Chapter 50: Ancient Painting
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
If one were to count carefully, Cang Daming and his assistant, Cang Dai, actually shared a very distant familial connection—both of them were of the Thief Fat race from Mount Ju.
When Shi Wenze and Lin Su entered the surveillance room, a colleague was in the middle of recording a statement. “Does Cang Dai have any other family from Mount Ju?”
The Thief Fat, sporting a fluffy white head, sat crouched on the shelf, looking confused and forlorn. “I don’t know… But is he really from Mount Ju?” The colleague stared at him, dumbfounded. Wasn’t that what you told us?
But it turned out Cang Daming genuinely didn’t know. About a year ago, he needed a monster assistant to help him purchase jade fragments from Changliu Mountain for his artistic projects. He had posted the job ad in the morning, and Cang Dai applied that very afternoon. He claimed to have just graduated from an art academy, seemed competent in all respects, and even had the same surname and tribe. Cang Daming didn’t hesitate much before hiring him. Later, impressed by the assistant’s diligence, he even lent him an apartment next to the gallery.
The Thief Fat continued, “I’ve had a lot of assistants over the years, but Cang Dai was always the most reliable, so I naturally entrusted him with the important stuff.”
“Did that include the keys to the underground vault?”
“Well, no,” Cang Daming huffed, offended. “I’m not that naive!” But then… he trailed off, thinking. After a moment, he sighed. “Still, if he really planned this all along, there were probably plenty of chances for him to duplicate keys, spy on my passwords, or lift my fingerprints.”
It sounded like he had solid security—until it wasn’t. The colleague gave the unlucky artist a few words of comfort and resumed the questioning. Just then, the investigation team sent over new intel: Cang Dai didn’t exist in any registry within the entire Shanhai system. His identity was fake. There were no birth records among the Thief Fat either. He was a pure black-market monster with no legal standing whatsoever.
“He was always so enthusiastic about helping me connect with international art circles,” Cang Daming recalled. “When he heard the Russian event was ending early, he even encouraged me to visit the local market for a few days. Said he could handle the gallery while I was gone. I was so touched I planned to give him a raise when I got back.”
Instead, before the boss could return home, Cang Dai had already “given himself a raise”—adding three zeroes to his five-figure salary.
The theft had been executed with such precision, it rivaled a spy thriller. Even though Cang Daming might have leaked the password himself, the vault also had a state-of-the-art alarm system—which had somehow also been dismantled, one piece at a time. All the criminal activity had been silent and seamless. According to the rest of the gallery staff, Cang Dai had shown up to work like normal until three days ago. There hadn’t been a single sign of anything amiss.
“He said he had a bad tooth and needed to get his wisdom teeth pulled,” Cang Daming added, growing more sorrowful by the minute. “So I told him to take it easy and rest.” The more he spoke, the more tragic he sounded. Human (and non-human) hearts were unpredictable. Boo-hoo.
Meanwhile, in the monitoring room, Lin Su was reading over a long list of losses. As a painter, Cang Daming was still fairly new to the scene—but as the “silly son of a wealthy family,” he was anything but new. Rumor had it his family literally owned a mine. He was a regular at major auction houses and had amassed a significant private collection.
Shi Wenze asked, “Any idea what the total loss estimate is?”
Lin Su did a rough calculation. “Besides one piece that’s worth close to ten million, the rest add up to around two million.”
“Stuff like this must be hard to fence, right?” Shi Wenze said. “Obvious stolen goods.”
Lin Su shook his head. “The most famous and highest-value pieces are hard to sell. And if they do get sold, the police can usually track them down. But paintings worth tens or hundreds of thousands? Those sell just fine on the black market. Cang Dai knew what he was doing. He picked the most valuable, most sellable pieces. And one… Huh? This one’s odd. I’ve never even heard of it.”
It was a traditional landscape painting titled Feast at the Jade Pool. No artist signature. No background. No valuation. Shi Wenze asked, “Is it well painted?”
“Not bad,” Lin Su admitted. “But unmarked, undocumented works like this usually don’t fetch much—plus it’s massive. So big it’s hard to even move. Why would Cang Dai bother stealing that?”
Shi Wenze relayed Lin Su’s thoughts to the colleague recording the statement, asking them to check with Cang Daming about why Cang Dai might’ve taken the painting.
“I got Feast at the Jade Pool over a year ago,” Cang Daming recalled. “I was doing some sketching in West Mountain when a storm rolled in. I couldn’t get back to my hotel, so I asked to stay the night in a nearby monster village. The elderly man who hosted me had this painting hanging in his house—said it had been passed down through generations. I couldn’t tell how old it was, but it looked decent. I wanted to thank him for the food and lodging, so I offered to buy it. I think I paid about 50,000 yuan.”
“What did Cang Dai think of it?”
“He hadn’t even joined me yet,” Cang Daming said. “And even after he started working here, I don’t remember him showing any special interest in it… Yeah, why did he steal that?”
“Do you remember the man’s name?”
“I do. I even still have him on WeChat. I transferred the money digitally.”
Cang Daming sent over the old owner’s business card. “His last name’s Li. I just called him Old Li. He runs a small sideline business making processed fruit products, and his family leases a few acres of spirit-fruit orchards.”
That same evening, a member of the investigation team flew out to West Mountain to trace the origin of the painting. The round trip would take about three days.
