The backer behind Yilulifu Island was rushed into emergency treatment overnight. The casino and hotel, already full of treacherous undercurrents, sank beneath an even deeper layer of fog that night, leaving outsiders unable to make out either the workings within or which direction things were moving.
On the surface, everything remained peaceful and serene. At the front desk, the hotel manager wore a professionally molded plastic smile as he operated the computer with practiced ease for every guest. Servers moved through the corridors on every floor carrying drinks and late-night snacks, their prescribed steps almost like a formal ballroom dance as they delivered predawn refreshments to the distinguished guests who had kept the lights burning and battled through the night.
In a luxury suite on the top floor, You Haodong had finally recovered from the furious rage that had consumed him an hour earlier. He stood before a window just beginning to pale with dawn as he made a phone call, not forgetting to draw every curtain shut so that only his motionless gray silhouette remained against the glass.
“Dad… I’m sorry. I failed.” You Haodong’s frustrated voice carried unmistakable unwillingness.
“You’re all right?” A frail, hoarse middle-aged man’s voice came from the other end.
“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fucking fine! I just can’t swallow this goddamn humiliation!” You Haodong was still thinking about the winning tiles Mai Yunliang and Jian Mingjue had fed Yan Xiaodao at the critical moments. Those two shameless bastards had obviously done it deliberately just to screw him over. It was not that Yan Xiaodao had been so fucking impressive; You Haodong had simply lost in the most infuriating way possible.
“Dad, that Yan Xiao under Qi Baoshan came. He completely ruined my game and didn’t leave me the slightest bit of face. That means he doesn’t want to give you any face either.
“…Dad?!”
What answered You Haodong was a long stretch of silence and hesitation, the hoarse voice rubbing against hurried breaths.
“Qi Baoshan… cough. Dongdong, don’t bother with that Yan Xiao. Don’t say anything. Don’t go after him. Whatever you do, don’t make trouble.”
You Jinglian had used the word “don’t” four times in succession. He sounded as though he wished he could reach both arms through the phone’s speaker, grab his son with all his strength, and shove him firmly back into his chair.
“I didn’t make trouble. I didn’t lay a hand on him. I already put up with more than enough of Yan Xiao’s arrogance! He took that Ling guy away, and tomorrow they’re boarding the ship for the return trip. Dad, are you really that afraid of him?” You Haodong suppressed his anger.
“Afraid of him? Heh… heh….” You Jinglian gave two hoarse, bitter laughs, sounding even more restrained than his son. “Dongdong, what do you think Yan Xiao is? Some hired thug or street punk collecting protection fees at an illegal establishment on Yanqing Road, Songjiang Road, or somewhere among the three streets and five markets? He could have been some insignificant, low-class hoodlum you could casually grind beneath your heel, someone completely beneath notice. But unfortunately for you, that isn’t what he is now. Qi Baoshan stands behind him. If you insist on going after him, aren’t you really going against Qi Baoshan?”
You Haodong said, “He…”
What You Jinglian truly wanted was to explain something plainly to his son: the world no longer ran on the old saying, “Clothes make the man and the saddle makes the horse.” These days it was, “A man relies on status, a horse on pedigree.” Dongdong, if you were not the treasured son of a deputy municipal Party leader and the young master of the family holding real power in Linwan New District, who would spare you a second glance? Would people still clear the road wherever you walked, lift curtains for you, and carry your shoes?
“I don’t have a grudge against the guy. I just can’t stand how arrogant he is,” You Haodong said. People who were accustomed to being arrogant and formidable themselves usually could not tolerate somebody standing right before their eyes who was even more arrogant and treated them as though they did not exist.
“Dongdong, don’t provoke Qi Baoshan’s people. He sent Yan Xiao over, but he sent only Yan Xiao. That tells you the old bastard isn’t certain either. He’s afraid too. Yan Xiao is only a probing move. Qi Baoshan definitely has another move waiting behind him….” Following the slow progression of his own thoughts, You Jinglian continued, “Look. He didn’t dare send Yan Xiao and Pei Yi together. Why? He’s afraid they’ll both be lost overseas and never make it back. If that happens, he’s finished too….”
You Haodong snorted. “Forget it. He’s only a cripple. What’s there to fight over? I’m just pissed off at Yan.”
