Chapter 13: Sneak Attack
After resolving the bronze statue matter, Jiang Ce rarely got a chance to take a day off.
He thought his salary would be affected, but unexpectedly Chen Mian mysteriously indicated to him that this was paid leave, and Jiang Ce instantly understood the implication.
Paid leave was a benefit only full-time employees got.
“Uncle Chen, are you so eager to retire?” Jiang Ce was somewhat surprised.
Chen Mian seemed quite looking forward to life after retirement: “Tending to flowers and walking birds every day, living leisurely isn’t bad at all, but I’m not in a hurry to retire. Wait until Human Resources processes your file today, gets your full-time status settled first, then I’ll train you for a while longer, and only retire after confirming there’s no problem.”
Learning this, Jiang Ce immediately felt relieved; he understood Chen Mian’s unspoken meaning too. Just confirming a successor wouldn’t easily put them at ease; Chen Mian at least had to pass on his closely guarded skills to the successor before he could retire smoothly.
This meant that in a while, Jiang Ce would be able to learn some spiritual communication and evil-exorcising methods.
The only thing that felt a bit odd to Jiang Ce was learning Taoist sorcery moves with Buddhist cultivation methods—it always felt somewhat disrespectful to the ancestors.
Not only that, there was also a trend toward developing into Frankenstein’s Monster.
But as the saying goes, skills don’t weigh you down; learning a few more trades isn’t a bad thing, so Jiang Ce wasn’t opposed.
On the contrary, he was eager to see, if one day he reunited with his master, or met the monk who left behind Great Shamatha again, what expressions they would have seeing his Frankenstein’s Monster self.
But while some rejoiced, others worried; Jiang Ce happily took the bronze statue home, while Fang Yihang, with two big bumps on his head, was sullen and unhappy.
He found an opportune moment with no one around and went alone to the deputy director’s office at the funeral home.
“Uncle, you’re really just going to let Chen Mian make that Jiang Ce the successor?”
The deputy director was named Zhang Yuan, and he rarely interacted with Fang Yihang usually, so few people at the funeral home knew he was actually Fang Yihang’s biological uncle.
At this moment, Zhang Yuan also looked annoyed; seeing Fang Yihang come to complain made him even more impatient: “You have the nerve to come to me? Civil servant exams—couldn’t pass them; finding a job yourself—no progress; your mom still thinks you have no issues at all, that it’s the government agencies and public institutions that have problems.
I’m just a deputy director—what the hell am I? Do you really think in this day and age I can just casually stuff someone in?
Never mind that; I went to great trouble to place you under Chen Mian, making you compete with someone with no background, no education, no qualifications—practically chewing the food and feeding it to you—and you still couldn’t win. What more can I do?”
Fang Yihang was unconvinced and retorted: “Who knew he’d have such good luck, not only clumsily clearing his injustice but also winning Chen Mian’s favor. If you ask me, Uncle, you should’ve told Chen Mian early on that I’m your nephew—no need for all this trouble.”
“Hmph, you know shit!”
Zhang Yuan sneered:
“Chen Mian has more seniority than me. If not for his self-righteous aloofness and dislike of worldly relationships, you think there’s a spot for me as deputy director? Even I have to call him Big Brother when I see him—yet you casually call him Chen Mian?
I’ve told you so many times: become Chen Mian’s successor, and everyone else at the funeral home will look up to you. Why? He has capability, ability, merit. Learn the superficial knowledge, work hard, and I’ll subtly promote you bit by bit. When I retire, this position is yours too. Work harder, and director isn’t impossible.
If I told others you’re my nephew, you think your path would be smoother? That’s the old days! Now, if you had ability it’d be fine, but with you like this, to avoid suspicion, I’d have to give opportunities that should be yours to others instead. Otherwise, not just you— I’d leave a handle for others too. How do you not understand these things?”
“Then what to do?” Though still not fully understanding, Fang Yihang softened.
“What to do? What can be done? You’re my own nephew; if I don’t help you, your mom will kill me!”
Zhang Yuan rubbed his temples with a headache: “Get your ass home and stay put. Don’t come to work these few days—find a reason for leave. I’ll clean up your mess.”
Hearing this, Fang Yihang was instantly overjoyed; after thanking Zhang Yuan, he left the office.
Zhang Yuan leaned back in his boss chair and sighed: “What karma have I created…”
After hesitating a moment, he took out his mobile phone and dialed a number.
“Second Uncle, that matter you helped with last time didn’t work out.”
Two hours later, in a certain mountain villa’s small courtyard.
In the gazebo, Zhang Yuan poured a cup of tea for the short, skinny old man opposite him.
That short, skinny old man had a full head of white hair, but delicate skin, ruddy complexion, not a single wrinkle on his face. Though called Second Uncle by Zhang Yuan, he actually looked much younger than the over-fifty Zhang Yuan.
“How? Didn’t work? Shouldn’t be—I cast enough sorcery to make that kid down on his luck for a year, and it’s only been days?”
The short, skinny old man lightly stroked his beard, frowning slightly, seemingly very puzzled.
Zhang Yuan gave a wry smile and recounted how Fang Yihang’s position had been taken; after finishing, he sincerely added: “Second Uncle, you know my sister’s temper—she protects her son like treasure, and she’s petty too. If I can’t settle this, we’ll be at each other’s throats for years. I’m fine with that, but Dad doesn’t have many years left; if he sees the family in chaos before dying, what would that look like?”
The short, skinny old man was silent for a moment: “Those words can fool my brother, fool your sister, fool your nephew, but not me. Last time I was already suspicious—why ask me to deal with a young man? Be honest: what’s your real scheme? If you don’t tell me straight, I’m dropping this.”
Zhang Yuan’s smile froze; he picked up the teacup in front of him and drained it in one go, then shook his head:
“I’ve never been able to hide bad things from you since I was little, so I’ll tell the truth. That Chen Mian I just mentioned isn’t as good as you, Second Uncle, but he does have some stuff. As an ordinary person, relying on what his predecessor left behind, he’s kept the funeral home safe for thirty years. His status is so high that in some old folks’ hearts, it’s even above the director’s. If Fang Yihang becomes his successor, he’ll be a big boost for me. The director is retiring soon—this is my rare chance.”
“Why not say so earlier?” The short, skinny old man laughed heartily: “From childhood to now, when have I not helped you with troubles, nephew? You guarding against even me? No next time!”
Zhang Yuan felt relieved: “I was narrow-minded, nearly damaging our uncle-nephew relationship. No next time.”
“But that Chen Mian you mentioned interests me. Here’s the deal: I’ll make a move to cripple that kid, but afterward, you have Fang Yihang recount to me everything Chen Mian teaches him. I’m very curious what exactly lets an ordinary person protect the funeral home for thirty years.”
The short, skinny old man smiled meaningfully:
“Funeral home charity coffin repository, a place for the dead—since ancient times, it hasn’t had much to do with peace.”
