The night deepened. Clouds swallowed the moon, and the tide grew heavier and blacker. Jagged rocks along the shore pointed toward the sky while wild grass shuddered in the gale. The Jeep’s headlights came on. Fully dressed now, He Chu San intended to drive Xia Liu Yi back toward the main road. To avoid attracting attention, Xia Liu Yi had left his own car at a parking lot farther away.
But before the Jeep could start, Xia Liu Yi suddenly yanked open the driver’s door, dragged He Chu San out, and pulled him back into the rear seat once more.
The Jeep did not rock again. It simply remained there quietly on the beach all night.
…
The next morning, a thunderclap outside the window jolted Xia Liu Yi awake. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around the person in his embrace, only to gather nothing but the blankets and clothing draped over himself. His heart dropped. His eyes snapped open as he bolted upright.
He Chu San was sitting beside him changing clothes and quickly caught his panicked hands. “I’m here. I haven’t left.”
Xia Liu Yi hauled him into his arms. The bloody images from his dream had not yet faded from his vision. Still shaken, he looked past He Chu San’s shoulder toward the window. The sky was dark and oppressive, clouds obscuring the morning sun. Black waves churned endlessly across the sea. A storm was coming.
He tightened his embrace, panic surging through him. “Don’t go.”
“Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.” He Chu San gently patted his back.
“Don’t go…”
He Chu San kissed the corner of his trembling lips, yet still pried apart the arms wrapped around his waist. “Take care of yourself. Wait for me at home.”
A streak of harsh white light ripped across the sky, followed by another thunderclap exploding between sea and heaven. Huge drops of rain raced down onto the beach. The storm finally broke.
…
That evening, He Chu San drove alone to a secluded cemetery on the mountainside.
It had rained all day, leaving pools of water across the ground. The Jeep stopped at the cemetery entrance, splashing through the puddles. Dressed entirely in somber black, He Chu San stepped out with a bouquet of white chrysanthemums in his arms and a black umbrella overhead, then slowly followed the slick stone path.
Under the gaze of the stone angels lining both sides of the path, he climbed the final step and found Lu Guang Ming waiting beneath an umbrella before Tang Jia Qi’s grave. A bouquet of white roses already rested before the headstone, appearing even more beautiful and sorrowful beneath the constant wash of rain.
Amid the pattering rain, Lu Guang Ming asked, “Have you made contact with the Old Shopkeeper?”
“No. I’m still one step short.”
“What do you need from me?”
“I need to borrow something.”
“What?”
“Your life.”
…
The downpour still had not stopped by deep night. At Kwai Chung Container Terminal, thousands upon thousands of shipping containers stood like a fantastical maze of enormous blocks in the cold darkness. The long booms of the cranes stretched abruptly across the sky like the arms of steel monsters. With thunder roaring and wind howling around them, the place seemed all the more bleak and terrifying.
A large, soaked freestanding poster display was ripped up by the wind and slammed violently against the iron wall of a roadside container. It collapsed into muddy water, only to be crushed beneath an approaching sedan, the crack of its broken frame swallowed by the rain.
The sedan finally stopped deep within the container yard, beside a secluded corner of the platform near the sea. A Jeep had already parked there, its headlights blazing toward the sedan’s approach. He Chu San stood in the rain dressed entirely in black, leather gloves on his hands and an umbrella overhead.
Those inside the sedan were dazzled by the Jeep’s headlights. It seemed that in the blink of an eye He Chu San had already appeared beside the car. The rear door opened. He bent forward to offer the arriving passenger shelter beneath his umbrella, only to be forced two steps backward by the muzzle of a gun.
Two bodyguards got out and thoroughly searched He Chu San. Other than a handkerchief in his pocket, they found nothing. The proxy “Old Shopkeeper” from the tea room then stepped from the car and joined He Chu San beneath the umbrella. He was tall and broad. Although half a head shorter than He Chu San, he was considerably more powerfully built.
“Shopkeeper,” He Chu San addressed him in front of the bodyguards.
The proxy “Old Shopkeeper” disliked the headlights glaring directly into his eyes. Frowning, he asked, “Where is it?”
He Chu San gestured politely and led him toward the rear of the Jeep. The two bodyguards started to follow, but He Chu San paused. The “Old Shopkeeper” glanced at him, then signaled for them to remain where they were. He Chu San smiled and continued forward. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“You wouldn’t dare harm me. Whatever you dragged me all the way out here to see had better be worth it.”
“It definitely will be.” He Chu San opened the Jeep’s rear compartment and took a flashlight from the corner, shining it inside.
A thick waterproof canvas covered the spacious rear compartment, its four corners weighed down by heavy stones. In the center lay a large burlap sack. Dark bloodstains covered the fabric, and even through the wind and torrential rain, the stench of blood struck the nose.
“Who is this?”
He Chu San untied the mouth of the sack, revealing a head with wet, disordered black hair and a face covered in blood and rainwater. A wad of cloth stuffed the mouth, and the eyes were tightly shut. The “Old Shopkeeper” frowned as he examined the young, pale face. “I’ve never seen him.”
