Chapter Sixty-Six: Consumed by Flames

Thank you all, brothers, for your rewards, recommendations, and collections—your support means everything. I bow to you all!

At this hour, Abilene was nearly deserted. Most of the townspeople had gone to Paso City to attend today’s event. Nevertheless, someone still made a call—this one was for Officer Coffin.

“There’s been an explosion at Saoirse’s house. I don’t know what happened…” The caller was Ray Breslin, the clockmaker. He sounded as though he had just witnessed something terrifying—his voice trembled. “The house just exploded out of nowhere—my window glass shattered from the shock…”

Officer Coffin decisively hung up and immediately contacted the fire department and emergency services. Then, using the radio in her car, she called Qiu Fengyu.

“Listen, Qiu, I have some bad news…” Coffin’s tone was as calm and low as she could manage.

“It was my house that caught fire, wasn’t it?” To her surprise, Qiu Fengyu’s voice came through, cold and steady.

Coffin was stunned into silence for a moment before replying, “Yes. You need to stay calm while we investigate the cause—”

“I am calm, Officer Coffin,” Qiu Fengyu assured her, his tone truly even.

The house was reduced to ruins, the charred timbers now extinguished by the firefighters. The entire building was destroyed—nothing but ashes remained, utterly uninhabitable.

“Can you tell what caused the fire?” Coffin approached the fire chief, her question direct.

“An explosion. Looks like a particular Russian-made incendiary grenade—thermite, very powerful, highly destructive. We’ll need further analysis to identify the exact model.” The chief held a fragment of scorched metal as he spoke to her.

“Thank you.” Coffin frowned and walked over to Qiu Fengyu, who stood dazed amid the devastation. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry—leave it to me.”

“They burned my house down,” Qiu Fengyu murmured to Coffin.

“Let me handle everything, all right?” Coffin’s voice was gentle.

“They burned my house down,” Qiu Fengyu repeated.

Tim stared at the ruins, fury etched on his face, veins bulging on his forehead, his teeth clenched tight. At fifteen, he had finally begun to emerge from the pain of his parents’ deaths, determined to train and take revenge. Now, the haven he’d found with Qiu Fengyu had been torched as well—his anger was only natural. It was as if his second home had been destroyed.

“Boss—” Davis called out, worried.

“It’s nothing… Everything will be fine.” Qiu Fengyu suddenly turned to look at Davis, then at Tim, ruffling the latter’s hair before nodding at Coffin. “I left some chicken in the fridge. If you take it out now, add a little salt and pepper, it should taste pretty good. I imagine that’s exactly what they were thinking.”

Coffin’s expression, far from relaxing, grew even more tense at these words. “Qiu, I told you—I’ll handle this. Don’t do anything reckless!” Coffin truly wanted to help him, but if Qiu Fengyu acted out, no matter the outcome, he could no longer stay here.

“I know—I’m fine. The place is gone, but insurance will cover it in the end.” Qiu Fengyu even managed a smile. “I’m all right.” With that, he headed toward his noodle shop.

Coffin signaled for Tim and Davis to follow him, while she remained at the scene to continue her work.

At the noodle shop, Qiu Fengyu turned to Davis. “You can go home now. I’ll stay in the attic. Don’t look at me like that—I’m really fine. Go on.” His tone at the end was an order.

Davis didn’t dare argue. He nodded, walked a few steps, then turned back. “Should I… come to work tomorrow?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

Davis nodded once more, shoved his hands in his pockets, pulled his cap low over his brow, and hurried home.

“Who did this?” Once Davis had left and the door was closed, Tim asked between gritted teeth.

“The Russians.” Qiu Fengyu sat down, answering calmly. “They took advantage of the fact that most of the town’s police were in Paso City, and of our absence, to burn the house down. The incendiary grenade the firefighter found is proof enough—I saw plenty of them back in Ukraine.”

“What do we do now?” Tim puffed out his cheeks.

Qiu Fengyu glanced at him, then ruffled his hair with a smile. “Don’t take it too seriously.”

“No—we should pay them back. An eye for an eye!” Tim’s eyes blazed as he spoke, enunciating every word.

Qiu Fengyu nodded, then smiled. “You’re right. This matter will have its reckoning.”

That night, they slept in the attic, as if things had returned to how they once were. With the Britt family still away in Paso City, Tim insisted on staying and sharing the cramped space with Qiu Fengyu.

Later, they sat on the roof of the noodle shop, Qiu Fengyu smoking, Tim beside him, both with their legs dangling off the edge. Seeing the yearning in Tim’s eyes, Qiu Fengyu handed him his lit cigarette.

Tim accepted it eagerly, inhaled too deeply, and immediately started coughing. Qiu Fengyu paid him no mind, gazing instead at the wisps of black smoke still rising from Saoirse’s house, where firefighters were still clearing debris.

There were no witnesses, no surveillance cameras—Qiu Fengyu’s alarms and cameras had all been destroyed in the fire. Even if footage had existed, it was gone now.

In other words, the arson was perfectly executed. The insurance company would cover some of the loss, at least.

“What’s the plan, boss?”

Even in his anger, Tim’s face betrayed a hint of excitement and anticipation, though he tried to hide it.

“We open the noodle shop as usual tomorrow.”

“What?!” Tim stared at Qiu Fengyu in disbelief. “Didn’t we just agree—an eye for an eye? I can be useful. I can fight, I can shoot—cough, cough, cough—” He was cut off by another fit of coughing.

“Enough. Doing nothing is exactly what we should do right now.” Qiu Fengyu shot him a sidelong glance. The kid was eager for a fight, probably hoping to prove himself.

They sat in silence for a while as darkness fell. Then Qiu Fengyu took out his phone and dialed a number. The call connected, and a voice came through.

“Ah-ha—imagine that, you actually called me. Changed your mind?” It was Anthony. “Want me to hook you up with a good job?”

“No, forget it.” Qiu Fengyu cut him off. “You owe me. Help me look up who’s in charge of the Russian mob in Paso City.”

“You planning to take action?” Anthony sounded surprised, then quickly understood—someone like Qiu Fengyu eliminating a target was nothing to be shocked at.

“Just tell me. Spare me the chatter.”

“All right, I’ll check it out. But the Russian mob has deep roots in America. If someone’s been sent to a backwater like that, they’re probably on the fringe. I’ll have news for you tomorrow.”

Qiu Fengyu hung up.

Anthony wasn’t offended by the abrupt end—he actually laughed. This guy was like a lion trying to cage himself; no matter how much he claimed to be tame, once he decided to hunt, nothing would stop him. It was exactly as Anthony had predicted.

“What can I do?” Tim, who had overheard the whole conversation, was vibrating with excitement, practically itching for action.

“Practice your shooting.” Qiu Fengyu tossed off the remark, then stood, dropped down into the attic, thought for a moment, and headed downstairs to the bar.

That one line left Tim absolutely thrilled.

The Russians had done this to send a warning. Clearly, they’d realized it was Qiu Fengyu living in Saoirse’s house, and suspected he’d had a hand in her escape. This was their way of sending a message.

But the Russians were mistaken. They only meant to warn Qiu Fengyu—but they hadn’t considered that perhaps Qiu Fengyu had never intended only to warn them…