Chapter 85: Family Bonds and Simplicity

The instructor had barely released the button on the transmitter when, soon after, a cold, chilling voice came through.

“What’s going on, Number 7? Any progress with the search?” The voice on the other end remained icy.

“None. I estimate he’s already reached Husum,” the instructor replied coolly.

“If he were so easily found by your bunch of feeble soldiers, he would have truly disappointed me! Very well, let’s play a little game with him,” the voice—Old Ghost—said through the phone.

“There’s one more thing. Number 1’s younger brother may already be dead by his hand. I’ve lost goods worth hundreds of millions!”

Old Ghost’s laughter slithered coldly through the line. “Heh, that useless fool. All right, let Number 1 tussle with him first. I’m rather curious to see what measures Number 1 will take for revenge!”

“I’m looking forward to it as well. I’ll contact Number 1 now and deliver the bad news,” the instructor said with utter detachment.

“I’ll leave it to you, then!” Old Ghost paused, not releasing the transmitter. “Instructor, between you and him, who is stronger?”

“Heh, Old Ghost, what do you mean by that?” The instructor seemed to have caught the hidden implication.

“Nothing in particular,” Old Ghost replied. “I simply want to see—for all your talents, and for all his, who will prevail? After all, you’re one of my most prized students from the training division.”

The instructor responded coldly, “You want me to eliminate him.”

There was a moment of silence from Old Ghost, then a sigh. “Not yet—let Number 1 have his turn. I want to see what he’s accomplished over these years.”

…

A ridge, where a strand of sunlight crept slowly over the mountaintop, gradually warming the chill in the air.

By the lake, a lone fishing boat drifted on the emerald ripples. An elder chanted softly, singing praises of this peaceful life—tranquil and beautiful.

Behind the mountain stood an old wooden house, moss growing thick upon its beams, marking the passage of many years.

Chen Cao lay quietly on a bamboo lounge chair, his eyes closed. Beside him rested two daggers and the pistol he had taken from the white, heavyset Joev. The bandages on his shoulder were freshly changed. Breathing in the faint scent of herbal medicine, he savored this peace—something he had not enjoyed for a long time. If not for his mission, he would rather spend a lifetime in such serenity.

The fishing boat drew near the bank. An elder, his fingers gnarled with age, lifted a bamboo basket trembling with the catch. Clearly, it had been a good day. A smile stretched across the wrinkled face as he walked to the wooden house, where Chen Cao lay by the doorway, eyes closed in a light slumber—a sight that stirred a hint of annoyance in the old man.

“Look at you, child. Why are you lying here? Didn't I tell you to rest properly? Out here, you’ll catch a chill, and with no shirt, it’s no good for your wound!”

Chen Cao’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked at the old man, sat up, and smiled, “Papa Xizer, I thought you’d be out a while longer. You’re back earlier than I expected!”

“But of course—when you live off the land and water, you return with the sun!” The old man, Papa Xizer, grinned and lifted his basket. “Dried fish is good for healing your wounds!”

“Papa, I’ve troubled you again by staying here. I won’t linger long,” Chen Cao replied gently, reaching to help with the basket.

But the old man pulled it away, the wrinkles on his face gathering tightly. “What are you saying? This is your home. Rest well. You shouldn’t be moving with that wound—leave such tasks to Meimei.”

“Heh, I feel guilty for imposing so,” Chen Cao said, but withdrew his hand, respecting the elder. He changed the subject, “Meimei must be at school now. I wonder if the enrollment has been sorted out.”

Papa Xizer sighed. “Though you bring money whenever you can, it’s still not enough. The mountain paths are rough, and she’s fourteen, yet only now in the first grade. The child… ah!” With that, he carried his catch into the house.

Chen Cao lay back in his chair, closing his eyes for a nap. When everyone thought he had gone to Husum, he had instead walked hundreds of kilometers back to this small border village. Here, in the vast mountains, stood only this one household. Papa Xizer was a simple villager, whom Chen Cao had met during a mission a year prior—an honest and reliable man whom Chen Cao occasionally supported.

Papa Xizer and his granddaughter led a quiet life here, but Chen Cao knew he couldn’t stay long. He had come to recover, to lie low, and to say farewell. He had no idea when he might return—perhaps never. The thought left a heaviness in his heart. Perhaps only here could he truly feel kinship.

