Chapter 20: The Definition of Good and Evil Is Woefully Inadequate

Two hundred thousand or a million—what would you choose?

After asking this, Sun Tianyu’s voice faded away. He stood rooted to the spot, breathing heavily. Grandfather didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at Sun Tianyu and said with a hint of surprise, “Oh? I don’t recall taking on your case. Didn’t I introduce you to Jiang Huai? You’re not my client, so why are you talking business with me?”

Waving me over, Grandfather beckoned, “Come here, Jiang Huai. He’s your client now. Settle it yourself and let me get some sleep.” With a sigh, he shuffled toward his room, pounding his lower back with a fist. Halfway there, he suddenly turned and shot me a look of utter disdain. “Jiang Huai, have you let all your skills go to waste? Can’t you even recognize when something unclean enters the house?”

Something unclean in the house?

At his words, my first instinct was to look at Sun Tianyu. Outwardly, nothing seemed amiss, but as our eyes met, a faint, fleeting wisp of black mist flashed across his left eye.

It was a kind of hex, a common trick in Wild Maoshan sorcery used to afflict the living—infusing a person’s body with the chill of yin energy when they least expect it. Depending on its strength, the effects could range from sudden death to chronic illness, or simply a streak of terrible misfortune.

The quantity placed on Sun Tianyu wasn’t fatal, but it would make him extraordinarily unlucky for a while.

Noticing my unsettled gaze, Sun Tianyu subconsciously took a step back, but as he was about to speak, his foot slipped. He toppled to the floor, his head striking the corner of a chair and gashing open a deep wound.

“Damn, Sun! What are you doing? Don’t kill yourself before we figure this out.”

I rushed over to help, then took him straight to the hospital. He ended up with twelve stitches in his scalp, a shaved head, and a protective mesh cap.

He had no choice but to recuperate at home. After we arrived at his place, I looked around but found nothing out of the ordinary.

“Sun, you shouldn’t go anywhere until this is resolved.” I sat at his bedside, legs crossed. “Someone has cursed you. To put it simply, you’re going to be very unlucky for a while—unlucky enough that you might get blamed for killing Chen Qingling and desecrating Zhang Shancai’s daughter’s body.”

Sun Tianyu grew agitated at this, about to protest, but I shook my head. “Don’t get worked up yet—I’m not done. I can break the curse, but if I do it now, we might never find the true culprit. I need to use the curse as a trail.”

Sun Tianyu was a staunch skeptic, but after all he’d been through lately, he had little choice but to believe me.

“I’ll take the bad luck if it means catching the real killer!” He gritted his teeth. “But didn’t you say your grandfather took Zhang Shancai’s case?”

I grinned and pointed at myself. “That’s my grandfather’s business. Right now, I’m the one handling your case—don’t worry about him.”

I knew Grandfather well: he might agree to help, but unless he’d actually taken money, it wasn’t binding. Accepting the case was just a gesture to Zhang Shancai, a way of signaling where he stood, even if he didn’t fully understand the situation himself. Zhang Shancai only cared about Grandfather’s attitude, not what he actually did.

Regardless, Zhang Shancai’s own experts would surely do everything possible to make Sun Tianyu the scapegoat. It was his own fault for meddling and dragging everything into the open.

As for why the curse was so mild, the first reason was simply to make Sun Tianyu unlucky. The second was likely to test my grandfather—see if he really had the skill, and if he was truly on Zhang Shancai’s side. Breaking the curse would do us no favors.

“Jiang… Jiang Huai? But why would Zhang Shancai do this? He’s a great philanthropist—Qingling was so grateful to him, even worshiped him, saw him as her own father. Why would he do this to her?”

I shot Sun Tianyu a skeptical look. “That was just Chen Qingling’s opinion. To Zhang Shancai, no one matters more than his own daughter.”

At first, I’d wondered if Grandfather and I were simply being prejudiced, assuming Zhang Shancai was clueless about his daughter’s stolen corpse. But now, I realized I’d been naïve.

He truly was a philanthropist in the public eye, and he really had helped many people. But no amount of good deeds could wipe away his sins. What’s more, every act of charity he performed had its own hidden agenda, all laying the groundwork for his future crimes.

With good deeds like that, can they really be called good?

Sun Tianyu stared at me, his face ashen. “So… what do we do now?”

A good question.

I smiled slightly and shook my head. “Nothing at all. Just rest. You have a guest room, right? I’m going to take a nap—I’m exhausted.”

“Yes, yes, there are two spare rooms, both clean. This was supposed to be mine and Chen Qingling’s wedding home…”

Seeing Sun Tianyu’s crestfallen expression, I didn’t know what to say. I just scratched my head. “All right then, I’ll sleep for a bit. Don’t worry, I won’t make a mess. If anything seems off, just call me.”

Of course, before sleeping, I had to shower—I wasn’t about to take the stench of coffin tar to bed. After washing up, I couldn’t find a hair dryer, so I got dressed and went to ask Sun Tianyu where it was.

I knocked for ages, but no one answered. I’d showered quickly; he couldn’t possibly have fallen asleep so soon.

I pushed the door open—and my heart nearly stopped.

The window was shattered for reasons unknown. A jagged shard of glass was embedded deep in Sun Tianyu’s abdomen, blood soaking the bed.

“Shit!”