# 132
Chapter 132 – Happy New Year
The snow was falling lighter and lighter.
The sky was growing darker and darker.
On the roof of a low building beside the house, Lin Qiye sat motionless like a stone statue, two black cases at his side.
The city stretched to the horizon like a level sea, farther and darker. Where earth met sky, the slanting after-glow gilded the uneven roofs.
The dying light struck Lin Qiye full in the face, stretching his shadow long and thin…
Deep eyes held a faint reflection of sunlight as he watched the busy household in the distance; the corner of his mouth carried a slight smile. A breeze stirred the boy’s black hair, and the air seemed fragrant with cooking.
After who knew how long, a man walked slowly up behind him, gazed at that same house, and finally asked:
“Any regrets?”
Against the sunset, Lin Qiye shook his head. “None.”
“You won’t be able to come back for a long while. The more often you return, the more people will notice this place.” Leng Xuan sat down beside him.
“I know.”
“Actually, even if you hadn’t come today, nothing would have happened to them.”
Lin Qiye turned, puzzled.
“You think the captain’s promise to protect your family was just talk?” Leng Xuan’s mouth curved. He pointed at the distant low house.
“The day the captain and the vice-captain brought the paperwork, they stuck a relic called 【Weiyang】 on your door. It looks like a transparent slip of paper that opens a tiny Forbidden Ruin.
If anyone with ill intent tries to break through 【Weiyang】’s range, it triggers and teleports every tagged living thing inside to another marker—under the Peace Agency—keeping them safe.”
Lin Qiye started; Chen Muye had never mentioned 【Weiyang】, nor that his aunt and Yang Jin were already under its protection.
“【Weiyang】…” he murmured.
“Like the 【Wujie Empty Realm】, it’s one of the few man-made Forbidden Ruins Night Watch possesses, and it isn’t cheap. Even inside Night Watch, few can afford it.” Leng Xuan’s voice softened.
“But every family of us in Team 136 has one.”
Lin Qiye asked blankly, “Why?”
Leng Xuan gave him a meaningful look. “Why do you think the captain’s always broke?”
Lin Qiye’s heart jolted; understanding dawned as he stared into the distance.
Leng Xuan patted his shoulder, slung his gun-case, and started down the stairs. His words drifted back on the wind:
“Come on. You’ll miss this family’s New-Year feast, but the other one… will always welcome you.”
Lin Qiye gazed once more toward home: his aunt carrying steaming dishes to the small wooden table, Yang Jin seated beside her, smiling.
After a moment he gave a wry chuckle, rose, and headed for the stairwell.
Just then a small, scruffy black dog came panting up, nuzzling his ankle.
“Little Black Scruff?” Delighted, Lin Qiye crouched to stroke its head.
The dog licked his hand and gave a satisfied burp.
“What did you eat—getting hiccups?” He laughed.
He carried the dog to the foot of the low building, set it on the steps, and whispered,
“I have to go. Hurry home—you’re in for a feast tonight…”
He rubbed the dog’s belly, straightened, lifted the two black cases, cast one last look at the closed door, and walked into the darkening sky.
His footprints cut a straight line through the white snow, stretching far away…
…
Ding-dong—!
Welcome!
The moment Lin Qiye opened the agency door, rich cooking smells rolled over him—oil and ingredients hissing in rhythm as the pan shook.
There is no sound more comforting in the world.
Hongying sat at the table, eyes fixed on the stewed goose, swallowing hard while stealthy fingers crept toward a drumstick—
Smack!
Wu Xiangnan’s chopsticks clamped her hand. “We wait for everyone.”
“I’ll… just one bite, one!” She held up a single pleading finger.
“No.”
Deflated, Hongying laid down her chopsticks and drooped like a fish drained of dreams.
Then she caught sight of Lin Qiye. “Qiye! You okay?”
“I’m fine.” He shook his head. “Did we catch the archer?”
Hongying pulled a face. “No. He was too fast, and I daren’t use a Forbidden Ruin in broad daylight—he got away…”
Lin Qiye nodded thoughtfully. “He meant no harm, but his identity…”
Few knew his home’s location, let alone that the Crazy Scorpion squad was lying in wait. If not Night Watch, who had such reach?
“Captain still cooking?” Wen Qimo came up from the basement, rubbing an empty stomach.
“Almost two hours—Xiaonan helping. Who knows how many dishes he’s making? I’m starving~” Hongying wailed.
A few minutes later the kitchen quieted. Chen Muye emerged carrying a huge fish-soup tureen; Si Xiaonan followed, arms full of bowls and chopsticks.
Everyone took their places: one long table, eight chairs, sixteen fragrant dishes.
Chen Muye, Wu Xiangnan, Hongying, Wen Qimo, Lin Qiye, Si Xiaonan, Leng Xuan… and one empty seat that should have held a man named Zhao Kongcheng.
Chen Muye lifted his beer; amber liquid caught the light. His gaze swept the table.
“This year, we lost old friends and welcomed new ones; much has happened…
Yet once again we guarded this city—an entire year.
As captain of Team 136, as a Night Watchman, I thank you on behalf of every soul in Cangnan City.”
He straightened and bowed deeply, then raised his head, eyes earnest:
“May the same faces sit here next year… every one of us.
Happy New Year, everyone.”
They rose, glasses high, clinked with bright chimes; liquor sloshed like golden wheat rolling together.
“Happy New Year!!”
…
Whoosh—!
Pop—!!
Firecrackers crackled in the distance; brilliant blossoms rose from every corner of the city, blooming against the black sky, swaying and fading in the wind.
“Brother Zhu, looks like it’s just us three this year.”
Baili Pangpang handed Shen Qingzhu a can of beer. Shen Qingzhu stared at the dazzling sky before coming back to himself.
“No drinking on duty.”
“Come on—half-monk Cao Yuan’s already drinking. What’s a working stiff like you fussing about?” Baili Pangpang grinned, pointing at the ceiling. “Besides, my bodyguard squad’s upstairs; even if you pass out, no one in Cangnan City can touch me.”
“But—”
“Boss’s orders!”
“…Fine.”
Shen Qingzhu pulled the tab—psssh. Cao Yuan stepped forward with his own beer…
In the cramped, musty love-hotel, the three youths sat by the window, watching the sky of fire as their cans touched.
“Happy New Year!”
…
In a dim underground cavern.
An Qingyu, black cloak draped around him, sat quietly on a stone platform. The chessboard was gone; in its place, a half-drunk bottle of Sprite.
Hazy moonlight filtered through the overhead grate, lighting part of the hollow; distant fireworks echoed in the emptiness.
He gazed at that sliver of moon for a long time, then slowly raised the Sprite.
“Happy New Year,” he murmured.