Chapter Nine: The Puppeteer

The next morning, Lin Hai and Lin Fan rose early again, both tacitly understanding each other's intent to slip away unnoticed. But as soon as they descended the stairs, they caught sight of Lin Qi bustling about in the kitchen, clumsily preparing breakfast.

The two exchanged a look of horror. Just as they were about to retreat to their rooms and attempt an escape through the window, a thunderous roar pinned them in place.

"Stop right there! Get back here! What’s this? Weren’t you coming down for breakfast?" The memory of yesterday's untouched breakfast still burning in Lin Qi’s mind, she was determined not to make the same mistake again.

Dejected, Lin Hai and Lin Fan slumped into their seats at the table, realizing their luck had run out. As soon as they sat down, a scorched, greasy smell hit their noses. They glanced at the table, and despair swept over them both.

"Elder sister, did you not sleep at all last night? This is excessive... Is this supposed to be a royal feast or something?" Lin Fan scanned the table—fried, braised, stewed, sautéed meat dishes filled every inch, but there wasn’t a single green vegetable in sight. The table groaned under the weight of animal fat.

Just then, Lin Qi, carrying the final dish—deep-fried kidneys—found there was no more space and unceremoniously stacked it atop a fish head and rib soup. Sitting down, she glared at them both menacingly. "So what? I like it. If you two don’t finish everything today, nobody’s leaving the house. Hmph!"

Lin Hai was quick to respond, "My dear nephew, you’re frail, you should eat more. As for me, I’ve got high blood pressure, high cholesterol, all that. My stomach can’t handle so much rich food so early. I’ll just have some porridge, alright?" He rose to fetch himself some.

"Hey! Hold it right there! Uncle, you’re hardly better off than me. Don’t be so shameless! Besides, I’ve never really shown you much filial piety, so how could I dare hog this feast all to myself?" Lin Fan shot back, thinking that in times of crisis, it was every man for himself.

"Enough! Both of you, sit down and shut up!" Lin Qi barked. "What do you take me for, thin air? I’ve gone to all this trouble to cook for you and you dare complain? Do you need me to feed you myself? No gratitude at all! Pick up your chopsticks and eat!"

Lin Hai and Lin Fan quickly obeyed, picking up their chopsticks and staring at the blackened lumps of meat smoking on the table. Their mouths went dry; they glanced at each other, chopsticks hovering in midair, not knowing where to start.

Meanwhile, Lin Qi was a picture of satisfaction, sampling each dish and muttering, "This one's a bit too sweet, next time I'll use less sugar... That one's bitter, how odd... This one's salty, ugh... Where’s the soup? Where did it go?... Why is the soup also this salty..."

The more Lin Hai and Lin Fan watched, the more their hands trembled.

At last, Lin Fan steeled himself, shut his eyes, held his breath, and shoveled food into his mouth without chewing, swallowing it all in one go.

Seeing Lin Fan give in, Lin Hai cursed inwardly—he had planned to diet, and now he had to eat all this greasy mess for this foolish nephew’s sake. But remembering his own business to attend to, he grit his teeth and followed suit, stuffing food down as quickly as possible.

With tears in their eyes, the two of them managed to clean every last dish, the room thick with the tragic air of their suffering.

After breakfast, they stumbled out the door, supporting each other. To their relief, they saw the private car sent by Zhang Yang waiting at the villa’s entrance.

"At least the boy’s got some decency, otherwise we’d never make it to his house today," Lin Hai muttered, his short, stocky frame even more pumpkin-like than usual.

"That’s right, uncle. I feel like I’ve tasted every flavor under the sun in one morning. My sister’s way with seasonings is truly in a class of its own," Lin Fan replied, still shaken by the ordeal, foam forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Ugh, enough talk, let’s go. If that little demon hears us, we’re finished," Lin Hai urged, hustling Lin Fan into the car, and the convoy set off toward the Zhang family building.

Perhaps from overeating, Lin Hai had the convoy stop several times along the way. Before the car could even halt, he’d leap out and dash into a nearby mall, making for the restroom, chased by a squad of security guards wielding electric batons.

Lin Fan, though just as overstuffed, experienced no ill effects apart from nausea. He sat in the car, beaming and full of energy, chatting with the driver about all the Zhang family gossip.

The convoy, after a series of stops and starts, finally arrived at their destination after nearly an hour’s journey through the city.

Their appearance—two garishly dressed Taoist priests—caused quite a stir inside the Zhang building. Zhang Hua was puzzled by their conspicuous reappearance but dared not neglect them, quickly canceling appointments and inviting them up to the penthouse suite, where she kept them company in the living room.

"Master, ever since your visit yesterday, Zhang Yang’s health has been steadily improving. Aunt Zhao and I took turns by his bedside last night, and there were no more incidents. My heart is finally at ease. Thank you for driving out the evil spirit and curing Zhang Yang’s strange illness. Our family will never forget your kindness. If there’s ever anything we can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask..."

With Zhang Yang’s recovery, the shadow over Zhang Hua’s heart had lifted. She thanked Lin Hai earnestly.

