Chapter 94 Who Looks Like a Character in a Book?

"Sister Ruoyan, why can't you rate this person?" Yueying asked, puzzled, from beside her.

"Other people's potential gets judged by the ability itself. Take his: does it reflect the full damage, or could it be developed to reflect double? Is it fixed to reflecting at the same spot, or could it be developed to let him choose where it lands? Can it ignore the target's defensive measures? That sort of thing."

Yueying nodded thoughtfully.

Gu Ruoyan went on: "Judged on that alone, this ability of his has very high potential. Rating it an S wouldn't be going too far. Once it's really developed, there won't be many people willing to fight him."

"Then what is there about him, apart from the ability, that affects the rating?" Yueying asked.

"Two aspects." Gu Ruoyan said, "First, the medium of the reflection. For instance, if someone sets a dog on him, does the backlash go to the dog, or to the dog's owner? If someone poisons him, does it bounce back onto the poison itself, or onto the poisoner? Or can that targeting be trained in all those directions?"

"Emmmm..." said Yueying.

"Second, his own physique — his vitality, you could say." Gu Ruoyan said, "Suppose one punch kills him, and the man who threw it takes that same punch through the backlash with no real harm — then his is a junk ability. But if he takes a knife in the gut and is still bouncing around, while the one who stabbed him gets the knife back and dies, then..."

Yueying understood. "So he's just a frail scholar — the ability's wasted on him."

Gu Ruoyan said, a little hesitantly, "I know of plenty of abilities that drag their user down with side effects. A power like his could well leave him frailer and frailer — or it might not. I don't know how it is with him specifically..."

"Isn't that great?" Yueying said viciously. "If he's too strong, it'll be inconvenient for me to get my revenge later. Best if he just gets weaker and weaker and drops dead."

Gu Ruoyan shook her head with a laugh, then said, "I need to pass this to the expert panel so everyone can weigh in together. How's your onboarding training going?"

Yueying gave a salute. "I'm doing well. Everyone treats me well. Thank you, Sister Ruoyan."

Gu Ruoyan sighed. "Later on... you'll have your work cut out for you. We're the kind of department nobody wants to marry into, you know..."

At Zhang Qiren's home, the fat woman had already been seen out. His father, Zhang Xinglong, a famous Nanjiang City entrepreneur, sat in his room, and father and son faced each other brewing tea.

"Your methods were too violent." Zhang Xinglong sipped his tea and said slowly, "Or did you simply not mean to hide it from me? Were you confident that even if I knew, I wouldn't do anything to you?"

Zhang Qiren sat ramrod straight. The red swelling from the fat woman's slap still marked his face, which made him look a little comical, but he was utterly serious: "Because at the time I had no way to think about much of anything. Lin Wuyang was watching me, and even worse national departments had been dragged in. However I looked at it, I felt I was walking a road to death. I only wanted to save myself, no matter how violent the method."

Zhang Xinglong smiled. "And why weren't you thinking about all that when you planned a murder? You think we're the ones who set all this off — why not consider that the one who set it off was you? Quite the opposite: if I hadn't found a way to suppress it afterward, you'd be in far worse trouble."

Zhang Qiren was silent.

"Of course, you can tell yourself you were in a hurry to rise, or that this is simply how we do things and Xiaoren did the same, so no one can call you wrong... there's always an excuse to be found for oneself." Zhang Xinglong drank his tea and went on slowly, "I'm not planning to criticize you on that point either. True enough — that is how we do things."

Zhang Qiren looked up at him.

"That recent move of yours — I was impressed, truly." Zhang Xinglong smiled. "Still too hasty, mind you. Look: your aunt had no evidence at all that it was you, and she still came knocking on your door. Some things don't need evidence. And as for me, your moves are written plain as day across your face — every gesture, down to the last hair."

Zhang Qiren sighed. "My authority and my strength only go so far. It's hard to pull anything off cleanly, without leaving a trace."

Zhang Xinglong shook his head. "You have ideas... you just lack experience, lack tempering. Or maybe you'd held too much in? So now the blade shows all at once, and it cuts others and yourself."

Zhang Qiren was actually surprised. He'd assumed his father had come to take him to task; after all, the real-estate company being hit with a tax audit wasn't just Zhang Xiaoren's tragedy — it was a huge loss to the family too.

