For the past few days, Sheng Lang has had a much easier time than before.
A major scandal had erupted at Brother Chai’s KTV: a customer had suffered a fatal stroke triggered by alcohol and sexual exertion right inside one of the private rooms.
With the family causing a scene and the police launching an investigation that threatened to drag a whole web of illicit dealings into the light, Brother Chai was left in a state of frantic damage control. His underlings, too, were keeping their heads down and staying out of trouble, hunkering quietly in the shadows. They had no time to bother with a small fry like Sheng Lang.
Consequently, Sheng Lang no longer had to hide at home and could finally go out to work.
The underworld scene in Yong’an was dominated by two main factions: those led by Brother Chai and those led by Zhang Xiaotian. Both groups were deeply entrenched in vice—gambling, drugs, and prostitution—and operated with ruthless efficiency. They were long-standing outfits, passed down from father to son over decades; there was little to choose between them in terms of depravity.
Sheng Lang was a low-level foot soldier for Zhang Xiaotian’s faction.
It wasn’t that he had any real desire to live the gangster life; rather, in a place like Yong’an, having the backing of a gang was far better than being completely on one’s own.
Though Sheng Lang was tall, he was still very young, so Zhang Xiaotian’s crew didn’t ask him to do anything too extreme. Aside from occasionally backing them up in fights, he mostly worked as a car washer at one of Zhang Xiaotian’s repair shops, earning a few hundred yuan a month in pocket money to buy medicine for his grandmother.
One day, while Sheng Lang was spraying down a car, he heard a faint voice calling his name.
At first, he assumed it was just another clueless girl coming to look for him.
Despite his youth, Sheng Lang possessed an undeniably handsome face. His height made him appear more mature than his years, and his aloof, unapproachable temperament seemed to strike a chord with young girls just discovering romance.
From girls his own age to upperclassmen a few years his senior, Sheng Lang had received several confessions of love over the summer alone.
Girls he had never even met before would suddenly run up, shyly confess their feelings, and gaze at him with expectant eyes. Given the disparity between his physical growth and his mental maturity, Sheng Lang didn’t view these encounters as romantic opportunities; he simply found the whole thing baffling. So, even though the person called out a few times, Sheng Lang just kept washing his car, ignoring him completely.
That was until a stone struck the back of Sheng Lang’s head.
Sheng Lang turned around furiously, only to see the kid with the bicycle standing outside the gate—the very culprit who had demanded money from him a while back and caused him to get beaten up.
His rage instantly flared up.
“Why is it you again?” Sheng Lang roared. “What do you want? Looking to shake me down for money again?”
Lin Zhixia stared warily at the water gun in Sheng Lang’s hand, terrified he might raise it and spray him.
“I didn’t come here for money,” Lin Zhixia said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Get lost!” Sheng Lang snapped. “I’ve got nothing to say to you!”
Lin Zhixia didn’t leave.
He propped his bicycle against a roadside tree and cautiously approached Sheng Lang.
Seeing Sheng Lang put down the water gun and pick up a rag to wipe the car, Lin Zhixia darted forward and said quickly, “I overheard your dad secretly plotting with a man—he plans to hand you over to that guy to settle a debt.”
Sheng Lang spun around abruptly, sending a spray of water from the rag flying right into Lin Zhixia’s face.
Lin Zhixia scrambled back to the tree like a startled rabbit and grabbed his bike, ready to bolt. Without his broken glass protection today, he certainly didn’t dare go head-to-head with this young wolf.
“Hey, Baby-Bottle!” Sheng Lang shouted.
What did he just call me?
Yet, Lin Zhixia stopped in his tracks.
Sheng Lang stood there clutching the rag, his expression dark; his anger far outweighed any shock or fear.
“What kind of man?”
Lin Zhixia gestured with his hands. “About this tall, same age as your dad, dressed pretty well. Oh, and he wore glasses—looked like a refined sort of guy.”
Sheng Lang gave a scornful laugh.
“Now you know,” Lin Zhixia said. “I just came to give you a heads-up.”
Sheng Lang’s face remained grim. “Get lost!”
Figures. I knew I’d just be met with a cold shoulder.