Lin Hai replied with a self-satisfied smile, "You’re too kind. I simply did my duty. Zhang Yang’s own strength and your careful care were the true blessings. Heaven’s will, I merely followed it."

Having dealt with Lin Hai before, Zhang Hua knew him to be both capable and cunning, and she was well aware of his character. She asked cautiously, "Master, I transferred the merit as you instructed, using the code you gave me. Did you receive it in time?"

Lin Hai instantly understood her meaning and replied with a polite smile, "Madam, you must be joking. I’m not the sort to haggle over rewards or keep asking for credit. Don’t worry, this is just part of our after-sales service."

Lin Fan, listening on the side, frowned and muttered inwardly, "Enough with the nonsense, get to the point."

Just then, Uncle Zhong came in, carrying a tea tray. Zhang Yang and Aunt Zhao, having heard that the so-called ‘charlatan’ had returned to scam them, hurried in with a tray of fruit.

As soon as he entered, Zhang Yang sized up Lin Hai and Lin Fan, plopping down beside Zhang Hua. He eyed Lin Hai suspiciously, thinking how different his demeanor was from yesterday. Was there some new trick afoot?

Uncle Zhong deftly made tea while Aunt Zhao, distracted, kept peeling fruit and stuffing it into Lin Fan’s mouth.

Zhang Hua, holding Zhang Yang’s hand, gazed at him with concern, constantly asking after his health. Zhang Yang, impatient, answered perfunctorily, his gaze flicking repeatedly to Lin Hai.

Once Uncle Zhong had finished preparing tea, he stood behind Zhang Hua, who unconsciously leaned back.

Lin Hai, meanwhile, observed everyone closely, missing no detail. He took a sip of tea, then suddenly, without warning, addressed Uncle Zhong, "Excellent tea! Uncle Zhong, you truly hide your talents well."

Uncle Zhong smiled, "Master, you flatter me. I’ve only picked up these tea skills over the years serving Madam and the young master. I hope my humble effort is to your liking."

"You know that’s not what I meant." Lin Hai fixed him with a penetrating gaze, as if seeing right through him.

Everyone froze, turning their eyes to the pair.

"Forgive me, but I don’t understand your meaning," Uncle Zhong replied politely.

Lin Fan, Zhang Yang, and Aunt Zhao were all incredulous—none had expected Lin Hai to suddenly challenge Uncle Zhong.

Zhang Hua, unaware of the situation, tried to smooth things over. "Master, please don’t mind him. With all that’s happened to Zhang Yang, Uncle Zhong is probably exhausted. If the tea doesn’t suit your taste, I’ll have someone bring you coffee instead. Uncle Zhong, go take a rest."

"Yes, Madam," Uncle Zhong replied dutifully.

Lin Hai quickly intervened, "Wait, Madam Zhang. I’d like to tell everyone a story, and it won’t be any good without Uncle Zhong present. If you would..."

Seeing Lin Hai’s insistence, Zhang Hua relented. "Very well, Master, please go ahead. We’re all ears."

Lin Fan and Zhang Yang exchanged anxious glances—could this matter really involve Uncle Zhong? They weren’t sure, but listened intently.

"Uncle Zhong, Aunt Zhao, please sit and listen," Lin Hai said, straightening his robes and clearing his throat. "In my youth, I traveled far and wide, journeying throughout our vast and wondrous land. From a handsome, dashing, upstanding young man, I was transformed into the learned, accomplished, and formidable man you see today..."

"Master, could you skip to the point?" Lin Fan cut in, unable to endure the preamble any longer.

The others nodded approvingly.

Lin Hai’s enthusiasm was instantly doused. "Ingrate! Shut up! No one will mistake you for a mute if you stay quiet." He turned to Zhang Hua, "Where was I?"

"You were saying you’re a formidable man," she prompted.

"Oh, right. During my journeys, I encountered many strange and little-known phenomena. Today, I want to tell you about an ancient profession—the Puppet Master."

"Puppet Master? Is that some sort of puppeteer?" Zhang Hua, though worldly, was baffled by such tales.

Lin Fan, Zhang Yang, and Aunt Zhao listened, craning their necks so as not to miss a word. Only Uncle Zhong sat unmoved, a faint smile on his lips.

"The Puppet Master’s art began as a folk performance. In the old days, masters would control wooden puppets with strings or wires from behind a curtain, giving voice to many characters. It was a humble means of earning a living, passed down through generations. But at some point, some with ill intentions transformed the art—they stopped using wooden puppets and began to use real people, orchestrating elaborate dramas in real life. That is the Puppet Master’s profession. Putting someone into a deep sleep and making them jump from a building, framing a ghost for the deed—such tricks are nothing to them. Isn’t that right, Uncle Zhong?" Lin Hai turned to him.

"I really don’t know what you’re talking about," Uncle Zhong replied, his face wooden.

"You won’t give up until the bitter end, will you?" Lin Hai pulled from his robe a battered blue book and several diagrams, tossing them onto the table. "You were clever, hiding such important things in Madam Zhang’s bedroom. But I found them anyway. Isn’t this the reason you wanted Zhang Yang dead?"

