Chapter Seventy-Two: After Returning Home

After crying for quite some time, everyone finally calmed down. Grandmother grasped Wang Ying’s hand, asking about her situation. Wang Ying recounted the story we’d concocted together on the way: she had been out jogging at night when someone chased her, so she jumped into the moat, nearly drowned, and lost consciousness. At the hospital, they thought she was dead and sent her to the morgue, but the cold woke her, and she climbed out. Since she felt all right, she simply went back to work.

Though the story was hard to believe, under its spell, it sounded almost real. Besides, both elders were in their seventies, slow to react, so whatever we said went unquestioned.

Wang Ying introduced me to her grandparents, telling them I was her boyfriend. The two elders looked me over again and again. Grandfather urged Grandmother to prepare a meal, insisting he must share a drink with me.

Night deepened. Wang Ying and Grandmother prepared a tableful of dishes. We gathered around, and Grandfather brought out some good wine he’d kept for years. I drank a glass with him. During the meal, Grandfather asked whether Wang Ying and I wanted to visit her father in prison tomorrow. We agreed.

Throughout dinner, Wang Ying pressed her lips together, speaking little—her mind clearly troubled. That was unavoidable. I could only use gentle looks to remind her to control her emotions, so as not to let the elders notice anything amiss.

Just as the meal was drawing to a close, a loud, urgent knocking sounded at the door, the forcefulness of it making clear it was no friendly visit.

At the sound, both elders looked uneasy. These days, someone came knocking almost daily to collect debts—some genuinely seeking repayment, others simply taking advantage of the turmoil.

“Should I open the door?” I asked the elders, not knowing the specifics.

Grandfather shook his head, whispering, “No need to open it. Just pretend we’re not home.”

“Grandpa, don’t be afraid. We’re here.” Wang Ying stood, intending to open the door, but I stopped her and went to open it myself.

No sooner had I opened it than the door was shoved violently, nearly knocking me off my feet. Four or five men entered, led by a bald man with a round head, short stature, and a black shirt adorned with tattoos—plainly not a businessman but a thug.

“You are…” I began, but before I could finish, the man shoved me aside. “Who the hell are you? This isn’t your business. Get lost.” He was strong; I almost fell from his push.

I was furious—if only I could smite him with a palm-thunder! But this was Grandfather’s house, and I couldn’t use that sort of thing on an ordinary thug.

Fortunately, once he’d pushed me aside, he turned to Grandfather, pulled up a chair, and sat down. “Wang Qi, your son’s in prison. Who’s going to pay back the money he owes?”

Seeing him confront her grandfather, Wang Ying hurried over. “I will. Tell me, how much does my father owe you?” Hands on her hips, she spoke with authority, not a trace of fear.

Only then did the bald man notice Wang Ying in the corner. His gaze grew lecherous as he looked her up and down. “Pretty girl. You’re Wang Yingming’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am. Now tell me, how much does my father owe you? I’ll repay it.” Wang Ying’s tone was sharp, all gentleness gone.

“Your dad borrowed from us. A year ago it was a hundred thousand; now it’s a million.” The bald man waved a slip of paper in front of Wang Ying.

My heart sank. What kind of loan shark increases the debt tenfold in a year?

“All right, you can go. Tomorrow I’ll visit my father, and if he really owes you, I’ll repay every cent.” She was calm and reasonable.

The bald man paused, casting another glance at Wang Ying. “Fine, but listen—Knife Bro is giving you this chance. If you don’t pay up in three days, don’t blame me for what happens.” As he left, his eyes lingered on Wang Ying’s chest, which made me bristle with anger.

That night, Wang Ying and I slept in the room near the balcony. The bedroom was not small. Wang Ying sat on the bed, worry etched on her face. Seeing her like that, my heart ached, so I put my arm around her shoulders and said, “Don’t worry, love. Leave this to me. I’ll help pay off the debt.”

Wang Ying gave me a tender look. “Darling, it’s not the money I’m worried about. I’m anxious about visiting my father in prison tomorrow. He’s not like Grandma and Grandpa—it’ll be hard to fool him.”

That was true—no one can come back from the dead. But there was a silver lining: her father, being in prison, hadn’t seen her body. I tried to reassure her, “Don’t worry; it’ll be fine. We can make this work.”

Wang Ying kept sighing and said nothing more. That night, we held each other and talked for a long time. Wang Ying told me that if her father really owed money, when her seven days were up and she became a ghost, she would find a way to repay the debt for her family. I stopped her, saying that debts must be repaid, but she must never do what she’d done before—she had me now.

Wang Ying was deeply moved, clinging to me all night.

The next morning, we rose early. After a simple preparation, we set out to visit Wang Ying’s father in Wenshang Prison. On our way downstairs, we ran into her neighbors, who all gave us odd looks. They must have been wondering how Wang Ying, rumored to be dead, was now walking around alive.

We pretended not to notice, hailed a cab, and headed straight for Wenshang. There were buses, but for Wang Ying, time mattered more than money, so we took a taxi. After a series of formalities, we finally saw her father in the prison’s visiting room—a rather refined-looking man.

As expected, when he saw Wang Ying, he was so shocked he couldn’t speak for a long while, staring at her in disbelief. “Xiao Ying, is it really you? Am I dreaming?”

Wang Ying, already in tears, rushed over and hugged her father, sobbing bitterly.

It was a long time before they parted. Wang Ying told him the story we’d prepared, and to my surprise, he believed it. After some conversation, the guard announced that visiting time was over. Wang Ying handed her father some money, telling him to get along with everyone inside, and asked about the loan shark from last night.

Her father quickly explained: when he was at his lowest, he’d gone to an underground casino, lost money, and borrowed a hundred thousand from the house. But he’d paid it back within a few days, and no one ever mentioned it was usurious. He said now, aside from owing some small contractors, he owed no one else.

That made it clear—the bald man wasn’t collecting a debt, but seizing the chance to extort them.

On the way back, Wang Ying remained troubled.

“Honey, don’t worry. Your husband’s got this—dealing with some low-level thugs is no problem,” I reassured her.

Wang Ying shook her head. She wasn’t worried about that, but about her father suffering in prison. She wanted desperately to get him out, but had no way.

There was nothing I could do either. I was just a farm boy—no money, no connections. Getting her father out of prison would be harder than reaching the sky. All we could do was take things one step at a time.

When we got home, I nearly exploded with rage—the bald man from last night was back, sitting like a lord sipping tea, while Grandpa and Grandma waited on him.

“Get out here! All of you!” The sight drove Wang Ying to fury. She pointed at the bald man and shouted.

The man paused, then leered. “So, do you have the money?”

“Come with me,” Wang Ying said, storming downstairs. I hurried after her, whispering, “Don’t be rash—right now you’re human. You can’t deal with these brutes yet.”

Wang Ying arched her brows. “If they dare bully my family, I’ll tear them apart one by one after I become a ghost!”

I quickly put my arm around her. “Darling, this is nothing. Let me handle it. You just sit back, relax, and watch.” I helped her aside as I spoke.