Incense smoke curled through the room in thin wisps, milky white haze spreading through the air. Master Qiao covered his mouth with a handkerchief and carefully coughed once, catching the spit in a fresh cloth. Leaning heavily on his cane, he stood with his head slightly lowered and cautiously lifted his eyes just enough to look ahead.
A man sat with the light behind him, his face impossible to make out. A gongfu tea tray rested before him, and he unhurriedly rinsed the cups and measured out the tea. He was tall and powerfully built, yet his movements were gentle and meticulous. A floor lamp behind him cast a faint, soft golden glow, outlining a silhouette as massive as a mountain.
Master Qiao could not stand for long. His body tilted slightly to one side, but he immediately straightened himself again without drawing attention to it.
Time passed in silence. The water boiled once, then a second time. At last, the man lifted the kettle and poured the tea. Only then did he speak. “That ‘Little Fortune-Bringer.’ What’s his name?”
Master Qiao quickly stepped forward, taking the opportunity to stretch his aching legs, and answered respectfully, “He Chu San.”
“How badly is he hurt?”
“He came out of surgery yesterday afternoon. They say his life isn’t in danger. Thank you, Shopkeeper, for arranging things with Inspector Zheng.”
The man slowly warmed the cups, his tone indifferent. “That ‘Little Fortune-Bringer’ is more trouble than he’s worth. I originally had no intention of keeping him.”
Master Qiao knew he was being asked for an explanation and hurriedly said, “The kid was stupid. The original agreement was that he’d kill Xia Liu Yi, take over, and become the new Dragon Head. Instead, he dragged his feet and didn’t kill Xia Liu Yi in time, giving Xia Liu Yi the chance to turn the tables. He may have botched that part, but his ability with money is real. It only took him three days to wash thirty million clean for me. All these years, he’s helped Xia Liu Yi establish companies, keep the books, and restructure assets without leaving a single loose end. He makes Xia Liu Yi tens of millions every year. Besides, if you hadn’t saved him this time, Shopkeeper, who knows where his corpse would be now? Whether he prospers from here or ends up without a whole corpse is entirely in your hands. He’ll have no choice but to be loyal to you.”
“And there’s this.” He stepped forward again and carefully set a bulging leather case beside the tea table. “Two hundred thousand U.S. dollars. He asked me to bring it to you earlier as an introductory gift. He said he has an even bigger deal he wants to discuss with you.”
The man casually glanced at the case and finally lifted his eyes toward Master Qiao. “Does he work cleanly?”
“I specifically had people check. There isn’t a trace of the money laundering he did for me. When Xia Liu Yi went to prison last time, the police couldn’t find any financial evidence against Xiao Qi Hall either.”
The man said nothing more and prepared the second infusion of tea. He poured it leisurely into the cups, then lifted one hand in an almost imperceptible invitation.
Master Qiao hurried forward with his uneven gait, respectfully picked up a cup, and tried to imitate the other man’s refined manner. He failed completely and gulped it down with all the elegance of a cow chewing peonies.
“Keep him,” the man said.
“Then… what about Xia Liu Yi?” Master Qiao made a chopping gesture with his hand.
“He only just escaped death. His guard will be higher than ever. Can you still kill him?” the man replied. “Even if Xia Liu Yi died now, your ‘Little Fortune-Bringer’ could never return to Xiao Qi Hall. Let Xia Liu Yi sit in the Dragon Head position for a few more years.”
Master Qiao cautiously tried to tip the scales in his own favor. “But he knows I helped that kid now. There’s no way he’ll swallow that insult. If Xiao Qi Hall really decides to fight He Yi Society to the death, there’ll be blood running through the streets…”
The man poured the second infusion as though the matter were insignificant. “Don’t worry. With me watching, nothing major will happen.”
Master Qiao nodded respectfully. He held everything in until half an hour later, when he finally left the underground club and climbed into his car. Only then, in front of his loyal adviser, did he dare curse furiously through a spray of spit.