Meanwhile, Shi Wenze and Xu You put in two more days of overtime, patrolling the city in search of Cang Dai—but the thief had completely vanished.
In Qinghu Garden, Si Longqiu asked, “Should we visit Cang Daming?”
“No need,” Lin Lu replied. “He’s apparently turning guests away due to illness—though maybe he really is sick. Bad luck, honestly.”
“Do you think the others can help track him down?” Si Longqiu sipped the soup simmering in the pot. “Where’s your brother? It’s been quiet for ages. Tell him dinner’s ready.”
“He’s probably still obsessing over the remodel or trying on hats,” Lin Lu muttered as she headed upstairs. But she guessed wrong this time—her dear brother was hunched over a desk, scribbling furiously. Beside him were several massive hardcover books, printed on glossy copperplate paper, the tiny text packed so densely it made her head spin.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping the Monster Administration sort through case files,” Lin Su said without looking up. “Cang Daming’s case.”
Lin Lu gave a dramatic thumbs-up. All for love, expecting nothing in return. “Brother, you’re amazing.”
In truth, Lin Su still kept track of things. He had turned down the Demon Management Committee’s generous offer of 200 bucks an hour, asking instead that all of it be converted into Shi Wenze’s vacation time. At this point, it seemed like every department already knew that Brother Shi’s “wife” was picking up gigs left and right to earn him some time off. They were all openly envious, constantly asking where they could find a partner like that.
“Is Brother Shi coming for dinner tonight?” Lin Lu asked again. “Mom wants to save him a plate.”
Lin Su propped his chin in his hand. “Yeah, he’s coming.”
Lin Lu squinted at her brother. “Did you two have a fight or something? You don’t look very happy.”
Lin Su let out a long sigh. “You wouldn’t get it.”
Lin Lu stood up straighter, fast. “Oh. Is this one of those shows they can’t air on TV? Okay, I definitely don’t want to get it. Let’s go eat.”
Lin Su tugged his hat lower. He suspected he might be suffering from some kind of post-dragon-transformation side effect—specifically, even when he was in his human form, the skin on his forehead was still incredibly sensitive. And yet, his mom, his sister, and especially Shi Wenze were obsessed with lifting up his hat to sneak a peek. Shi Wenze was practically addicted to it. If this kept up, a cashmere sleeping cap wasn’t going to cut it. He was going to need a damn helmet.
He’d actually prepped some additional protective measures. That night, as they were winding down, he led Shi Wenze into his bedroom. “I got you a gift,” he said.
Shi Wenze had one arm wrapped around Lin Su’s slim waist, trying to pull him closer. “What kind of gift? A full-time employee badge?”
Lin Su wriggled free and dragged a plastic bag from the Haomeili Medical & Aesthetic Supply Store out of the closet. He smacked it into his boyfriend’s hands. “You’re gonna use this from now on.”
Shi Wenze blinked. This was… not Lin Su’s usual gift-giving style. The artist was normally so meticulous, so polished. This? This was just… cheap. A crinkly, low-quality bag. A beat-up cardboard box inside with no Chinese labels. The lid was half-open, revealing a perfectly round ball. “What the hell is this?” Shi Wenze asked.
Lin Su sat on the edge of the bed and explained seriously, “It’s a stress-relief ball. They let patients squeeze it during surgery to help with anxiety. I already disinfected it with alcohol. I even tested the feel—it’s not too soft or too firm. Just right. You’ll be biting this from now on when you sleep.”
Shi Wenze looked devastated. “Where did you even find this thing? Can I just not use it?”
“No,” Lin Su said flatly. “If you won’t use it, go sleep somewhere else.”
Shi Wenze muttered, “…This is kinda stupid.”
“Says who? The golden lion out front of the Monster Committee chews his stress ball every day. Totally normal. You’re both sacred beasts.”
“I’m not a full qilin though,” Shi Wenze pointed out. “I only have half the bloodline.”
“Then chew half the ball.”
“…”
Lin Su had made up his mind. He was going to protect his dragon horns no matter what. No matter how much this pretty boy whined and pouted, Lin Su stood firm. He even put a pillow wall between them on the bed—him on one side, the horn-hungry offender on the other.
They hadn’t even made their relationship official yet and they were already sleeping apart. Shi Wenze was emotionally wounded. He lay there, gripping the supposedly stress-relieving ball and feeling anything but relaxed. This product should be illegal, he thought.
Lin Su turned his back and pretended to sleep, staying alert just in case. After a while, hearing nothing, he slowly held his breath and rolled over to check the “enemy’s” movements. And locked eyes with Shi Wenze—who was already staring right at him. Lin Su’s heart did a somersault. “Why didn’t you say anything if you were awake?!”
Shi Wenze blinked. “You were sleeping. Why would I say anything?”
“…!”
Shi Wenze reached out like he wanted to touch him, but then remembered the stern “don’t touch me” orders Lin Su had barked before bed. He pulled his hand back pitifully. “Mmph.”
“Don’t try to act sad,” Lin Su warned. Shi Wenze scrunched most of his face into the blanket, only his eyes visible. “Okay.”
“Go to sleep,” Lin Su muttered.
“I’m not sleepy,” Shi Wenze replied. “I’ll just play with the ball for a bit.”
“…?” Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
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