A hot, humid night, Shen thought. The city was in a languorous grip, a fugue of complacency and decadent dream. He patted his brow with a silk pocket square, and listened to the choir of crickets as they chirruped endlessly. The rains and their cool escape were weeks away, and eagerly anticipated. Until then, there was little else to do but suffer the sweat, or seek reprieve by the river.
But reprieve was not refuge.
"They always come down to the water. Not one of them smart enough to quit the city. Greed keeps them," Shen said, now playing with his gold lighter. The telltale sound was almost melodic. Flick-flick. He was being philosophical again, his one flaw. He didn't expect an answer, and was not interested in what the muscle thought if they dared a reply. It was just his personal insight into the world, and an excuse for his actions. He did not hurt the innocent. Tried not to, at least. The guilty were another story.
"Got him, Brother." They pulled a familiar figure from a shack, dressed in the robes of a monk, though his head was hidden beneath a sack. Still, the subtle arrogance and reserve was unmistakable. Hands of a scholar, too.
Shen breathed a sigh of relief. It was one problem done and buried ... almost. He hated cat and mouse games, especially when the boss would blame him for any delays. It had already taken too long to search out this little hideout and its little rat. But soon, it would all be over. Then, back to Champaign and cigarettes, for a while.
"Honestly, I expected more trouble from you, Wei. You're wily, but lack earthly reason. Keeping your head in the heavens let us slip the noose around your neck." If Shen expected an answer, he was disappointed. Maybe it was for the best. He hated when they begged.
Shen stepped away from the car, coming close, threading carefully past puddles, and then the soggy boards of dock and pier. Flick-flick. "Yaun has a soft-spot for you. Always liked you, Wei. But you crossed a line. You know that. You had to, with everything else you know." He looked to the water, then back to Wei. His eyes did not match the blithe smile on his face. They were the eyes of a killer. If there were peasants, they had left already, or were hiding in their little hovels, shutters closed, curtains drawn. Even if they were watching, then knew to be quiet. They knew as soon as the cars arrived. It was a scene that had played out like this too many times. "A lot of things in the river. A lot of regrets washed out to sea, old sins lost to the current. Have you given it any thought, Wei, the secrets a river might hold in its bed, weighed down with a few ropes and rocks?"
The hands of the scholar tightened. No words, though. It was the best Shen could get.
"Sadly, for you, that comes later. You have to answer for yourself, Wei. Put him in the car."
Shen watched with morbid satisfaction as Wei was stuffed in a trunk. It wasn't the worst for him. He was tall, but thin. Usually it was a fat storeowner late on his loans. They always complained in a tight space, sometimes spraining a wrist at a sharp turn. And they blubbered, all their strong bravado turned weak. Wei looked almost calm. A monk's privilege.
"Won't be long," Shen offered to no one. He looked down at his wingtips, inspecting them to see if any filth had dulled the polish, when he remembered his little shadow waiting at his heels. With flair, he picked out a crisp bill, and handed it over to dirt smudged fingers. The child, as much as 8 but no older, marveled at a fresh banknote, eyes gone large. There were not many around these parts. Thinking on it, Shen gave him another. "Get some shoes. Keep 'em clean. Don't spend it all on candy, or let anyone steal it. Now, get out of here." He feigned a kick, but watched the kid chase away into the dark, disappearing within the docks like a rat among warrens.
It was too familiar.
When he got in the car, the driver knew where to go. Back to the Red Tiles Club and Boss Yaun. They could get it over with, tonight. And tomorrow, he he could get some sleep.
If Lady Mei let him.
He sunk into the back seats, and let his thoughts wander with pleasant troubles and trifles, wondering absently why life was so much work.
It was not long before they were bringing Wei through the club, right across the floor, past tables and patrons, with his arms held firmly by two men. The Boss had his way. Everything in the open, on display, all theatrics. Before, it had been knives in the dark, blood in the alleys, and mothers grieving with horrid wails over sons and husbands murdered for nothing but dumb ambition. Now, that seemed a distant past, almost a distant world. There was order, balance, with everything in its place. Rotten through, he thought. Fully corrupted. It all ran smoothly now, the last morals loosened off corpse grease.
Of course, for how long? That was always the question.
Yaun sat at his booth, surrounded by his favorite girls, Champaign, and caviar, all of it close to bottomless. A wide grin lay across his ample face. It deepened on seeing Shen. "I feared our magician did a disappearing act. But if that's him, you did well, Shen. Very well."
Shen bowed deeply, a loyal dog. If he didn't have respect for the man, he had it for the position. There were rules, and that was all they had. Otherwise, they were just animals. With some satisfaction, he pulled off the hood, showing Wei like he was the maître d' presenting the main course. Boss Yaun licked his lips accordingly.
Wei blinked, adjusting to the light, then settled a smile on his host for the evening. "It's fortuitous, running into you like this, Yaun. It saves me a trip." Wei found himself directed to a seat at the booth by a firm hand, though he gave no resistance, remaining jocular, if anything.
"It's that talk of yours I'll miss most. Always left me with a smile. Wit is hard to find. And most of the witty, well, they wind up on someone's list. Don't last long." Boss Yaun chuckled, urging his companions to laugh with him. "You lasted longer than most."
Wei looked around the club. A few tables were watching them with amusement. Most were busy with their own enjoyments. He noted the Deacon, and Police Commissioner, among others. "You're not going to hurt me in front of such distinguished guests, are you?"
