I pushed open the door, and the thick smoke made me cough.

The sounds of shuffling cards rose and fell, interspersed with vulgar curses.

The sound of dice rolling on the gambling table, the shouts of arguments, mixed with the smell of alcohol and sweat, turned the small space into a boiling pot of murky soup.

In the corner, next to a gambling table, a gaunt man was being held down on the table by two thugs.

The crescent-shaped birthmark on his neck stirred something within me.

This person isn't Lao Dao, but he did indeed work under Lao Dao.

Is his name Ah Cheng? Or Ant?

The names in my memory are as blurry as soaked rice paper.

I looked away and continued searching for Lao Dao.

Pushing and shoving are commonplace in mahjong parlors.

Someone glanced at it twice and then buried their head in their cards again. The proprietress in the floral shirt just casually cursed, "If you want to die, go die."

"Old man, how long do you plan to put off paying off your gambling debts?"

The thug with dyed yellow hair grabbed the man by the hair and slammed him onto the table, scattering the dominoes with a crash.

The man being pinned down suddenly struggled violently, letting out a whimper: "Brother Zhou! Give me three more days... I'll be right there..."

The words were slammed into the throat by another bald thug's fist, and blood dripped down the corner of the table onto the plaque engraved with the character "发" (prosperity).

"Grace period?"

With a sinister grin, the blond-haired man pulled out a switchblade from his back and pressed the blade against the man's wrist.

"You said you'd pay me back last month, but you don't have the money this month. Do you think I'm running a charity?"

A flash of cold light, and the man let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Just as the blade was about to fall, he suddenly turned his head.

His bloodshot eyes were fixed on me: "Brother Chen, save me!"

The sound of shuffling tiles in the entire mahjong parlor suddenly stopped, and dozens of pairs of eyes turned to me as if drawn by a magnet.

I shrugged helplessly.

Just as he was about to speak, the man who was being held down on the table suddenly burst into a hoarse roar: "Brother Chen! Are you looking for Brother Dao? I know where he's hiding!"

The blond thug glanced at me sideways, his switchblade gleaming coldly between his fingers: "Hey, where did this old codger come from?"

He used the tip of his knife to lift the man's collar at the back of his neck, revealing a crescent-shaped birthmark: "This good-for-nothing owes us twelve thousand, and wants to save someone—"

Where is he?

I interrupted him and looked at the man.

The man raised his blood-stained face, his Adam's apple bobbing violently: "You, you save me first."

Before he could finish speaking, the tip of the blond-haired man's knife pierced his earlobe, and blood dripped onto my shoe.

"Want to live?"

The blond-haired man licked his lips: "Twelve thousand, one cent short—"

"Brother Chen, save me! Otherwise you won't be able to find Lao Dao. No one knows where he is except me. You can ask them if you don't believe me."

The man was terrified. He almost wet his pants.

That's enough.

I took out my wallet, pulled out twelve red bills, and slapped them on the greasy gambling table.

Upon seeing the money, the blond-haired man's pupils suddenly contracted.

He revealed his yellowed canine teeth, his mouth stretched so wide it almost reached his ears: "Oh my! You're so generous!"

He rubbed his cigarette-stained fingers, the switchblade that had been pressed against the man's wrist was now tucked into his sleeve.

"Look at the mess this has made... If we had known they were from the underworld, we wouldn't have been so ignorant of the rules."

As he spoke, he pulled out a crumpled cigarette case from his pocket, took out a Zhonghua cigarette, and handed it to him.

Seeing this, someone at the gambling table muttered, "That blond guy is so greedy for money... He was just saying he was going to break someone's fingers."

Before the words were even finished, the blond-haired man had already turned around and kicked the speaker: "Bullshit! Do you think my friendship with Ant is fake? I was just teasing him and playing around with him."

He smiled obsequiously at me: "If you have time, would you like to have some tea at the teahouse next door later? I'll have my brothers get you a private room."

"No need, I need to see Ant."

"That……"

Just as the blond-haired guy was about to speak, one of the men in the mahjong parlor suddenly pointed at me and shouted, "Isn't this Brother Luo's brother, Brother Chen?"

This sentence is like a drop of water thrown into a pot of boiling oil.

Huang Mao was stunned, staring blankly at me, frantically wiping the table: "Oh, it's Brother Chen! It's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding! We often go to Brother Luo's place, look at this money..."

As expected of my Brother Luo, even though he's gone and been captured, his legend lives on in the martial arts world.

"Though the journey through life is long, I always remember some old friendships."

I held his hand down, preventing him from taking the money back.

Ant seized the opportunity to scramble to his feet, rubbing his wrist and glaring at the blond-haired man: "Did you hear that? Brother Chen is Brother Luo's man! He was just saying he was going to break my fingers, why isn't he so tough now?"

The blond-haired man gritted his teeth, but his face was plastered with a smile that looked more like a grimace: "Brother, you've got it all wrong! I was just joking around with you, Ant Brother..."

He suddenly turned around and spat into the air.

"If anyone dares to touch Brother Luo's friends again, I'll be the first to not let them get away with it!"

I could tell he was also holding back his anger; his fists were clenched so tightly under his sleeves that they turned white, and the tattoos on his knuckles were twisted into grotesque shapes.

I frowned slightly, watching the ant trembling as it lit a cigarette, and suddenly felt nauseous.

If it weren't for the need to pry the whereabouts of the old knife and the connection between the village and the Xuanpin Furnace from him, they should have already turned and left.

The ceiling fan in the mahjong parlor made an annoying buzzing sound overhead, and the smoke mixed with the cheap perfume smell of ants made one's temples throb.

"They're gone."

To stop him from whining and acting like a bully, I grabbed Ant by the back of his collar and pulled him out.

He staggered a couple of steps and took the opportunity to kick over the beer bottle next to the blond-haired man's feet.

Amidst the sound of shattering glass, the blond-haired man's eyes hardened with ice, but instantly transformed into a respectful smile as I turned around: "Take care, Brother Chen! Next time you come, let me know in advance, and I'll prepare the best Longjing tea for you..."

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