Chapter 2: A Start Too Fierce?
Chen Yan was drawing his tiles.
Yes, that’s right—he was at the Mahjong table.
After returning home, the Old Madam had no interest in welcoming him. Left with no better option, Chen Yan fetched a small stool and sat beside her, watching the game unfold.
But just watching wasn’t enough!
When the Old Madam stepped away for a visit to the restroom, Chen Yan had to take her place, playing a full round on her behalf!
Now, as he stared at the neatly arranged tiles before him…
One Bamboo… Five-Six-Seven Characters… Two Characters, Two Characters, Two Characters… Four-Five-Seven Dots…
Chen Yan suddenly felt a bit dazed.
Wait, hold on—why was he even here?!
Hadn’t he spent hours on the road, drowned in sorrow?
Two and a half hours on the high-speed rail, another hour on a long-distance bus, plus a three-mile trek on foot!
Before stepping through the door, he had nearly been on the verge of tears—didn’t she know that?!
Oh… this hand isn’t bad at all.
Discard the Seven Dots, wait for a Three-Six Dots draw…
Wait, what the hell was he doing?!
His emotions were in complete disarray!
Chen Yan felt as if his mind was collapsing in on itself.
Turning his head, he found the Old Madam had taken a seat beside him, casually munching on a freshly washed cucumber.
She cast him a glance, then, with a crisp snap, broke the cucumber in half and handed him a piece.
“Want some?”
“……”
By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, the eight rounds for the day had come to an end, and the old-timers at the table took their leave.
Old Madam Zhang, Lame Old Xu—gone.
The last to leave was Grandpa Niu, who ran a small shop in the village.
Before he could step out, however, the Old Madam called him back.
“Old Niu.”
“What is it?” Grandpa Niu, having lost nearly ten yuan that day, was in no mood for chit-chat. “The money’s all accounted for! I didn’t short you a single cent!”
The Old Madam smiled, her eyes twinkling with something unreadable. She examined him for a moment before sighing lightly and waving a hand.
“Forget it. I saw something in your future, thought about giving you a word of advice… but by the time it happens, you’ll have long been gone.”
“No point mentioning it. Would only bring unnecessary worry.”
Grandpa Niu froze.
Wait—was that supposed to be good news?!
But knowing the Old Madam, this was just how she talked. With a chuckle, he retorted, “Trying to spook me again, huh? I’m heading into town tomorrow to see my grandson. Let’s play again next week.”
The Old Madam merely smiled, saying nothing as she saw him off.
Now, at last, the battlefield had been reduced to a duel—one on one.
For a long moment, grandmother and grandson stared each other down, neither speaking.
Eventually, Chen Yan couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Grandma, you took Grandpa Niu’s meat money again, didn’t you? The old man’s family will be eating vegetarian for days.”
“No harm in that.” The Old Madam grinned, as kind as a kindly Bodhisattva. “His blood lipids are too high anyway. Less meat is better for him.”
Still smiling, she turned and entered the kitchen, pulling out a bowl of chilled mung bean jelly from the cupboard.
“Mung bean starch. Knew you were coming home, so I had someone send it over this afternoon. Sesame oil’s in the cabinet—help yourself.”
No! That wasn’t the point! We’re not done talking yet!
Chen Yan stared at the bowl, only to find his anger giving way to hunger, as his mouth betrayed him, watering against his will.
He forced himself to focus, steadying his breath, eyes locking onto the Old Madam.
“The Old Village Chief called me.”
“Oh? What for? He looking to sponsor a comedy show?”
Whoa! (In Guo Degang’s tone)
Old Madam, you’re something else! Looks like the online membership I got for you has been put to good use, huh?
Puffing leisurely on her cigarette, the Old Madam strolled to the main hall and shut the door. Chen Yan hurried after her.
“The Old Village Chief said you collapsed yesterday morning… and even went to the hospital?”
“Mm. That’s right. Went there, came back.” Her tone was casual, indifferent.
“What do you mean?”
“Had a checkup. The hospital didn’t find anything wrong, so I came home.” She shrugged as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Chen Yan hesitated. “Then why did you faint? Heatstroke? That can’t be right—it’s nearly winter.”
The Old Madam didn’t answer. Instead, she returned to the table, picked up her chopsticks, and took a bite of the mung bean jelly. She smacked her lips, then shot him a sidelong glance.
“Tastes pretty good. You sure you don’t want some?”