Yaun just grinned. "Don't think of being common, now. It doesn't suit you, Wei. If you even cause a scene, you'll just annoy the true powers of heaven. That's beyond even my control. Having to turn a blind eye is a lot of trouble if you go and get out of hand, and our good Commissioner is already annoyed this evening. That's his second favorite mistress he's having to placate, tonight. He might be looking for an excuse. Any at all." He laughed a little, stomping a foot. "I do everything in the open, Wei. You know me. The whole city knows. I never cross a line I shouldn't cross. It's why I am respected. I'm reasonable. Yet, you disrespect me, Wei. You thought to steal from me. And I can't let it happen, for me, for others, for all of Shanghai. It looks bad. It gives the wicked ideas. If someone can steal from me, they can steal from anyone. Do you want them all to act on their natures? Do you want violence, brigands, chaos?"
"Men are as men. But it may be that some are mistaken." Wei shrugged. It was not the serene calm of a monk, but a trickster's confidence. The smile was genuine. The eyes were laughing. Something about the moment was a joke. Yaun was willing to play along.
One of the girls arrived on cue, carrying a tray with a small statuette. Funny it should all hinge upon an old carving in agarwood, no bigger than a prayer. Yaun grabbed it up, fingers wrapping tightly around its figure, showing an ownership that came easy to him. It was the same that had gripped the city, that he used on hearts, minds, and hips. Wei considered it somewhat revolting, but admitted there were not many men as honest as Yaun. The wolf seldom lies.
"You sold me a fake. A fake, Wei."
Wei disagreed. "It is no fake. Not as such. That is the same Mahapajapati that stood in the Blue Skies Temple for two hundred years. The one you requested. It may not be original to the Tang. It may be a clever forgery. But it has been revered since it came to the temple, a vessel imbued with strong magic, prosperity ... virility." Some skilled ancestor had been a master, creating a replica worthy of devotion. It was not nothing.
"A fake."
Wei frowned, hanging his head. "A fake, yes. Not of the Tang Dynasty, as you wanted. But we couldn't know that until after it was liberated from the temple. It is still priceless. Just," he thought a moment, "less priceless than we wanted."
"You knew. You said nothing. You took my money. I was generous, Wei. I wouldn't cheat you. Why? What made you do it? Greed? I thought you above a petty vice like that."
Wei sighed. He could not hide his own disappointment. "I wanted to be." For a moment, he looked far off, somewhat glancing at the Commissioner and his companion. The woman was no longer young, but elegant, and hung on the man's arm like a weight, a reminder, of all the good times and promises and little sins. It made him think a thousand things, some sweet, others sad. "Love is my vice," He admitted. "I thought I could buy love. The Mahapajapati was a risk when I saw it was a forgery, but I would have cheated you a dozen times to get what I need. I still don't have enough money, to be honest. If you're interested, I know where there is an earthenware pot that seals in a ghost. A hundred US dollars, and it's yours."
"Ah," Yaun hawed, nodding, laughing "That's your problem, then. When it comes to women, you shouldn't involve love. A needless complication. I've never seen it end well. Love is like a fire you try hard to keep in your hands. Burns what it wants without apology." He commiserated as best as he could, and Wei suspected he was being genuine. "Of course, you'll have to die. Not for me. I'd forgive you, Wei. But the rules. They require it. What you broke, your blood will fix. Take solace. You'll bring balance with your last act. I know that is important to you."
The lights went out.
There was a murmur from the crowd, that initial fear at sudden change, mostly feminine as young women and hostesses took comfort from their guests or squawked dramatically. Weak light from outside came through the many windows, but it was not much to see by in the dark. Still, it proved electricity was on in neighboring buildings, something only Shen thought curious.
Wei took no time to act. His hands found their way to the slit in his robes, and a fold of paper hidden in the seam. His fingers unfurled it in a practiced move even as he flung up his hands in arc, scattering the enclosed powders. There was an exotic smell that tickled the nose. Then a deep, violet flash that burned green for just a moment.
In the dimness, it was stunning. And, as others winced, or let themselves be bedazzled, he slipped over the back of the booth like a snake, and in between two burly goons. For a brief moment, he held Shen's eyes. The face of the man was lit in a glow from his lighter, looking stunned, and just a little slow. Lips curled with a forming snarl. Wei did not loiter. He leaped, jumping from table to table, knocking over wine and glasses, causing women to shriek, and raising a din of anger behind him as he went.
There was no way out. Not past the front doors, out the kitchen, or the side. Only up. He ran to the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Someone was chasing. Not close, but uncomfortable. There was no point looking back as he ran along the mezzanine and ducked into an office. He thought he heard a gunshot, but his heart was pumping too loud for him to be certain. It could have been a crash, a clatter. The threat of death could make him think almost anything.
Behind a locked door, he had a moment he couldn't spare. Throwing open the window, he knew he had to jump. Across the alley was Wen's Theater, and escape. It was his only chance, his only choice. He went for it.
As his arc carried him halfway, he considered the planning and forethought that had brought him so far. He had tried hiding. He did not want to be caught. But in case it happened, he had taken precautions. Always know the exit. It was wise to think these things through, to consider the angles, to have contingencies. It was the sort of life he lived. But there was one problem. He sometimes overestimated himself.
When he hit into Wen's Theater, it was below the lip of the roof, and his delicate hands could do little but scrabble against the brickwork as he fell. There was a terrifying moment of freefall, then a pain in his leg as it hit something hammered into the wall, and a horrible shatter that was partly his back and partly some wooden crates on the street below. Crickets crunched beneath him as he vainly flailed, gasping for air. It was all so uncomfortable and disturbing.
Wei took his time laying in the wet filth of the alley, looking far up at the black night, a velvet void, starless from the drowning light of Man. He missed the stars. They were proof of heaven, he always felt. Sometimes, even the obvious needed proof. But he looked far away, as far as he could, just because it hurt so, so much in the here and now.
When a hand stretched out to help him, he thought it was over. Then the pain somehow fell away, overcome with surprise. "Alex?" It just wasn't possible.