You Jinglian shook his head at the cold white wall of his room. “Why waste your anger on him? Is he even worthy of competing with you? He came from the dirt, some lowborn bastard nobody even knows the parents of. Who knows what whore gave birth to him? And who are you? You’re my heart and soul. You’re far more precious than he is.
“Yan Xiaodao is only Qi Baoshan’s godson, not his flesh-and-blood son. Qi Baoshan may not even care that much whether he lives or dies. But you? Do you know how precious you are to me?…”
His father’s words pleased You Haodong enormously. Reluctantly, the scales inside him finally balanced, and he was willing to swallow this anger for the moment and settle the score later if the opportunity arose. Even his one-track mind could tell that what his father truly feared was the man behind Yan Xiaodao—Master Qi—although You Haodong himself still did not understand what was supposed to be so frightening about Qi Baoshan.
A wealthy port tycoon, that’s all. He doesn’t even wear an official’s cap. Throughout every dynasty, when officials and merchants stood side by side, which one had ever been more powerful? What was there to fear?
“Then what about that Ling He? Dad, what exactly is your grudge with him? Why did you insist on sending me onto the ship to capture him and bring him back?” Only just before hanging up did You Haodong finally remember to ask about the actual business at hand. He had nearly forgotten.
“It wasn’t absolutely necessary to capture him. Even inviting him back for a talk would have been fine…. But Qi Baoshan still got there first…. Cough. We’ll take things one step at a time. I’ll explain when you get back.” In front of his son, You Jinglian spoke as though none of it mattered. His vague, airy tone resembled the thin strand of incense smoke rising from the carved high-legged tea table before him.
You Jinglian sat in the cool, smooth room beneath the morning light, wearing dark embroidered silk pajamas.
The room was dim, vague shadows filling every corner. Numerous wooden figurines and statues stood around it, looking in the darkness like a mass of ghostly talisman scribbles floating through the air. You Jinglian rose with a stick of incense in hand and bowed respectfully again and again before the gilded Buddha statue atop a wooden cabinet.
Still unable to feel secure or sleep peacefully, he moved to a large wardrobe, pushed aside a row of heavy winter clothes, and exposed a hidden wooden compartment behind them. Inside were a White Dragon King amulet, talismans, a Buddha’s-hand charm, holy water, and an assortment of other mystical “sacred objects” whose meaning was difficult to make sense of. He bowed to each of them in turn. His detached, devout expression was betrayed only by the beads of sweat continually forming along his forehead and temples….
Elio’s Notes: The White Dragon King amulet is one of several protective religious or folk-spiritual objects You Jinglian has gathered. The narration is deliberately mocking the indiscriminate way he worships anything he thinks might protect him.
There was no such thing as worshiping too many idols. If something worked and answered prayers, he would enshrine it and bow to it.
Why did Qi Baoshan strike first and seize Ling He?…
Does Qi Baoshan intend to “eliminate” him or “protect” him? Could he be thinking the same thing I am—holding a hostage to command the lords, then using him against the rest of us?…
Elio’s Notes: “Hold the hostage to command the lords” deliberately twists the historical phrase “hold the emperor to command the lords,” meaning to control an important figure and use that leverage against everyone around him.
You Jinglian tossed and turned on his reclining chair until dawn, still unable to sleep. By then the chair beneath him was soaked through with cold sweat.
He certainly did not dare tell the truth to his precious son, whose temper was hard and impatient. His son could not sit still once he knew something. After so many years of painstaking effort, with You Jinglian now occupying a high position and capable of standing on his own, how could he possibly speak of it?
＊
Another major figure in Jinmen, You Jinglian, who sat firmly in the foremost seat of power in Linwan New District, also had in his possession a text message that had arrived without warning several days earlier.
【Third Brother, you can’t be softhearted anymore, and you can’t delay. There’s no time to lose. Cut through the tangle with a sharp blade, and once you cut the grass, pull it out by the roots. Get rid of that young man. Then, regarding what happened fifteen years ago, there will be no fifth person in this world besides the four of us who knows the truth.】
＊
The You father and son were not the only people who had spent the night awake.
The hotel elevator indicator lit and dimmed as it climbed from below toward the top floor, finally stopping at the level where You Haodong’s suite was located. Mai Yunliang had changed into a subdued but elegant suit, with decorative edging on the shirt and cuffs. Standing inside the glittering gold elevator, he stared blankly at his own reflection cast on the bright metallic wall.