Chen Yan, feeling his patience thinning, raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.
“Grandma! Honored Ancestor! What’s going on with you?! Are you sick or not?!”
“No major issues.” The Old Madam kept eating, her expression calm. “But I suppose… calling you back was the right decision.”
Chen Yan let out a defeated sigh, rubbing his temples. “Alright, tell me.”
Setting down her chopsticks, the Old Madam smiled at him.
“Well… what if I told you I’m about to die? Would you believe me?”
Chen Yan: o_o….
Two seconds later.
“What?!”
Chen Yan leapt three feet into the air.
With a peaceful smile, the Old Madam waved a hand, as if soothing a startled cat.
“No need to jump. The situation is what it is. I’ve calculated it—only one day remains.”
Chen Yan panicked.
“Stop joking! Please, Ancestor!” He lunged forward, grabbing for her arm. “Come on! I’ll take you to the hospital! Right now!”
“Didn’t I just tell you? The hospital found nothing.” With a flick of her wrist, the Old Madam effortlessly brushed his hand aside. Leisurely, she took another drag of her cigarette.
She even added a flourish—a smooth Dragon’s Coil move, inhaling through her mouth, exhaling through her nose.
A technique like that? No way she’d been smoking for less than a decade. Anyone who hadn’t battled through at least seven or eight rounds of bronchitis couldn’t possibly master it.
Softly, the Old Madam chuckled. “No need for a hospital. I’ve done my own calculations. This is called The Final Hour Approaches.
“It’s fate. The numbers don’t lie. Your Grandmother has exactly…”
She glanced at the clock on the wall.
Hmm? The clock had stopped. Must’ve run out of batteries a while ago.
So she simply snatched Chen Yan’s phone from the table, glanced at the time, and nodded.
“…Eighteen hours and forty-three minutes left in this world.”
Wait. What?!
How did she even come up with that number?!
Chen Yan was completely dumbstruck.
The old madam had always been an enigma—muttering cryptic words, weaving tales as if she held dominion over the unseen. And she had played her tricks on Chen Yan far too many times for him to count.
So when she spoke those fateful words, predicting his lifespan with uncanny precision—down to the very minute—his first reaction wasn’t grief.
Instead, he thought—
[She can even calculate something like this? To the very minute?]
·
It wasn’t that Chen Yan had a heart of stone, but he had grown up listening to the old madam’s endless chatter. He was used to it.
After all, wasn’t she the one who once told him his mother was a white fox in human form? He still remembered that.
So when she spouted such ominous words, rather than fear, he felt reassured. This, too, was likely just another of her pranks, no different from the many before.
Like that time when he was eight—she told him that if he wanted to master the legendary Fire Cloud Divine Art, he had to eat a spoonful of stir-fried chili peppers every day.
That summer, his backside burned for two whole weeks.
Or the time he wanted to learn the Heavenly Crippled Kick after watching some martial arts show. She tricked him into stepping barefoot into a pile of cow dung.
Even now, the memory brought tears to his eyes.
Point was, he knew the old madam’s ways all too well. For the past twenty years, their lives had been a battlefield of pranks, ridiculous antics, and boundless mischief. It was just their way.
[Alright, Old Madam. You want to put on a show? Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep this act up.]
Feeling oddly unbothered, Chen Yan stood, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and resumed his battle with the bowl of cold noodles before him.
The old madam watched him eat, her face filled with a serene, almost benevolent smile.
“Oh, by the way,” she said casually. “My burial robes are ready. I’ll need to try them on later. If they don’t fit, I still have time to make adjustments. Best do it before sundown—I’ll go knock on Liu Tailor’s door.”
Chen Yan had just finished his meal when she threw out this casual remark.
“…Alright, alright.” He rolled his eyes. [You’re really committed to this act, aren’t you?]
·
That night, lying in his small bedroom, Chen Yan tossed and turned, feeling vaguely unsettled.
But then, from the next room, he heard the old madam’s thunderous snores—like rolling waves crashing against the shore, full of vitality, indomitable.
With lung power like that? With spirit like that?
Chen Yan, after spending years in the city and acquiring the frailties of modern life, had half a mind to believe she could outlive him.
Reassured, he turned over and finally drifted off to sleep.
·
The journey back home had been exhausting, so by the time he woke the next morning, it was nearly noon. He was barely dressed, hadn’t even brushed his teeth, before the old madam sent him to the village entrance to buy soy sauce.
