After a long moment, Yan Xiaodao finally released Ling He’s chin, though his anger had yet to fade.
Even without turning on the light, he could tell he had used too much force. Two darkening finger marks stood out clearly on Ling He’s chin. Yan Xiaodao’s hands were rough; looked at closely, they were practically two complete fingerprints pressed into the skin, every ridge visible and faintly streaked with blood beneath the surface. Given Ling He’s usual temper, it was remarkable that he did not get angry, complain, or cry out in pain. He simply endured it in silence, looking at Yan Xiaodao with something meaningful in his eyes.
It had only been an opportunistic attempt to sow discord, taking whatever opening presented itself. It had failed, so what was there to complain about? Complain that Mr. Yan wasn’t as stupid as you’d imagined? Ling He considered himself vicious-hearted, but not despicable to that degree. He respected men with strong minds too.
Ling He mocked himself. “Mr. Yan’s miraculous hands can pulverize ox bones into dust in an instant. Using them to pinch me really is bringing an ox-cleaver to kill a chicken.”
The two of them were still lying on their sides face-to-face, close enough to smell each other’s breath. Neither backed away, yet neither was willing to lower his head and make peace at such close range. The atmosphere and feeling on the bed were painfully awkward. It was as though there ought to have been someone beneath their hands to touch, yet their palms were empty, with nothing they could grasp. That taste of being angry and resentful with someone yet temporarily unable to leave them—they had truly sampled it now….
Yan Xiaodao reached over and rubbed Ling He’s face and chin, reshaping the nearly dented flesh back into place.
Ling He sneered. “You’ve manually sculpted my face for me. Is my chin slimmer now? How does it compare to Mr. Mai’s meticulously carved one?”
Yan Xiaodao blurted out the honest truth. “You’re much better-looking than he is.”
A smile traced itself across Ling He’s lips. “Thank you, Mr. Yan.”
*
In the faint light before dawn, Yan Xiaodao judged from the smooth, even sound of breathing that Ling He had truly fallen asleep this time.
Ling He’s head was turned toward him, his sleeping face possessing a relaxed, dignified beauty. It was as though only in sleep had Ling He finally yielded to his subconscious and put down that foul-tempered, stubborn, thorn-covered guard of his. One arm reached toward Yan Xiaodao, his fingers gripping Yan’s shirt and holding the fabric firmly in his palm. Apparently, that made him feel safer.
The two men lay side by side on the large bed, without the slightest intimacy in their posture.
With Ling He’s height and build, it was not particularly easy for him to look intimate anyway. For example, even if he leaned his head toward Yan Xiaodao, there was no way for him to burrow into Yan’s arms. At most they could lie shoulder to shoulder; he simply could not pull off the image of a delicate little bird leaning against someone. When Yan Xiaodao pushed Ling He outside in a wheelchair, the man’s presence always made it feel as though Yan were wheeling some young master out to inspect the lives of the common people. And on the rare occasions Yan had no choice but to carry him on his back, Ling He’s poisonous mouth would still mock him right beside his ear: “Mr. Yan, bend your waist a little farther. My feet are dragging on the ground.”
Annoyed beyond endurance, Yan Xiaodao would shoot back, “When do I get to switch places and have you carry me?”
Ling He would sneer. “What’s so difficult about that? If my legs ever get better, I’ll carry you around every day for fun.”
This would be their final day aboard the Cloudtop.
Yan Xiaodao had Yang Xifeng discreetly go around asking what had happened to the dancer who had accidentally fallen from high above the stage at the Moulin Rouge Theater the day before.
Thinking it over afterward, Yan Xiaodao felt that Miss Mayumi’s concern for them had truly gone too far. How much affection could there possibly be between a dancer and patron who had met by chance aboard a ship and barely knew one another—enough for her to risk her life for him? What he had seen in Mayumi’s eyes had been genuine, but Yan Xiaodao, who had dealt with every kind of person, never believed that a complete stranger would suddenly overflow with righteous courage for no reason, nor that a vulnerable young woman would spontaneously burst forth with a man’s bloody nerve. No. If he had the opportunity, he very much wanted to ask the woman exactly what was going on.