He had specifically asked a server to bring him upstairs. He was not wandering around in his sleep before dawn. Access to the top floor required a VIP card and a password.
Holding a bottle of expensive Burgundy wine, he walked to Young Master You’s guest-room door. The server bowed, backed away, and quickly withdrew. Mai Yunliang immediately became frightened and regretted coming. He stared at the door as nausea twisted his stomach. But the door abruptly opened before he could retreat. Two You-family bodyguards appeared, seized him by the arms from either side, and hauled him inside….
In the suite’s outer room, the bodyguards remained on watch, lounging with their legs crossed and smoking, letting thick clouds of smoke conceal whatever was happening in the bedroom beyond.
In the bedroom, You Haodong threw away his cigarette and kicked Mai Yunliang into the center of the bed. The kick landed in the hollow of Mai’s waist, sending cold sweat across the back of his neck. He did not dare cry out in pain.
As You Haodong stripped away Mai Yunliang’s trousers, there was no foreplay or tenderness. He used his fingers roughly to force him open, pressing Mai down by the back as he spat each sentence viciously.
“You fucking fed Yan Xiaodao the winning tile!!”
“And you still dare show your face? Come here to prove your loyalty to me?”
“A superstar? Heh-heh. You think I don’t know what you used to do?” You Haodong thrust forward violently, breathing in satisfaction toward the half of Mai Yunliang’s face exposed where it was pressed into the soft bed. “This is what you do. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen all that stuff of yours. Every bit of it. Those fucking videos of yours….”
Mai Yunliang trembled constantly beneath the merciless violence. Young Master You deliberately used those words to strike at him until his heart went completely numb. His body was in severe pain, yet there were no tears in his eyes. He was already accustomed to this. When he could no longer endure it, only broken moans squeezed out between his lips and tongue.
Young Master You had never particularly liked men and normally would not even have wanted to waste his precious essence on one. What happened tonight was purely an outlet for his rage. Faced with such a free piece of prey, someone “anyone could humiliate,” his thinking was simply that if it cost him nothing, he might as well fuck him. He was venting the resentment packed into his stomach, treating it as though he were fucking Yan Xiaodao instead.
When the pain had nearly sent his soul flying and his consciousness had grown hazy, the image of Ling He, Young Master Ling, occasionally passed through Mai Yunliang’s mind. He sincerely envied Ling He. He imagined that by now Ling He had probably changed into clean clothes and been carried out of the bathroom by Mr. Yan, then settled safely and comfortably in the room without a care. Perhaps he was even asleep on Mr. Yan’s pillow, tucked against his arm, the two of them perfectly content with one another….
Mai Yunliang felt that he himself was the pitiful person trapped in a cage and desperately waiting to be saved. Ling He was nowhere near the most miserable one. Mai was the prey in the worse situation. Young Master Ling was an honored guest, personally protected and safe from harm, while Mai Yunliang did not even know whether he would still be capable of climbing out of this bed tomorrow morning.
A large-screen tablet stood casually on a small table in the bedroom. It was the newest model from a famous electronics brand that had only just been unveiled at a product launch and was not yet on sale domestically. Watanabe Yangshan had privately presented it to Young Master You at the archery range as a gesture of favor. Young Master You was hardly impressed by such a thing, but while traveling overseas he had not brought much cumbersome luggage, so the new device was convenient for passing the time.
You Haodong casually grabbed the expensive fifty-year-old Burgundy, pulled out the cork, and forced the mouth of the bottle into the most vulnerable part of the man beneath him…. He ignored Mai Yunliang as he trembled and convulsed in pain on the bed. Dark-red wine spilled across the sheets, horrifying to look at….
Neither of them noticed that the tablet facing the bed remained black-screened while a tiny green light glowed beside its camera. The intervals between flashes stretched longer and longer as the light blinked intermittently, almost mischievously….
The room next door was peaceful under a faint moon and gentle breeze.
Ling He was indeed enjoying a quiet corner amid the chaos. With only a thin wall separating the rooms, he tapped his fingers against it. They had arranged nothing in advance, but he heard someone immediately rise from the sofa, open the door, and enter the bathroom.
