I didn't know who he was, but when I crossed the street and could still see him through the shop window, I knew he was following me.
I walked several more streets, and at half-past two, I still found the Japanese man trailing behind me.
And during these thirty minutes, I racked my brain, wondering why someone would be following me here.
I planned to sneak into a certain country's embassy tonight to investigate Fang Tian's whereabouts, which naturally made me worth tailing. However, only Mr. Nelson knew about that plan.
So, why was this Japanese man following me?
I arrived at a quieter street, and the man still followed. I stopped, listening to the footsteps behind me, which also stopped.
I chuckled inwardly, turned around immediately, and saw the man in a kimono bending to tie his shoes. I walked straight towards him, and as he realized the situation wasn't right, he turned and dashed towards the intersection. But I had already taken a few steps forward and blocked his path.
He tried to turn back, but I had already reached out and grabbed his shoulder. His demeanor immediately calmed down, and he sternly asked, "What are you doing?"
I responded coldly, "What are you doing?"
He said, "What a joke! You're grabbing me, yet you ask me what I'm doing?"
I scrutinized him and saw a hint of fierceness in his demeanor. Of course, I wasn't afraid of a fight, but in this situation, if things escalated, it would likely waste a lot of time.
With a wry smile, I said, "Fine, I'll let you go this time. But next time, I won't spare you. You better be careful!" He knew well what he had done, and as soon as I let go, he walked away without looking back.
It was an amusing incident. Just moments ago, this Japanese man was tailing me. But once he crossed the street, I began trailing him. I took off my coat and flipped it inside out.
My coat was reversible, blue on one side, deep brown on the other. I also took out a nylon mask from my pocket and covered my face.
In just half a minute, I looked completely different. I quickly crossed the street.
Under a utility pole, the man and another individual were whispering and pointing in the direction I was walking.
The man was probably instructing the other person to continue tailing me. I bet he never expected I was already coming towards him.
As I passed by him closely, after I had walked past him, I slowed down and discreetly looked back.
After watching the other person walk away, he started walking in my direction. I let him come close to me, then followed him from a distance. I needed to find out who was tracking me in Japan!
The man kept walking without attempting to hitchhike. I followed him for an hour, and we reached one of Tokyo's dirtiest districts.
In such an area, tracking someone without being noticed was extremely difficult. The narrow streets were full of dirty-faced children, and you had to shout to make your way through.
However, shouting naturally attracted the attention of those ahead. So, I was about to give up after just a few steps.
But, just then, I saw the man in front of me stop and look back. I was surprised and immediately started shouting loudly. Since I had already decided not to continue tracking, I didn't want him to suspect someone was following him again. Shouting at the dirty kids was a diversionary tactic.
Indeed, the man's gaze only briefly met mine before he looked away.
I chuckled to myself and continued walking. As I passed by him, I didn't even turn my head. But after walking about seven or eight steps past him, I turned back to see what he was up to, standing in the middle of such a narrow street.
As I turned back, I couldn't help but be stunned.
Because the man who was standing in the middle of the street just a moment ago was gone.
He couldn't have gotten ahead of me, nor would he have retreated to the other end of the street. The street was long, and we had reached the middle. He couldn't have retreated so quickly.
The only possibility was that he had entered one of those shabby houses. I felt a bit frustrated because I should have known that if the man stopped here, there must have been a reason!
Now the situation could still be salvaged. I took a few steps forward and tapped the shoulder of a ten-year-old boy, asking, "The man who was standing in the middle of the street, which house did he go into?"
The boy pointed to one of the houses and said, "There!"
I looked in the direction he indicated and saw a large sewage pond in front of the house, shimmering with colorful oil slicks, emitting a nauseating stench. Every big city had its good and bad sides, and Tokyo was no exception. Considering the state of this street, even the most imaginative person couldn't imagine there was a good place in the same city!
I dodged the kids chasing me and approached the house. I pushed open the door and saw two cobblers hunched over, working. They looked up as I entered.
The room was small with a back door leading to a courtyard filled with broken glass bottles and Western-style tin cans. There was a mongrel licking an empty tin can.
I looked up and saw a loft, which despite the winter, emitted a foul odor of sweat.
Seeing this, I couldn't help but feel perplexed.
The two cobblers continued to watch me. One of them asked, "Sir, need your shoes repaired?"
I asked, "Did someone come in here just now?"
The two cobblers exchanged glances and said, "Someone came? That must be you, sir!" Suddenly, it dawned on me that I might have been deceived by the mischievous child. With a casual gesture from the child, I fell for it. It was truly a case of being caught off guard! I chuckled awkwardly, "Sorry! Sorry." As I spoke, I backed out. One of the cobblers, looking at my shoes, said, "Sir, your shoes are worn on one side, would you like to replace them?"
I didn't pay attention and just said, "No, thanks."
As I started to turn and walk towards the door, I heard the two cobblers yawn. I felt sorry for their hard work, but just then, I suddenly felt someone behind me!
I certainly don't have eyes in the back of my head, but my ability to sense someone lurking behind me is an intuition, cultivated over many years of adventurous living.
I quickly drew my arm back and thrust my elbow backward.
I heard a grunt of pain, indicating that the person lurking behind me had been hit hard by my elbow. However, I also made a mistake; though I sensed someone behind me, my intuition didn't tell me how many people.
As my elbow connected with someone, I felt a heavy blow to the back of my head.
It seemed like a big leather boot had been used to hit me. For someone else, such a blow to the back of the head might cause them to pass out, but for me, it only fueled my anger.