And yet Father's words turn out to be instruction?

But Zhang Xinglong said no more on that. Instead he changed tack: "Be careful in your dealings with Black House... Zhong Yi is not a simple man."

Zhang Qiren's heart tightened.

"You think you hired Black House, used them against the Wang family, then quietly leaked word to the Wangs so the pressure of their retaliation would force Black House to close ranks with you. Good thinking." Zhang Xinglong smiled. "But what if Zhong Yi wanted exactly that? Strike the Wang family and get close to you, to collect evidence of our family's crimes?"

"Holy shit." That was what burst out of Zhang Qiren.

"Of course, I can't be certain that's how it is. There's something odd about Zhong Yi's background. Just keep an extra eye open."

Zhang Qiren still felt a degree of admiration. He'd been underestimating everyone, it seemed — far too reckless.

He looked at his father's face. His father had grown very old; wrinkles marked his face and frost-white had reached his temples, but those eyes, sharp as a hawk's, had not changed in all these years.

He had always thought his father a cold, ruthless man — never mind toward an illegitimate son like himself, whom he'd barely looked after in twenty-odd years; even toward Zhang Xiaoren, he seemed not to have cared much.

Zhang Qiren didn't even know what his father had spent his whole life pursuing.

"As for the Wang family, if you want to keep working with Zhong Yi against them, that's fine." Zhang Xinglong drained his tea and set the cup down hard on the table. His eyes fixed on Zhang Qiren and turned somewhat sharp. "Have you ever considered something..."

Zhang Qiren gave a start. "What?"

"The revival of spiritual energy — does it only affect people? What about objects?"

Zhang Qiren tightened his grip on his teacup.

So that's it.

Many conflicts weren't about any visible competition between industries, or a clash of pride.

Some people are after something else entirely.

His phone rang abruptly, cutting off his thoughts. He picked it up casually. "Who's this?"

"Boss Zhang? This is Zhong Yi. About the Wang family — shall we talk?"

Zhang Qiren glanced at his father and smiled slightly. "Sure."

In that moment, a very strange thought surfaced in his mind:

Compared with the days when I used to write books, doesn't the way I live now make me look like a character in one?

Yet the real character out of a book was, by contrast, carrying a little basket and buying vegetables at the market.

After visiting Wan Zijun and Panda at the hospital, Chu Ge had been shooed home by Qiu Wuji to grind out his word count. As his assistant, she'd handle the odds and ends like grocery shopping herself.

"This pork liver doesn't look too good, boss. How about a discount?"

"It's already cheap, pretty lady."

Including Chu Ge himself, no one had ever dared imagine that Qiu Wuji would haggle over a few cents with someone at a vegetable market.

Qiu Wuji had never haggled before, either; whatever the vendor quoted, she paid. How could a dignified Sect Master of the immortal Dao do such a thing?

Besides, she was better off now than before. She had no idea why she'd suddenly started bargaining over a few cents...

It was as if... she was slowly recalling the days when she had been an ordinary person, pestering a peddler for one extra piece of candy.

And so she'd just gone ahead and done it.

Even as she got the words out, Qiu Wuji's face felt a little hot, but she forged on anyway: "Just drop the odd cents, come on."

The vendor looked at the beauty with some amusement. She clearly had no idea how to haggle — a real haggler wouldn't open by shaving off the loose change; that was the line you threw out at the very end of a negotiation.

Seeing Qiu Wuji's flushed red face, the vendor shook her head with a laugh. "Fine, fine. A girl this pretty out buying vegetables — that's a rare sight these days. Your husband's a lucky man."

Qiu Wuji watched the vendor weigh it out, not even bothering to argue the husband point. Instead, a sense of accomplishment she hadn't felt in a very long time welled up in her heart.

I actually won that haggle!

Like this, don't I look even less like that character in the book?

Back at the rented apartment, Chu Ge was going over the opening draft Qiu Wuji had written yesterday. He mused a while, revising and polishing a few small spots, then tried posting the first chapter, "【Side Story】The Autobiography of Qiu Wuji," in the Work-Related section.

The comment section erupted instantly.