Yawning, Chen Yan shuffled toward the village entrance—only to see a sleek black car speed past him.
A luxury ride.
Wait, not just any luxury car—this was a Maybach.
Having spent a few years at university in Jin Ling Prefecture, he wasn’t entirely ignorant of the finer things in life.
[What’s a car like that doing in a place like this? Some rich investor checking out the land?]
But just as he turned back for another look, the Maybach, after traveling ten meters ahead, suddenly screeched to a halt.
Then, in a blur, it reversed—stopping right beside him.
The window rolled down, revealing a man with a face like a hardened slab of stone, thick with muscle, his voice gruff and direct:
“You Chen Yan?”
Chen Yan paused.
One glance at the man’s face—rough, battle-worn, radiating danger.
Clearly not someone to trifle with.
He hesitated for only a second before shaking his head calmly. “No.”
The man grunted. “Then where’s Chen Yan’s house?”
Chen Yan smiled faintly and pointed in the opposite direction. “Five hundred meters that way. Cross the river, take a right.”
“Thanks.”
The Maybach revved its engine and sped off.
The moment it disappeared from view, Chen Yan turned and sprinted toward the village’s security chief’s house—the chief had two sons who were both police officers, and the courtyard had two very fierce dogs.
Unfortunately, a few seconds later, the Maybach came roaring back.
A sharp turn. A screeching stop.
Two men in black suits stepped out, each built like a fortress, each moving with unshakable purpose—straight toward him.
“Kid, you lied to us. We’ve seen your photo. You are Chen Yan.”
Chen Yan struggled, but it was no use.
[No, dammit! If you were going to catch on, at least take a little longer! Have some dignity in your stupidity!]
·
Without another word, they hoisted him into the car and sandwiched him in the backseat.
The Maybach roared back onto the road, heading away from the village.
Chen Yan sat stiffly between the two enforcers, eyes darting.
The car held four men in total—driver, front passenger, and the two muscular goons on either side of him.
Dressed in black suits, their aura was sharp, brutal. Faces thick with muscle, heads clean-shaven—
Frankly, throw them onto a movie set, and they wouldn’t even need makeup to play gangsters.
Chen Yan forced a smile.
“So, uh… gentlemen… how can I help you?”
Silence.
As the car moved further from the village, he hesitated, then spoke again, lowering his voice:
“Uh, Big Brothers, if this is about organs… My kidneys are weak, not worth much. Also, I have fatty liver. Just saying.”
Finally, the thug on his left couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Relax, kid. We’re not here for your organs.”
The man in the front passenger seat, likely the leader, turned to glance at him. “Don’t be afraid. We’re not bad people. Our boss just wants to meet you.”
Boss?
What boss?
·
The Maybach sped toward the nearby town, eventually stopping at its finest establishment—the Grand Eastern Pavilion.
A name that reeked of an owner who had more ambition than literacy.
Despite its grandiose name, the hotel only had two floors.
The car pulled into the rear lot, and Chen Yan was led inside, up to the very top floor.
At the end of the hallway, a door was pushed open.
One of the enforcers gestured inside. “Go in.”
Chen Yan rolled his eyes.
Though nervous, he reasoned—his family’s wealth wasn’t worth kidnapping him over. And curiosity now gnawed at him more than fear.
So, without further hesitation, he stepped inside.
The grand hall stretched wide, its vastness accentuated by the heavy silence. In the center, an old man, thin and frail to the point of resembling an otherworldly being, sat gracefully upon a plush sofa, his lips curved into a kind smile.
Chen Yan rubbed his eyes, his breath hitching in disbelief.
No way…
That face—so well known, its presence deeply imprinted upon the common folk’s consciousness—
Wasn’t this the one and only Boss Ma?!
The words “golden patron” almost burst forth from his lips, but at the last moment, he swallowed them back down. Chen Yan clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain composed.
This was real.
This was truly happening.
The legendary figure himself had appeared in the flesh before him!
The middle-aged man rose from his seat, a genial smile lingering upon his lips. He extended his hand.
“Mr. Chen Yan, a pleasure to meet you. I am Ma—”
“I know, I know, I know!” Chen Yan blurted out. “Boss Ma—ah, no! Chief Ma! Who wouldn’t recognize you?!”
His mind was an absolute mess.
Boss Ma, however, merely chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a deep, unreadable intent. “Come, let us sit and talk. This is my first time visiting your esteemed land. I wasn’t certain of the customs, so I had my people prepare a simple spread.”
