Beginning with the Ubume Bird-Chapter 158 - 7 The Boy from the Past

Chapter 158 -7 The Boy from the Past

“Senior brother, I have two things to discuss with you,” Lei Jing said through the rearview mirror to Li Yan.

She was barely in her twenties, yet her demeanor and conversation revealed the sophistication of someone who was about forty.

“Ah, go ahead,” Li Yan rubbed his eyes.

“Secretary Zhou of the association wants to organize a welcome party for you at the White Swan Pavilion. Besides colleagues from the martial arts community, he has also invited many celebrities from the political and business sectors, um, Chairman Chang will also come.”

“Chairman Chang?” Li Yan thought for a while before realizing, “Oh! Chairman Chang.”

He wasn’t concerned: “What else?”

“Additionally, the patriarch of Hongsheng Ancestral Hall, Guan Yantao, is critically ill.”

The sound of the car wheels skidding was sharp and piercing.

The driver with the buzz cut worked the steering wheel hard, and the black Bentley sharply turned, blending into the rolling traffic on the elevated road.

“Guan Yantao, heh, hasn’t died yet?” A rare coldness appeared on Li Yan’s face, but the words ‘critically ill’ took a turn around his heart, leaving him unexpectedly with a sour feeling.

Lights from countless cars streamed outside the window.

Li Yan lowered his voice, “Which hospital?”

Guangdong, White Swan Pavilion.

Luxurious carpets and dazzling chandeliers, black porcelain bowls and chopsticks laid on white tablecloths, with bunches of fresh flowers in the center. Over forty tables were filled with people, buzzing with excitement.

“The head of Foshan White Crane Pavilion, Zheng Kuishan, has had a recurrence of an old injury and claimed illness as an excuse not to come. Liu Sanyan from Liancheng Yucain Sports School suddenly developed an eye disease and, I heard, was rushed to the hospital. Master Bai Huan from Qinzhou Hongsheng Pavilion suffered from acclimatization and returned to Guangxi yesterday.”

The speaker had a round face, a broad nose, and a big mouth, which made him look very affable when he smiled.

Secretary Zhou’s hair was jet black. His skin was fair, and he showed no signs of being fifty years old.

“I find it odd too. Why is it that with such a long distance to travel, someone’s sneezes here and almost half of the guests end up falling ill?”

The atmosphere was heavy, and to the right of Secretary Zhou sat a man who appeared to be in his thirties, with a sallow complexion and thick fingers.

He scanned the room and blew on his tea cup before he said, “Secretary Zhou, you can relax.”

This was the head of Hongsheng Ancestral Hall, the sixth-generation descendant of Choy Li Fut, and the vice chairman of the Guangzhou Choy Li Fut Boxing Association, Liang Fu.

“Those who didn’t come, whether they’re truly ill or have intentionally fled from battle, we don’t need to be concerned. Those who are here won’t agree to some outsiders bossing us around. No matter how haughty Mr. Li and his son have been, for ten years Guangdong hasn’t acknowledged Li’s Martial Arts School. Miss Lei asking outsiders for help, that breaks the rules.”

“Right!”

“Indeed!”

His candid remarks sparked enthusiasm among many. Applause and agreement erupted from a few tables nearby.

With a theatrical sigh, Secretary Zhou said, “I’d like to be at ease too, but a certain Zhang Mingyuan, coming out of nowhere, has already left me humiliated several times, and now… ah.”

Liang Fu interjected, “That meddlesome kid is only sixteen this year, and it wouldn’t be right for us to take action, so we’ve sent the younger generation. However, Li Yan is different.”

Secretary Zhou remained silent, but inwardly he sneered nonstop.

“To actually count on this bunch of thoroughly rotten dead wood to pull that devilish girl from the chairman’s seat is nothing but a pipe dream.”

As he thought this, he stole a glance at Chairman Chang, who was chatting and laughing not far away.

“Li Chenglin’s lifelong wish was merely to put down roots in Guangdong’s world of martial arts. Lei Jing, what you can give, Zhou Lita can give too, but what you can’t give, I can still provide.”

“He’s here.”

Liang Fu rose from his chair. A large crowd in the hall surged towards the entrance. Lei Jing entered through the door, her face breaking into a dimpled smile.

“Long time no see, Commissioner Chang.”

With his temples graying but still ruddy and cheerful, Commissioner Chang smiled, “I never expected Mr. Hong’s daughter to have grown up so much, no need to stand on ceremony, just call me Uncle Chang.”

“Uncle Chang.”

Though well aware that the visitors harbored ill intentions, Lei still acted flattered, her cheeks blushing convincingly.

Secretary Zhou, Liang Fu, and the others came over, each with a complex expression.

“Ah, Chairman Liang, Uncle Zhou.”

Lei Jing fluttered her eyelashes, reclaiming the youthful beauty and vivacity of a twenty-year-old woman in front of these seasoned elders.

Secretary Zhou’s voice was amiable, “Ah Lei, wasn’t it said that the head of Li’s Martial Arts School had returned? Where is he? Commissioner Chang also wishes to meet him.”

