Chapter Seven: Execution on Behalf of Heaven

November 23, 2015.

The ever-watchful Gao Zi, who usually kept a close eye on Shen Ye, had finally left. He'd gone to greet the newcomers, who, incredibly, turned out to be his own parents. It had to be said, Gao Zi was truly a talent—he'd not only lured his university classmates into the pyramid scheme, but now even managed to bring his own parents into its clutches. For someone like that, Shen Ye could only sigh in grudging admiration.

A glimmer of cold light flashed in Shen Ye’s eyes.

So, now was the time for him to become the hand of justice.

…

Fast Fish Restaurant.

This establishment was run by the younger brother of Director Zhang, the ringleader of the trafficking ring. Fast Fish Restaurant rarely entertained other guests; most of its clientele were either Director Zhang himself or the heads of several nearby trafficking dens. These bosses were generous spenders, and their ill-gotten gains flowed quickly.

At this moment, inside a private room on the second floor, the table was heaped with sumptuous dishes. At the center, a roasted suckling pig; around it, spicy boiled beef, twice-cooked pork, pickled fish, Sichuan-style beef slices, sweet and sour ribs, spicy fried chicken, and more.

Director Zhang sat at the head of the table. His four trusted lieutenants—Black Panther, Fat Dragon, Blackie, and Two Clubs—were seated alongside him. Of these five, Director Zhang’s crimes were the heaviest, with an evil tally of eighteen; even Blackie, with the least, counted four. By the standards of the advanced laws of the year 3000, all five of them deserved death.

They tore at the meat, eating and drinking with abandon.

“In the old building, it’s always just radish and cabbage—starving’s an understatement. If I didn’t come here to recharge, even my little bird below would be out of energy,” Fat Dragon laughed boisterously.

“Heh, so your little bird is full of energy now? Funny, I heard from that woman you’re not so full of energy down there,” Blackie jibed.

“Damn, was it Fangzi who said that? She’s got no loyalty. I just caught a chill once, so it didn’t work that one time, and she’s blabbing it everywhere. Next time, I’ll find a fresher girl and not bother with her,” Fat Dragon replied, face dark.

“I heard there’s a new spot in the New District with a batch of fresh girls. They’re all young, and though the price is a bit steep—six hundred a pop—it’s well worth it. How about we try it tonight?” another thug suggested.

“Hell yeah! New place? Let’s go, let’s go!”

Director Zhang, however, didn’t take part in their banter. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with his own lighter, took a drag, and frowned.

“Director, what are you thinking? You coming with us to the new place later?” Black Panther asked.

“No, I’m not interested in the stock at those places. I prefer decent women,” Director Zhang replied, cigarette between his fingers, drawing deeply as only an old hand could, absorbing the smoke through his nose. “I’m thinking about young Shen. That kid’s too clever. He’s been with our organization for three months, always pretending. That’s nothing, but he actually came up with the idea of tying a note to a string and dropping it into Old Ding’s salted fish downstairs, getting whoever ate the fish to call the police for him.”

“That’s some ingenious thinking.”

“If it hadn’t been for Fat Dragon wanting salted fish that day, and by coincidence buying that very batch, that kid would have turned the tables and escaped,” Director Zhang mused.

“So, Director, what do you think we should do?” Fat Dragon asked.

“I gave Shen seven days. Those days are nearly up. If he pays up, then he’s in—he’ll be sucked deeper and deeper into our scheme. If he doesn’t pay,” Director Zhang sneered, “well…”

Black Panther’s voice dropped low. “Just giving him a beating is too easy on him. Director, I’ve recently met some people—they’re in the organ trade. Deliver them a person, and we get fifty thousand. Even if the person dies, the police won’t come after us, they’ll go after the organ traffickers.”

Director Zhang’s eyes lit up. “Not bad, that’s a good idea. But what’s the rate?”

“About thirty thousand for a kidney, the same for a liver, fifty thousand for a heart. A person has two kidneys. All in all, we deliver someone, they give us a hundred and fifty thousand. Director, this business is worth it,” Black Panther, who’d clearly done his homework, replied.

Director Zhang’s eyes gleamed at the numbers. “That’s just about acceptable. Some people just won’t submit; a beating is too light. If we make this stick, it’s good money too. Anyone who defies us can be handed over to the organ traders. Let them know the price of crossing me.”

…

“Well, are you talking about me?” a voice rang out from outside the door.

With a bang, the door was pushed open.

A young man, black-haired and about six feet tall, with a touch of handsome sharpness, walked in.

It was Shen Ye.

“So you’re discussing how to kill me? Even thought of handing me over to organ traffickers—admirable, truly admirable,” Shen Ye smiled at Director Zhang.

The smile seemed normal enough, yet for some reason, it felt deeply unsettling.

Normally, Director Zhang would have already lost his temper, but something about that smile made him restrain himself. He asked instead, “Little Shen, how did you get out?”

“You’re wondering, didn’t you leave a few thugs in the old building? By rights, I shouldn’t have been able to leave. But their eyes aren’t sharp enough to watch me,” Shen Ye smiled. “Let’s see—one, two, three, four, five.”

“Five people in all.”

“Zhang Jianguo, Director Zhang—you, your crimes: murdering two who tried to escape the pyramid scheme, organizing the scheme, deceiving many into joining, and raping several women. Deserve death.

“Black Panther, you’ve committed robbery and murder, and assisted Zhang Jianguo in killing.

“Fat Dragon, you assisted Zhang Jianguo in murder, and raped several women.

“Blackie, you assisted Zhang Jianguo in murder, and raped several women.

“Two Clubs, you assisted Zhang Jianguo in murder, and raped several women.

“Tsk, tsk—a gathering of pure scum.

“All of you deserve to die!

“I’m here today as the hand of heaven, to execute you all.”

Director Zhang, Black Panther, Fat Dragon, Blackie, and Two Clubs all went pale. They’d always thought their crimes, even murder, were well hidden, invisible to the gods and ghosts. Yet now Shen Ye knew everything. It was too strange.

Having spoken, Shen Ye did not rush to act. He sat down at the table, unceremoniously split apart a pair of unused disposable chopsticks, picked up a piece of red-braised pork, chewed it, then sampled some sweet and sour ribs and several other dishes. Only after tasting did he pour himself a glass of white liquor and down it in one gulp.

He ate with relish, his movements calm and unhurried—not like someone facing his enemies, but as if sitting at an ordinary dinner table.