfway through his sentence: “Old Tian, how could you repay kindness with betrayal? You eat bass and spit out the bones…”

Before he could finish, Wang Hou’s slap landed, making his face swell.

“Stop!” I cried out in shock, halting Wang Hou’s wrath. Uneasy and remorseful, I studied the short, stout man closely…

I realized he must be an old comrade—only those from our company knew about me choking on fish bones while eating perch. Even Wang Hou hadn’t heard of it.

But who was he? I couldn’t recall any such chubby fellow among my comrades.

What happened next proved my fear—I had indeed hit a friend.

After a moment’s scrutiny, I finally recognized him. This short, stout man was none other than Zhao Hong, my fellow recruit from the mess hall!

Now the misunderstanding was monumental. Like my old squad leader, Zhao Hong was from Shandong and one of my closest friends. He’d left the army a year before me because he hadn’t reenlisted as a volunteer, and I hadn’t kept his contact information since I didn’t have a phone at the time.

After he left the service, we lost touch. Later, I vaguely heard he’d gone back home to Shandong to raise pigs, but I had no idea in which county, nor the breed he kept.

Who could have imagined that after all these years, we’d meet again—and in such a dramatic, bloody fashion? The thought embarrassed me deeply.

Having struck an old comrade, I was wracked with guilt. I hurried to help him up, apologizing incessantly and dragging him off to a restaurant, where we drank together and caught up on life.

I can only imagine how awkward I must have seemed. I never expected to bump into Zhao Hong here, and even less to fail to recognize him at first.

He’d put on so much weight in the past four years—his face had grown by at least a size, his features nearly lost in the fat. No wonder I hadn’t recognized him at first glance.

But that was no excuse for hitting him.

Thankfully, Zhao Hong wasn’t one to hold grudges. Three drinks in, gnawing on a Dezhou spiced chicken, he laughed off my blundering assault, and we soon fell to reminiscing about the old, fiery days.

Zhao Hong told me that after leaving the army, nothing went right at first. He worked odd jobs everywhere, but never made much money and was taken advantage of more than once for being too honest. Later, his uncle offered a suggestion that changed his luck.

His uncle’s advice was simple: “You’re not cut out for migrant work—why not use the pig-feeding skills you learned in the army and start a pig farm?”

His uncle even promised to teach him all about breeding and crossbreeding, saying sales wouldn’t be a problem, and that he’d help handle any funding issues.

So, with his uncle’s encouragement, Zhao Hong opened a pig farm. To his surprise, this path was just right for him. For the past three years, his pigs sold briskly in Henan and Hebei, and he’d become a wealthy man in his county.

Recalling this, Zhao Hong sighed, “Having a good heart pays off! I never feed my pigs any lean-meat powder—just like in the army. I raise them the same way, and they still sell well. All thanks to my uncle…”

“Absolutely!” I raised my glass to him. “We both owe a lot to our uncles! Cheers!”

With that, Wang Hou, Zhao Hong, and I drained our cups once more.

When the last drop was gone, Zhao Hong suddenly asked why we’d come to Shandong—and, more importantly, why we’d flagged down so many taxis without ever getting in. Were we in some kind of trouble?

He’d hit the nail on the head. I took his hand and gave him a simple explanation: we were trying to find our old squad leader but couldn’t get a cab.

I didn’t tell him about the white food parasite, Little Jiu, or too much about the old squad leader—these were our troubles, and I couldn’t let Zhao Hong get dragged in.

After my explanation, I asked, “Old Zhao, do you know why all the taxi drivers refuse to go to Stone Man Bluff? Has something happened there?”

When he heard me mention Stone Man Bluff, Zhao Hong’s expression tensed, but he quickly relaxed and smiled. “If you don’t know what’s been happening out there, of course no taxi driver will take you. It’s not something they’ll talk about with just anyone.”

His words gave us hope. All four of us leaned in, waiting for the story.

Zhao Hong paused, then told us the tale of Stone Man Bluff and the taxi drivers.

He said the rumors had started more than a year ago. Supposedly, at night, some drivers picked up long-distance fares who specifically asked to go to Stone Man Bluff. Yet every time, halfway there, the taxis would inexplicably break down—flat tires, blown engines, all sorts of bizarre mishaps.

After the car stalled, the driver would get out to fix it. But once the repair was done, he’d find the car completely empty—his passenger had vanished without a trace.

Naturally, every driver would check where the passenger had gone. But when they opened the door and looked inside, they’d find, in the seat where the passenger had been, either a huge rock or… a bloodied, mutilated rat.

Such sights terrified the drivers. The braver ones would drive back, while the more cowardly would abandon their cars and walk away.

As the stories spread, they grew more and more uncanny. Some swore they’d seen white foxes by the roadside to Stone Man Bluff, or encountered “ghost troops” and “haunted towers” at night. People grew increasingly anxious and superstitious.

With all these bizarre tales, Stone Man Bluff became a forbidden zone, especially for taxi drivers. Even in broad daylight, you’d have to pay a hefty fee just to pass by; the faint of heart wouldn’t dare try, no matter what.

Zhao Hong’s account left us all murmuring anxiously. We exchanged glances and whispered among ourselves, wondering if we were cursed this year, running into trouble wherever we went. We were so close to Stone Man Bluff, yet now faced this invisible wall, as if someone in the shadows was deliberately thwarting us.

Yet compared to our unease, Zhao Hong was nonchalant. He clapped my leg and reassured me,

“All just rumors! Remember a couple years ago, people in Hebei claimed to see a headless female ghost stopping cars on the highway? And what was it in the end? Just a scarecrow by a cornfield. These drivers—working nights, they get tired, and fatigue leads to hallucinations…”

I listened to his reasoning but didn’t argue. The real problem wasn’t the truth of the stories, but the travel difficulties these rumors had caused. The obstacle was real.

Just as I fretted over transportation, Zhao Hong slapped his leg and suddenly offered us a crucial piece of advice.