He had suspected for years that the reason Xia Liu Yi had led Xiao Qi Hall so smoothly from victory to victory was that the Old Shopkeeper disliked how deeply rooted and dominant the He-affiliated societies had become. So the Old Shopkeeper had taken a liking to the rising Xia Liu Yi and quietly given him room to grow, using Xiao Qi Hall as a counterweight against the He-affiliated societies. That allowed him to preserve a delicate balance within the underworld and keep every society firmly in his grasp and obedient. Over the years, this suspicion had been confirmed again and again—
The moment Xia Liu Yi became Dragon Head, he fought and seized territory everywhere, swallowing Fat Seven’s old turf in Kowloon. Yet the Old Shopkeeper had Inspector Hua mediate and smooth things over. Later, Fat Seven and Inspector Hua both died and caused an enormous uproar, but the Old Shopkeeper did nothing and allowed Xia Liu Yi to expand even more aggressively. He Yi Society was nominally the largest society on Hong Kong Island, yet when Master Qiao kidnapped He Chu San years ago, Xia Liu Yi had dared burn and slaughter his way through Master Qiao’s establishments with barely a second thought. Master Qiao had spent all these years serving beneath the Old Shopkeeper like a watchdog, yet when it came to the most profitable businesses, such as heroin, he was constantly restrained and even forced into a sham cooperation with Xia Liu Yi. And now, even after the two societies had completely fallen out, the Old Shopkeeper still ignored the grudge between him and Xia Liu Yi and expected him to preserve the balance as before…
Years of resentment boiled inside Master Qiao. After snarling, “That old bastard,” he pulled out another handkerchief and broke into a violent fit of coughing.
His adviser knew the situation well. Seeing Master Qiao so furious that he looked like a rooster hiccuping, he quickly began analyzing the situation and soothing him. Master Qiao could not afford to offend the Old Shopkeeper, his great god of wealth, and now he had also acquired the Little Fortune-Bringer, his own little god of wealth. With his adviser’s help, he eventually managed to talk himself down. He spat one final gob of sticky phlegm into the handkerchief, wrapped his anger inside it, and tossed the whole thing out the car window.
…
He Chu San opened his eyes, then closed them again. Only after a long while did his consciousness recover enough for him to reopen them and slowly look around. He was in a private hospital room. Kevin sat beside the bed, and several bodyguards were standing nearby.
The moment Kevin saw him wake, he hurried closer. “Mr. He, you’re awake!” Then he lowered his voice. “Master Qiao’s men are outside.”
He Chu San was still feverish, his face flushed red and his voice weak. “Liu… What time is it?”
“It’s the second night after you were injured. Eight fifteen.”
“Master Qiao?”
“He came to see you last night. You hadn’t woken up yet, so he left.”
He Chu San tried to speak again, but a pained hiss suddenly escaped him when his breathing faltered. The anesthetic had worn off long ago, and the wound burned with a sawing, searing agony. He closed his eyes and simply endured it, weakly waving one hand to indicate that he would not speak anymore. Seeing something was wrong, Kevin hurriedly rang for the nurse. A nurse and doctor soon arrived and examined He Chu San. When they saw his handsome face twisting from the pain he was suppressing, the doctor asked whether he wanted morphine. He Chu San struggled to shake his head. Unable to make a sound and afraid the doctor would misunderstand, he weakly waved his hand in refusal.
“He doesn’t need it!” Kevin hurriedly said.
A short while later, the medical staff left. Kevin sent all the bodyguards outside and locked the door, then returned to the bedside. He Chu San was still fighting the pain alone, half his face buried deep in the pillow. Veins stood out at his temple as he slowly hissed each breath through his teeth.
Kevin hurriedly found a clean towel and held it to his mouth. “Mr. He, if it hurts, bite down on this.”
He Chu San slowly lifted a hand. Instead of taking the towel, he caught the corner of Kevin’s shirt.
“Mr. He?”
He motioned for Kevin to come closer and whispered slowly, “I… can’t use morphine… Also, my medication… every day, go with the nurse yourself when it’s collected… Don’t let Master Qiao’s people put anything in it…”
“Don’t worry, Mr. He.”
He Chu San trusted Kevin’s ability to handle things. He released him and collapsed exhausted against the bed. Sweat slid onto his eyelashes and wove a curtain of rain across his blurred vision.
Before injuring himself, he had cautiously consulted a doctor and rehearsed several times with a fake knife. The thrusts looked fierce, but in reality he had not stabbed very deeply, and each strike had been aimed toward the small-intestine area, where the peritoneum meant comparatively less bleeding. Even so, the act still carried a risk to his life and left him in relentless, excruciating pain.
This quiet, obedient young scholar had been fortunate enough to grow up safely in a filthy, lawless place. As a child, Dad had cherished him; once he grew up, Boss Xia spoiled him. When had he ever suffered through pain like having his belly torn open? Half-delirious, he murmured to himself, “So this is how much being injured hurts… He’s been hurt so many times. How much must it have hurt him…”
Kevin did not hear clearly and leaned closer. “What did you say? Does it still hurt?”
He Chu San had already been tormented into delirium. His eyes glistened as he sighed, “It hurts… It hurts seeing him cry… I regret it…”
He did not know what he was saying. A drop of sweat slid from the corner of his eye like a tear, and he drifted back into unconsciousness.
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