Chapter Twenty-Three: Brother Zong’s Attitude

Zong’s restaurant was doing brisk business; when we arrived, there were no private rooms left. I didn’t want to sit in the main hall, so I said to Ma Liu, “Let’s not stay here—let’s find another place to have a drink.” Without a word, Ma Liu led us straight to Zong’s office. Inside, several men who looked like security guards stood up to greet Ma Liu as he entered. He waved them out and said to the leader, “A comrade of Zong’s has come from out of town. Tell the kitchen to prepare some good dishes, I’ll keep him company here.” As soon as they left, Ma Liu pulled out his phone and smiled at me, “Kuan, Zong hasn’t gone far—he’s hiding out right here.”

“Zong? It’s Liu, Zhang Kuan is here, aren’t you coming up to see him? Yeah, he’s out, been holed up in here for years. Oh… Okay, I’ll wait for you.” He hung up, spread his hands apologetically and said, “Zong’s cautious. He wants us to start drinking, he’ll come up soon.” He went to the door, stuck his head out to check, shut it tight, pushed me onto the sofa, and whispered, “Zong’s got connections—he’s fine now, but he’s wary that those people might get desperate, pretend to be customers and come looking for him. He’s observing. I know his temperament, he can’t stay put. Just watch the clock—he’ll come up in less than ten minutes. He’s anxious too, wants you to help catch someone.”

“Catch who? How can I help him?” I truly didn’t want to get involved—too dangerous. “Are the ones who shot at him still around our area?”

“Of course they are,” Ma Liu replied. “I’ve checked—the guy who fired the gun is hiding in your area, at someone’s house with the surname Feng.”

“Qian Feng?” I was taken aback. “He’s a man from Jia Guan’s crowd. Zong should have Jia Guan help him.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Ma Liu scoffed. “Zong’s relationship with Jia Guan is very delicate right now. How could he ask for help in a situation like this?”

“Zong’s too pragmatic,” I said perfunctorily. “Let’s wait until he arrives. My abilities are limited.”

After a few dishes arrived, I said to Ma Liu, “Best to call the manager over—I want to ask about their seafood and settle our previous accounts.”

Ma Liu clinked his glass with mine and said, “Short on cash? That’s not like you. You shouldn’t be the one settling accounts. Just drink your wine.”

I thought it over—he had a point. No matter how short I was, it wasn’t worth fussing over this. “Ha, Liu, you’ve come up in the world, talking like a big shot.”

Ma Liu drained his glass, wiped his mouth and said, “Don’t get me wrong—I just don’t want outsiders to know you’re in Jinan. Too many gossips.”

A chill swept through me—a sudden sadness. Is this how others live too? Surrounded by shadows wherever they go… I stared at the sky outside the rain-washed window, so clear and bright, and that sadness turned into a kind of bittersweet ache, as if I were a lone blade of grass swaying in the wind above the sky. Flashes of light danced before my eyes, sunlight poured onto the windowsill, flooding it with brilliance. I closed my eyes, raised my glass, gulped down a mouthful of wine, stood up and sang loudly out the window: “The Party gives me wisdom and courage; I face dangers with ease.” My voice rang out, bouncing off the sky’s mirror, echoing as if drifting from distant clouds, startling even myself. Ha, ha, my vocals aren’t bad—given a chance, I should join a karaoke contest, maybe win a prize and become a singer.

“Haha! What a voice—beats any wagon driver. Brother Kuan is in high spirits!” The door swung open, and Zong strode in, his arm wrapped in bandages.

“Zong, you’re putting on airs,” I went over and hugged him. “I was almost drunk before you showed up—not cool.”

“What’re you saying?” Zong dodged so I wouldn’t touch his wounded arm. “Didn’t Liu tell you? I nearly met the King of Hell.”

“I heard. Surviving disaster brings fortune,” I sat back down. “Congratulations.”

