Chapter 70

Chapter 70: Wolf Cub
Song Rui Ze pushed into the bunkhouse, hair dripping, water darkening the collar of his shirt.

The men inside had been talking a moment ago. The moment they saw him, the room went quiet. Heads dipped. Hands found sudden tasks. No one looked his way.

Song Rui Ze didn’t spare them a glance. When he’d first been assigned here, these same men had gone whining to the dam foreman, insisting they wouldn’t share a bunkhouse with a Coffin Wretch. The foreman had punished them, and the complaints stopped.

They weren’t from Song Rui Ze’s village. They didn’t know his past, not really. The only reason his name had spread across the dam worksite so fast was because certain people had taken it upon themselves to make sure everyone heard the story.

Song Rui Ze returned to his bunk. The instant he lay down, something felt wrong.

He slid a hand into the straw under his pillow.

Empty.

He sat up slowly and swept a cold look across the room. “Who took it?”

No one answered. No one moved.

Beside him, Jiang Qi Bin blinked awake, still heavy with sleep. “Brother Ze… what is it?”

“The medicine is gone.”

Jiang Qi Bin jolted fully awake. He shoved a hand under his own pillow, rummaged through the straw, and pulled out his bottle. Relief flashed across his face—then vanished as the meaning landed.

He sat up and scanned the room. “Whoever took it, hand it over now. That was Brother Ze’s. It was a gift from his sister.”

A man near the doorway muttered, not looking up, “We didn’t take it.”

Song Rui Ze didn’t speak. He just stared.

Under that stare, another man finally cleared his throat. “Your cousin came by earlier,” he said, voice tight. “We saw him digging around under your bed. We didn’t see what he took.”

Song Rui Ze swung his legs off the bunk and stood.

Jiang Qi Bin grabbed at his sleeve. “Brother Ze, don’t. It’s late. If you make trouble now, Foreman Yang will punish you for sure.”

Song Rui Ze brushed his arm aside as if it wasn’t there and strode out.

Behind him, the bunkhouse stirred like a pot set to boil. Men exchanged looks—anticipation bright in their eyes.

“Going to watch?”

“Why would a show start without an audience?”

Jiang Qi Bin tried to follow, panic rising in his chest. But his injured leg screamed the moment he put weight on it. He bit back a groan, forced himself up anyway, and almost fell.

“Brother Ze… Brother Ze, calm down…” He slapped his thigh in frustration. “Useless at the worst time.”

Song Tie Gen’s bunkhouse wasn’t far—five bunkhouses down.

Most of the worksite had already turned in. Men were exhausted from hauling stone and dirt all day. But a commotion moved faster than sleep. As Song Rui Ze headed for Song Tie Gen, the men from his own bunkhouse fell in behind him, calling out to other bunks, tugging half-asleep workers into the night like they were dragging nets through water.

They wanted a spectacle. They made sure everyone heard there would be one.

Inside Song Tie Gen’s bunkhouse, Song Tie Gen lay facedown while a young man from their village rubbed medicine into the raw scrape across his lower back.

“Tie Gen, this stuff isn’t cheap,” the young man said, working it in with careful fingers. “Your mother really is willing to spend.”

Song Tie Gen’s eyes flickered. He didn’t answer.

The medicine did work. After a full day carrying stone, his skin had been rubbed open and angry. The burning eased the moment the ointment touched it.

Voices rose outside—too many, too loud.

Tang Tian Li paused, frowning. “Why’s it so noisy?”

Before the question finished leaving his mouth, the rag curtain was yanked aside.

Song Rui Ze stepped in.

His gaze locked on Song Tie Gen like a wolf fixing on prey.

Tang Tian Li stared, caught between them. “Rui Ze… why are you here?”

Song Tie Gen sat up fast, wariness sharpening his face. “What are you doing?”

Song Rui Ze didn’t answer him. His eyes dropped to Tang Tian Li’s hand.

The medicine bottle.

Tang Tian Li followed his stare, then looked down at what he was holding as if seeing it for the first time.

Song Rui Ze’s voice was flat and cold. “Is my medicine good?”

“Your medicine?” Tang Tian Li’s eyes went wide. He turned to Song Tie Gen. “Tie Gen, didn’t you say this was from your mother?”