Little Brother Yang had put on a suit too, along with a baseball cap. He was now openly and legitimately Mr. Yan’s follower and no longer needed to sneak around. With a cigarette hanging from his lips, he sat pompously in an elegant lounge beside the massage pool. A beautiful woman lighting his cigarette told him in slightly stiff Mandarin, “Sorry, sir. Miss Mayumi is unwell. She cannot accompany you.”
Yang Xifeng said, “My boss wanted to book her for an hour. He ‘used’ her yesterday and thought she was pretty good. She’s unavailable today?… I heard she fell during the performance last night. Nothing serious, right?”
The woman whispered, “A concussion. No one knows why she suddenly fell.”
Yang Xifeng slipped the woman two bills as payment for the conversation. “If your boss likes what he sees, I’m available,” the beauty said with a charming smile, discreetly revealing the name tag beneath her skirt. Yang Xifeng focused on it. What the hell kind of name was that? Something like Fukada Yūko. One look at a stage name like that and you knew she had to be some female demon who had spent a thousand years cultivating inside a bottomless cave, specializing in sucking men dry of their precious yang energy. There was no way he dared book her for his boss!
Elio’s Notes: Fukada Yūko is another deliberately fake, pun-heavy Japanese-style stage name. The Chinese characters suggest a “deep, secluded place,” which prompts Yang Xifeng’s joke about a female demon cultivating inside a bottomless cave and draining men of their yang energy.
Yang Xifeng had barely left the massage room when a man in black poked his head out from behind a screen, grabbed Fukada Yūko by the arm, and dragged her into the back room. It was none other than the You family’s No. 3 bodyguard. The bodyguard put on the openly threatening expression of a gangster, apparently thinking it looked cool and would frighten women effectively, and demanded, “What did he say to you?”
Yūko went pale with fright and gestured nervously with her hands. “N-nothing. His boss… wanted to book Miss Mayumi for an hour….”
*
Yang Xifeng looked back after leaving, glancing toward the quiet, elegant entrance of the massage room with its seated Thai Buddha and lotus flowers. Then he swept his eyes left and right once before heading upstairs.
Yang Xifeng reported back to Yan Xiaodao, then lowered his voice further. “Boss, do you think things have actually settled down on this ship yet?”
Yan Xiaodao raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Yang Xifeng said seriously, “I keep feeling like somebody’s following me. Who knows what pack of demons, monsters, ghosts, or spirits they belong to this time! Bro, you need to be careful too.”
Yan Xiaodao nodded, patted Fengfeng’s shoulder reassuringly, and casually handed his little brother a box of expensive cigars another company boss had given him. He could smoke them for fun, but Yan absolutely forbade him from doing it inside the room. Yang Xifeng happily accepted the fancy cigars, and in the end boss and subordinate stood together on their suite balcony, facing the sea as they smoked.
Yan Xiaodao trusted Yang Xifeng’s loyalty absolutely. The brothers had lived and fought together for years, eating and sleeping side by side in ordinary life until they were practically family. He did not doubt the people he chose to use. That was why, when Ling He said certain things in front of him the night before, Yan Xiaodao had genuinely flown into a rage. With his old temper, he would have crushed several of Ling He’s teeth on the spot and followed it with two slaps across the face. What kind of man do you take me for? These brothers have stood by me for years. You think I’d believe you just because you tried to drive a wedge between us?
And yet his heart had still softened toward Ling He. Even knowing perfectly well that the other man had his own little calculations, Yan Xiaodao had still softened.
Looking at that face, only just restored to a normal color after the blue-purple pallor of suffocation, Yan Xiaodao simply had not been able to bring himself to slap it…. There was a saying that “good looks are justice.” The fact that Yan Xiaodao could completely separate his appreciation of Young Master Ling’s looks from the amount of trust he placed in anything Ling He said already meant he possessed far greater self-control than the average person.
Unfortunately, the two killers had jumped directly into the sea, and their chances of survival were nearly nonexistent. There was no living witness left to contradict anything, which was precisely why Ling He had dared fabricate accusations so brazenly.
While they were eating in the room during the day, Yan Xiaodao received a text from an unfamiliar number. To his surprise, it was Mai Yunliang.
