Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Signs of Success

Tianshun has disappeared.

That day, I was chatting idly with Kuai Bin at his restaurant, reminiscing about the time Tianshun helped me escape. Just as I was about to express some heartfelt emotions, Kuai Bin sighed deeply, “You’ll never see him again.”

I was startled, “What happened to him?”

Kuai Bin replied, “That whole group got into trouble. Butterfly killed someone… Jin Gao and Tianshun are all implicated, they’ve all fled.”

My mind felt empty, “Not a single one was caught?”

Kuai Bin lowered his eyelids, “Not yet. None can escape, not until this affair is settled.”

I was depressed for a long while, couldn’t even drink, and returned home in a slump. The sky outside looked as bleak as the face of a patient with uremia.

With Donkey Four’s dog around, every move Jia Guan made was like watching a TV drama, all right under my nose. One day Donkey Four came to see me, saying Jia Guan was in trouble. He didn’t know the cause, only that two months ago, one night, Jia Guan was having dinner with a group in a hotel. Suddenly, a man burst in, pulled out a gun, and shot Jia Guan in the shoulder. Jia Guan reacted quickly, jumped out the window; everyone in the room was stunned, some dove under tables, others jumped out windows. The assailant didn’t chase, just turned and left. Jia Guan’s bodyguards rushed in, and a firefight erupted—one bodyguard was killed.

After that, Jia Guan was furious, investigating the identity of the killer everywhere. Eventually he suspected it was someone from Gangzi’s crew. Supposedly Gangzi had been released for quite some time and hadn’t forgotten his grudge with Jia Guan. The police drew a sketch and put out a warrant, but to this day, the suspect hasn’t been apprehended.

Last month, Jia Guan went to see Gangzi; the two even drank together, superficially polite. But a few days later, Jia Guan sent men to “feel out” Gangzi’s place, only for Gangzi’s people to “cover” them, holding them there. Gangzi demanded Jia Guan bring money to ransom them; no one knows how much Jia Guan paid, but the men eventually came back. Among them was Bandit A. Bandit A said, “That bastard Wang isn’t worth much; ransoming us was a last resort. Once we were out, he didn’t bother with us, and now we’ve got nothing, leaving in disgrace.” I asked Donkey Four if Bandit A was still with Jia Guan.

Donkey Four put on a serious face, acting reserved, “Bandit A originally wanted to leave him, but I couldn’t let him go so easily. I haven’t finished the task you assigned me. I told him to bear with it, stay put, and observe Wang for me. Bandit A wasn’t too willing at first, said Wang might not pay him anymore. I said, if he doesn’t pay, I will. Just keep an eye on Wang for me, and I’ll reward you. He agreed, very disciplined, didn’t even ask who I was working for.”

I told him to keep Bandit A under control, and make sure Bandit A didn’t know I was behind it.

Donkey Four said, “I get it better than anyone. When it matters, I’m careful, no leaks.”

I figured the one who shot Jia Guan wasn’t necessarily Gangzi’s man—maybe it was Tang Yong’s. Anything could happen in these circles.

Tiger finally returned. He seemed much more composed now, but at heart, he was still the same. As soon as he was back, he gathered his old brothers for a meeting, ready for a comeback. I had him over, vaguely expressed my desire to continue working together. Tiger thumped his chest, “Brother Kuan, Tiger is your brick—move me wherever you need.” I asked if he had any difficulties lately. Tiger replied loudly, “No difficulty at all. I’m single, leading the brothers to start anew. Sooner or later, we’ll have everything.” I told him, “You’d better find something to do, or you’ll feel empty.” Tiger said, “I’m not cut out for business. I lost my capital running a restaurant in Zhengzhou.” I told him, “Try opening a snack bar. Your brothers need a place to drink anyway, so they wouldn’t have to go elsewhere. When they treat each other, they still pay, and besides, you often ‘extort’ the big shots—just force them to spend at your place.” Tiger thought about it, then laughed, “That’s a good idea.”

A few days later, I had Tiger take care of something Brother Zong assigned, and he handled it beautifully—Old Scar was sent back to Jinan without even knowing what vehicle he was in.

Lately, Jia Guan’s appearances on Lower Street have increased, probably because Brother Zong kept his promise and cut off his “sources” in Jinan.

I never met the legendary Tang Yong. Some said he disappeared, as if Butterfly’s affair involved him, which left me feeling somewhat disappointed.

Just wait, Wang. Once I have the right opportunity, I’ll make you understand that sins must be punished.

Yang Bo’s wedding date drew closer day by day. She spent almost all her time at my place, bringing up marriage every few sentences; I was getting annoyed. Yang Bo’s skin has gotten thick these days—sometimes when I mention her “selling smiles,” she doesn’t get angry, just laughs brightly.

Well, let’s get married soon! I’ve been “loyal” with Yang Bo for over ten years, our temperaments are compatible, so I’ll listen to her—when it’s time to marry, marry!

I thought, wandering the streets, where could I find a woman who’s good-looking, has a pleasant disposition, and doesn’t mind my past? Just get married, then.

