What had originally been a violent clash between Watanabe Yangshan and Young Master Ling, an unexpected encounter meant to settle both old grudges and new, had now somehow left the two principals forgotten off to one side. Yan Xiaodao’s appearance fundamentally changed the balance of strength and the likely outcome of the melee. Boss Watanabe’s men simply had no manpower left to spare for Ling He.
Yan Xiaodao had come up fighting alley battles and mass brawls in the old city, and he knew every pier and dock at Linwan Harbor like the back of his hand. He was the only person in the chaotic crowd wearing a white shirt, without camouflage, protective clothing, or anything else to hide him. In the darkness, his figure flashed again and again in dazzling streaks of white, forever different from everyone around him.
A drop of rain seemed to fly from the tip of Yan Xiaodao’s hair, flung free of the centripetal pull by the force and rush of air from a turning side kick, and struck Ling He’s face with a sharp pat.
Ling He seemed scalded by that drop of rain. His straight back shuddered abruptly, and his fingers moved over his own face almost involuntarily, searching until he caught the bead just before it slid along his features and fell. He lowered his head and stared at the water on his fingertip as though he had found a treasure, then without hesitation brought it between his lips and sucked the moisture from his finger.
Ling He thought even that drop of water felt warm, carrying Xiaodao’s body heat.
Yet inside, he was suffering as though a rolling blade were slicing through him while he fried in hot oil, a pain Yan Xiaodao would never understand or pity. Yan Xiaodao stood steadily in front of him all the way, his guardian angel and also an obstacle on the road ahead that he could not get over, a man he could not even knock aside with a car.
Ling He dropped back into the wheelchair he had been using as a smokescreen and, for one fleeting moment, wished he were genuinely crippled.
If he truly were crippled, his limbs ruined and his whole body permanently confined to this chair, then he would be nothing more than a useless man incapable of accomplishing anything great. The schemes and ambitions that had already blinded his heart and completely seized control of his mind and will might then recognize the impossibility and disappear on their own, and he would not spend half his life walking farther and farther down this dead-end road, growing ever more alone.
But having come this far, he had no road back. Had all those years before this been lived for nothing?
One of Mr. Ling’s black-clad young fighters relied on elusive footwork that was almost impossible to distinguish as real or feint, luring an opponent to the edge of the deck before using a tiny force to redirect a much greater one and kick the man into the sea with exceptionally graceful flair. Apparently the idiot could not even swim. He had come out to do dangerous work without mastering a single lifesaving skill and had now become an ironic “White Streak in the Waves,” thrashing helplessly and swallowing seawater by the mouthful.
Elio’s Notes: 凌波微步 (Lingbo Weibu, often rendered “Graceful Steps Upon the Waves”) is a famous lightness technique from Jin Yong’s Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils. The same sequence also jokes that the drowning opponent has become a 浪里白条 (“White Streak in the Waves”), the nickname of the superb swimmer Zhang Shun in Water Margin. The irony, of course, is that this man cannot swim at all.
The black-clad young fighter really could not stand watching anymore. He had kicked the man in himself; surely he was not expected to jump in and fish him back out too. With another elegant kick, he sent a life ring skimming down, landing squarely on the fellow’s head. The man was probably genuinely knocked senseless, because he floated on the water like an overinflated sack.
“President Ling, I have to ask, do you and that gentleman have any understanding between you at all?” The black-clad fighter darted to Ling He’s side, unable to stop complaining. Seen beside Ling He, the young man was obviously shorter and slighter, nearly two full sizes smaller. He curled his lip with aloof arrogance. “We don’t need Mr. Yan’s help at all. Are the few of us really that useless?”
“Yes. I don’t need his help either. So why did he come?” Ling He closed his eyes slightly, his voice low and hoarse.
The black-clad fighter, as an observer, saw the situation more clearly and hit the nail on the head. “President Ling, who did Mr. Yan come for? Wasn’t it for you?”
Ling He had no answer. The deep affection and friendship that had once existed between them had now become a burden neither could get around.
