One person: Go talk to my Rumble-Rumble Fruit!

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Wang Ye spat out a mouthful of bloody sour water, staggered to his feet, his voice hoarse yet carrying an undeniable air of authority:

"Alright, stop howling... It's my treat tonight, hot pot with lamb."

The three of them looked up abruptly, their eyes filled with tears and blood, their expressions one of utter astonishment.

Lin Shen stretched and said, "I'm not going. I have to go home."

Lin Shen's lips curled into a slight smile as he said, "I'm going home to be with my wife."

........

Half an hour later, four disheveled figures squeezed into a time-honored hot pot restaurant deep in Houhai Hutong.

The greasy lanterns cast a dim yellow glow, the copper pot crackled with charcoal fire, the boiling bone broth steamed with white mist, and slices of mutton were spread like red silk on a celadon plate.

Wang Ye changed into a clean Taoist robe, leaned back in a carved wooden chair, and unconsciously tapped the table with his fingertips; the three people opposite him looked like three quails caught in the rain.

Zhuge Guan removed his cracked Tang Monk mask, revealing a comical bandage on his nose; Zhuge Sheng's bandages were visible beneath his charred black clothes; Zhuge Meng applied an ice pack to his swollen face, his chopsticks trembling so much he couldn't hold a slice of meat.

Wang Ye suddenly spoke up, picking up a piece of lamb brain with his chopsticks and throwing it into the boiling soup, "If you keep acting like that, I'll make the three of you drink the bottom of the pot."

Zhuge Sheng, his face flushed, tried to retort, but the chili peppers made him cough violently. Zhuge Meng muttered under her breath, "A violent Taoist priest... he invites you to dinner and then threatens you..."

Only Zhuge Guan buried his head in frantically digging at the sesame paste, mumbling, "Master Wang, thank...thank you..."

The atmosphere at the dinner table was subtly tense, like a taut string.

Amidst the rising steam from the copper pot, Zhuge Sheng stole a glance at Wang Ye's lower abdomen—a place once severely injured by the scarred man who was Zhou Sheng in disguise, now only showing the smooth folds of his Taoist robe. He gripped his chopsticks tightly, resentment and defeat surging in his eyes.

Just as Zhuge Meng was trying to use her swollen face to prop up the frozen tofu, Wang Ye's cell phone suddenly rang.

The screen lights up—"Zhuge Fox".

Wang Ye's brow twitched.

The moment the call connected, a clear, cheerful voice pierced through the noisy crowd:

"Hey, Lao Wang—" The background voice on the other end of the phone was a mechanical female voice from an airport announcement, "Capital City Terminal 3, does this sound familiar?"

Wang Ye subconsciously glanced at the three people opposite him.

The mutton in Ge Sheng's hand fell into the spicy soup with a "plop," Zhuge Guan choked and his face was covered in sauce, and Zhuge Meng's eyes widened - the phone was leaking sound badly, and they were all too familiar with that voice!

"Zhuge Qing?"

Wang Ye got up and walked to the window. Outside, the neon lights of Houhai Lake shattered into colorful patterns on the water. "Your timing is spot on."

"How could that be?" Zhuge Qing chuckled, the rustling sound of the airflow through the microphone like a fox flicking its tail. "My three dimwits... are they with you now? Is Guanzai's Tang Monk mask cracked yet? Did Shengzi bury himself in the dirt cart again? Mengya must have been yelling 'I'll electrocute you' but got slapped instead, right?"

The three people at the dinner table looked ashen-faced.

Zhuge Guan covered his nose and sobbed, while Zhuge Sheng slammed his fist on the table, making the copper pot shake.

Wang Ye tapped his fingertips on the window frame, his tone unreadable: "Hmm, it's quite lively. They're having them replenish their blood right now."

"I knew it!"

Zhuge Qing's laughter suddenly turned cold, carrying a sharp insight that seemed to know everything. "The three of them tied together wouldn't even be enough to fill your teeth... But Old Wang, go easy on them. If you cripple the Wuhou Sect, they won't be able to gather enough people for their year-end team building."

Suddenly, he abruptly changed the subject: "Oh, by the way, my flight just landed—come pick me up."