I was about to retaliate when I had a quick change of heart. I realized that I didn't know who was tracking me, and the fact that they had orchestrated such a setup in this filthy area, disguising themselves as cobblers to serve as contact men, indicated that they were not a simple organization. Why not play along and pretend to faint to learn more about them?
With my plan set, I decided to act the part. I put on a strange smile, softened my body, and collapsed to the ground. Sure enough, I saw one of the cobblers holding a long leather boot, the same one used to hit me on the head!
The two "cobblers" straightened up. One was a tall man with wrinkles on his face, most likely makeup.
The other "cobbler," although not as tall as his companion, was rolling on the ground, clutching his stomach and groaning. He'd need at least a week to recover from my blow!
The standing "cobbler" raised the boot and walked towards me. He kicked my leg, but I remained motionless. He shouted to the other person, "Clutz, get up!"
The man frowned, still holding his stomach, and stood up, groaning. The "cobbler" quickly closed the door.
They dragged me to the backyard and placed me on a handcart. Then, they covered me with two smelly sacks and hit the back of my head two or three times.
To uncover their origins, I endured it all. I remembered the face of the "cobbler," so there was no worry about settling the score later. I sensed myself being pushed outside.
The guy pushed me while ringing a broken bell loudly and shouting. He had transformed from a "cobbler" into a junk collector. I couldn't help but admire his cunning.
After being pushed for about half an hour, we stopped.
I secretly opened a gap in the sack covering me to peek outside. We were in a very clean courtyard, filled with flowers, resembling a prosperous household. The man rhythmically rang the bell, using its sound to convey messages.
I figured this was their turf. The door opened, and a big man looked outside. They quickly pushed me to the door, one person holding my head and the other my feet, and carried me inside.
Peering through a crack in my eyelids, I saw a solemn old man in black kimono seated in the middle of the room. Four people stood on each side, including the man who had tracked me but was then counter-tracked by me.
Including the two carrying me, there were seven people in total. I knew it was time to act. As the two carrying me prepared to set me down, I suddenly bent my legs, causing the one holding my feet to stumble forward.
I swung my feet forward and kicked hard at his face. The imposter cobbler, who had struck my head three or four times, let out a braying scream as his body jerked backward, blood splattering everywhere. He stumbled back three or four steps before collapsing to the ground.
As my feet landed, my body suddenly twisted. The man holding my head realized the danger and tried to step back, but I had already swung my fist upward.
There was the sound of bones breaking as he staggered back, leaning against the wall, blood gushing from his mouth, rendering him speechless.
My movements were swift. I dispatched the two burly men in a matter of seconds. Then, I dusted myself off, adjusted my tie, and stood before the old man and the other four, asking, "Alright, I'm here. What's the matter?"
I was sure my recent actions had left them shocked, as no one dared to speak. I reached up and removed the nylon mask covering my face, pointing at the man who had tracked me earlier. "Humph, don't you recognize me?" I said.
I had no intention of boasting, but when I pointed at him, he hastily backed away, his face turning pale.
Among the five, only the old man remained calm, chuckling dryly. "Well done, well done," he said, gesturing to the four beside him, who promptly retreated to the corners of the room, encircling me. I wondered if the old man intended to fight me himself, even after witnessing my display of power.
I suspected he was a skilled judoka based on his posture while sitting. Just as I pondered this, he slid forward, surprising me with his speed. By the time I sensed the danger, he had already struck, and I found myself suddenly thrown to the side, crashing heavily to the ground.
I quickly got up, but the old man came charging at me again with lightning speed. I dodged to the side and pressed down on his back. Because he wasn't very tall, I thought that if I could press down on his back, I might lift him off the ground with my fingers.
But the old man's agility was extraordinary. As soon as I pressed down, he flipped over and grabbed my waist. He threw me down heavily once again.
Though I had learned judo, it wasn't my expertise. The old man's skills were evidently top-notch even by Japanese standards. He threw me twice in quick succession. The first time, I was caught off guard, but the second time, it was clear the old man was a master.
I spun around, leaped aside, and couldn't help but exclaim, "Impressive."
The old man, with a keen gaze, crouched low, his body swaying like a duck in motion, and charged at me once more.
I thought that if he threw me again, it wouldn't be good for my reputation. So, before he could attack, I rushed at him too.
My charge was swift, catching the old man off guard for a moment.
As he hesitated, I saw an opportunity. I swerved to the side, aiming my shoulder at his chest. The old man crouched, trying to grab my left leg, but I anticipated his move. My right leg shot out, kicking him under the chin.
The old man toppled backward, swelling and bleeding from his mouth when he got up.
With a wave of his hand, he muttered, "Wait here, don't leave."
I sneered, "Who are you people?"
The old man, accompanied by several others, had already retreated. Unwilling to let it rest, I hurriedly followed them outside, reaching the backyard just in time to see them all leap onto a large sedan. The car shook as it sped away. In the rush, I didn't even manage to catch the license plate number before the vehicle vanished.
I stood there for a while, feeling bewildered. It was completely illogical—I had engaged in a fight without even knowing who the other party was. I searched the entire house room by room, but it was apparent that there wasn't a soul inside.
I patiently waited in one room, hoping someone would show up, but as my stomach growled and darkness fell, still no one came. I had important matters to attend to that evening, and I couldn't wait any longer.
Exiting through the front gate, I noticed the handcart was still there. I left, noting down the address of the house, planning to return the next day to figure out why these people had been tracking me.
I went to a small eatery, had a hearty meal, and decided not to return to the hotel. Instead, I hired a streetcar and got off near the embassy of a certain country.