Zong walked to the door, whispered to someone outside, “Watch carefully—no one comes in.” He locked the door, sat opposite me with a wry smile. “Congratulations? The tiger got bullied by a cat. Damn it, as the old saying goes, ‘If you walk along the river, you’ll get your shoes wet.’ Well, mine are soaked. Hell, it’s worse than wet shoes—what do they call it…? That saying: if you walk the world, you’ll get stabbed; if you mix in the world, you’ll get clubbed; if you roam the world, you’ll get shot; if you…”

“If you sleep in bed, you’ll get drunk,” I cut him off—once Zong started talking, I couldn’t bear it. “Drink, drink.”

“I can’t. I haven’t touched alcohol for half a month…” Zong fiddled with his glass. “Hell, I’ll drink! Can’t let you mock my hospitality.”

“If you don’t want to, don’t force yourself,” I pressed his hand. “Drinking makes wounds itch—I know.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care for my life, why fuss about an itchy wound?” Zong downed a big glass. “Liu, refill.”

From the look of it, he wanted to get me drunk too. I wasn’t falling for it, so I laughed, “Zong, before you’re tipsy, I need to ask you something.” Zong waved his hand, “Go ahead.” I spoke plainly, “Zong, I didn’t come just to settle old accounts—I came because of Wang Jia Guan. I heard he approached you?”

“He did. Didn’t Liu tell you?” Zong pushed my glass toward me, his eyes fierce. “Drink this first. Liu, tell Zhang Kuan.”

“I told him—Jia Guan came to Jinan trying to recruit people, wants to play rough with Zhang Kuan. That’s all,” Ma Liu said, shaking his head.

“That’s it?” I drained my glass, stared at Zong, “I’m serious, if you don’t give me enough information, I’ll stick to you.”

“Why so tense?” Zong laughed. “He’ll always be a kid in my eyes—what tricks could he have? That’s all, nothing else.”

I had Zong repeat Jia Guan’s movements in Jinan; he drank as he spoke, eyes reddening. “Zhang Kuan, don’t worry—he won’t stir up trouble here. Because of business, I once got along well with Jia Guan, but over your matter, he really lost face. Why not just tell me straight? Instead, he keeps finding small fry who aren't worth a damn. How can I stand up for him? Makes me look bad. I’m not afraid you’ll laugh at my lack of depth—my ties with him end here. He doesn’t value old friendship—why should I bother with him? Honestly, I’m not doing this to help you crush him—I just can’t stand it anymore. His reputation is so bad—should just hide out instead of coming to Jinan making trouble… Do you know what my old friends say? ‘Old Zong, you care too much about face. That little bastard comes to your turf to recruit and you just watch? Kick him out!’ Damn, how could I do that? Anyway, since you’re here, I’ll do you a favor—these days, I’ll shut down his recruiting.”

“Zong, you’re straightforward,” I toasted him. “I understand what you’re thinking. Don’t worry—it won’t get out of hand here. I’ve got what I need, when I get back I’ll deal with him. I’ll make sure he never dares come to Jinan to trouble you. You know, I wasn’t planning to stay in the underworld after this, but can he let me live in peace? Heard he never stopped plotting against me—even in prison… My brother’s death, my sister-in-law’s madness, all tied to him.”

Zong squinted at me for a moment, then said, “Let me play peacemaker—spare him, for my sake.”

Da Guang cut in, “Zong, didn’t you just say you’d help Kuan? Now you’re…”

Zong shot Da Guang a glare, then looked at me, “Zhang Kuan, I don’t like kids interrupting when grown-ups talk.”

I clinked his glass with mine, laughed, “Zong, don’t be so formal—he’s my best friend, just like you and Liu.”

Ma Liu also smiled, “Yes, yes, Zong, don’t get upset—Da Guang’s a good guy.”

Zong smiled, “Alright. I’ll cut off Jia Guan’s supply of men here—he’ll have no market. The rest, I won’t get involved.”

I shook his hand, “That’s settled.”

“Zhang Kuan, let’s set Jia Guan aside for now. Now it’s my turn to ask you a favor—fair trade,” Zong said after a moment’s silence.

“You want me to help catch the guy who shot at you?” I suddenly understood and laughed.