Wang Ye's pupils shrank sharply: "What are you doing in Beijing?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by the rustling of fabric, as if someone was lazily leaning against a pillar.

When he spoke again, Zhuge Qing's voice was as warm and gentle as moonlight, yet it concealed the hidden reefs of the deep sea:

"Catching up...looking for my 'old friend'."

He emphasized the words "old friend" with a meaningful tone.

The call ended, the busy tone amplifying infinitely in the silence. Wang Ye turned around, meeting six pairs of terrified gazes.

"Qing...Aqing is here?!" Zhuge Meng slammed the ice pack in her hand into the condiment bowl with a "thud".

Zhuge Sheng suddenly stood up: "He knew we would lose?! Then why did he let us embarrass ourselves here?!"

Wang Ye sat back in the main seat and slowly scooped up the overcooked duck blood: "Otherwise what? Do you expect the three of you to force me to use the Excavated River Chariot?"

He glanced at the three of them, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Your fox is quite cunning—you are the bait, I am the weight, and him…” He lightly touched the ripples on the soup with the tip of his chopsticks, “is the one holding the scale.”

As the charcoal fire weakened, cold fat rose to the surface of the copper pot.

Zhuge Guan suddenly buried his head and ate the last pieces of meat from his bowl, saying in a deep voice, "Master Wang, take us to pick up Brother Qing...we'll carry the luggage!"

Wang Ye scoffed: "Carrying luggage? You look like terracotta warriors just unearthed!"

But he didn't refuse.

He looked out the window, where the neon lights reflected in his eyes, shattering into a galaxy.

Zhuge Qing's words "reminiscing about the past" were like a thorn in his side—in Beijing, who were the "old friends" worth traveling thousands of miles to?

It was nearly midnight when Wang Ye left the shop. He tossed down some money, his figure disappearing into the dark alleyway, leaving behind only the words:

"Twenty minutes from now, T3 departure level. Anyone late—" He turned around, the moonlight illuminating half of his sinister smile, "I'll have Zhuge Qing personally 'relieve blood stasis' for you."

The three of them scrambled to their feet and chased after the shop.

Inside the copper pot, the semi-solidified chili oil swayed gently, reflecting the peeling vermilion paint on the ceiling.

On the other side of the city, the steel behemoth of the airport spews forth shimmering lights, while an undercurrent carrying old grudges and new beginnings quietly unfolds amidst the smoky aroma of hot pot.

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Chapter 117 I need your help with something

Departure level, Terminal 3, Beijing Capital International Airport.

The airport was not asleep at midnight; it was still bustling with tired and hurried crowds.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the runway indicator lights stretched into the darkness, and occasionally a flight taking off or landing would cut through the night sky, the roar of the engine filtered into a muffled low sound by the thick glass.

Wang Ye leaned against a smooth, cold pillar, casually wearing a dark gray windbreaker over his Taoist robe, the zipper pulled up to his chin. His hands were in his pockets, and a lingering weariness was evident in his eyes. The dull pain in his abdomen from Zhou Sheng's heavy blow still reminded him of the nightmarish experience in the factory ruins.

Zhuge Guan, Zhuge Sheng, and Zhuge Meng, on the other hand, looked like quails that had just been hit by frost. Their faces were bruised and swollen, and they were wrapped in bandages. They slunk a few steps behind him with their heads down, their eyes darting around, as if they wanted to squeeze themselves into the cracks between the floor tiles.

The crisp sound of the elevator arriving rang out. The VIP passage gate, not far away, slowly opened.

A figure, like a protagonist stepping out from under a spotlight, instantly captured everyone's attention.

He wore a perfectly tailored smoky gray cashmere coat over a light beige turtleneck sweater, which accentuated his long neck and fair complexion.

Her smooth, bluish-gray hair gleamed with a cool sheen under the bright airport lights, with a few stray strands falling casually across her smooth forehead.

He pushed a low-key yet luxurious black carry-on suitcase with a relaxed gait, a faint smile playing on his lips. His signature fox-like eyes were slightly curved, and his gaze, as he moved, carried an all-knowing understanding and a hint of... undisguised mockery.

His gaze precisely swept across the crowd, landing on Wang Ye and the three "wounded" men behind him.