One day, I was in the office discussing the wedding with Wang Dong, when Ke Zhi came in and tossed me thirty thousand yuan. He said, “The project will be settled at the end of the year. Your commission should be 110,000; I’ll give you another 50,000 at year’s end, then this matter is done.” I wanted to smack him with the money, but stopped midway, “Brother Zhao, playing mind games?”

Ke Zhi touched his face, grinning like a traitor, “Nothing escapes you, does it? Old Two, you have to understand me—I’m a businessman, always after profit. You took some money from the middle, it unsettles me. The later project I negotiated myself with Old Wei… Didn’t expect you’d find out so soon.” I said, “Think about it—what’s my relationship with Old Wei? Without me, you wouldn’t have gotten the contract. Here’s the deal: Old Wei took a lot of kickbacks from you, so he’s embarrassed to bring it up. I won’t hassle you—let’s settle at a fair price, five percent commission, okay?” Truthfully, I didn’t know what they were doing behind the scenes. Ke Zhi nodded repeatedly, “No problem, based on settlement invoices.” There was definitely something shady in this. Remembering how he’s helped me and my family over the years, I said, “Alright, don’t play mind games with me—I’ve got connections.”

Ke Zhi quickly changed the subject, saying he should thank me. A few days ago, some punks tried to borrow money from him; once he mentioned me, they didn’t dare bother him again.

I said, “Tiger’s reputation lives on even after he’s gone…” We were chatting when someone knocked at the door; Ke Zhi took the opportunity to leave.

At the door stood Da Guang. I asked what he wanted. His expression was gloomy, “Brother Zong in Jinan is finished; the police are hunting him everywhere.”

I’d anticipated this. A few days ago, Ma Liu told me over the phone that Brother Zong’s reach was too far. No matter the industry, if he saw profit, he’d send his men to “storm the den,” first causing trouble, beating people up, then threatening and strong-arming, leaving opponents battered and humiliated. Most people knew Brother Zong’s tyranny and gave in—either fled or paid protection. But there were some reckless types who fought back, and he never sought help from the legal side, always used violence. Because of this, his brothers went in and out of jail frequently.

Once, Brother Zong clashed with an official’s son. They set up a battleground in Jining, with thousands of “fighters” on both sides, chaos and carnage everywhere—riot police had to intervene. As a result, Brother Zong hid out for nearly a year, almost losing everything. After that, he started amassing wealth even more wildly, swallowing both black and white businesses, making countless enemies, some openly, some secretly, all plotting his downfall.

One day, I visited Ma Liu in Jinan and met Brother Zong, talked about these things. I said, “Brother Zong, you’re heading down a dangerous road.” He laughed, “Dangerous my ass. The more cautious you are, the greater the danger. As long as you’re bold and ruthless, no one can touch you.” I didn’t argue; everyone lives their own way. But seeing his confidence and the fortune he’d built, I had to admit he was quite a character.

That day, drinking with Ma Liu in Jinan, I was downcast—imagining a glaringly white death card stuck in Brother Zong’s back, a blood-red cross over his name. I saw myself standing beside him, a death card behind me as well, the cross unclear. After returning from Jinan, I said to Wang Dong, who was also gloomy, “Brother Zong’s getting more and more unhinged. He’s already so rich—probably worth over a hundred million—yet still so reckless, heading straight for ruin.” Wang Dong said, “People are like that—like a thief. At first, stealing once is enough to eat; then, after eating, he thinks, ‘I’ll steal again, buy a wife.’ With a wife, he thinks, ‘Steal again, buy a house.’ With a house, he thinks, ‘Steal again, buy a car…’ It goes on and on. Eventually, he’s either killed or jailed. That’s human nature.” Wang Dong made sense; reflecting on myself, wasn’t I the same? My mind was muddled for days.

Chatting with Da Guang, Wang Dong arrived. He burst in, “I just ran into Wang—man, he’s wild! Wearing welding goggles, followed by a whole row of bodyguards. Why’s he so bold? Isn’t he just showing off? Show off too much and the cops will notice him…” Da Guang laughed, interrupting, “The police already have their eye on him—when they grab him, it’ll be fatal.” Wang Dong said, “Not necessarily. But that bastard is clever, he keeps the legal side well-greased. Once, a guy wouldn’t give way, played mahjong with an official, won money, and demanded payment. The official was broke. The guy wouldn’t let him leave, holding a knife to his throat. The official called Jia Guan, who immediately sent people with money. It was handled well—the official left, and the guy was ‘taken care of’ by Jia Guan’s men. I heard Jia Guan uses this trick to win over officials. Some say he sets them up himself… Oh, and I heard he and Gangzi have reconciled, hanging out together, calling each other brothers. Brother Kuan, shouldn’t we deal with him now?”

“Almost,” I said. “Donkey Four is investigating his matter now.”

“What matter?” Wang Dong scratched his head. “How’d I forget?”

“If I said ‘drink,’ you wouldn’t forget,” I jabbed him, “It’s what we discussed while chatting at Da Hai Pool.”

“Ha, now I remember. Wang’s dealing drugs?”