Ling He lowered his eyelids and sank into darkness. Against the black night, the memory of himself ruthlessly forcing Yan Xiaodao off the bridge intertwined and flashed repeatedly with the sight before him now, Yan Xiaodao fighting alone like an impassable wall of steel planted squarely in front of him…
This was still that same Xiaodao. Ling He had never misjudged him.
This was the mountain-like man Ling He would always have to look up to, the man who made every smallest injury Ling He inflicted upon him feel like boundless pain, each wound another weight added to Ling He’s own sins.
Yan Xiaodao already looked utterly exhausted. His steps were nowhere near as free and swift as usual. In Ling He’s eyes, even the arm wielding the blade seemed heavy and sluggish…
He had fought off several attackers at once inside Tide-Watching Villa and broken free of the ambush, then fallen into the water and saved himself. Every difficulty and danger he had encountered tonight because of Ling He’s traps had already consumed most of his strength. What kept Yan Xiaodao standing now was sheer tenacity, extraordinary composure, and his concern for Ling He’s safety behind him in the wheelchair. Yan Xiaodao knew Ling He was not actually crippled, but Watanabe had brought a large group of fighters to surround him, and Yan still worried that Ling He might not escape intact.
Ling He’s safety seemed to have become the heaviest responsibility tied around Yan Xiaodao’s heart. He could never stand by and watch Ling He fall into an encirclement without lifting a hand. He simply could not do it.
Boss Watanabe’s mood that night had ridden a roller coaster too. His freshly inflated confidence in victory had been battered into complete disarray by Yan Xiaodao’s sudden appearance. Several wet strands of hair clung miserably to his forehead as shock and panic slowly crept into every line of his face. Watanabe Yangshan muttered under his breath, “How did this happen? How could this happen?…”
Fighter Number Two had also been defeated. Fighter Number Three watched from the shadows, visibly hesitated, secretly estimated how much strength Yan Xiaodao might have left, then gritted his teeth, summoned his courage, and lunged.
It was a brutal war of attrition.
Yan Xiaodao stood tall on the dock, the old scar at his temple turned scarlet from the vicious fighting and his eyes bloodshot as well. A long, frightening sliver of blade rested between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. He moved it slightly and then drew it back, not even making a real attack before Opponent Number Three gave a frightened skid and stumbled backward onto the ground.
The two men simply stared at one another from several meters apart. His opponent did not dare move, and Yan Xiaodao did not move either, using the stillness to steal a breath and calm the sudden wave of aching exhaustion sweeping every muscle in his body.
He was too tired.
He knew his strength was already at the end of its tether. His vision had begun to blur slightly, and he was forcing his body to remain upright while concentrating every scrap of attention he had left.
The reckless Fighter Number Three caught the instant when Yan Xiaodao’s pupils looked slightly empty and unfocused and suddenly launched his hidden killing move, leaping up and swinging his weapon in a full, violent arc. Yan Xiaodao did not move until he saw the shadow and heard the rush of air. Battle-hardened as he was, he remained perfectly calm. He dropped low and rolled across the deck to evade the strike, while the pale edge of his blade whispered upward from below at exactly the right angle, slicing a narrow opening through both boot soles and the soles of the man’s feet. Without a sound, he cut the man’s foundation out from under him and stripped away his ability to fight at the same moment the man screamed in pain.
As Yan Xiaodao rolled, the corner of his eye caught another dark figure attacking from the shadows. Still sprawled awkwardly on the ground, he used the last thread of strength in his body to throw his knife. The slender blade seemed to carry an immense, crushing force. With a bang, it hurled the charging figure backward along the same path and, before everyone’s stunned eyes, “nailed” the man to a wooden support post beneath the dock awning.
Yan Xiaodao rolled to the man’s side, reached up, and pulled free the light blade lodged nonfatally in the hollow of his shoulder. Everyone watched the fellow collapse along the post like a punctured rubber ball deflating to the ground.