Ling He had wrapped his dry body in a large towel. Yan Xiaodao said nothing. He bent into the white porcelain bathtub, lifted Ling He horizontally once again, and carried him out to place him on the large bed.
Drying off and getting dressed required no conversation whatsoever.
Ling He appreciated having someone around who knew exactly what needed to be done and when, and who did not waste words. It made things remarkably easy. He had a whole magazine of venom accumulating behind his lips and teeth, but now, bored as he was, he actually hesitated over whether to spray it at Mr. Yan for amusement. In the end, he swallowed it back down.
At first light, pale dawn seeped through the gap in the curtains. Ling He lay on his back in the center of the bed and guessed that Mr. Yan, resting with his eyes closed at the foot of the wall, had not slept either.
Yan Xiaodao had simply laid down one quilt and slept fully dressed against the wall beneath the window. It was rather strange, considering there was a long sofa in the outer room. He covered himself with his own suit jacket, one leg bent casually and propped against the wall.
A thin warmth drifted through the room. Ling He stared at the ceiling and murmured softly, “Your waist is too stiff, so you think the sofa’s too soft?”
The man resting beneath the wall answered with equal composure, “Five meters below this window is a platform. Someone can climb up.”
Ling He immediately understood. Yan Xiaodao meant that if someone wanted to enter, they probably would not be stupid enough to break through the door. Nine times out of ten, they would come through the window instead—and if they came through a window, it would be this one. Yan Xiaodao had already thought ahead and guarded that point of entry. Beneath the shirt he had never taken off, there was undoubtedly more than just a set of eight abdominal muscles concealed….
Ling He nearly asked why Yan Xiaodao had chosen a room with a platform outside the window in the first place. It was so unsafe.
Before asking, he answered the question himself. If outsiders could climb up, then Yan Xiaodao could also find a way down. If the door was blocked, they could leave through the window.
Ling He could not help showing a mouthful of good teeth as he smiled and glanced toward the man by the wall.
Yan Xiaodao might be cold-faced and ruthless with his hands, but his thinking was meticulous. One look was enough to know he was formidable. He truly was difficult to deal with….
Every guest on the island slept late after their nights of indulgence. It was nearly noon the next day, after warm sunlight had filled the entire room, before people finally rolled out of bed.
Yan Xiaodao ordered room service. A young server came from the kitchen through the staff staircase and along the corridor, wearing the hotel’s standard uniform and leather shoes. But if one looked closely at his back, he did not have the straight, disciplined gait the staff had been trained to use. Instead he wandered along the carpet pattern in a loose figure-eight, hunched slightly with sloping shoulders, and as he reached the door he cautiously glanced around in every direction.
The server pushed open the door. Without saying anything, Yan Xiaodao took the tray from him.
From beneath the brim of his cap, the server’s mischievous eyes stuck out. Breathing softly, he mouthed, “Boss, short spring night last night, huh? Old man still holding up?”
Yan Xiaodao gave him a look that said, You’re really fucking annoying.
The server grinned. “Need a waist rub or back rub, Bro?”
Yan Xiaodao said, “Fuck off.”
The server said, “Eat while it’s hot. Food’s clean.”
Yan Xiaodao reached toward his ribs for his weapon. “Still not leaving? Waiting for a tip?”
The server stuck out his tongue and immediately made himself scarce, inwardly complaining that his boss was fucking stingy. Not even enough tip for a pack of cigarettes.
Yang Xifeng knew perfectly well that his boss was straight, which was exactly why he dared joke about it. Yan Xiaodao never played around with men and had no interest in them.
Little Brother Yang was utterly convinced that the night before, his boss must have sprawled across the big bed on his back, kicked that male fox spirit who tried anything improper straight into a corner, and forced the fox spirit to spend the whole miserable night sleeping on the floor. That was definitely what had happened.
Yan Xiaodao placed the brunch tray on the bed, slid one arm beneath Ling He, and lifted. With a single steady motion, he raised Ling He’s entire upper body and propped him against himself.
Ling He looked lazy and well-rested, refreshed after finally getting enough sleep. Even his voice had become considerably more mellow. “Your elbow is injured. You don’t need to hold me up. Save your strength for fighting people when we board the ship.”
Yan Xiaodao said, “…”
This time Ling He had not sprayed venom. He had simply choked Yan Xiaodao so thoroughly that Yan could not find a single reply.
