Chapter 92: The Paper Santana

“Then… I’ll get a motorcycle arranged. Uh, can you ride one?” Luo Tingrui looked at Uncle Qin.

Uncle Qin nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll have someone get it ready right away.” Luo Tingrui led Uncle Qin out of the hospital room, called over the woman comrade, gave her instructions, and signaled for Uncle Qin to follow her to get the vehicle.

As they left, Li Zhuiyuan, still in the room, overheard Xue Liangliang’s delirious rambling:

“No, I won’t marry you. There’s no love between us. This is the first time we’ve met. I’m not someone who takes marriage lightly. Stop dreaming!”

Li Zhuiyuan couldn’t help but wonder if Brother Liangliang was acting out a Qiong Yao drama in his sleep.

Qiong Yao dramas were all the rage lately, and even college students on campus were part of the fan base. Li Zhuiyuan often saw upperclassmen chatting about episodes or carrying around the novels.

Just then, Uncle Qin returned to the room entrance. “Little Yuan, let’s go.”

“Coming, Uncle.”

Li Zhuiyuan followed Uncle Qin downstairs. They picked up the motorcycle, and once the engine roared to life, Uncle Qin took off.

He sped through the city at breakneck pace before heading toward the outskirts.

Li Zhuiyuan sat on the back, holding onto Uncle Qin’s waist with his face pressed against his back to shield from the wind—there were no helmets.

It amazed him—just this afternoon, Uncle Qin had been planting crops, and not long ago, he’d stared down that red-dressed woman in the hospital. Now here he was, tearing down the road on a motorcycle.

Li Zhuiyuan felt it then—that madness this world hid in its depths.

Back in the hospital room, Luo Tingrui once again heard Xue Liangliang’s fevered voice:

“No, once a month is impossible. My future work won’t let me leave the construction site. That place is the result of countless people’s efforts—I can’t be that irresponsible.

“Even half a year won’t cut it. Major projects like these won’t have such short timelines, and there’s zero tolerance for any mistake.

“My future isn’t in Nantong. It isn’t in Jiangsu. I’m heading to the great southwest. That’s where my dream lies, that’s where my future is.

“So stop dreaming. Really, I won’t marry you. Don’t try to trap me here.”

Luo Tingrui took off his glasses, breathed onto the lenses, and wiped them with his shirt.

He felt moved, saddened, and a little amused: “Stubborn kid, even now you’re dreaming of building up the southwest.”

He put his glasses back on and sighed.

Middle-aged men always scoff at the idealism of youth, seeing it as naive and immature. Rarely do they consider that maybe the one who’s lost their way is themselves.

“If you recover this time, Liangliang, I’ll take you to the southwest myself.”

…

They reached the riverbank. Li Zhuiyuan got off the bike. Uncle Qin parked and propped it up, clapping his hands clean. His gaze at the river held deep emotion.

Li Zhuiyuan remembered Liu Yumei once said her ancestral home was on the river.

Since ancient times, rivers had birthed civilizations.

The sandy banks on either side bore the weight of countless joys and sorrows, and who knows how many stories and mysteries had sunk with time to the bottom of this very river.

Li Zhuiyuan recalled Brother Liangliang mentioning that the gazetteer had the location of Bai Family Town wrong… Facing the direction of Chongming Island, he made a rough estimate of the area.

A thought began to take root in his mind:

Could Bai Family Town… really be beneath the river right in front of them?

Uncle Qin began stripping. Unlike before, when he’d only taken off his undershirt at the hospital, this time he undressed completely, folded his clothes neatly, and weighed them down with a smooth stone.

Then he stretched his neck and placed his hands just beneath his ears.

With a sudden rip, Li Zhuiyuan heard the sound of flesh tearing.

When he looked closely, he saw five long gashes beneath each of Uncle Qin’s ears, leaking blood—and opening and closing rhythmically.

They looked like… blood-red gills.

Next, Uncle Qin began stretching his body. Each motion brought a crack of joints and the sickening sound of skin splitting.

Soon, his arms and legs were covered with something like stretch marks—but not on his stomach. They were evenly spread across his limbs.

After the routine, Uncle Qin stood still, catching his breath. The wounds beneath his ears opened and closed in sync with his breathing.

Something about Uncle Qin had changed—his physique was visibly different.

“Little Yuan.”

“Yeah?”

“Watch the stuff from the shore.”

“Okay, Uncle.”

Uncle Qin nodded, bent forward, and under the moonlight, began to run.

He wasn’t particularly fast, but his movements were incredibly fluid. He ran to the river’s edge and leapt—vanishing instantly into the water.

Like a fish returning to its river.

Li Zhuiyuan stared at the calm river, then at the clothes left behind on the bank.

He raised a hand and gently smacked his forehead, as if the gravity of it all had just hit him.

“He really… just dove in like that?”

At first, he stood. But after a while, his legs started aching, so he sat down.

Time passed.

Uncle Qin had been gone a long time. The river remained still—no sign of movement, not even a stray bubble.

All Li Zhuiyuan could do now was wait.

He yawned and glanced at the sky. The night looked like a shirt that had been washed too many times—its dark color beginning to fade. Dawn wouldn’t be long.

He shook his head, fighting off drowsiness, wiped his eyes, and stood again to watch the river.

This time, he saw movement.

Something surfaced at the river’s center—then vanished. Just as he thought he was seeing things, he saw Uncle Qin walking out of the river.

His body was covered in gruesome wounds, many blackened and oozing pus.

The worst was a deep gash across his chest—so deep Li Zhuiyuan could see the white of bone.

Yet Uncle Qin looked perfectly calm. He knelt at the edge and began rinsing himself with river water.

Li Zhuiyuan fetched the clothes. As he approached, he saw embedded in Uncle Qin’s wounds were long fingernails and teeth.

Just seeing them, one could picture the frenzy of whatever had attacked him.

And Uncle Qin’s eyes… were filled with wrath.

Uncle was angry.

“Uncle, how did it go?”

“No good.”

“Did you fail?”

“I was almost there,” Uncle Qin said, plucking a long fingernail from his side.

“And then?” Li Zhuiyuan stood behind him, yanked a finger lodged in his back, and found it twitching even after removal—like a freshly chopped piece of snake, despite being a human digit.

He flung it to the ground, where it kept crawling toward the river, the blood-red nail glinting with eerie light.

“Smash it,” Uncle Qin said.

“Okay.” Li Zhuiyuan grabbed a stone and crushed it. The finger writhed even as it deformed. It took several hard blows before it finally stopped moving.

“Huff… huff…” Li Zhuiyuan panted, reluctant to even glance at the mangled pulp.

Smack!

Uncle Qin tossed another finger in front of him—clear what he wanted.

Li Zhuiyuan could only raise the stone again.

If someone passed by early in the morning and saw this from afar, they might think it was a touching scene between father and son.

Once all the filth was out, Uncle Qin put on his clothes.

“Uncle, your wounds…”

“I’ll have your Aunt take care of them when we get back.”

“Oh.” Li Zhuiyuan nodded, then asked, “Uncle, is Bai Family Town really down there?”

“You sure know a lot.”

“Brother Liangliang told me everything.”

“Yeah, it’s down there.”

“So… that place you just went to was Bai Family Town?”

“I got in. Everything was nearly done, but—”

“But what?”

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