As these thoughts drifted through his mind, Chen Cao felt a tickle at his nose. Opening his eyes, he found a round-faced little girl teasing him with a blade of foxtail grass.

“Brother Chen Cao, still not awake? You little lazy pig!” Meimei’s childish voice rang out as he opened his eyes.

“You’re up early too, Meimei!” Chen Cao took her small hand, looking into her clear, bright eyes as he gathered his thoughts and rose with a smile.

Seeing him get up, Meimei pouted and pressed him back onto the chair. “Look at you—you’re hurt! Don’t move around!”

“All right, all right, I won’t move,” Chen Cao laughed, lying back. He realized now just how remarkable his strength was; after two days of rest and the old man’s herbal remedies, his injuries had nearly healed.

“Good, be obedient!” Meimei patted his forehead with satisfaction, then sat nearby, pulling a battered language textbook from her pocket to read with keen interest.

Chen Cao glanced at the book. It was a tattered fourth-grade reader. From the hunger in Meimei’s eyes, it was clear she longed for knowledge.

“Meimei, do you want to keep studying?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do!” Her eyes lit up, but quickly dimmed again. “But we don’t have enough money, and we don’t have household registration either. If I leave, Grandpa will have no one to care for him. And the nearest school is dozens of kilometers away.” Worry clouded her face as her gaze drifted back to the book.

“Come eat!” Papa Xizer’s voice called from the house, accompanied by the aroma of fish.

…

A ray of early sunlight shone into the wooden house, illuminating a simple meal: fish soup, two plates of pickled vegetables, and a bowl of congee. This was the best a farming family could offer—plain, but filled with warmth. The three sat together, content.

“Brother Chen Cao, be good, okay? It rained last night, so the mushrooms will be tender!” Meimei called, waving as she hefted her bamboo basket.

“I’ll be good, don’t worry. The mountain path is slippery—be careful picking mushrooms!” Chen Cao replied from the doorway with a smile.

“All right, Meimei, you go ahead. I need to speak with Brother Chen Cao,” Papa Xizer said, also shouldering a basket and patting her head.

“Okay!” Meimei skipped off.

Watching her go, Papa Xizer’s expression grew grave. He looked at Chen Cao, adjusted his basket, and said, “Come inside, I have something to tell you.”

Chen Cao, alert, did not understand the old man’s intent. He instinctively felt for the dagger at his back. Feeling its familiar weight gave him a sense of security, and the fleeting warmth of family instantly faded. In his line of work, and in such an environment, caution was always necessary.

Inside, Papa Xizer had vanished into the inner room. The house had only two rooms, and Chen Cao could hear him rummaging around. His hand stayed on his dagger as he called out, “Papa, what is it?”

The old man emerged, holding a small cloth bundle, his face creased with emotion. He seemed oblivious to Chen Cao’s wariness, his voice trembling with feeling as he said, “Son, though we haven’t known each other long, I can see your kindness. You have no family; to me, you are already like my own child. A soldier must retire eventually, and your stipend isn’t much, yet you always bring money to help us. I’ve saved it all for you—one day you’ll need it, for marriage and life. Take it!” He opened the bundle, revealing a stack of hundred-yuan notes and some crumpled bills—clearly his own savings added in.

“Papa…” Chen Cao’s heart quivered. He was at a loss for words.

“I meant to wait until you retired to mention this, but at the last market I heard from Old Li that Old Zhang’s daughter in town is quite a good girl—already eighteen. I was going to propose the match to you. Now that you’re here, I thought… you don’t resent me for meddling, do you?” Papa Xizer asked with rustic sincerity.

“Papa, your kindness means the world to me. I am your child. But I won’t retire for a while yet. Keep the money—I’ll have plenty when I leave the army, and finding a wife won’t be a problem,” Chen Cao said, trying to smile.

“You’re always so busy and in danger. How will you find time to settle down? You should at least leave a legacy,” Papa Xizer grumbled, his concerns those of a simple farming man.

“It’s getting late—let’s talk more tonight, all right? Meimei’s waiting, and if we’re late, the mushrooms won’t be tender!” Chen Cao quickly changed the subject and slipped outside.

“Silly boy!” Papa Xizer wrapped the money again, his face knotting with worry. “Why doesn’t he want to settle down? Next time I go to market, I’ll have to talk to Old Li again about Old Zhang’s girl. I can’t let such a good girl go to waste!”

Flame King 85 – End of Chapter 85: Kinship and Simplicity