Ling He smiled with an innocent face, speared a piece of pineapple with his fork, and chewed it. “Food your little follower brought? Then it’s clean. Safe to eat.”
Yan Xiaodao thought Young Master Ling was not merely beautiful enough to be covered in thorns; he was also offensively sharp-minded.
How could one person be even more exhausting and irritating than Yang Xifeng? Yan Xiaodao would honestly rather swap the man in front of him for Yang Xifeng.
Yan Xiaodao could not be bothered wasting words. He handed Ling He the various foods and drinks from the tray one after another because the man could not move conveniently. His movements were practiced without becoming excessively solicitous or intimate. Anything Ling He picked over or looked reluctant to eat, Yan Xiaodao finished himself.
Ling He’s throat was getting itchy. It was time for his daily “morning exercise” and vocal warm-up. “You’re quite practiced at serving people, Mr. Yan?”
Yan Xiaodao met change with constancy. “Mm.”
Ling He’s gaze became inquisitive. “What a filial son. Do you usually serve your godfather like this too? Feed him, dress him, scrub his back, file his nails, carry over his foot-washing water?”
Yan Xiaodao thought, Master Qi has hands and feet and isn’t disabled. Why the hell would he need me feeding and dressing him? He said, “No. He can do those things himself.”
A moment earlier, Yan Xiaodao had been supporting Ling He from behind. His left hand steadily brought over a drink and held it for him. A teasing trace of sensuality slipped into the corner of Ling He’s eyes. “Mr. Yan, who else have you fed like this?”
Yan Xiaodao looked at him seriously. “I fed my mother this way when she ate and took medicine.”
Ling He clearly had not expected that answer. “Oh…. How old is your mother?”
Yan Xiaodao replied, “She turns fifty this year.”
“Oh?” Ling He was visibly startled again. The expression and atmosphere around him changed completely from a moment earlier, as though an entirely different backdrop and wash of color had appeared behind his eyes. He seemed genuinely sincere when he asked, “Younger than I imagined. Is your mother in good health?”
Yan Xiaodao answered with equal sincerity. “She’s had the occasional minor illness, but she’s doing well now.”
Ling He asked, “Do you still live together?”
Yan Xiaodao said, “No. I don’t want to disturb her quiet everyday life. I go to church with her on weekends.”
Ling He said warmly, “You’re very filial to her.”
Yan Xiaodao said, “…Of course.”
Ling He did not ask the sort of questions ordinary people inevitably seemed unable to resist—what his mother’s surname was, what prominent family she came from, what profession she had, or what status she held now. Instead, he asked a great many ordinary little questions like what his mother liked to eat and what dishes she usually cooked for Yan. Yan Xiaodao found that extremely agreeable. The verbal sparring that normally formed such an important part of their morning routine was temporarily put aside, and the two men had a rare, calm conversation.
Yan Xiaodao decided that as long as Mr. Ling was not running that vicious mouth of his and spraying people, his mind was actually fairly normal. His manners could even be polite and refined.
Yan Xiaodao wore only his shirt, and without noticing, he let the cross pendant around his neck slip out through his collar. Ling He saw it. Yan made no attempt to hide it and displayed it openly. “My mom says wearing it keeps me safe. This is what she believes in most. Heh.”
In Ling He’s green eyes brewed the intense envy and longing of someone still very young, along with a hint of loss. But the nearly unguarded expression exposing his inner feelings vanished instantly, replaced by his usual reserved smile, like a mask being fastened back into place. “Mr. Yan, your mother is truly fortunate. She must also be a loving and kindhearted woman.”
Yan Xiaodao agreed with the second half but rejected the first. “I’m the fortunate one. I get to be her son.”
Ling He could not resist saying meaningfully, “If I ever have the chance, I’d very much like to visit her in person and ask how she managed to raise such a filial and capable son as Mr. Yan.”
Pale golden sunlight fell across one side of Ling He’s face, dividing his features between light and shadow. The half dissolved into sunlight and smiling was exquisite and translucent, extraordinarily handsome, beyond comparison with anything mundane in this world.
Yan Xiaodao simply couldn’t make out what, exactly, lay behind the other half of Young Master Ling’s face deliberately hidden in shadow.
Leave a Reply