A little while later.
The Master of Smelting and Reconstruction of Metals and Natural Organisms was thrown out, résumé and all.
“If you don’t want me, fine, but why throw my résumé away? Those cost one yuan a sheet!” Ji Tan grumbled, then went to hand in his application at the next company.
After two busy days of this, Ji Tan finally got the keys to his new apartment, but he still hadn’t found a job. The résumés he sent out either vanished without a trace or earned him a rejection call the following day.
Not a single company was interested in his app-development proposal.
When the ninth rejection call came, he couldn’t help using a new insult he’d learned online: “Western District people with heads full of screws!” They had absolutely no sense of innovation!
Ji Tan withdrew some money from the bank and bought a high-spec secondhand laptop. He carried it on his back to pick up his older brother from the clinic after work. He’d decided to write a complete app himself first. Whether he ended up selling it or using it to find a job, that would make things easier.
Dusk was approaching. As the residents of Broken-Wire Street came home from their various jobs, Quick-Knife Li’s clinic was only getting busier.
A garish, illuminated spine sign flashed ostentatiously outside the clinic. Red, blue, and purple lights slid up the spine from bottom to top, one color after another. From a distance, it resembled a wriggling, multicolored centipede.
Ji Tan stared at it for a moment, felt as though his mind had been contaminated, and hurriedly shook his head before pushing the door open.
Three to five patients were lined up inside, waiting for treatment. Ji Sinan wore a stethoscope and listened while adjusting a patient’s mechanical spine. He took a small screwdriver, found the right spot, and turned it half a rotation. With a crack, the previously drooping patient straightened up.
The patient moved his head with satisfaction and was about to thank the doctor. Ji Sinan turned the screw back half a rotation. With another crack, the patient slumped over again.
This went on for seven rounds. The patient looked like a long inflatable figure being filled with air in fits and starts, flapping as though in the wind.
The corner of Ji Tan’s mouth twitched. He quietly asked Boss Li, who was leisurely smoking off to the side, “Don’t the patients complain?”
“Complain about what? Doctor Ji only charges a hundred for a repair. Go to a major hospital and it’ll cost you two thousand.” Old Li didn’t think much of it. He blew out an enormous cloud of smoke, filling the cramped clinic with haze. It looked more like an auto-repair shop than a medical establishment.
You got what you paid for. Ji Sinan’s skills were first-rate; he just turned the screws a few extra times. Once the patients thought about the nineteen hundred they were saving, nobody complained.
Ji Tan shook his head, took a thick wad of cash from his pocket, and pushed it toward Quick-Knife Li. “Brother Li, thanks for helping us the day before yesterday. I’ll pay back the salary you advanced my brother.”
Boss Li didn’t take the money. He looked toward Ji Sinan, who was busy “inflating” a patient, and asked suspiciously, “Are you trying to get your brother to quit?”
“No, no. The compensation from my previous company just came through. I figured you need capital to run your business, Brother Li, so I should repay you first.” Ji Tan told a lie to avoid unnecessary trouble.
Only then did Quick-Knife Li smile and accept the cash. Finding someone like Ji Sinan, a medical doctorate holder from a prestigious university, in a rundown place like Broken-Wire Street was no easy feat. Doctor Ji’s reputation had made him a good deal of money recently, and he was terrified the man might leave.
Old Li pulled a folding knife from a drawer and tossed it to Ji Tan. “Good lad. This is for you. Don’t let anyone bully your brother again. If you’re going to get by on Broken-Wire Street, you need a weapon to protect yourself.”
It was an old-fashioned gravity knife, with a threaded hole in the base for an attachment. Ji Tan suspected Quick-Knife Li had scavenged it from his mechanical arm. Fortunately, the blade was still reasonably sharp. He thanked Old Li sincerely and slipped the little knife into his trouser pocket.
When Ji Sinan finally finished his work, the brothers bought two meat-stuffed flatbreads from a street vendor and ate as they walked home.
Broken-Wire Street might have been a mess, but plenty of skilled craftspeople worked there. Take these meat-stuffed flatbreads: they were every bit as good as authentic roujiamo. With each bite, fragrant braising juices spilled out, lifting Ji Tan’s spirits after a whole day of setbacks.
“You don’t need to come pick up your big brother. I can get home by myself.” Ji Sinan finished his flatbread and took out an alcohol wipe.
“Today’s a special case.” Ji Tan reluctantly held out his hands and let his older brother carefully wipe each finger clean. It was as humiliating as being a little kid again, caught by his mother and made to have the drool wiped from his mouth.
Once his hands were clean, he took the keys to their new home from his pocket and told his brother in a low voice, “We’re moving tonight.”
He still didn’t know what danger Xie Zhi had been talking about, but he didn’t want to stay here for another moment.
Ji Sinan suddenly grabbed his younger brother’s arm and stopped walking.
Startled, Ji Tan turned toward their front door. Beneath the dim light in the alley, three burly men were crouched on the steps outside their home, smoking.
“You lot again? Didn’t get beaten enough last time?” Ji Tan went straight on the offensive. “I know who hired you. Tell Huo Zhaixing that if he keeps harassing me, I’ll leak the news of his impotence to the Western District gossip press!”