Even the black-clad fighter under President Ling, who had been muttering nonstop and refusing to admit defeat, finally shut up, drew in a secret breath of awe, and surrendered inwardly.
By then, Ling He had already restored his usual calm expression. Great waves were surging through his heart, but none showed on his face, leaving no one able to tell what he was thinking.
“You all saw that,” Ling He said lightly. “If there really comes a day when we have to fight him, which one of us can beat Yan Xiaodao?”
The people around him looked at one another, then honestly shook their heads. “Mr. Yan possesses exceptional skill and can take on ten men by himself. We can’t beat him.”
Ling He nodded in acknowledgment. “Exactly. We can’t beat him. Today we only came to take You Jinglian. If the person who came today had been Qi Baoshan, with Yan Xiaodao’s absolute loyalty to Master Qi, he would fight me to the death. He would never shrink back, never stand aside and watch. He would not allow me to take another step forward.”
The people around him fell silent.
Ling He gave a bitter smile. Love and hatred tangled together as the truth slipped from him. “Xiaodao… what am I supposed to do with you?
“How could I possibly let you go? How could I leave someone like you to Qi Baoshan?”
Yan Xiaodao did not hear Ling He’s low, murmured confession. The distant thrum of engines and ship horns blended into a noisy background melody over the water. Not far away, he lay flat on his back across the deck, almost completely spent, his chest heaving violently as he struggled for air.
……
By then, the skirmish on the dock had essentially ended, decisively and one-sidedly, after only a few minutes. Ling He’s people had dealt with all the remaining small fry.
Boss Watanabe, who had rashly started the fight, paid heavily for his foolish impulse and failing intelligence and emotional judgment. His people frantically hauled their floundering companions out of the water before scrambling back toward the patrol boat.
Ling He could not even be bothered to pursue Watanabe Yangshan and press his advantage. That fake-Japanese bastard already had half his body in the grave. In Ling He’s eyes, he was nothing more than a contemptible insect and posed no threat whatsoever.
When Ling He looked back, he saw Secretary You as well. Yan Xiaodao had brought You Jinglian along with him, and the moment You appeared he had been restrained. Now he sat blankly beneath the awning, so defeated that he could not even be bothered resisting. Several people nearby were kind enough to bandage his wounds. He was, after all, a major official; nobody wanted him dying of blood loss here.
Amid the confusion, Watanabe Yangshan again ordered his people to carry him back aboard so they could flee.
This entire detour had accomplished nothing. Worse, more than a dozen bodyguards now had broken arms or legs and could barely save themselves. Who sincerely cared whether the old man lived or died?
“Carry me aboard! Don’t start the boat yet. Get me aboard first!!” Boss Watanabe lunged forward in angry panic and fell sprawling onto the sampan, nearly pitching headfirst into the sea. This enormous “sack of potatoes” was hauled out of the water and dumped dripping onto the deck. Ignoring the danger in the rain, the patrol boat broke through the waves toward the large ship farther out in the deep harbor.
It was then that Watanabe Yangshan noticed an unusual disturbance on the water.
Ling He and the others noticed it too.
Someone was coming, and once again it was a familiar face arriving “by invitation.”
After receiving the threatening phone call earlier, his anger building uncontrollably over several days until it squeezed out what little room remained in his brain for reason, who else could the man racing toward the Pier 5 warehouse exactly on cue be but Young Master You?
On the way, You Haodong received another message that nearly made his heart and lungs explode, like a club to the head followed by oil poured onto the fire.
It was a message with an attached photograph, brief and vicious: 【North Wharf Warehouse, Pier 5. If this unfilial son still doesn’t show his face, we’ll blow your old man sky-high.】 In the photograph, You Jinglian sat listlessly in a chair with his head lowered and his expression invisible. The surroundings were black and empty, the background impossible to identify. He had clearly been detained.
At that moment, You Haodong had lost all reason and possessed neither normal calm nor sound judgment.
The photograph he saw had actually been taken at Tide-Watching Villa and “specially” sent to him by President Ling. Through a series of coincidences, the image appeared to corroborate Boss Watanabe’s threatening phone call, making You Haodong believe the story completely.