Mai Yunliang had probably gotten Yan Xiaodao’s number from You, Jian, or Watanabe. That was hardly strange.
In his usual deferential, courteous tone, Mai Yunliang wrote: 【Mr. Yan, the sunset over the sea is beautiful around dusk. Might I have the honor of accompanying you to the bar for a drink?】
Yan Xiaodao thought, I didn’t draw Mai Yunliang’s card, did I? Did Young Master You or Second Jian send him over just to make trouble for me again?
All that polite nonsense really amounted to one thing: Want to meet up and fuck?
Yan Xiaodao glanced at Ling He across the table.
Ling He was spearing a piece of pan-fried salmon with rosemary. There was nothing artistic or refined about the way he ate; he chewed in large, hearty mouthfuls. When only a few scraps of meat remained and he could no longer pick them up with the fork, he simply used his fingers, then tore off a piece of bread and began circling it around the plate to mop up the juices.
Truthfully, the way he ate had all the elegance of Master Bear.
Yan Xiaodao could not resist teasing him. “Been starving the young master, have I?”
Ling He shot him a sidelong look. “You ate all the big pieces of meat yourself. I’m still hungry.”
Yan Xiaodao sneered. “Must be rough. Still growing, kid?”
Ling He was not remotely polite. “Can we order another eight-ounce steak, or are you going to make me gnaw on the plate?”
Yan Xiaodao joked, “Kid, you’re going to eat your goddaddy out of house and home!… Fengfeng, go order another one. Another plate!”
The more someone was like Ling He, the less he needed to put on airs. He had no concern whatsoever for petty dining etiquette because Heaven had given him a face that naturally carried aristocratic refinement. He seemed born with an innate sense of superiority, an elegant bearing that drew everyone’s eyes, and so he had even less patience for cumbersome, affected formalities. He simply did as he pleased. By contrast, Yang Xifeng sat at the French dining table in the luxury suite without knowing where to put his hands or feet, tucking a large square white napkin into his collar and rigidly holding a knife in one hand and a fork in the other like two fireplace pokers, terrified someone might laugh at him for being an ignorant country bumpkin who had never eaten this sort of meal before.
Without letting anything show while he talked, Yan Xiaodao declined Mai Yunliang’s invitation: 【Thank you for the kind invitation, Mr. Mai. I’m tied up with other matters and it isn’t convenient. Another time.】
Mai Yunliang apparently remained unwilling to give up and replied again: 【I understand that Mr. Yan cannot get away. May I come see you in your room instead?】
Yan Xiaodao stared at the message and abruptly felt uncomfortable.
It would have been impossible for him not to have reservations. He knew Mai Yunliang had been involved with both You and Jian, those two scumbags. Yan Xiaodao had no interest in that sort of thing between men or in Mai himself; merely thinking about it at the dining table made him feel disgusted and nauseated.
Yan Xiaodao replied almost instantly: 【There’s someone in my room. It isn’t convenient to receive guests.】
Mai Yunliang answered just as quickly, his wording overflowing with apology: 【I understand, Mr. Yan. I’m terribly sorry. I won’t disturb the two of you.】
Yet with Young Master Ling living in his room, Yan Xiaodao did not feel nauseated in the slightest. It was not because he already harbored any special feelings for Ling He. Rather, Yan could see that Ling He’s temper was even more stubborn, harder, and prouder than his own. Ling He was simply not the sort of man who would crawl on the ground and lick another man’s crotch for a few taels of silver….
Yan Xiaodao was cautious by nature and was also quietly considering how they should get away once the cruise ship entered port and docked. He guessed the ship itself was probably clean now, but plenty of people would be waiting eagerly at the pier for them to return—perhaps simply hoping to get a look at Young Master Ling’s true face.
Following his usual way of doing things, once he was back on the mainland he should naturally report his safety to Master Qi immediately and have Master Qi arrange people to meet them. That would make everything foolproof. No one would be foolish enough to block their way.
But did he really want Qi Baoshan to come meet them?
And what would Qi Baoshan do to Ling He afterward? What would he do once he had Ling He in his hands?