The three thugs hadn’t even had time to deliver their threats before they froze. The cigarettes fell from their mouths with a plop, glowing and dimming against the darkness.
“Boss, are we even supposed to hear something like that?”
“Is Young Master Huo going to have us killed to keep it quiet?”
“Stop talking nonsense!” The man who had dropped his cigarette ground it out beneath his shoe and forced what he thought was a friendly smile. “We’re not here to make trouble. Mr. Ji, President Huo asked me to pass along a message.”
That sounded thoroughly unpleasant. Ji Tan curled his lip in disgust. “A dog’s mouth can’t spit out ivory. What could he possibly have to say that’s worth hearing? I’m not interested.”
The man pretended not to have heard and loudly recited President Huo’s exact words: “Come back when you’ve had enough fun. Don’t force me to come to the Western District to drag you back. I went too far before. I’ll pay for your brother’s second injection. Have Ji Sinan go with them.”
Having finished his wooden recital, he patted himself on the chest to clarify: “Us. Go with us.”
With one hand in his trouser pocket, Ji Tan sneered. “Let him come if he’s got the guts. He’ll go straight to prison at the Order Administration Bureau. I’ll count to three. Get out of my sight.”
Little Zhang had quietly bent the rules to look into Huo Zhaixing for him. A few months earlier, Huo had fought with another admirer of his white moonlight in Xili District, causing serious consequences. That was why such strict restrictions had been placed on his travel between districts. If he dared come here, he’d first have to spend fifteen days in the Order Administration Bureau’s Order-Regulation Prison.
According to Little Chubby’s description, the prison was exceedingly unpleasant for Orderbearers. Three days inside would be enough to teach anyone what the words obey the law meant.
“Mr. Ji, please don’t make things difficult for us.” The burly men didn’t budge. They flexed their fists. “Please let Mr. Ji Sinan come with us.”
Ji Tan swung the laptop bag off his back and tossed it to his older brother. “Stand here. Don’t move.”
Without giving his brother time to react, he lunged forward and shouted, “Three!” By the time the word was out, he was already in front of the men, flicking out his little knife.
The thugs jumped in fright. They couldn’t understand why this kid had suddenly become so bold. Belatedly, one swung his fist. A sandbag-sized iron fist slammed into Ji Tan… who wasn’t hurt in the slightest.
It was as if the man’s fist had struck a fine net woven from electricity. With a yelp, he jerked his hand away. At the same moment, Ji Tan drove his little blade swiftly and precisely into the man’s upper arm, slicing off a piece of flesh.
“Aaagh!” The man screamed. His two companions rushed to help him, but when their punches and kicks struck Ji Tan, they received the same electric shocks.
Ji Tan bent low and stabbed each man’s thigh once. The gravity knife twirled in his hand. Several more rapid cuts followed, carving one leg on each man into the pattern of a blooming sausage.¹
Elio’s Note ¹: A “blooming sausage” is scored with decorative cuts so the sections fan open when cooked. The comparison is gruesomely literal here.
The original body’s knife skills were exquisite, fast and accurate. The cuts were shallow, but there was an artistry to them.
All three men collapsed, howling as though the world were ending.
Ji Tan shook the beads of blood from his blade, gave it another flourish, returned it to its sheath, and stood motionless for a long while.
“No arteries were damaged.” Carrying the laptop bag, Ji Sinan came over and leaned forward for a look. “But I’d advise you to seek medical treatment as soon as possible. The muscles have been cut. If you wait too long, you’ll have to replace your legs with mechanical ones.”
Doctor Ji repeated his diagnosis three times. Each repetition made the men even more frightened. Before he could finish, they were helping one another hop away on one leg.
“Xiao Tan, are you all right?” Ji Sinan turned him this way and that, checking him over.
“I’m fine.” Ji Tan rotated the purple ring on his index finger, which glittered with arcs of electricity. “I’ve just figured out what sort of job I could do. I could be… an assassin.”
The brisk evening wind stirred his soft hair. Ji Tan covered his face with one hand. What on earth am I saying? Xie Zhi must have infected me with his chuunibyou.²
Elio’s Note ²: Chuunibyou (中二病), often called “middle-school syndrome,” is a joking term for adolescent grandiosity and fantasies of being unusually powerful or dramatic.
“Sounds good,” Ji Sinan said with wholehearted approval.
“?”
“You won first prize in a chicken-slaughtering competition back when you were in school,” Ji Sinan encouraged him. “The live-poultry shop on the next street is looking for a master butcher. I’m sure you’ll get the job.”
“…”
“Young Master, the mission failed.”
“Useless! You couldn’t even catch a madman?” Huo Zhaixing kicked the sofa in a fury and roared into his phone.
Qiaoqiao was sitting on the sofa and jolted at the impact, immediately breaking into a cough. “Couldn’t you send a few Orderbearers? I think you’re deliberately avoiding getting me a replacement.” There was not a trace of coyness in his voice; it was icy cold.
Huo Zhaixing rubbed his temple. “Those bodyguards don’t know their own strength. What if they really hurt his brother and he stops loving me?”
Qiaoqiao pressed a hand to his chest. A drop of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
After a long silence, Huo Zhaixing waved a hand. “Send four Orderbearer bodyguards. If they find nobody there, have them stake out Purple Arc Street!”