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The night was shrouded in mist, and the towering Taiping Mountain slumbered in tranquility.
As deep winter approached, a time when all things should wither, the front courtyard of the main house was lush, meticulously tended to by the gardener.
Within the study at the back of the house, beneath the Chinese-style eaves that half hung in the air near the window, the faint fragrance of sandalwood incense wafted. At nine in the evening, father and son were engaged in a game of chess.
The black and white pieces silently faced off on the board. Each move seemed unhurried, but in reality, every advance was pressing, each strategy fraught with murderous intent.
The patriarch of the Chen Family, now in his sixties, had a calm countenance and an imposing aura. Even though he had retired from the front line, the pressure of someone long steeped in a position of power was evident.
"How are things in California?"