That was how the seed of doubt had quietly been planted. Once it took root and began to sprout, even if you refused it sunlight and water, the tiny little shoot would remain sickly and stubbornly refuse to die….
Yan Xiaodao stood in front of the minibar and lifted an unopened full-sized bottle of Burgundy red wine with one hand. The bottle was heavy, and he currently had only his left arm available. With his left hand, he drove the corkscrew into the cork and gripped the neck of the bottle, then used his teeth to turn the corkscrew little by little until he finally pulled the cork free with his mouth.
He spat the cork out with a sharp pop, fully aware that two fixed gazes were glued to his back.
Ling He said softly, “Mr. Yan, be good and call Master Qi. Have him send people to meet you at the port.”
With his back still turned, Yan Xiaodao’s heart sank. Can this bastard Ling He read people’s minds? How the hell is he this sharp?
Ling He sat on the bottom step of the staircase, bathed in afternoon sunlight, his face looking almost beautifully clean beneath a layer of holy radiance. “Mr. Yan, sharing this voyage with you has been the good fortune of three lifetimes. I know you’re loyal too, but there’s no need to risk your life for me. Once the ship docks, hand me over to Master Qi. Then you and I can go our separate ways, split into two routes, and you’ll be safe. Nobody will trouble you anymore. You can return peacefully to Linwan Port and take a vacation—I’m your biggest problem.”
Yan Xiaodao had draped his suit jacket over his upper body to conceal his useless right arm, curled motionless against his chest beneath it.
Ling He had eyes. Of course he could tell that if they ran into another fight at the port, Yan Xiaodao could still fight—but this time he would genuinely be spilling blood and risking his life.
As chance would have it, just as Yan Xiaodao was inwardly struggling and hardening his resolve, another phone number he very much did not want to see appeared on his screen.
He stared at the number and had no desire to answer.
Ling He smiled with exaggerated consideration. “Sorry, Mr. Yan. I truly would like to move somewhere else and give you some privacy for your phone call, but unfortunately I can’t move. I’ll have to trouble you to relocate to the bathroom or dressing room instead.”
That was practically a provocation. Yan Xiaodao’s face went cold as he pressed the answer button.
“Xiaodao… it’s me. Still on the ship?” The same low, sultry male voice came through the phone.
Yan Xiaodao said flatly, “Mm. What do you want?”
“Nothing. I was worried something might happen to you, so I wanted to see whether you needed my help. Heh, Xiaodao, you’ve worked hard on this trip. When you dock, I can come meet you at the pier.” Every sentence ended with that man’s signature, pleasant little tremor. Just hearing his voice was enough for Yan Xiaodao to picture the bastard perfectly: a thin, handsome oval face, gold-rimmed glasses, never without a suit or cologne, never without gel or wax in his hair, appearing every single time with the narcissistic air of a man proclaiming I’m the handsomest bastard under heaven. Completely insufferable.
“No need. Go handle your own business,” Yan Xiaodao said.
“I’m not busy. This is the only thing I’m busy with. Master Qi’s business is important business. Once I meet you, you can hand the goods over to me without worrying about anything. Then you can relax and go home to rest, Xiaodao?” A faint rasping sound of a nail file could be heard through the phone. The man carried an imported Swiss manicure set in his pocket and was forever trimming and polishing that precious, perfect set of fingernails!
The man on the phone was none other than the famous “Hundred Hands” Pei Yi, someone even the old fox of the You family treated with considerable wariness.
“Thank you for the offer. I appreciate it, but I don’t need it. I’ll bring the goods to Master Qi myself.” Yan Xiaodao abruptly changed direction. “Brother Pei, are you really just looking for an excuse to come have fun aboard Blue Sea Cloudtop? It’s a shame you didn’t take this assignment. I think this place suits you particularly well.”
“Heh-heh. Does it?” Pei Yi’s laugh was languid and suggestive.
“This ship is full of beautiful, peerless, city-toppling, fawning, smiling-with-knives, neither-yin-nor-yang pious men and women—beasts dressed in fine clothes. There ought to be plenty who suit your taste in prey. They’re all alive and full of blood. You should come try one,” Yan Xiaodao said.
“Ha ha ha ha…” Pei Yi burst into laughter on the other end, loud enough that even Ling He heard him.
