What on earth was going on?!
Ponytail and the other little brothers were instantly dumbfounded, as if they’d been turned to stone.
Even Tao Ruoxiang was completely at a loss.
“Brother, please have mercy and give me a hand.”
That “Brother” from Han Sanqiang sounded downright syrupy, but his tone was genuinely earnest. He couldn’t help it — at that moment, the only two characters in his head were “arsenic.” The moment he realized he might have been poisoned with arsenic; his face went pale with fear.
From the standpoint of modern knowledge, arsenic isn’t the deadliest poison — there are many substances far more toxic. But Han Sanqiang wasn’t well-educated. Cyanide, sarin gas, anthrax — he’d never even heard of them. His entire understanding of poison came from old period dramas and movies, where “arsenic” and “crane’s red” were always portrayed as the ultimate lethal toxins. So, when he heard “arsenic poisoning,” his knees nearly buckled. Pride was the last thing on his mind — instinctively, he clung to Qin Lang as if he were the last straw to save his life, and so he called him “Brother” outright.
Sure, being the boss and saving face mattered — but not as much as his own life.
Arsenic!
Han Sanqiang’s mind was suddenly filled with those gory TV and movie scenes of arsenic victims bleeding from their seven orifices. His heart felt like it was bleeding, too.
As a “boss with grand ambitions,” Han Sanqiang really didn’t want to die so young.
Killing someone was one thing — but since Han Sanqiang had already lowered his head and thickened his skin to call him “Brother,” Qin Lang couldn’t just stand by and let him die. After all, Han Sanqiang was only standing up for his own brothers; his crime didn’t merit death.
So, Qin Lang stopped, turned back to Han Sanqiang, and said, “Hurry to the hospital for a checkup — there’s still time.”
Hearing that his life could still be saved, Han Sanqiang’s mind eased a little. He walked up to Qin Lang, speaking humbly, “Brother, since you can tell I’m poisoned, you should be able to cure me, right?”
“Yes,” Qin Lang said firmly — but then immediately changed tone. “However, … I don’t think I have any obligation to cure you.”
Han Sanqiang assumed Qin Lang was blaming Ponytail for offending him earlier. He immediately barked, “Ponytail! Get over here—”
Ponytail didn’t dare disobey. He rushed over, only to get slapped across the face by Han Sanqiang. Of course, when Han Sanqiang had called Qin Lang “Brother,” Ponytail had already guessed this was coming. He knew the slap was Han Sanqiang’s way of giving Qin Lang an explanation. Having been around for a while, Ponytail understood the principle of bending and stretching as needed. He bowed respectfully, apologizing to Qin Lang and Tao Ruoxiang. Ponytail’s two underlings also hurried over to apologize, nearly kneeling down.
“Qin Lang, let it go,” Tao Ruoxiang said. She didn’t know how Qin Lang had managed to get Han Sanqiang so obedient, but she clearly didn’t enjoy situations like this.
“Since Aunt Tao says to let it go, I won’t pursue it. Han Sanqiang, go to the hospital first and see if you’re really poisoned. If they can’t detox you, then come find me!”
Qin Lang’s meaning was clear. Han Sanqiang and his men certainly didn’t dare block Qin Lang and Tao Ruoxiang from leaving.
On the way back to school, Tao Ruoxiang asked Qin Lang, “Han Sanqiang’s a big name in the underworld — how did you get him so docile?”
“He’s not afraid of me — he’s afraid of dying.” Qin Lang recounted the arsenic poisoning matter.
“He’s really poisoned with arsenic?” Tao Ruoxiang was surprised. “I thought you were bluffing. How did you see it?”
“Heh… if I can see your little secret, how could I not notice his deep poisoning?” Qin Lang said with a low laugh. “I studied medicine under an old traditional Chinese doctor for several years. If I didn’t even have that much eyesight, wouldn’t that be a disgrace to my master?”
If Old Poison knew Qin Lang was calling him an “old Chinese doctor,” he’d probably be furious — after all, Old Poison had no interest in saving lives. He preferred doing the opposite.
“So that’s it. Our traditional medicine is broad and profound — looks like you really did learn some genuine skill!” Tao Ruoxiang couldn’t help but praise him.
