Zhou Zishu knew that he was intending to use Baiyi to break the chains, so he loosened it from himself and handed it over. Taking the sword, Ye Baiyi hacked at a length of chain. There was a sharp “clang”, but that chain did not budge in the slightest, and had not even a dent. Instead, the Baiyi sword in his hand trembled continuously.

Looking at it, Zhou Zishu felt his teeth ache.

That old man suddenly spoke up. “You don’t have to...waste your energy, it’s useless.”

Ye Baiyi asked, “What abominable sin did you commit that made that quadriplegic hate you so?”

The old man was silent for a moment, then said, “I committed… the only thing I’ve done to let him down was to raise such a...son like him.”

The few of them exchanged looks. Now, they understood why Long Xiao’s shame had turned to fury then when Ye Baiyi had said “unless you're Long Que’s son”--this old glutton was practically a divinity, with the way he had accidentally been right about such an implausible relation.

A long while later, Wen Kexing suddenly asked, “You said that his name was Long...it isn’t the ‘filial’ (xiao) from ‘filial piety’, is it?”

Feeling that Wen Kexing was truly prodding at sore spots, Zhou Zishu jabbed him with his elbow. Not daring to duck away, Wen Kexing bore the brunt of it, and gazed piteously at Zhou Zishu as he rubbed his rib bone.

The old man laughed hoarsely, “I must have committed the greatest sins in my previous life, as severe as murder and arson, and is suffering karmic retribution in this one!”

The old man leant against the bedpost. Extending a hand that resembled the skin of a tangerine, he rubbed that bedpost again and again. Having spoken for a while, his tongue seemed to have limbered up. “This was mine and Yu Zhui’s bedroom back then, and that little beast was born here. Come to think of it, us husband and wife will both die in his hands. Heh, isn’t this fate?”

Zhou Zishu asked in a gentle voice, “Yu Zhui is your esteemed wife?”

That old man’s face was too ghastly to lay eyes on; it was impossible to tell whether it was beautiful or ugly, joyful or melancholic. But when the two words “Yu Zhui” were mentioned, that face overgrown with trenches appeared to relax much. A teardrop was still trapped in the deep wrinkle by his mouth. It glimmered, but did not fall regardless. He sighed. “I lost her because she gave birth to the kid. After Yuzhui was gone, I built the Puppet Manor, and dismissed the servants…”