His head was now filled with nothing but that fat-bellied fake-Japanese bastard. Given the chance, if You Haodong had possessed Yan Xiaodao’s skill at carving flesh and separating bones, he would have gladly sliced the old bastard alive one cut at a time.
Halfway there, You Haodong even came up with what he considered a brilliant plan. He stole a motorboat used for patrols from a privately owned waterfront amusement facility. He traveled entirely by water rather than land, arriving so quietly that no one noticed Young Master You until he was almost upon them.
Watanabe Yangshan’s drooping eyelids covered his dark-red eyes. The moment he recognized Young Master You, he knew disaster was coming and rasped at his men, “Go! Start the boat! Go, now!!”
Now the one caught between attacks from front and rear was no longer Ling He but Watanabe himself, trapped by threats from both land and water. Tonight he had neither succeeded in seizing the You family’s cargo nor captured Ling He. The large shipment of valuable smuggled goods Young Master You had illegally stored in the warehouse was something he would not dare report stolen to the police either, so it looked as though the brat surnamed Ling would smoothly take that into his own pocket as well…
You Jinglian sat on the dock like a clay or wooden idol, cross-legged and blank as a meditating bodhisattva while staring toward the distance. Only then did he slowly raise his head, completely unprepared to see his son.
He had never imagined he would still get to see his precious son here tonight.
He had thought he would be handed over to the judicial authorities before the night was done, locked behind bars, then subjected to round after round of investigation and interrogation reserved for criminal officials until he was finally sentenced and imprisoned. He had believed he would not even have a chance to confess the truth to his family. He had wronged his wife, children, and elders, hiding that disgraceful truth from them all these years.
His eyes flew wide as he watched his son tear across the water on a motorboat like a madman. They were too far apart for an unaided human voice to carry.
“Dongdong!… Dong…” You Jinglian’s restless struggle and attempt to call for help were quickly suppressed in his throat.
“You old bastard, don’t you fucking think you can run!” You Haodong handled the speedboat skillfully, moving at nearly twice the speed of Watanabe’s larger patrol vessel. He circled the water like a madman, throwing up a huge curved sheet of spray whenever he turned, the scene terrifyingly dangerous.
Watanabe’s boat barely lurched forward and escaped the first charge. No one expected Young Master You to swing around in the distance and charge again.
Watanabe Yangshan fell into panic as well. Had Young Master You lost his mind? Was the brat planning to die together with them tonight?
But how could Boss Watanabe have known the truth? How could he know the You family was now a tottering building on the verge of collapse, or imagine that the ordinary office gift he had once presented to Young Master You had been tampered with and used to record a devastating video? That obscene recording had knocked the You family straight into the eighteenth level of hell and exposed them completely. In You Haodong’s mind, this entire rotten debt now belonged to Watanabe Yangshan. It was unforgivable. The old man deserved to fall into Avici Hell.
“Shoot! Stop him! Stop that lunatic!” Everyone on the boat was terrified, their bluster unable to hide the fear inside them.
You Haodong’s face tightened and his brow twitched, his bronze-gold skin gleaming over the water as he drove straight toward the bow of Watanabe Yangshan’s ship, intending to brake sharply at the front and leap aboard to fight.
Watanabe Yangshan pulled a gun from an iron box beneath the helm. No one could tell exactly what kind of firearm it was.
When it fired, a dazzling tongue of flame burst from the barrel, drawing a straight dark-red streak over the black water. Everyone on the dock could hear several muffled pup, pup sounds as bullets struck the sea.
Yan Xiaodao rolled upright as well and stared in astonishment at the unexpected eruption of gunfire over the water.
Where that streak of light reached, there came a sudden, instantaneous explosion, a tremendous roar like a chain of thunder rolling away across the horizon, or like fuel meeting an ignition source in a flash and erupting into the fiercest possible blast. Where the fire appeared, the motorboat beneath You Haodong became a ball of flame, and in a single instant everything vanished into ash…
“AHHHHHHH!!”