That day at Da Hai Pool, I told Wang Dong that Donkey Four heard Jia Guan might be trafficking drugs. If true, we could get solid evidence and take him down for good. Wang Dong said, “Wang hides deep—such evidence is hard to catch.” I said, “That’s your skill. I haven’t mixed in society for years, nearly deaf now—I can’t catch him.” Wang Dong said, “I don’t know anything; you handle it. No guts, no glory. If we want to catch him, we have to get in the game ourselves. Let’s start with Ecstasy—I appoint you as the director of the ‘Pharmaceutical Department’ at Lu Lu Kuan Nightclub.” We laughed for a while; I said, “No need to rush. Let Donkey Four keep an eye out. If there’s any drug-related activity, hand him straight to the narcotics squad.”

I told Kuai Bin about it. He lazily said, “I know nothing. I’ve converted to Christianity—God values mercy.”

Kuai Bin has changed a lot these years, doesn’t inquire about anything, reads, plays chess, occasionally pretends to be a poet reciting strange verses.

Those days, I was unusually irritable, always feeling something was about to happen.

Lan Slant-Eye hadn’t visited in a long time. Wang Dong told me Lan was finished—his “ice” addiction had turned him into a “fatty,” as they say, “twisted.” While others only “twist” occasionally, he was in that state almost daily. One day, Lan called Wang Dong, immediately asking, “Brother Wang, have you seen Zhang Kuan lately?” Hearing his agitated tone, Wang Dong knew he was “twisted” again and lied, “Zhang Kuan’s back in jail, this time for rape.” Lan sighed, “Knew it… Guess what? I just saw him break out of prison, flying from one tree to another like Monkey King! Kuan’s got athlete potential—after landing, he shot from the south end of Lower Street to the north, disappeared without a trace…” Wang Dong said, “He’s ‘twisted’ again,” then cursed, “Damn you, Slant-Eye, can’t you sober up?” Lan replied, “Where’s my Ecstasy?”

Lan was doomed—he’d grown bored with “ice” and moved on to Ecstasy. On the streets, they joked he was the manager of Lower Street’s drug department. Unexpectedly, Lan was arrested by the police, along with Shufen. I instantly realized that Lan probably wanted to use the apartment he was looking for in Jinan as his base—business in name, drug trafficking in fact. Likely, he slipped up and got caught.

I called Ma Liu; before I could speak, he understood, saying Lan’s apartment had been sealed but he wasn’t found. Wang Dong said the arrest scene was grand—female officers were involved. Lan was sprawled in his bathroom “twisting,” and the police rushed in, scaring him so badly he wet his pants. As he was dragged out, his crotch was dripping, like a jellyfish skin hanging. Lan yelled, “My family’s been poor for three generations, even the Cultural Revolution couldn’t break me. I’m red-rooted and upright, a people’s representative, a political consultative member, a provincial secretary! How dare you treat me this way, I’ll…” Before he could finish “skin you alive,” a cop shoved a plastic bag over his head. Lan’s voice inside sounded like farting, “I surrender, isn’t that enough…” As they put him in the police car, Shufen was sashaying home, didn’t understand what was happening, and got nabbed by several female officers. “You’ve seen the scene in Journey to the West where Monkey King pounds White Bone Spirit? It was just like that… Damn, so exciting!” Wang Dong laughed till he was out of breath.

My analysis was correct—mere drug use wouldn’t be so bad, but if he was trafficking, Lan’s life was over. I asked, “Why did the police arrest them?”

Wang Dong said, “What else? Organizing prostitution, I guess. Shufen probably won’t face big trouble, but Lan will—he’s involved with drugs.”

Memories of my past with Lan Slant-Eye drifted before my eyes, stifling my chest, leaving me speechless.

Those days, I felt empty as if my soul had left, my mind full of broken memories, constantly disturbing me.

A bad mood leads to drinking, drink too much and you think of women—even with Yang Bo by my side, I’d lost interest in her.

I took a liking to a girl working the bar at Kuai Bin’s restaurant. Her name was Wang Hui, living nearby.

That day, I drank too much at Kuai Bin’s restaurant, sitting on the lobby sofa, secretly watching her. She wasn’t beautiful, but had an indescribable appeal—her cheeks were rosy, lips full, eyes small and narrow, single eyelids, chest high and solid, hips equally firm, round and large, wrapped in jeans as if about to burst. She possessed a healthy kind of beauty; I thought she must have been an athlete once.

Yang Bo’s figure flashed in my mind. She was prettier than Wang Hui, but I could no longer see the youth and innocence in her, only the worldliness and weariness she exuded.

I lit a cigarette, stared absent-mindedly at a beam of sunlight by the door. When I turned back, Wang Hui seemed an orange blur in my eyes, hazy like a classical oil painting, and my heart stirred.

I said, “Hui, I’d like to invite you to dinner.” She replied, “You’ve had too much today, another time.” I thought, another time is fine—I’ve long wanted to bed you.

That night, I told this joke to Yang Bo. Like a little demon, she extended five claws and scratched me into a zebra.