“Liu, you really talk too much,” Zong shoved Ma Liu’s head and grinned at me, “Since you know, I won’t beat around the bush—will you help?”

“What’s his name?” I decided to help—maybe he’d be useful when I dealt with Jia Guan.

Zong lit a cigarette, took a few hard puffs, and said through a cloud of smoke, “His name is Li Zhiqiang, nickname Scarface, a bald guy.”

The nickname sounded familiar—Ma San was also called Scarface. I laughed, “Easy to remember. Liu said he’s hiding in our area?”

Zong said bitterly, “Yes, at Qian Feng’s house. I hear Qian Feng’s with Jia Guan—I don’t want to go to Jia Guan, it could mess things up.”

I teased him, “You should ask him—makes sense.”

Zong cursed, “I’m not that dumb. Jia Guan’s recruiting now—if I ask him, would he really help me?”

“That’s a separate matter,” I tried to convince him. “Jia Guan wants people from Qian Feng, but recruiting has nothing to do with Scarface—he’s not Jia Guan’s man. If Qian Feng offends Scarface, it pulls you in, why wouldn’t Jia Guan go for it?”

Zong got agitated, stumbling over his words, “You… Hey, you’re too naive. Things aren’t so simple… Think about it: Jia Guan asks Qian Feng for someone—he’ll have to specify who. If Qian Feng dares hide Scarface, it means they’re close. Would he hand him over? Even if Qian Feng and Jia Guan are tight, everyone’s got brains. If he refuses, it’s like breaking with Jia Guan; after that, Scarface and Qian Feng become Jia Guan’s enemies. Would he do that? Are you kidding?”

Watching him get flustered, I laughed, “Big brother, and you say I lack perspective—look at yourself.”

Zong rubbed his face, turned to Ma Liu, “Do I look that bad? Can’t be… I’m dizzy—Zhang Kuan’s a real troublemaker.”

Ma Liu turned his face to me, tongue sticking out like a rogue, “Heh, Zong’s getting old—at this rate, he won’t last in the underworld.”

I grew serious, “Zong, enough talk. I’ll handle it when I get back. You can count on me—I’ll bring you the man in three days.”

Zong was delighted, shouted at Ma Liu, “Bring wine! Go downstairs and get my Remy Martin—don’t dawdle, hurry!”

Ma Liu had just reached the door when it was pushed open; a grim-faced man said to Zong, “Zong, Director Lin is here, waiting downstairs.”

Zong waved impatiently, “Tell him to get lost—I have no time for them. Say I’ve gone to Beijing to see a comrade, don’t know when I’ll be back.”

The man hesitated, “He said he saw you… I tried to send him away, but he refused—said he had urgent business with you.”

Zong’s brows knotted like a fist, “Damn, got a taste for trouble… Fine, let him wait—I’ll be down soon.”

“Zong, if you’ve got business, go ahead. Liu and I will drink a bit and head back to his place—I discovered I’m a decent singer, need to practice.”

“No rush,” Zong said to Ma Liu, “Bring the wine—I won’t drink, but you guys can. We’ve got plenty.”

“Then bring a few bottles,” I suddenly thought of my father—I’d never bought him foreign liquor. “Can’t finish, I’ll take some home.”

“So you’re starting to chase me off?” Zong mocked. “Just like those bastards, clinging and won’t let go… Well, guess I’m unlucky.”

“How many bottles?” Ma Liu’s eyes lit up. “I’m out of it at my place, too.”

Zong stood up, “Six bottles—drink two, the rest for Zhang Kuan. I know he’s a filial son. I’m off, might not be back this afternoon—these officials are hard to deal with.” He grabbed his beer, downed it, wiped his mouth and said to Ma Liu, “The guests are here—treat them well, don’t embarrass me.”

I wanted to stand and see him off, but Zong pressed me down, “No need for ceremony—we brothers don’t bother with that. I’m going.”

As Zong’s back disappeared, Da Guang grumbled, “Old guy, putting on airs—what the hell.”

I shot him a look, “Watch your mouth—you’ll need ten more years before you can talk like that.”