Everyone leaned in—the book was titled "The Ultimate Art of Puppet Control by the Great Master of Wooden Puppetry," and the scattered diagrams depicted anatomical drawings.

Lin Fan was stunned—since when did street performers publish their own autobiographies?

Zhang Yang and Aunt Zhao were equally shocked, staring at Uncle Zhong in horror. Zhang Hua, more than anyone, was filled with disbelief, resentment, and confusion.

At that moment, as all eyes were on Uncle Zhong, he calmly stood, walked to the table, picked up the blue book and diagrams, carefully smoothing the pages before tucking them into his coat.

Lin Hai watched all this with a smile, not interfering, but quietly swinging his backpack to the front and leaning forward, ready for action.

Everyone else was dumbstruck, unable to believe that the family’s lurking demon was in fact Uncle Zhong.

"Hahaha!" After locking eyes with Lin Hai for a few seconds, Uncle Zhong suddenly burst into wild laughter, his voice dripping with malice. "Who would have thought, after all this time, that anyone remembered our kind. I planned for so long, only to have it ruined by a short, ugly fat man like you. Damn it! None of you are leaving here alive today—you’ll all be my puppets! Heh heh heh..."

Suddenly, Uncle Zhong leapt back, his fingers flicking out nearly invisible threads aimed at Lin Hai’s vital points.

He knew that as long as he controlled Lin Hai, the others would be helpless.

But Lin Hai was ready. He quickly pulled from his bag a large, black, wheel-shaped object, holding it in front of him as he charged forward.

Clang! Clang! Clang! The sharp sound of impact rang out as all the silver threads veered and struck the object in Lin Hai’s hands.

The others were paralyzed with fright.

For once, Lin Fan didn’t faint, but stood frozen, white as a sheet.

"A powerful magnet? You little fat bastard!" Uncle Zhong realized too late that the object was a giant magnet. The moment’s distraction gave Lin Hai his chance.

"You think it was easy for me? I scoured the whole city to find this lump of metal!" Though Lin Hai was rotund, he moved with surprising agility, darting forward in a single bound. Without pausing, he, who was a full head shorter than Uncle Zhong, sprang up and brought the magnet down on Uncle Zhong’s head.

As a Puppet Master, Uncle Zhong was skilled in manipulation, but at close quarters he was at a disadvantage. He quickly withdrew his threads and, moving his hands above his head, fashioned a web out of them. The web stuck to the magnet, but Uncle Zhong reacted fast, bracing with his legs and gripping the web’s edge with all his strength, barely managing to hold off the magnet’s crushing blow.

But Lin Hai had anticipated this. As soon as his feet touched the floor, he bounced up again like a rubber ball, swinging his right leg up and kicking viciously at Uncle Zhong’s groin, shouting, "You old pervert! Take this from your fat grandpa!"

Crack! A sickening sound echoed through the room.

An agonized scream followed, echoing through the whole building.

"Aaah—!" Zhang Hua and Aunt Zhao turned away, covering their mouths to stifle their screams.

Zhang Yang slowly closed his eyes, unwilling to look at Uncle Zhong again. Now that he knew Uncle Zhong had meant him harm, a storm of emotions churned inside him.

Lin Fan swallowed hard in sympathy, eyes wide as he stared at Uncle Zhong.

After a round of wailing, Uncle Zhong collapsed to the floor, clutching himself and rolling in agony. Lin Hai, relentless, continued to batter him with the magnet and kick him, shouting, "You old scoundrel, do you know how much this stupid rock cost me? Worthless eunuch! Let’s see if you dare spin any more webs—smash you to pieces, you shameless old bastard!"

Worried that Lin Hai might beat Uncle Zhong to death, Lin Fan rushed over and tried to pull him away. "Master, master, calm down. Don’t dirty your hands with the likes of him. Take a rest, I’ll handle it..." With that, he kicked Uncle Zhong a couple of times before dragging Lin Hai toward the sofa.

Lin Hai, seeing someone intervening, gave a few final whacks before finally setting down his bloodied weapon, satisfied. He was exhausted, but the matter wasn’t finished yet. Under Lin Fan’s stunned gaze, Lin Hai, disregarding Uncle Zhong’s agony, ruthlessly broke each of his fingers, snatched back the book and diagrams, and, as Uncle Zhong howled in renewed agony, swaggered back to the sofa, shaking his head in satisfaction.

Finally, the others snapped out of their shock. Zhang Hua glanced at the dying Uncle Zhong on the floor, still unable to believe it. "Master, was it really Uncle Zhong? I... I can hardly accept it..."

"It’s alright, Mom, don’t be afraid. I’m here," Zhang Yang said, holding Zhang Hua and comforting her.

"How could this happen? How could it be him?" Zhang Hua murmured, clearly traumatized.

"My apologies," Lin Hai panted, "for my... rudeness. But that’s... the truth. Sometimes... the truth... is the hardest thing to accept."