A clear, melodious voice, tinged with laughter, like jade beads falling onto a plate, pierced through the background noise of the airport. "Old Wang, thank you for your hard work. It's so late at night, and you still have the trouble to personally pick me up."

He walked closer, his gaze sweeping over Wang Ye's slightly pale face. A fleeting, almost imperceptible hint of inquiry flashed in the depths of his eyes, before his smile deepened. "You don't look too well, do you? Didn't get enough rest because of the antics of my good-for-nothings?"

Wang Ye twitched the corner of his mouth, ignoring the remark, and simply gestured with his chin: "It's good that you're here."

Zhuge Qing's gaze then slowly shifted to the trio behind Wang Ye.

“Guanzi,” his gaze fell on Zhuge Guan’s slightly bluish nose, which was covered with gauze, and his tone was as gentle as a greeting, “Your mask… has gone for realism? The curve of the nose is quite realistic.”

Zhuge Guan's face instantly turned bright red. He instinctively wanted to cover his nose, but then felt too cowardly, so he could only stiffen his neck and mumble, "Qing... Brother Qing..."

“Shengzi,” Zhuge Qing’s gaze shifted to Zhuge Sheng, whose charred clothes and bandages on his exposed skin were strikingly obvious, “You… just came back from experiencing life in the coal mine? Or…”

He tilted his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The newly developed 'Scorched Earth Defense Technique' is incredibly effective; it even burns yourself?"

Zhuge Sheng's face was a mixture of black and red, partly from burns and partly from shame. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and after a long pause, he managed to squeeze out only two words: "...lost."

Finally, Zhuge Qing's gaze fell on Zhuge Meng, whose face was swollen on one side like a big walnut and whose lip was chapped.

“Auntie,” he sighed, his tone carrying the helplessness of an elder, “I’ve told you so many times, ‘Ionization’ sounds impressive, but if you don’t use it properly, it can easily backfire. Look at your swollen face… Next time, try ‘static adsorption’? At least it’s safer.”

He reached out, his fingertips seemingly wanting to touch Zhuge Meng's swollen cheek, but in the end he only gently brushed her disheveled temples.

Zhuge Meng's eyes reddened, and she almost burst into tears, her voice trembling with grievance: "Ah Qing... he... he hit me so hard..."

Zhuge Meng is the youngest, but she is of a higher generation, so Zhuge Qing calls her "Little Aunt".

"Ok, I know,"

Zhuge Qing withdrew his hand, the smile on his face fading slightly. He turned his gaze to Wang Ye, his tone still relaxed, but the temperature in his eyes dropped a bit. "Master Wang's actions... are as measured as ever."

Wang Ye met his gaze expressionlessly: "Likewise, your child is quite lively too."

The air was thick with an invisible tension, and the three members of the Zhuge family huddled even tighter, barely daring to breathe.

Wang Ye seemed too lazy to continue the superficial pleasantries. He straightened up, looked at Zhuge Sheng and the other two, and his tone was unusually serious and earnest, even carrying a hint of a subtle request:

"I'd like to ask you three for a favor."

All three of them were taken aback, even Zhuge Qing raised an eyebrow.

“During this period, my parents and my brother have been targeted by some clueless guys in the industry.”

Wang Ye's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears, "They are all ordinary people, with little ability to protect themselves. I... am a bit tied up here."

He subconsciously pressed his lower abdomen, where the excruciating pain from Zhou Sheng's hand chop was still fresh in his memory, and even deeper, he felt a deep-seated fear of the mysterious scarred man and the shadow of the broken Feng Hou Qi Men technique.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three of them: "So, I hope the three of you... can help me protect my family. You don't need to risk your lives, just... keep an eye on them and don't let any shady stuff get close. Just consider it... a favor to me."

This was almost the first time Wang Ye had spoken to them in such a pleading tone.

Zhuge Guan and Zhuge Meng were both stunned and at a loss for what to do.

Zhuge Sheng suddenly raised his head, his face instantly replaced by a strong, almost flattered, sense of being needed!

Wang Ye! That unfathomable successor of Feng Hou Qi Men, who beat the three of them to a pulp, actually asked them for help!

Protect his family!

This is simply...

"Obligated!"