Song Tie Gen’s jaw tightened. He forced the words out. “I strained my back today. It hurts. I borrowed it. What’s the big deal?”

“And I agreed?” Song Rui Ze asked.

Song Tie Gen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m your older cousin. I’m hurt. I used a little of your medicine and you’re going to refuse?”

“Borrowing?” Song Rui Ze’s mouth twisted. “You mean stealing.”

“Bullshit.” Song Tie Gen spat the word like phlegm. “What do I lack that I’d have to steal from a bastard like you? A boy with a mother who birthed him and no mother who raised him.”

The air in the room turned sharp.

Tang Tian Li froze, then hastily set the bottle down and backed away. Other men in the bunkhouse shifted too, inching toward their own beds as if distance could keep them safe.

Song Tie Gen never learned. Every time he provoked Song Rui Ze, he lost—yet he couldn’t stop digging for that tender spot.

Song Rui Ze’s eyes didn’t even flicker. “If you despise me so much,” he said, voice low, “why steal from me?”

Song Tie Gen flared. “You—”

“You little beast born from a big beast,” Song Rui Ze went on, every word clean and merciless. “Can’t you even afford medicine?”

“Song Rui Ze!” Song Tie Gen slammed his palm on the bed and climbed down, rage shaking him. “You dare insult my parents? They’re your Second Uncle and Second Aunt!”

“Are they worthy?” Song Rui Ze asked icily.

The crowd outside pressed closer. Someone lifted the curtain a sliver. Faces crowded the gap, hungry for blood.

Song Rui Ze took a step forward. “You used my things. So you get two choices.”

Song Tie Gen stiffened, eyes darting.

“One: you buy it. 150 wen.” Song Rui Ze’s gaze didn’t waver. “Two: I knock every tooth out of your mouth.”

A ripple went through the room. Even Tang Tian Li turned pale.

Song Rui Ze tilted his head slightly, as if considering. “I thought about crippling one of your hands. Then I decided knocking out all your teeth suited you better.”

Men in the bunkhouse moved faster now, pressing toward the doorway. The moment the curtain lifted, the watchers outside surged forward, packed shoulder to shoulder.

“Will they fight?” someone whispered.

“Song Tie Gen’s a coward. No way.”

“150 wen? That’s half a month’s wages.”

“What’s going on here?” a hard voice cut in.

Dam Foreman Yang pushed through the crowd, shoulders squared. The men parted on instinct.

His eyes swept the room and landed on Song Rui Ze like a knife finding a seam. “Why is it always you? Why are you always causing trouble?”

“He stole my things,” Song Rui Ze said. “If anyone’s making trouble, it’s him.”

Song Tie Gen’s face shifted instantly into grievance. “Brother Yang, I’m his cousin. I strained my back today from working too hard—hurts like hell. He had medicine, so I took it to use a little. How is that stealing?” He pointed at Song Rui Ze. “He threatened me. Said he’d knock all my teeth out.”

Foreman Yang’s mouth tightened. “Song Rui Ze, I’ve heard your reputation. You stir things up. Since you’re family—he got hurt and borrowed your medicine—do you really need to be this relentless?”

“If I didn’t agree,” Song Rui Ze said, “then it’s not allowed.”

Foreman Yang’s eyes narrowed. “Even if I order it?”

“No.”

For a beat, the foreman stared at him, as if deciding whether to break him or admire him. Then his expression went cold. “Fine. Very fine. Tomorrow you carry dirt. And I’m adding 100 loads. If you can’t finish, you don’t eat.”

The crowd sucked in breath, delighted and horrified all at once.

Song Rui Ze didn’t flinch. “My medicine,” he said, voice like ice. “No matter what happens tomorrow, tonight he owes me an explanation.”

Foreman Yang’s face darkened. “You insist on knocking out all his teeth?”

“I gave him two choices,” Song Rui Ze said. “Pay me 150 wen, or I knock them out.”

Foreman Yang’s jaw worked. Then he snapped, “Accountant. When wages are paid, transfer 150 wen from Song Tie Gen’s wages to Song Rui Ze’s account. That’s the end of it.”