“Of course. Honestly, my medical skills are better than a lot of so-called famous doctors.” Qin Lang seemed to have no concept of humility.
“Hey, I compliment you twice and now your tail’s up in the sky?” Tao Ruoxiang snorted, then suddenly thought of something. “By the way, Teacher Sun won’t be in trouble, will he?”
“Don’t worry — that Sun Bo kid ran off ages ago.” Qin Lang snorted, showing no attempt to hide his disdain.
Before they knew it, they were downstairs at Tao Ruoxiang’s dorm. Qin Lang still showed no sign of stopping. Knowing how thick his skin was, Tao Ruoxiang had to give the eviction order herself: “Qin Lang, it’s getting late. You’re new here — go tidy up your dorm bed.”
“It’s not even eight o’clock yet. I thought Aunt Tao would invite me up for a coffee or something.” Qin Lang said reluctantly. “Oh, right — what’s your phone number? In case I need your help. And give me Sun Bo’s number, too.”
Helpless, Tao Ruoxiang gave him her number and finally managed to send him off. As he was leaving, Qin Lang added, “Aunt Tao, drinking is bad for your health — you should cut back.”
Tao Ruoxiang was slightly stunned, but in the end said nothing and headed upstairs.
Qin Lang found dorm room 409 — and discovered Zhao Kan was actually his roommate.
At the time, Zhao Kan was lying in bed playing games on his laptop.
“Qin Lang — is Teacher Tao really your aunt?” Zhao Kan, ever the gossip.
Qin Lang nodded. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Duh — at evening self-study, of course,” Zhao Kan replied.
Qin Lang looked at his bed — completely bare. “No one set up my bed for me?”
Zhao Kan stared at him like he was from another planet. “Damn! You think you’re some young master? Who’s gonna make your bed for you? I was just wondering — you haven’t even set it up. Where are you sleeping tonight?”
“Yeah… where am I sleeping?” Qin Lang suddenly realized the problem.
Thinking quickly, he pulled out his phone and called Sun Bo. “Teacher Sun, it’s Qin Lang… I didn’t have time to set up my bed today, so find me a place to sleep.”
Zhao Kan froze — Qin Lang was actually ordering his homeroom teacher to find him a bed?
Sun Bo had just managed to sneak back into school unnoticed. Getting Qin Lang’s call set him off — Who do you think you are, making me find you a bed? He refused flatly.
“Sun Bo—”
If you don’t give me face, I won’t give you any either — Qin Lang dropped the honorific. “You don’t want those guys to keep bothering you tonight, right? Should I give them your name and number?”
Sun Bo, unwilling to suffer another beating, quickly gave in. “There’s a guesthouse near the school gate. I’ll book you a room.”
“Thanks, Teacher Sun.” Qin Lang hung up.
“You’re a legend!” Zhao Kan couldn’t help admiring him — first day at school and he’d already eaten with the prettiest teacher in No. 7 High, and now had the homeroom teacher booking him a room. In Zhao Kan’s eyes, this was a friend worth having.
Before long, the two were chatting like old friends. Qin Lang learned that Zhao Kan was technically a student union officer — the president of the school’s poetry club. Though counting Zhao Kan, the club had fewer than ten members; after all, the golden age of “a love poem, a couple of drinks, and a girl in your arms” was long gone.
Zhao Kan could really talk — they chatted straight through until evening self-study ended.
Seeing it was late; Qin Lang left for the guesthouse Sun Bo had booked.
No sooner had his butt touched the bed than his phone chimed with a new message:
“Obedient disciple, don’t forget to take your medicine and practice. Also, since you’re in Xiayang City, do the first thing for your master: take over all of An Desheng’s assets, leave him with nothing, and bring him to me!”
It was from Old Poison. Qin Lang thought for a moment and replied with just two characters: “Reason?”
Old Poison didn’t respond.
Qin Lang had expected that — after nearly five years with the old man, he knew his personality. It looked like everything about An Desheng would have to be investigated on his own.
He tossed the phone aside, took a red poison pill from a white leather pouch, and swallowed it.
A burning heat spread through his stomach — yet a poison pill that could easily kill an elephant only made Qin Lang feel like he’d eaten a chili pepper.
That was all.
He then sat cross-legged on the bed, entering a meditative training state, as the poison’s toxins were completely absorbed by his body.