“AHHHHHHH!!…”
You Jinglian witnessed it with his own eyes. He fell into heart-rending madness, flailing his arms and rushing toward the edge of the deck before others dragged him back. If nobody had stopped him, he would have jumped directly into the sea and tried to swim over.
Everyone was stunned.
It had happened in an instant. There had been no time, no possibility of rescue, and perhaps not even time for pain.
Time and fate. Who had pushed and driven events until Young Master You ultimately lost his life? Was there someone else’s trap to blame, or only himself?…
The fireball also scorched the side of the patrol vessel. Sparks landed on several people, who rolled and beat frantically at themselves in terror, while Watanabe Yangshan’s clothes caught fire and he fell into the sea.
In the end, both sides were destroyed by a profound misunderstanding. That misunderstanding had been born from a meticulously arranged scheme and deliberate provocation. Yet the true origin of it all lay in the bloody debts and lingering sins these people had accumulated over the years. Now they were falling one after another into miserable ends. Who had Heaven ever spared?
People on the dock stood frozen in shock, unable to speak. No one had expected such a brutal ending. A magnificent blaze rose from the sea, sparks breaking apart and spraying into the ink-dark abyss of the sky.
You Jinglian’s howling sobs were almost unbearable to hear. Even a coldhearted person would have been pulled into sympathy. Everyone around him fell silent and let him cry. The black-clad young fighter was plainly unable to bear it either. With a glance, he ordered several people into a small boat, carrying a stack of life rings to throw toward the firelit water…
Ling He’s face showed no expression. He forced every emotion back behind his eyes, which reflected the same burning blaze.
Without losing a single man or lifting a finger himself, President Ling had needed only a few moves of sowing discord to “kill with a borrowed knife,” then “watch the fire from across the river.” His own hands remained unstained.
Elio’s Notes: “Kill with a borrowed knife” (借刀杀人) and “watch the fire from across the river” (隔岸观火) are both classic stratagem idioms, traditionally included among the Thirty-Six Stratagems. The narration pairs them deliberately to describe Ling He engineering a conflict while keeping his own hands clean.
Yan Xiaodao turned back then, every trace of his shock captured in his face, and asked hoarsely of the silent man in the wheelchair, “Ling He… how did this happen?”
Ling He raised his eyes. “How should it have happened?”
Yan Xiaodao asked, “That shot in Secretary You’s body. Were you the one who fired it?”
Ling He merely gave him a faint, dismissive look. He could not be bothered defending himself. How was he supposed to explain this entire chain of events?
Yan Xiaodao’s emotions trembled. “Have you gone insane, Ling He?”
“I’m not insane.” Ling He’s reply remained sharp as ever. “Does Mr. Yan want to arrest me and deliver me to the police station? Be my guest.”
Yan Xiaodao said nothing.
Having witnessed everything with his own eyes, You Jinglian seemed to have suffered a complete mental collapse. His pupils were dilated, and he looked as though he had lost his mind, or perhaps truly had. His heart-rending wails became the cruelest aria in the darkness, overlapping in that instant with Yan Xiaodao’s memory of Mai Yunliang’s dead face covered in dark-purple blood and wounds.
Yan Xiaodao’s voice was hoarse. “The fire alarm has gone off. The police will be here soon… Ling He, go. Quickly.”
Yes. The police would arrive within minutes. Ling He had no time to pour out his feelings to Yan Xiaodao or prove his own innocence. His mind had already raced directly to the next move on the board. The You family and Watanabe were thoroughly defeated, their families ruined and people dead. If You Jinglian had truly gone mad, then the plan to make him surrender and confess the truth had probably collapsed as well. So what would Ling He do next?
Who should be dealt with next?…
Next should be Qi Baoshan, who was more than ten times as shrewd as You Jinglian and Watanabe Yangshan. Driving the mentally fragile Secretary You into a corner had been easy, but how could Ling He force the deeply calculating and inscrutable Master Qi into a dead end as well?… That would be far more difficult.