“Xiaodao, you really do understand your brother’s tastes. Fine. Take care of yourself and stay safe. We can discuss all this beastly business properly the next time we meet—” Pei Yi drew out the final syllable with a smiling lilt.
Yan Xiaodao was so disgusted that his spine shuddered beneath his suit jacket.
Ling He, openly eavesdropping nearby, propped his chin on one hand and gave Yan Xiaodao a solemn thumbs-up. The look on his face plainly conveyed that Mr. Yan’s eloquence had improved considerably over the past few days—clearly the teacher had taught him well.
That one phone call from Pei Yi made Yan Xiaodao stop hesitating.
Perhaps it was precisely the line “hand the man over to me and you can go home and rest” that struck him so deeply. A complicated mixture of protectiveness and possessiveness sent an angry scarlet glint into Yan Xiaodao’s eyes. Had Pei Yi been sent here by Master Qi, or had he decided to show up on his own dime and stir up trouble?
Yan Xiaodao leaned against the bar and remained silent in deep thought for a full ten minutes before finally glancing at the large clock on the wall.
He ignored Ling He sitting on the stairs, walked straight into the bathroom, and locked the door.
He took out another SIM card, replaced the one he normally used, and manually dialed a number he would never save in his contacts.
“Hello? Uncle Bao, it’s me… Xiaodao.”
*
An internal case-analysis meeting was underway at the Municipal Public Security Bureau. Several tall, powerfully built middle-aged leaders sat around a large conference table listening to their capable subordinates report on the progress of several major cases from the previous week. Among them was the detailed report on the fifteen-year-old cold case already circulating through police circles. The principal offender had been reduced to a pile of white bones, and the current investigative leads suggested that the pool of suspects might extend from the original region into several northern cities, requiring the cooperation of multiple municipal bureaus to screen them.
The phone in Deputy Bureau Chief Bao Zhengwei’s pocket vibrated. He let it ring twice before lowering his head to glance at it, then gestured for his subordinates to continue and abruptly left the meeting.
Bureau Chief Bao wandered into the restroom, deliberately checked that every stall was empty, then leaned against the window and answered. “Who did you say you are?”
Yan Xiaodao said, “It’s Xiaodao.”
Bureau Chief Bao was even more cautious than he was. “I don’t recognize the voice. Say a few more things so I can listen.”
Yan Xiaodao rubbed his tired eyes with his palm and smiled bitterly. “Uncle Bao, it really is Yan Xiaodao… Linwan Tianshou Fuyuan Cemetery, West Section, Row Thirty-Two, No. Nineteen. April 22, 2014.”
It was a kind of code. That was the burial location and date of death of one of Deputy Bureau Chief Bao Zhengwei’s former colleagues and comrades who had died in the line of duty. Only their own people would know it.
Bureau Chief Bao fired every word out in a single breath. “Why are you calling me? Did something happen to you? Are you safe right now? Don’t talk yet. Find somewhere safe before you say another word.”
Bao Zhengwei had the temperament of an old cop, firing off a rapid string of questions and orders. Those unquestionable instructions abruptly warmed something inside Yan Xiaodao. The old bastard really did sound as though he genuinely cared whether Yan was safe. Yan hurriedly said, “I’m fine. I’m safe. Don’t worry, Uncle.”
Bureau Chief Bao’s tone instantly changed and he started cursing. “If nothing happened, why the fuck are you calling me? Calling to wish me a happy New Year? The holiday’s already over and now you remember me?! Hurry up and spit it out. What do you want?”
Yan Xiaodao was the sort who only knew to bow his head once he finally came before the true Buddha. All his usual arrogance disappeared at once as he sincerely and honestly asked for help. “Uncle Bao, I really do have a small favor to ask. I…
“I’ve run into a little trouble. I’ll sell you a tip as an informant, and you help me clean up the mess.”
Elio’s Notes: “True Buddha” is used figuratively here for a genuinely powerful person one finally has no choice but to turn to for help. The chapter title and this line joke that Yan Xiaodao only learns to lower his head and bow once he finally stands before the “true Buddha”—Deputy Bureau Chief Bao.