The short, sharp cry for help had passed through the speaker, puncturing the dining hall's quiet. Even Fei Du, sitting across, had heard it. Luo Wenzhou called back, but the call wouldn't connect.
Though it had only been a brief sound, Luo Wenzhou had still been able to recognize it as the black cab driver Chen Zhen.
Chen Zhen had reported Wang Hongliang because of the phone call he'd overheard Chen Yuan make, as well as some seemingly unsubstantiated guesses; from start to finish he'd produced no concrete evidence.
There was no telling whether Chen Yuan hadn't left anything behind because she'd been afraid of burdening her brother, or whether, having silenced her, Wang Hongliang had gone in under the guise of "cracking down on drugs" and removed all the clues. At any rate, all Luo Wenzhou had gotten from Chen Zhen had been his sister's old photo album.
When they'd parted, Luo Wenzhou had distinctly felt the young man's dissatisfaction and had purposefully enjoined him: "Don't go blabbing about things there's no evidence for, and especially don't go looking for evidence yourself. If you remember something, give me a call any time.—Even if you endanger yourself to find some evidence, it may be of no use. We won't necessarily think it will lead to anything."
Luo Wenzhou had thought he'd covered both the emotional and the logical aspects, which should have been enough to keep that brat Chen Zhen well-behaved. But not a full day later, he'd gotten into trouble.
Luo Wenzhou at once pushed the plate of shelled shrimp towards Fei Du. "You go ahead and finish eating. When you're done, clean up the plates yourself. I've got something to take care of, so I'll be off."
Fei Du didn't say that this was fine or that it wasn't. He slowly poked open a box of lemon-flavored black tea and drank a mouthful; he felt it was both sour and bitter, really not suitable for human consumption, so he tossed it aside and thoughtfully watched the hurriedly departing Luo Wenzhou on his way out.
Luo Wenzhou had Chen Zhen's contact information, but the number that had called him just now had been totally unfamiliar. As he drove swift as the wind towards the Flower Market District, he gave Director Lu a call.
"Uncle Lu, it's me, it's an emergency, I don't have time to submit a request for clearance, can you think of a way to locate two phone numbers for me?"
Despite getting a call out of nowhere after getting off work, Director Lu was unsurprised. "What numbers? Where are you?"
Luo Wenzhou rapidly told him Chen Zhen's number and the unfamiliar number from earlier.
Director Lu jotted them down. Before hanging up, he asked, "What's going on with you right now? Can you guarantee your safety?"
"Safety is your humble servant's middle name." Luo Wenzhou gave an inscrutable laugh, then turned the steering wheel and left Nanping Road, headed right into the West District.
The night had turned sultry without any warning; the summer heat was oppressive. Birds occasionally hurtled daringly through the sea of cars, almost skimming the ground, hinting that a rainstorm was about to strike.
Friday's evening rush hour regularly lasted longer than usual, but luckily this was the last day of the traffic restriction. The city center was warming up for the weekend. The enormous outdoor Canopy of Heaven unfolded, dazzling the eye with its scrolling LEDs. These nighttime lights relentlessly pursued all the people coming and going and crossed over the wide road to flash over Luo Wenzhou's car, ceasing hostilities only when he had thoroughly wound his way into the complicated streets of the West District.
Director Lu was both orderly and reliable; not much time had passed when a technician returned Luo Wenzhou's call—Chen Zhen's phone had been located near the West District's West Guanjing Street. The unfamiliar number's position was close by; it was registered under a real name: it belonged to a woman named Wu Xuechun.
"Wu Xuechun." Luo Wenzhou was a little taken aback. "It's registered under a real name?"
"Yes. That's the name." The technician gave him a definite reply. "Captain Luo, I'll send her identity card information to your phone in a bit."
The GPS told him he was near "West Guanjing Street." Luo Wenzhou slowed his car.—The reason why he had dared to rush over alone in the middle of the night was that he had determined that Wang Hongliang wouldn't dare to do anything to him.