Chen Yan glanced toward the dining table, where a selection of local delicacies was displayed. But what truly caught his eye were the two bottles of top-tier Imperial Maotian Wine at the center.
Boss Ma waved his hand with effortless grandeur. “You drink, yes? Come, let us share a toast.” Then, tilting his head slightly, he spoke to the silent figure standing by the corner of the room. “Cancel all my afternoon engagements. Tonight, I drink with Mr. Chen Yan.”
Only now did Chen Yan notice the unassuming middle-aged man standing near the sofa—a confidant, no doubt, one of Boss Ma’s most trusted retainers. At Boss Ma’s command, the man gave a simple nod, pulled out his phone, and sent a few brief messages before resuming his quiet watch.
Chen Yan was then ushered into a seat at the table.
Boss Ma poured the first drink. “How old are you, Mr. Chen Yan?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Young and full of promise! And where do you ply your trade?”
Chen Yan hesitated, then spoke hesitantly. “Well… I was originally an intern at a local branch of Ali Dominion’s subsidiary advertising firm in Jin Ling Prefecture—in the planning department.”
“Oh?” A glimmer of sharpness flashed through Boss Ma’s eyes, barely perceptible beneath the warmth of his smile. “So, you were with our Ali Dominion? A regional subsidiary’s planning division?”
There was a hint of amusement in his tone.
Chen Yan scratched his head awkwardly. “Uh… Well, not anymore…”
A flicker of disappointment crossed Boss Ma’s face. “Why not?”
“Ah, it’s nothing serious,” Chen Yan waved a hand dismissively. “Just… workplace politics, you know? Didn’t get along with my department manager. No big deal, really.”
Boss Ma uttered a long “Oh” before tilting his head slightly. “Look into the Jin Ling Prefecture subsidiary’s management structure—the branch chief, the head of their planning division.”
“Yes.” The quiet man at his side nodded and reached for his phone.
But then, Boss Ma suddenly waved his hand. “Forget it. No need to check.”
Before Chen Yan could make sense of it, Boss Ma spoke again, his voice light as a whisper carried by the wind.
“Dismiss them.”
Dismiss… them…
All of them.
Chen Yan’s mind finally caught up, and he felt his soul nearly leave his body.
An absurd, preposterous thought flitted across his mind.
Wait a moment—
Wait just one moment—
Hadn’t his grandmother always claimed he was adopted?
Could it be that Boss Ma…
Was actually…
His long-lost father?!
…
No.
No way!
Chen Yan immediately dismissed the ridiculous notion. With his own looks—his height, his face—compared to Boss Ma’s extraterrestrial-like countenance and small stature… there was no possible way they were related!
He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Boss Ma,” he said, his voice even, “forgive me, but… I have no idea why you’ve had me brought here.”
He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m just a nobody. I didn’t even brush my teeth this morning—my grandmother sent me out to run errands, and the next thing I know, here I am. So, forgive me, but… I’m a little confused.”
Boss Ma’s eyes narrowed slightly. He picked up his chopsticks, lifting a sliver of chilled cucumber salad to his lips, chewing slowly.
Then, as if offhandedly, he asked:
“Is your grandmother well?”
“…Huh?”
Chen Yan felt an invisible gust of wind sweep through his mind.
He knew his grandmother?
“You…” Chen Yan’s voice was careful. “You’re acquainted with my—ah, my grandmother?”
“I am.”
Boss Ma’s response was calm, yet firm.
And then, with an air of quiet reverence, he spoke words that sent shivers down Chen Yan’s spine:
“Many years ago… your grandmother helped me once.”
Chen Yan sat frozen.
Helped him?
His grandmother—the mystic shaman, the oracle of their village, who spent her days muttering incantations and burning talismans—
Had helped the great Boss Ma?!
Helped him with what, exactly?
A séance? A soul-summoning ritual? Had she healed him with a talisman-infused brew?
Boss Ma’s gaze grew distant, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “I once faced a trial beyond my strength. Someone introduced me to your grandmother, and she performed a reading for me. That reading… changed everything.”
He paused, then added quietly, “It changed my entire fate.”
Chen Yan’s eyes flickered.
Wait.
Wait, wait, wait.
Was he dreaming?
Or had his grandmother’s shamanic business expanded all the way to the Forbes Billionaire List?!
What kind of world was this?
Had he woken up wrong today?
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation