Red Star Inn had been converted from the Red Star Guesthouse twenty years earlier. In the past, it had been quite prestigious, a high-end place where only government offices or state-owned factories could get approval to stay. The four-story inn’s walls were mottled and peeling, but the lobby retained some of its former glory—spacious and elegantly decorated, though quite dated, with rust spots covering the wall clock.
A man’s deep footsteps sounded behind her. Feng Man heard him check in at the front desk. Sure enough, he got only one room. Once Cheng Lang had the key, she followed him upstairs.
Room 206 was in the middle of the corridor. The room was a bit old but clean enough. Feng Man looked around and found it satisfactory. Cheng Lang had even paid for it, so she saved some money.
“You’re quite at ease?” Cheng Lang had clearly noticed the shock and wariness in her eyes when he first suggested getting one room, but that wariness had vanished too quickly.
“Of course.” Feng Man set down her cloth bag and picked up the thermos flask by the wall, handing it to Cheng Lang. “We set our Baby Betrothal long ago, so we’re basically fiancé and fiancée. Out here on the road, forced by circumstances, sharing a room is no big deal.”
As she spoke, Feng Man carefully sized up Cheng Lang. Cracks finally appeared in the man’s rugged features. She suppressed her slightly upturned lips and continued teasing him. “I’m not afraid. What are you afraid of? Besides, you’re handsome, with a great build—broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. Just my type. I won’t lose out…”
The composure in the man before her finally cracked. Ripples stirred in his usually deep eyes, his gaze trembling as if he were truly seeing this woman—who kept claiming their Baby Betrothal—for the first time. “You…”
Feng Man heard the sound of the man slamming the door as he left. She hurriedly called after him. “Remember to bring back hot water. Don’t get the wrong room.”
Thinking back to how he had deliberately scared her downstairs, Feng Man felt a rush of satisfaction. When it came to teasing, who was teasing whom was still up in the air!
That night, just as Feng Man had guessed, Cheng Lang did not stay in the room. Taking advantage of the quiet night, he slipped away quietly, leaving only a cold instruction. “Lock the door yourself.”
Alone, she enjoyed the inn’s double bed. Feng Man had the most comfortable sleep since transmigrating.
In the early morning, the rising sun was fragmented by the dancing curtains, casting alternating light and shadow. A few rays of morning light climbed to Feng Man’s eyes and brows, illuminating her serene sleeping face.
Waking to sunlight felt wonderful. Feng Man was reluctant to leave the bed but remembered the situation downstairs.
Slipping on slippers, she went to the window and leaned out to look down. She spotted the man around the Blue Truck, smoking in front of the cargo area. His hands were idle, but his eyes were fixed on the tarpaulin, clearly inspecting something.
Perhaps her gaze, heated by the sunlight, startled the busy man. Cheng Lang looked up, meeting Feng Man’s eyes from the second-floor window.
Feng Man quickly pulled back. She prepared to change and go downstairs, leaving Cheng Lang with only the rippling curtains.
The inn’s restaurant sold breakfast: mung bean porridge for three mao a bowl and steamed buns for five fen each. The taste was decent.
While eating, Feng Man glanced at a table in the distance where a man in a gray shirt sat down. As she withdrew her peripheral vision, she asked Cheng Lang in a low voice. “Didn’t catch him in the act?”
Cheng Lang’s brows furrowed slightly. His deep eyes stared at the woman before him, full of scrutiny and probing.
Feng Man chuckled lightly. “Didn’t you use me as cover last night and go out to stake out? That truck followed us all day and even came to this little inn. Isn’t it after your cargo?”
The man’s sword-like brows lifted slightly. “You’re quite observant.”
Feng Man had lived with her grandmother since childhood. As a widow and orphan, they had been bullied plenty, and she had seen her share of petty thefts. With a suspicious truck tailing them and Cheng Lang’s sudden attitude change, she had immediately guessed the truth.
They did not linger long at the inn, and Feng Man could not get more information from Cheng Lang. Clearly unhurried, he set off again. Even without catching the thief red-handed, he must have been confident.
The Blue Truck started up and drove onto the national highway. Soon, the Army Green Truck reappeared in the rearview mirror. Feng Man’s eyes lit up at the sight.
“He’s following again.”
“Mm.”
They did not talk much, but at that moment, they shared a tacit understanding.
The journey from Nine Mountains Village to Ink River City was over two thousand kilometers. The national highways of that era were nothing like the smooth roads of later years—potholed in many places, forcing detours and slowing the speed considerably. The stop-start travel gave plenty of time for observation.
They left the inn and reached a roadside rest stop for repairs at two-thirty in the afternoon. Rest stops on highways back then were far from the all-in-one facilities of later years, offering only basic services like tire repairs, vehicle fixes, or water refills. No restaurants or shops.
It was Feng Man’s first time entering a 1988 rest stop, the precursor to later highway service areas.
This stretch was in the middle of nowhere, so food was an issue. Fortunately, they had bought dry rations before leaving. Feng Man got out with her cloth bag and generously shared. “I bought malted milk powder and biscuits. Let’s see if we can borrow some hot water later.”
Cheng Lang knocked on the door of the rest stop shack and offered the man inside a cigarette. After some casual chat, he said. “Big brother, big sister, mind lending some hot water?”
With a cigarette in hand, the couple had no reason to refuse and told Feng Man to fetch the kettle from the corner herself.
She used the hot water to brew malted milk powder. Seeing the couple’s daughter eyeing it eagerly, Feng Man called the little girl over with a cup, scooped two spoons for her, and brewed it.
After Feng Man finished her cup of malted milk, she looked around but did not see Cheng Lang. Instead, she noticed the ever-present Army Green Truck parked at the rest stop behind them, but no one got out.
When Cheng Lang reappeared, Feng Man had been called to an open area behind the rest stop. She saw the man holding a wild rabbit. With a small knife, he deftly bled it, skinned it, deboned it, and cleaned it… His distinct knuckles moved nimbly through the task. When he applied force, the toned muscles of his wheat-colored arms flexed—clearly the result of real practice.
Soon, he had a clean, hairless rabbit ready. He skewered it from head to tail with thin wooden sticks he whittled in a few strokes.
He stacked some wood and dry leaves in a pile. The red flame of the lighter licked over them, igniting bursts of fire.
Feng Man had seen chefs prepare ingredients, but none as casually efficient as Cheng Lang. It seemed his flying fingers could handle anything with ease.
Roasting the rabbit fell to Feng Man. The meat turned from red to yellow, sizzling with oil. The fresh aroma wafted in the firelight, very enticing.
The various seasonings Feng Man had bought recently came in handy. She flipped it, sprinkled, and the slightly golden rabbit meat was dotted with fine red and yellow particles, layered on thick. It fused with the tender, crispy meat, leaving a lingering fragrance.
Cheng Lang had never roasted meat so meticulously before—usually just a bit of salt sufficed. As he took his first bite, his faint gaze drifted to the woman nibbling on the rabbit meat, then quickly withdrew. A few seconds later, it swept toward the army green Jiefang Truck.
Feng Man enjoyed the feast but noticed Cheng Lang’s gaze. She did not dare look that way and only muttered in a low voice. “Aren’t you afraid of alerting him?”
She had heard of such things and seen them on TV, but never experienced them firsthand.
Yet the man beside her was so unflappable, as if everything was under control. It eased some of Feng Man’s tension.
Cheng Lang’s gaze returned to Feng Man’s face, inching down to her cherry lips, which had deepened to a richer red from nibbling the roasted rabbit. “Just eating lunch. Not catching anyone.”
Feng Man. “…?”
She had thought he was setting a trap. She had been excited and tense while eating. Now he said it was not?
Just a simple meal?
The man ate heartily. Once Feng Man finished, he buried the bones in dirt, tossed the charred wood into the woods, and returned to the Blue Truck.
Not long after they set off, the Army Green Truck—which had also borrowed hot water at the rest stop—got back on the road, trailing at a distance as always.
Feng Man could not guess Cheng Lang’s plan and could only occasionally check the rearview mirror. When a passenger bus and a sedan overtook to the front of the Army Green Truck, she suddenly felt their truck accelerate. After a bend, it quickly turned…
The Army Green Truck drove steadily, unhurried even as the bus and sedan passed it. After all, on the national highway, how could they lose them…
But after the bend, only three or four scattered vehicles appeared in view. Where was the Blue Truck?
The gray-shirted driver slammed on the brakes at the roadside. As he looked around frantically, he heard a sharp rap on the window.
Knock knock knock.
Beside the truck stood a tall man, brows sharp, dark pupils full of authority. He tilted his chin left, signaling him to get out.
“Brother, where’d you come from?” Cheng Lang offered a cigarette, his tone casual.
The gray-shirted driver saw the young man—early twenties—and his anxiety spiked. He had not expected Cheng Lang to be unexpectedly amiable.
If the guy had come swinging fists and demanding answers, he would have felt better. But this casual demeanor from Cheng Lang was frightening.
Taking the cigarette, the young man was about to speak when Cheng Lang tossed out another light remark, like chatting about the weather—no anger or menace, yet it chilled the spine.
Cheng Lang. “Why follow me all the way? After the cargo or out to harm people?”
The young man’s body tensed instantly, tormented by Cheng Lang’s shifting pressure.
His mind raced a few turns before he spoke. “Big brother, I’ve got elders above and kids below. My old mom’s sick at home. I drive to earn medicine money. But this haul got robbed—lost all my year’s earnings, even owe debt now. On the road, I saw your truck and got crooked ideas. I… sorry, big brother! I was wrong! Yesterday I stole a crate from your truck. Planned to take more today… I’ll give it back. Please, big man, don’t hold it against a little guy.”
His stumbling plea drifted on the wind toward the Blue Truck’s cab.
Through the slightly open door, Feng Man watched intently. The tailing driver looked young and sincere in his apology, while Cheng Lang beside him was tall and muscular. The black tank top he wore was made from the scrap cloth of the bundle he had stolen.
That simple black tank top exuded irrepressible hormones on him. Broad shoulders and narrow waist hidden beneath, only outlines visible. His arms hung at his sides, taut wheat-colored muscles bulging in beautiful curves.
Feng Man withdrew her gaze, having heard most of it. She judged inwardly that the man’s acting was decent, lines good, but his shifty eyes screamed dishonesty.
Now she realized: Cheng Lang had seen vehicles pass between the two trucks, and with the bend providing cover, he turned and parked, switching positions and catching the Army Green Truck off guard.
When the young driver got out searching, he confronted him.
The excuses were touching—sick mom, desperation—plus eager admission of guilt. Feng Man looked at the rugged man not far ahead, figuring he would not be fooled…
But then she heard. “No next time.”
Feng Man. “…?”
Fooled just like that? No sending him to the police station, no demanding compensation?
Watching Cheng Lang toss the small crate back into the cargo hold, climb agilely into the cab, and drive off, Feng Man eyed the man. Sure enough, he was just handsome on the outside—like the book’s described fiancé, honest and kind-hearted, soft-eared. A few words and he let it go.
This reaffirmed for Feng Man that she had picked the right fiancé. He was full of contrasts, but she would have to help him fix this flaw. Good people get bullied; he needed more caution.
That evening, after staying overnight at an acquaintance’s home in a nearby town, Feng Man did not notice Cheng Lang slip out late at night.
Using the phone at a nearby shop, Cheng Lang’s face was shrouded in darkness, his voice icy. “Shorter than me by a head and a half, skinny, southern accent, mole under left eye, driving an army green Jiefang CA10B, plate 3359. This guy’s definitely got a gang—likely does inside-outside collusion and road robbery. Tailed me two days, now gone. At his speed, he’ll pass your area tomorrow morning. Follow him on the road, see where he goes.”
The other end said something unknown. Cheng Lang’s eyes turned cold, his thin lips spitting harsh words. “After my cargo? Courting death. Take them all down in one go.”
Manman: As expected, upright and kind-hearted, but with soft ears and a soft heart, just like the fiancé written in the book.
Ruthless Cheng Lang: Catch them all in one net secretly.