A creep like Wang Hongliang habitually bullied those below him and fawned on those above him, clearly separating haughtiness and reverence, dividing people into various grades and ranks; for him, there were people like ants whom he could crush as he liked, and people whom, however he loathed them, he'd still have to hold his nose and make up to.
Luo Wenzhou himself wasn't anything much, but luckily his dad hadn't retired yet.
If Chen Zhen had run into danger while calling for help, whoever he'd run into would definitely know of Luo Wenzhou's existence. The phone number had been recorded and would be easy to trace; Wang Hongliang ought to have understood at once that it was only a matter of time before Luo Wenzhou arrived.
According to reason, Wang Hongliang would now take the initiative to contact him and feel out his disposition, seeking a private channel for resolution.
But so far, he hadn't.
Luo Wenzhou quickly realized—whatever had happened tonight, it was likely Wang Hongliang still didn't know about it; it may have been his subordinates acting on their own.
This was very dangerous, but it was undoubtedly also an opportunity.
Luo Wenzhou's phone made a noise as it received Wu Xuechun's identity card information. He parked his car at the end of West Guanjing Street.
West Guanjing Street had an open air barbecue, a night market, and "major health services" (29) among other functions, all collected into a "pedestrian street." Being a pedestrian was the only way to get by here; because of the vendor's stalls illegally occupying the road, no motor vehicle apart from a buggy could drive in.
The air was full of the smoky smells of roasting meat. Bare-armed burly men fried river snails in iron cooking pots until they sizzled, heavily made-up special "service workers" stood at the street corners, skewer sellers did non-stop business, and the smell of the sewers wafted progressively up; not far off, some people were brazenly scooping up recycled waste cooking oil.
Luo Wenzhou's gaze swept around. He was nearly stifled by the flood of people. He stood deliberating a moment, then went over to a black cab driver mustering point.
The black cab drivers had called quitting time long ago. They were just gathered into a group to gamble. One middle-aged man who was having luck at cards, cursing up a storm, slammed his poker hand down on the hood of a car and laughed, showing a mouthful of uneven yellow teeth. "Fuck, how's that, good enough for you? Pay up."
Saying so, he stretched out his hand and asked his companions for a cigarette; before his companions could provide, a hand suddenly reached over from behind him, passed over a cigarette and even lit it for him.
The handful of black cab drivers turned their heads all at once. They saw a broad-shouldered, long-legged man who was very easy on the eyes.
It was Luo Wenzhou.
"Buddies, I need to ask you about something." Luo Wenzhou very politely produced a round of cigarettes. Then, smiling radiantly, he said, "Yesterday my car was under the restriction, so I rode with one of your brothers and accidentally dropped a contract that'd just been signed in the car. The contract is just some paper, not worth any money to anyone else, but if I can't get it back I'll have to kill myself to atone.—You wouldn't be helping me for nothing. Anyone who saw him and can tell me, I'd be very grateful."
Having said so much, Luo Wenzhou wasn't at all vague. He suited action to word: not pressing on to ask his question, he first opened his wallet and gave each person a bright red banknote.
"Allow me to trouble you. If you get me the information, I definitely won't go back on my word."
He was a fair hand at deception—he gave a minutely accurate account of the car's make, model and external appearance, but was vague about the license plate, saying the first two letters and the last number, skirting past, then describing the driver's appearance with broad gestures.
The black cab drivers had their own organization and territorial partitions. With this bit of information it was easy for them to come to a conclusion after a many-voiced discussion: "Isn't it that brat Chen Zhen?"
Luo Wenzhou closed his mouth in good time, his gaze level, floating doubtfully from one to the next, displaying just the right amount of confusion.
With the promise of a pecuniary reward, the black cab drivers rapidly broke up their game and obligingly dove into the intricate system of narrow alleys. Luo Wenzhou lit himself a cigarette and had yet to finish smoking it when he got the information he wanted—someone claimed to have seen Chen Zhen's car parked by the road, then gave him the exact location as well as Chen Zhen's phone number.
