While Yang was still busy playing around with Chun-Li in the sickroom, on the other side of things Dorai had come up to the attic together with Gen.
With the young ones gone, the two old friends relaxed quite a bit.
Unhurriedly they brewed a pot of tea, and Gen said in his own leisurely way: “You’ve aged a fair bit.
From the look of you, these past few years haven’t treated you well either.” “Who’s to say otherwise.” Hearing this, Dorai let out a sigh as well, and a thick weariness surfaced between his brows.
It was a state Dorai almost never let anyone else see.
In truth, in the eyes of many—even in Chun-Li’s—Dorai was forever that broad-shouldered middle-aged man with his hair slicked straight back, a Zhou Shuren-style tuft of mustache beneath his nose, a resolute face, sharp features, and a powerful build, his spirit and body both at the very peak of his life.
But what was the reality?
“Aside from seeing to Chun-Li’s schooling, I spent most of my time lately working deep undercover inside the Shadowlaw organization.” Drawing out a cigarette, Dorai spoke with a trace of sorrow on his brow.
“In the end I was sold out and exposed by accident—but honestly, I felt relieved… The life of an undercover agent simply isn’t a life fit for a human being.
If I’d had any choice, I…” At this point, Dorai’s voice abruptly caught in his throat.
Meanwhile, a cynical, devil-may-care smile spread across Gen’s face beside him: “You what?
What would you do?
What choice would you make?” “…I’d still make the same choice.” Hearing his old friend’s teasing, Dorai exhaled a turbid breath helplessly, then said with a deeply conflicted look on his face: “What else could I do?
You of all people know what kind of man I am… If I turned a blind eye to a criminal organization like that just because I’d learned how agonizing undercover work is, then what would all the training of my entire life have been for?
Or… why would a legend like you have bothered with someone like me, back when I was just a beat cop?” As he said this, a bitter smile crept onto Dorai’s face.
Back then, when he was still a neighborhood beat cop in Hong Kong, Dorai had volunteered to face Gen—the very man all his colleagues had given the widest possible berth.
The result was that he’d been toyed with and made a fool of by Gen no small number of times.
But after discovering that Gen was not the indiscriminate killer he’d assumed, and after seeing the cruel inequality of this world, Dorai had finally realized his own naivety.
And it was precisely because Gen had discovered the pure, earnest devotion to justice in Dorai’s heart that he had been willing to befriend him; slowly, the two became friends across the generations.
“You’re still the same old Dorai.” Looking at Dorai—his face full of helplessness yet unwilling to give up—Gen gave a shameless old man’s chuckle, then asked outright: “This time you came back to Hong Kong because of that organization called Shadowlaw?” “Mm.” Dorai nodded.
“According to my informants, Shadowlaw’s Hong Kong branch has suddenly become abnormally active.
They’ve even deployed Sagat, one of the Four Heavenly Kings, for it.” “Sagat?” Hearing Dorai’s account, Gen stroked his chin, then shook his head.
“Never heard of him.
Some young upstart, I take it?” “Mm.
He calls himself the Emperor of Muay Thai.
But a few years back his student ran wild, and when Sagat stepped in to fight on the boy’s behalf, he was defeated by a young man who practiced Hadō-style karate.
After that he vanished from sight for a while, and now—who knows how it happened—he’s turned up in Shadowlaw and even become one of the Four Heavenly Kings.” Dorai shrugged.
“I’d guess Shadowlaw’s leader, that thing called Vega, promised him something… So, what do you say—could you lend a hand?” Though Gen claimed he’d already washed his hands of the business, Dorai didn’t believe that the old man before him—one who had pursued battles to the death his whole life—would choose to go gently into that good night called death.
Or rather, Dorai knew full well that the end Gen longed for was to die in battle, not to die of illness in a sickbed.
“I really am out of it.” Gen spread his hands with a touch of helplessness.
“You know how it is—because of that whole matter with Chun-Li… I’ve already lost the will and resolve to kill anyone and everyone indiscriminately in combat.
It’s like a fish forgetting how to swim; I’ve lost the gift for slaughter.
In our line of work, without that one-of-a-kind ability, you’re like a tiger stripped of its fangs and claws—you only look frightening, nothing more.” “I rarely get involved in the affairs of the fighting world anymore.
Apart from the occasional meeting with a few old friends, all I do is catch the gist of everything else—I know no more than you do… mm, maybe even less than you, little cop.” Gen shrugged helplessly.
And Dorai also knew what Gen meant by ‘that matter with Chun-Li.’ Back then, when Dorai had gone away on a business trip, he’d entrusted Chun-Li to Gen’s care.
As it turned out, an assassin came to make trouble for Gen, and on pure instinct Gen executed the killer outright—only after the assassin was dead did he realize he had done such a thing right in front of Chun-Li, who was then only seven or eight years old.
Though it was only a single instant of regret, for an assassin to feel regret over killing was enough to make Gen realize he had already lost the most important thing in an assassin.
Having heard Gen out, Dorai nodded as well, and then—as if a great stone had been lifted from his shoulders—he said: “Though I didn’t get any useful information, just seeing you able to enjoy retirement this leisurely is enough to satisfy me… Ah, I really do hope that the next time we meet, we can still talk and laugh together like this.” Sensing that Dorai felt relieved on his behalf for retiring from the world of assassins, Gen smiled and said: “You’re my friend, and I regard Chun-Li as my own granddaughter.
If you ever truly run into danger or trouble, I will absolutely help.” “Best if it doesn’t come to that.” Hearing this, Dorai laughed too.
“Especially best not to run into anything dangerous… My hopes in coming here may have come to nothing, but no matter what, I’m glad to see you no longer have to do things that flout the law~” Just as the two were still chatting idly back and forth, the large door beside them was suddenly pushed open in a rush by Chun-Li and Yang.
Gazing at Yang and Chun-Li, who had hurried over shoulder to shoulder, Dorai said with surprise in his eyes: “Awake already, so soon?
Is your body all right??” “News about Shadowlaw.” Ignoring her father’s concern, Chun-Li simply said quickly: “Yang knows news about Shadowlaw.” “Hmm?!” Hearing Chun-Li’s words, Dorai was slightly stunned, then turned his gaze toward Yang, and upon seeing Yang nod, a look of pleasant surprise crossed his face.
At this, Gen, off to the side, rubbed the bridge of his nose helplessly.
“I went to all that trouble to push this thankless task away, and now you’ve gone and taken it on yourself…” Hearing Gen’s words, Yang declared: “My Conqueror’s Intent, my ambition… I need to witness a broader world!” “Haah…” Listening to Yang’s strong-man’s bravado, Gen looked rather resigned—but after three years living together, he’d more or less gotten used to it.
Seeing this, Dorai asked: “Where did you hear about it?” “Kowloon Avenue,” Yang said.
“While I was out buying ingredients, I happened to overhear a gang member named Charudo bring it up.” As he spoke, Yang put on a thoughtful expression.
“I didn’t pay it much mind at the time, but I saw this tattoo on them.” As he said this, Yang dipped a finger into the tea and drew out the emblem of a winged skull.
And upon seeing this emblem, Dorai was overjoyed.
“That’s right, that’s Shadowlaw’s emblem!
What else do you know?!” “Terracotta Warriors.” Yang answered.