Chapter 6: Fate

Caught off guard, Ren Yu immediately ducked back behind the pillar.

But the origin of a flying can wasn’t hard to trace. If Fang Yingli came over to investigate, Ren Yu’s only option would be to roll into the nearby hedges. Not exactly subtle. Whether he’d get away with it depended on luck. If it came to it, he’d just have to steel himself and walk out with a shameless “Hey, fancy seeing you here.”

But the dreaded moment never came. Court officers arrived quickly, blocking Fang Yingli’s line of inquiry and hauling the young man to his feet. It turned out he was one of the victims from the trial, the son of a single mother who’d sunk her life savings into the scheme. Under the stress, she’d suffered a heart attack and was lying in a hospital. Desperate and despairing, he’d watched Fang Yingli defend the accused with everything he had. Consumed by rage, he’d gone out, bought a knife, and decided to make Fang Yingli suffer too.

Ren Yu watched as Fang Yingli faced the snarling, hysterical young man with a blank expression, as if someone else had been attacked and he was merely a passerby.

After hearing the full story, Fang Yingli dusted off his sleeve and said evenly, “The dignity of the law lies in wherein everyone is equally entitled to the maximum rights within its provisions, and equally bound by its baseline obligations. He needed a defense. I was simply doing my job. And what you’ve done could land you up to three years in prison, detention, or surveillance.”

Never mind three years, even a month without his care might be more than the young man’s mother could survive. But wrong actions deserved punishment; that was beyond dispute. Besides, Ren Yu figured Fang Yingli looked exactly like the type to hold a grudge.

“But…” Fang Yingli glanced at the young man’s pained, gasping face and gestured to the officers. “Take him to the hospital. I won’t press charges.”

Ren Yu raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Perhaps it was contempt and boredom, deeming the whole thing beneath him. Perhaps it was compassion, a reluctance to drive a man to his last resort. Either way, Ren Yu thought Fang Yingli was even cooler than he’d imagined.

Ren Yu got home at six-thirty, exhausted. He fired off a WeChat message and ordered takeout, only for the restaurant to botch the order. His food didn’t arrive until eight. He’d eaten half his noodles when his phone rang. The screen showed Chen Xin, a junior reporter under Deng Weizhi who helped Ren Yu when needed.

The call connected, and Chen Xin’s voice came through, “Yu-ge, the foreclosure auction bidding qualification request is done!”

After overhearing at the courthouse that Fang Yingli had a foreclosure consultation in two days, Ren Yu had messaged Chen Xin to secure him a spot.

Ren Yu was panting from the spice. “What day, what time?”

“Day after tomorrow, 9 AM. Bring your ID. I’ll text you the address.” Chen Xin sighed. “Getting that qualification wasn’t easy. Foreclosure auctions are cheap, so everyone fights for a spot.”

“Yu-ge, if you see something you like, you could buy a place, you know. You’re not getting any younger, and you can’t keep drifting forever. You’ll need a place when you get married.”

Chen Xin was a good kid in every way except one—he was a chatterbox, worse than a nagging mother. Ren Yu had never learned to tolerate lectures, and he clicked his tongue. “Will your magazine reimburse me?”

Chen Xin sounded horrified. “Absolutely not.”

“Then that settles it.” Ren Yu hung up and set down his chopsticks. His chest felt a little tight.

Come to think of it, he had been drifting for years. After graduation, he’d gone abroad and wandered for a while. Then he’d come back hardened into a chameleon, working in media, working as an informant, even digging at archaeological sites for pocket change for twenty yuan a day, doing whatever came his way. Dignified or not, he’d done it all.

He’d at least kept his moral compass. Driven by a stubborn sense of justice, he’d never made any truly ruinous mistakes, and he’d done some good along the way. But his name never made it into the record. He’d fed Deng Weizhi leads on two major news stories, and when the annual top ten reports and journalists were announced, only her name appeared.

He didn’t care. As long as the ordinary people who’d been cheated out of their hard-earned money got their homes and compensation, his work hadn’t been wasted.

On the morning of the auction, Ren Yu deliberately arrived ten minutes late. When he pushed through the door, he caught Fang Yingli’s sharp gaze rising from the crowded rows, cutting through the stale, heavy air and sinking straight into his skin.

He pretended not to notice and found an empty seat.

Foreclosure properties were mostly assets liquidated due to arbitration or court rulings. Were the prices fair? The provenance clean? Plenty of wealthy buyers hired lawyers to advise before purchasing. He’d specifically asked Chen Xin to get him a qualification so he could slip naturally, unnoticed, into Fang Yingli’s professional orbit.

After all, he’d already approached the man twice in two days around the neighborhood. If he kept throwing himself at him, it would start looking suspicious. He needed a more plausible chance encounter.

The first few villas up for bid were far too expensive. Bidding at that level would’ve clashed with the financial profile he’d established for himself. Bored, he stole glances at the hands around him. None were worth looking at. Some were blunt and clumsy, others too long and thin. Once you’d seen Fang Yingli’s hands, nothing else measured up.

Realizing this, he withdrew his gaze sheepishly and pulled a newspaper from the rack, busying himself with the sudoku puzzle. He was halfway through when the auction finally reached some reasonably priced properties. Ren Yu joined a few rounds of bidding, but never pressed hard. When someone outbid him, he let it go. Naturally, he left empty-handed.

As the room dispersed, Ren Yu deliberately lagged behind, gathering items left on the table until Fang Yingli passed. Then he stood and followed.

“Mr. Fang. What a coincidence.” He quickened his pace to fall in step beside him.

Fang Yingli was in a suit again, much like yesterday’s court attire, though the cut was more distinctive, slightly less formal. His shoulders formed a clean, straight line, a black tie with a subtle pattern at the collar, his hair swept back, features deep and sharp. He glanced sideways at Ren Yu, paused for a meaningful two seconds, then responded with a half-smile, “Quite a coincidence.”

His gaze slid over Ren Yu’s barely-used bidding paddle. “No luck finding something with fate, Boss Ren?”

It was only when Ren Yu turned that he registered the man was a full ten centimeters taller. Meeting his eyes required tilting his head up slightly.

And if the angle of that upward gaze was just right, it could lower the other person’s guard. So he lifted his dark pupils and curved his eyes at him, a little soft, a little yielding.

“Apart from you, Mr. Fang, I haven’t come across anyone with fate.”