The number didn't connect, of course. Luo Wenzhou quickly handed over the cash and settled up, then had the person take him to where Chen Zhen's car was parked—it was an outdoor parking lot, outside of West Guanjing Street, the spots regularly laid out but with no one to mind it. Chen Zhen's second-hand sedan was parked on its own by the roadside. People came and went, but there was no sign of the car's owner.
The parking lot's sole security camera had been half-smashed by some juvenile delinquent; its bones were already cold.
The person who had given him the lead must have felt that the money had been too easily earned, felt apologetic, and undertook to ask around to find out where Chen Zhen had gone.
Alone, Luo Wenzhou walked a circle around Chen Zhen's car; he found the ground by the driver's side door scattered with cigarette ends. When the person standing here had stomped out the ashes, he'd left behind a frantic-looking footprint.
Luo Wenzhou stood just where the footprint was, leaned back against the car door, and looked all around.
Chen Zhen had ignored his warning and acted alone. In all likelihood he had been in a very fevered condition. Then what had he been doing standing here alone, smoking several cigarettes in a row? Had he suddenly developed some qualms about his own conduct?
Or…had he been waiting for someone?
Just then, the person who'd taken his money came trotting over and quietly told Luo Wenzhou, "I think you'd better leave a note on his car. When he sees it, he'll get in contact with you. I just spoke to that woman selling clothes over there. She saw Chen Zhen. He was acting weird. He stood here for ages, then went into the Great Fortune Building."
"The Great Fortune Building?"
"Right there!" The informer pointed just across from where Chen Zhen's car was parked. It was a brightly lit-up entertainment center, with big signs advertising "POOL, CARDS, MASSAGE, KARAOKE" hanging by the door; a line of cars was parked in front of it.
Luo Wenzhou surreptitiously sent a text message to Director Lu: "West Flower Market District, east end of Guanjing Street, The Great Fortune Building, requesting reinforcements"; then he briefly sent off the informer and walked around the Great Fortune Building. When he understood the surroundings, he rumpled up his hair and swaggered in.
The hall was floored with stately marble; some bulbs in the large European-style lamp had burnt out, making the lamplight look rather dim. Some idle young people who may have been delinquents were patrolling the hall and smoking; when they saw someone come in, they shot over furtive appraising looks.
Luo Wenzhou acted like he'd seen none of this. He went straight towards the front desk and rapped on the tabletop. "Get me a private room, I've got friends coming in a bit."
Then he snatched up the drinks menu next to him, his gaze quickly scanning the list of drinks marked up 5% from their market prices, and, seeming entirely unaware of this, ordered a heap.
The front desk attendant hadn't expected a major customer with more money than brains to drop out of the sky. She hastily took down his order. "Sir, could you speak a little slower…"
But Luo Wenzhou suddenly shut his mouth.
The front desk attendant looked up hesitantly and saw the "guest" looking straight at her, his gaze ambiguous yet full of meaning. Lowering his voice, he asked, "What's the least I can pay to get some 'service workers' here?"
After a pause, the front desk attendant put on an "understanding" smile and lowered her voice as well. She gently took a photo album out from under the table and pushed it over. "You can look at the photos first."
The photo album was a series of "skilled portraits," the skills very lacking. All the faces belonged to heavily made up temptresses, giving off a strong sense of cloying sultriness.
Luo Wenzhou flipped through the whole album twice, then deliberately displayed some irritation. "These are all made up so their own mothers wouldn't recognize them. Do you guys have some more normal ones?"
The front desk attendant was about to answer, but Luo Wenzhou leaned forward slightly. As if he was dropping an act, impatiently "revealing his true intentions," he asked, "Do you have one called Wu Xuechun?"
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Authors Note:
(29) A euphemism for "massage," here also used euphemistically.