After choosing an auspicious day, Master Qiao took Consultant He to meet the Old Shopkeeper. The moment they got into the van, he solemnly put a blindfold over Consultant He’s eyes. The van twisted and turned all over the place, circling for almost an hour before finally entering an underground parking garage in a busy district.
He Chu San listened to the familiar ding-ding of trams passing nearby and the cries of vendors from a nearby wet market and felt rather speechless. This was Sai Wan, the same area where he had rented a place when he first started working. Brother Liu Yi had once hidden here for several days before Inspector Xie took him away. From where they had boarded the van, the normal trip should have taken only ten minutes.
Elio’s Notes: Hong Kong trams are commonly nicknamed “ding-dings” after the sound of their bells.
Master Qiao told the adviser and bodyguards to stay in the van. Supporting He Chu San as he got out, he personally led him through a side entrance into an underground club. Master Qiao already had trouble walking with a cane, yet now he also had to free one hand to guide “Blind He,” leaving the two of them stumbling along together. Hearing yet another fire engine siren outside, He Chu San finally could not resist saying, “Brother Qiao, we’re underneath the Imperial Court Club, aren’t we?”
Of all the well-known luxury clubs nearby, this was the only one close to a fire station.
“…” Master Qiao, who had gone to enormous trouble creating this elaborate deception.
He removed He Chu San’s blindfold. “Brother He, that was very inconsiderate of you.”
Smiling, He Chu San reached back and supported Master Qiao instead. “I was going to pretend I didn’t know, but I was afraid you might fall and injure yourself. Brother, don’t you trust me?”
“My precious little brother, how could I not trust you? It’s ‘that person’ who’s overly cautious.”
“Don’t worry, Brother. I’ll make him trust me too. I’ll have to trouble you to lead the way.”
The two continued forward. The wooden floor beneath their feet gave low creaks, while Master Qiao’s cane struck the ground thud, thud through the dim corridor. Antique-style Chinese lattice windows were set into the walls on either side, and imitation candle lamps cast wavering light and shadows. Everything felt solemn and eerie.
At last, Master Qiao stopped outside a door. Three bodyguards in suits stood there wearing sunglasses, black masks, and leather gloves, wrapped so thoroughly that not an inch of them was exposed. They searched Master Qiao and He Chu San from head to toe, then nodded and allowed them through.
Master Qiao opened the door and He Chu San followed him inside. The room was decorated in the same solemn, antique style. At its center stood an enormous Chinese landscape screen painted entirely in black and white, yet the ink possessed extraordinary depth. White water flowed across the upper half and black mountains rose below, while broad banks of gray mist coiled between them, blurring the boundary between black and white. A black fish swam in the white water, while a white Peng soared above the black mountains, one above and one below amid the landscape.
“What do you think of this painting?” A deep middle-aged man’s voice suddenly sounded from behind the screen.
Master Qiao froze. He had been here many times, but no one had ever asked him to comment on the painting. He hurriedly nudged He Chu San with his elbow.
After thinking for a moment, He Chu San answered clearly, “It is a Taiji yin-yang image. Black and white represent yin and yang. The two wax and wane against each other without any fixed boundary. In Zhuangzi’s ‘Free and Easy Wandering,’ there is a fish in the Northern Deep called Kun, which transforms into a bird called Peng. Kun becoming Peng represents the Taiji process of refining essence into qi. The black Kun swims through white water, and the white Peng flies above black mountains, representing yang within yin and yin within yang. Through refinement, yin and yang reach the state in which the Five Qi Return to the Origin, ultimately arriving at Wuji. I only glanced at the painting briefly, so this is merely my shallow interpretation.”
Elio’s Notes: Taiji refers to the dynamic polarity of yin and yang, while Wuji refers to an undifferentiated state beyond that polarity. “Refining essence into qi” and “the Five Qi Return to the Origin” are terms associated with Daoist internal-alchemy traditions.
There was no sound from behind the screen for several seconds. He Chu San turned his head toward Master Qiao. The underworld Boss’s entire face plainly said, What the hell did you just say? Was that Chinese? Was that human language?
Did I bullshit too hard? He Chu San himself felt slightly uneasy. This was what Uncle Hua had explained to him years ago in Kau Lung Walled City while teaching him tai chi. The Old Shopkeeper occupied both the lawful and underworld worlds, hiding within the chaotic boundary between yin and yang. Did he see himself as Kun becoming Peng, seeking some supreme state? Did I accidentally hit too close to home?
Three slow claps suddenly came from behind the screen. The man’s voice followed. “Good. Very good. Consultant He lives up to his reputation. Come in.”
Master Qiao hurriedly guided He Chu San around the screen. Only one dim yellow floor lamp illuminated the inner room. A faint scent of sandalwood drifted from an incense burner. Behind a kung fu tea table sat a tall middle-aged man, his face hidden in shadow. There was no tea on the table. Instead, a Go board had been set out.
“Shopkeeper,” Master Qiao said with utmost respect.
“You’ve worked hard,” the man replied, though he did not invite him to sit. Master Qiao seemed accustomed to this and simply remained standing with his cane.
“Shopkeeper,” He Chu San also said respectfully.
“Do you know how to play Go?” the man asked.
“A little.”
“Sit down. Let’s play.”