Lei Jing looked down with a hint of distress.

“My senior brother went straight to the hospital after getting off the plane to visit the elder of Hongsheng Ancestral Hall.”

Liang Fu’s face showed a flash of anger, “What face does he have to see my master?”

No sooner had he spoken than he noticed Commissioner Chang giving him a glance and realized he had spoken out of turn.

“The first thing he does upon his return is to visit an esteemed senior; Head of Li’s Martial Arts School is indeed considerate.”

Secretary Zhou spoke mildly, “Then, when can he arrive?”

Lei Jing appeared troubled. Secretary Zhou pressed a few times, and only after some hesitance did she finally say:

“It means ‘The Master’s’ not coming.”

…

On the highway, a fine misty rain began to fall. Li Yan, wearing a white hoodie, jogged slowly in the rain, with the rooftop of the People’s Hospital looming on the horizon.

“How did your hospital treat him? I’m telling you, if anything happens to the old man, your hospital won’t get away with it. Call your leaders here!”

The man, sporting broom-eyebrows, spat furiously, his finger nearly poking the young nurse’s face. He used sharp and caustic words that made the nurse wipe away tears.

The corridor was packed with dozens of fit young men. The hospital’s receptionists exchanged glances, daring to be angry but not daring to speak.

A woman sitting on a chair had red-rimmed eyes, clearly having just cried.

“Can, it’s not the hospital’s fault, don’t make a scene.”

Broom Eyebrow was still fuming, stubbornly waving his hands: “Scram, scram, scram~”

The intern nurse holding files sniffled, turned her head, and ran off swiftly in her nurses’ shoes.

Around a corner, Li Yan walked up the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He encountered the young nurse covering her nose.

“Nurse Miss, do you know which room the patient named Guan Yantao is in?”

“Take a left, sixth room.” The girl held back her tears.

“Thank you.”

Li Yan’s face was indifferent, looking up to count the room numbers, paying no attention to the martial arts students blocking the corridor.

His elbow bumped into one of the martial arts students’ shoulders.

“Are you f*cking blind…”

The word “you” was loud enough, but by the time he got to “blind,” his voice had faltered, coming out like a young girl’s squeak when running into her parents while with a friend in a hotel room, barely audible.

Li Yan genuinely didn’t hear it, his tall and slender figure gliding through the hallway as people instinctively made way.

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Suddenly, Li Yan stopped in his tracks.

“This is it.”

He withdrew his gaze, and the surrounding people looked at him as if they had seen Yasha Evil Ghost. A few even tiptoed toward the staircase.

“What are you doing here!”

The speaker was a rather attractive young woman with big wavy curls, her expression furious.

Li Yan recognized her as Guan Yantao’s granddaughter and sneered.

“Came to see if ‘Guan’ is dead yet?”

“You dare…”

Before she could finish, Li Yan ducked his head and rushed forward, his hand grabbing the woman’s chin and slamming it against the door with a loud bang.

“I have no qualms hitting a woman, you know that.”

The area fell silent.

Broom Eyebrow Can turned his back to everyone, his face to the wall as if serving punishment, his nose pointing to the hospital’s rule sign: “No loud noises allowed.”

Li Yan looked around the circle of people, a sneer forming on his lips before he spat on the floor and reached for the door handle, his movements suddenly gentle.

“Creeak~”

Blue curtains enclosed the hospital bed. A series of beeps came from the machines. The table was laden with baskets of fruit and flowers—a private room.

Li Yan took two steps forward and reached to draw the curtains aside.

He had expected to see a skeletal face, gaunt with adhesive skin on the cheeks, and a tube inserted in the nose.

But the man lying on the bed was an elderly figure with white hair and a youthful face, his complexion rosy. His arms, however, were covered densely with needle marks.

Guan Yantao opened his eyes, his pupils flickering over Li Yan for a brief moment, showing no sign of surprise.

“You’re here.”

Li Yan gazed at the old man, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

Since coming to Guangdong at the age of twelve, he had studied the grappling of White Crane, the staff techniques of Cai Li Fo, the short weapons and lion dance of Mo and Liu families, learning arts from a total of six ‘The Masters’.

Born out of town and looked upon with disfavor, even more so for an outsider seeking apprenticeship. But having honed his craft here, his heart held a sense of nostalgia.

Over a decade, he went back to his hometown several times, each time joining his buddies in complaining.

People in the south were unfriendly, he didn’t like southern food, and his martial arts brothers here were insincere, and so on.

But back then, Li Yan, only seventeen or eighteen, was intent on proving himself, eager for the locals to give him a thumbs-up, hoping for his fellow apprentices to sincerely acknowledge him as ‘Dayan’ just like those back home.

If he truly didn’t care, truly disliked it, why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?

All those entangled teenage issues, Li Yan now merely laughed them off. Yet, for these few old men, he harbored both respect and resentment.

He wanted to greet the old man nicely, but what came out wasn’t too polite:

“You look lively and kicking, huh?”