Chapter Four: A Web of Lies

The soul is an unknown energy that governs human thought, behavior, spirit, emotions, and other aspects of the subconscious. It is consciousness, spirit, and psychological activity, the result of the brain’s physiological processes.

Some say the soul is merely a beautiful fantasy, a figment of human imagination, inseparable from the brain, destined to vanish completely with the individual's death.

Yet human cognition often diverges from reality. The soul truly exists; each person possesses a unique soul that changes and grows along with them.

It is the embodiment of all human emotions, comprised of three souls and seven spirits, ruling over human passions and desires. Those who lose part of their soul often become dull or mad. There are rare exceptions: some, having lost a part, become like demons—vile, ugly, and vicious—while others turn as pure and kind as angels—innocent, beautiful, and good.

In the early morning, the villa was filled with the crackling sound of clattering noises. Lin Fan, who was sound asleep on the sofa, was forced to clutch a pillow tightly over his head.

Suddenly, a long, piercing screech jolted Lin Fan awake, sending him tumbling right off the sofa.

Annoyed, he rubbed his eyes and looked toward the source of the noise. There he saw a round, sweating middle-aged man dragging an enormous, intricately carved peachwood table out of the storeroom on the first floor, struggling to move it into the living room.

"Uncle, what are you doing so early in the morning? Trying to tear the house down? How’s anyone supposed to sleep?" Lin Fan, still grumpy from being woken, complained as he sat on the ground rubbing his eyes.

"You’ve been sleeping for a whole day and night already! What more do you want? Can’t you see I need help? Get over here!" Lin Hai panted, catching his breath.

Lin Fan staggered over, clearly unwilling. His hand barely touched the table’s corner before he lifted it, feeling as if he was holding a block of tofu. He looked at the breathless Lin Hai in surprise and said, "Uncle, is your health failing you?"

“Watch your mouth! I eat ten pig kidneys a day—my health’s better than ever! I get nosebleeds from all the pent-up energy. Me, weak? You have some nerve!” Lin Hai’s temper flared instantly; at his age, nothing stung more than a jab at his vitality.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Where do you want it?” Lin Fan shrugged, hoisted the table easily onto his shoulder, and turned to the dumbfounded Lin Hai.

Lin Hai, both shocked and regretful, wished he’d helped earlier but refused to admit defeat. “Show-off. You can’t compare yourself to us normal folk. Put it in front of the TV—careful, that table’s an antique, worth a fortune.”

“What’s all this for, Uncle?” Lin Fan set the table down with ease.

“You’ll see soon enough. Go have breakfast; food’s on the dining table,” Lin Hai called out, disappearing back into the storeroom to rummage for something.

A sudden scream erupted from the dining room, making Lin Hai drop what he was holding and rush over in a panic. He found Lin Fan sitting at the table, perfectly fine but clawing at his throat.

“What’s with the yelling? You’ll give me a heart attack! Will you take care of me if I get sick?” Lin Hai was genuinely shaken; if anything else happened, Lin Qi would never forgive him.

“Uncle, I just owe you a bit of money—did you have to mess with the food? Is this even edible? Even pigs would cry eating this! Eat too much and you’ll die!” Lin Fan complained, wiping his mouth.

“Well, by that logic, I’d have died countless times already. This is your beloved Chef Lin Qi’s handiwork—she said you were ‘weak’ and made it especially for you. Eat up.” Lin Hai finally felt a sense of camaraderie.

“I appreciate the thought. Next time, please tell her not to go to so much trouble.” Lin Fan forced a smile.

“Kid, maybe you’re good for something after all. At least you can help me share the burden of your sister’s… creative cuisine. I can’t handle it alone. Her cooking skills are a torment I wouldn’t wish on anyone—you’ll understand in time.” Lin Hai sighed, deeply scarred by Lin Qi’s culinary experiments.

“Then how come you’re so fat?” Lin Fan asked, genuinely curious.

“Fat? This is swelling! When I’m hungry, I drink water. When I can’t stand it, I drink more water. Pinch my belly and you’ll squeeze out water,” Lin Hai replied, lifting his shirt.

“Uncle, that’s enough—I believe you.” Lin Fan quickly changed the subject, his eyes flickering. “By the way, about my parents—you said yesterday… what really happened?” His voice carried a strange sadness.

“Why bring that up now?” Lin Hai scratched his head, hesitating. He wasn’t sure whether to tell him, afraid he’d faint again.

“Go on, Uncle. No matter what happened, I can handle it. I just want to know what kind of people my parents were, why I ended up in a coma, and what really happened.” Lin Fan composed himself.

Lin Hai studied him for a long moment, then finally relented. “Are you sure you can handle the truth, no matter how tragic?”

Lin Fan nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Lin Hai sighed, blinking his small eyes, then said abruptly, “Suppose I told you your parents were soldiers who died in battle—would you believe it?”

Lin Fan stared at him in shock. “Could you be any more careless?”

“Oh—I got it wrong. Your parents were engineers,” Lin Hai tried, searching for a suitable story among the ones he’d prepared.

“Uncle, do I look like an idiot?” Lin Fan shot him a glare.

Lin Hai straightened up, replying righteously, “Kid, do I look like a liar?”

Lin Fan just stared, silent, while in his heart he insulted the bald, ugly man in front of him a thousand times over. “Would you dare to swear?”

Making light of the demand, Lin Hai raised his right hand and swore, “I, Lin Hai, swear to heaven: if anything I say about my nephew Lin Fan’s origins is false or concealed, may vengeful spirits haunt me in life, may I die a miserable death, may I never be buried, and may my soul suffer eternal torment.”

“Alright, go on,” Lin Fan frowned and nodded.

Lin Hai began the story he had spent the last few days inventing: Lin Fan’s parents were engineers, and during Lin Fan’s school holiday, they took him to visit their worksite. That night, on their way back, visibility was poor and a construction vehicle approached from the opposite direction. The mountain road was narrow, and as they tried to pass, their car slipped off the winding road. At the moment of the fall, Lin Fan’s mother threw him from her arms, saving his life, but the force sent him crashing into the mountainside, leaving him in a coma. His parents, along with the car, plummeted off the cliff, and by the time they were found, there was nothing left but the burnt shell of the vehicle.

Lin Hai told this terrible story with great flourish, spittle flying.

Lin Fan listened intently, shedding a few tears as the story progressed, though his eyes remained oddly vacant.

When Lin Hai finished and saw Lin Fan’s tearful face, he finally relaxed, feeling quite pleased with himself, convinced his story was a masterpiece.

Just as he was basking in his own cleverness, the doorbell rang.

Lin Hai smacked his forehead. “How could I forget! Kid, quick, go stall for me. I nearly missed a big deal just to tell you that story.”

Seeing Lin Fan unresponsive, Lin Hai kicked him out of his reverie and ran back to the storeroom.

“Ow! Uncle, can’t you be gentler? You nearly dislocated my hip!” Lin Fan grumbled as he got up from the floor. That kick would have put an ordinary person in bed for days.

“How am I supposed to stall them? We agreed—I don’t do anything shady,” Lin Fan protested.

“Just tell them I’m meditating and not to open the door. If you don’t, I’ll kick you straight back to the hospital!” Lin Hai shouted as he rummaged through the storeroom.

“You always threaten me with that. Whatever—when under someone’s roof, you have to bow your head.” Lin Fan muttered as he dutifully went to answer the door.