He Chu San glanced at Master Qiao, who motioned urgently for him to go over. He Chu San stepped forward cautiously, bowed first, then pulled out the chair and sat. Respectfully lowering his eyes to the board, he watched as the man took several white stones into his fist for nigiri. He Chu San placed two black stones to indicate his guess. The man opened his hand: the number of white stones was even. He returned them to the bowl and made a gesture inviting He Chu San to play first.
Elio’s Notes: Nigiri is the traditional Go procedure used to determine who takes Black and therefore moves first. One player hides a number of white stones in a hand while the other indicates a guess of odd or even using one or two black stones.
He Chu San inclined his head, picked up a black stone, thought for a moment, and claimed the upper-right corner. As he withdrew his hand, he naturally lifted his eyes and looked forward. In the dim light, he finally saw the man’s face clearly—and his heart sank heavily.
His thoughts churned, but the man had already placed his first stone. He Chu San quickly picked up his second black stone and slowly placed it on the board.
“Why is your hand shaking?” the man suddenly asked.
“I’m a junior with little skill. Playing against the Shopkeeper makes me nervous.”
“Is that so? You don’t sound nervous when you speak.”
“Words can lie. Actions cannot.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Kau Lung Walled City.”
“You’re a financial elite now. You enter high-class establishments every day. Is there still any trace in your behavior of that poor, broken Walled City?”
“There is. To survive in darkness and see the light, you have to climb higher. To reach that goal, you have to be willing to give everything you have. That is the mark Kau Lung Walled City left on me. It will follow me for life.”
“Heh. Young man, a lifetime is a very long time. Don’t rush to think you’ve already seen through it.”
Their conversation remained as calm as an elder chatting with a junior, yet war had already erupted across the board. Black and white confronted one another without a sound. Blocks, extensions, cuts, and pincers hinted at flashes of blades and shadows of swords. Master Qiao leaned on his cane and rose onto his toes, straining to watch for a while until his eyes hurt, but he could not understand a thing. Unable to resist, he secretly turned aside and yawned.
Fortunately, the Shopkeeper had always taken pity on his age and never subjected him to this sort of thing. Otherwise, Master Qiao probably would have planted his head directly onto the Go board and fallen asleep halfway through a game.
Who knew how much time passed. Leaning on his cane, Master Qiao had secretly begun dozing when he suddenly heard the Shopkeeper say, “You win.” He jolted awake in fright. What? His precious Little Fortune-Bringer had actually beaten the Shopkeeper? He had actually dared to win against the Shopkeeper?
He Chu San stood and bowed again. “I don’t deserve it. The Shopkeeper was taking care of me.”
The man smiled faintly. “And you said you only knew ‘a little.’ You concealed your brilliance, luring me into your game one step at a time.”
“It was the Shopkeeper who controlled the whole board from the shadows. You had many chances to cut off my ‘liberties’ and end my life, yet each time you left me one narrow path to survive.”
Elio’s Notes: In In Go, a stone or connected group survives as long as it has liberties—adjacent empty points. If all its liberties are cut off, it is captured. He Chu San’s line also plays on the Chinese word qi (气): in Go, it means “liberties,” while qishu (气数) can mean one’s allotted fate or lifespan. So when he says the Old Shopkeeper could have cut off his “qi” but kept leaving him a way to live, he is talking about both the Go position and the Shopkeeper deliberately sparing his life.
The man laughed again. “Don’t stand. Sit. Do you know how to brew tea?”
“I don’t know how to make kung fu tea.”
“So there are things Consultant He doesn’t know. Old Qiao, come sit too.”
Master Qiao hurried over and sat down, taking the opportunity to loosen his stiff limbs. He Chu San swiftly cleared the Go board. The three sat around the tea table, the atmosphere suddenly relaxed and warm, almost like a family. The man resembled the calm, gentle patriarch of a large household. Slowly, he brewed two rounds of tea while asking He Chu San about the financial company matter he had previously handled for Master Qiao’s “friend”—in other words, for the man himself. He asked how He Chu San ordinarily worked for Master Qiao and questioned him about some of the hidden workings of the stock and securities markets.
More than ten minutes later, he finally poured tea into the cups and raised a hand to invite them to drink. He Chu San thanked him, lifted one cup, tasted it, and said, “Excellent tea.”
“Fine tea deserves a fine steed. Consultant He is a thousand-li horse worthy of this cup,” the man said. “All right. We’ve had our tea. You said you had a major deal to discuss with me. Let’s hear it.”
Elio’s Notes: A “thousand-li horse” is a traditional metaphor for an exceptionally talented person whose abilities deserve recognition.
He Chu San lowered his eyes slightly and said nothing.
The man glanced toward Master Qiao. “Old Qiao, go wait outside.”
“…” Master Qiao, who had accompanied them for more than half an hour and had only just managed to get a mouthful of hot tea.
Fine. He could go back outside and keep dozing.
Reluctantly, he set down the half cup of tea in his hand. “Yes, Shopkeeper. I’ll go outside.” Before leaving, he patted He Chu San’s shoulder. The sound of his cane gradually faded away, followed by the click of the door closing.
“Speak.”
He Chu San set down his teacup and looked directly at the man across from him. “I have a major deal I’d like to discuss with the Shopkeeper. But forgive my bluntness—you are not the Shopkeeper.”
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