He Chu San removed his gloves and took an ICAC warrant card and a photograph from a briefcase beside the sack, handing them over. The card bore the words “Independent Commission Against Corruption” and the name “Lu Guang Ming.” The photograph was a reproduction of an old picture showing three men standing together.
The wind whipped the card and photograph noisily in the “Old Shopkeeper’s” hands, but he still saw the faces clearly. “You recognize this one, don’t you?” He Chu San pointed to Xie Ying Jie in the center. The “Old Shopkeeper’s” gaze darkened, but he did not answer.
“The brat in the sack is called Lu Guang Ming. He’s an investigator with the ICAC. His father was Lu Yong, a police officer who died twenty years ago in a bank robbery. His father’s partner at the time was this man in the photograph. Two weeks ago, at the charity gala Master Qiao organized, he infiltrated the event in disguise and approached me, trying to pump me for information. I realized he wasn’t really a guest and had him thrown out in front of everyone. Afterward, I found his identity suspicious and secretly investigated him. I never expected to dig up a secret this big.”
The “Old Shopkeeper” tucked both the warrant card and photograph into the inner pocket of his clothes. “Besides him, who else knows?”
“Probably no one. I found these things in a hidden safe at his home. The fact that they were still hidden there means he hadn’t turned them over to his superiors.”
“Is he dead? Can he still answer questions?” The “Old Shopkeeper” looked at Lu Guang Ming’s pale face and noticed that his blood-soaked chest was still rising faintly.
“My apologies. He resisted too fiercely when I caught him today, and I had to shoot him. If you’d arrived half an hour later, he might already have been completely dead.” He Chu San zipped the briefcase and handed the entire thing over. “But I believe this is everything he knew. Please pass it on to ‘that person’ for me.”
The “Old Shopkeeper” accepted the briefcase, yet remained suspicious. “You already knew all of this before you came to see me, but you didn’t tell Master Qiao?”
“That’s right. I investigated him behind Master Qiao’s back. With Master Qiao watching me before, I didn’t get a chance to make a move on Lu Guang Ming himself until today. A secret this enormous—I doubt ‘that person’ would want Master Qiao knowing about it.”
The “Old Shopkeeper” was silent for a moment. “You did well. But what are you going to do with him?”
He Chu San smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. Just like the accounts I keep, I won’t leave a single trace.” He handed the umbrella to the “Old Shopkeeper.” “Please step back a little.”
He set the flashlight aside, pulled his leather gloves back on, then lifted one corner of the canvas and felt around underneath it. Holding the umbrella in one hand and briefcase in the other, the “Old Shopkeeper” stood several paces away watching suspiciously. Suddenly, He Chu San pulled out a handgun and loaded and chambered it in one swift motion.
The umbrella and briefcase hit the ground with a clatter! The “Old Shopkeeper” hurriedly reached for the gun at his waist, but he had been caught completely off guard. A bolt of lightning split the sky in a blinding flash. Through the torrential rain, he heard a deafening gunshot.
Bang!!
BOOM—! Thunder followed like the collapse of mountains and earth. Rain hammered down like hailstones. A cold sweat broke across the “Old Shopkeeper’s” back as he watched He Chu San turn around after firing and smile at him again. Half that smile was illuminated by the flashlight, half hidden in darkness. For a moment, he seemed half god and half ghost, unreal and sinister.
A large hole had opened in the sack beside He Chu San. Blood streamed out over the canvas beneath it. Lu Guang Ming’s pale face drooped into the pool of blood, utterly motionless.
“Just in case,” He Chu San said with a smile. “Sorry to startle you.”
Still smiling, he fired twice more behind him.
Bang! Bang!
Lu Guang Ming’s body jolted twice beneath the impacts, slamming into the metal wall of the vehicle each time with strange, muffled thuds. More blood seeped from the torn sack. He Chu San tucked the gun behind his waist, picked up the stones weighing down the corners of the canvas, and stuffed them into the sack. He tied the sack shut again, wrapped it heavily in canvas, then bound it securely with an iron chain.
The downpour quickly soaked He Chu San through, revealing every firm line of muscle across his shoulders and arms beneath the wet fabric. He dragged the wrapped body out of the vehicle. The bundle scraped through the mud with a strange scrrrape—scrrrape— sound. When he reached the “Old Shopkeeper,” he stopped, bent down to retrieve the umbrella, and pressed it back into his hand.
“Careful not to get wet,” he said considerately.
The “Old Shopkeeper” remained expressionless, but the hand gripping the umbrella handle was drenched in sweat.
He Chu San dragged the body bag step by step toward the nearby seaside platform and pushed it into the sea with a heavy splash! Then he walked back with complete ease and calm. He removed his gloves and tossed them casually into the Jeep, pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the water from his face, then smiled faintly at the “Old Shopkeeper” once more.
“All done. You can go.”
Leave a Reply