Lin Zhixia rolled his eyes, hopped on his bike, and rode away. Sun Mingzhu and Wang Gaocai were waiting for Lin Zhixia around the street corner; as soon as he appeared, they asked, “How did it go? Did he get a huge shock?”
“No reaction.” Lin Zhixia wiped the water droplets Sheng Lang had flung onto her face. “I think he probably knew already.”
“If he knew, why didn’t he run?” Sun Mingzhu wondered aloud. “His grandma lives in our North District and runs a small shop. That old lady is fierce, even Sheng Lang’s dad is afraid of her, though she’s in poor health…”
Wang Gaocai, a lollipop in his mouth, nodded vigorously. “We call her the ‘Big Bad Grandma.’ There were rumors when we were little that she’d snatch up kids and eat them.”
“Maybe he was prepared for it,” Lin Zhixia said. “Anyway, if anything happens later, no one can blame me for withholding information.”
After getting off work in the evening, Sheng Lang returned home, his silhouette stretching long behind him.
Recently, due to the scandal at Brother Chai’s KTV, the local police station had conducted a sweep of the South District, causing everyone to shut their doors and lay low to avoid trouble. With business drying up at the Sheng family’s small inn, they couldn’t even afford to fire up the stove for meals.
Sheng Guangquan sat in the empty common area, tapping away at his calculator as he tallied the meager funds he had scraped together.
Father and son were like strangers in their daily lives, avoiding conversation whenever possible. Sheng Lang didn’t even offer a greeting; he simply strode up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“Hold it,” Sheng Guangquan said. “We’ve got some issues at home lately, so we need to cut back—no cooking dinner tonight. You’ve got money from your part-time job, so go eat at your grandma’s place or sort it out yourself.”
Sheng Lang usually only ate dinner at home anyway; now that even that meal was being cut, it seemed his father intended to stop supporting him entirely.
The boy made no comment, heading upstairs with a cold, impassive look on his face.
As a straight man, Sheng Guangquan couldn’t personally perceive the allure of Sheng Lang’s appearance. However, seeing the way Old Ma looked utterly captivated whenever Sheng Lang was mentioned—and the desperation with which he was willing to pay off Sheng Guangquan’s debts just to get a taste of the boy—Sheng Guangquan knew that this bonus son was his best ticket out of his predicament. The rooftop, baked by the scorching sun, was hot enough to burn one’s feet, and the shed felt like a pressure cooker. Yet, Sheng Lang ducked inside and fished a small cloth bundle out from beneath the coir mat.
Inside the bundle lay several homemade knives of varying lengths.
The long ones were half the size of a palm, while the short ones were no longer than half a finger; their handles were wrapped in thin strips of cloth, and their blades were sharp as a wolf’s fangs.
Sheng Lang had carefully selected scraps of steel from the repair shop and ground them down—over and over, until blisters rose on his palms—crafting the self-defense tools that felt most natural in his grip.
The longer ones could be strapped to his calves, while the shorter ones could even be tucked into his belt. If that man ever laid a hand on him, all he’d have to do was drive the blade into the man’s throat…
Sheng Lang recalled the R-rated movies he’d watched at the video parlor—scenes where blood sprayed wildly, women screamed from start to finish, and victims were slaughtered in inventive ways by killers. The quickest, cleanest method of all was slitting the throat.
The boy looked at his own hands.
His knuckles were broad; because he was so thin, his fingers looked like bamboo joints. His nails were trimmed extremely short, the gaps between them dark with grime, and thick calluses had already formed on his palms.
They were strong and agile enough; though still youthful, they were capable of doing a great many things.
If that moment ever came, could he hold the knife steady? Could he plunge that sharp blade into a living person’s artery?
At the mere thought of it, a sensation somewhere between fear and excitement, surged through Sheng Lang’s veins. His heart pounded violently, sweat poured off him, and it felt as though some creature were trying to tear through his skin and break free.
It took a long while for Sheng Lang to calm down; he hid the knives back under the mattress and picked up a book to leaf through.
The book looked remarkably like a piece of rotten pickled vegetable, thin and battered. Only a few blurred red characters were visible on its tattered, mottled cover. Protection of minors…
“The Law on the Protection of Minors states that any sexual act with a child under fourteen, regardless of… ow… regardless of whether the child consented, is classified as rape.”
The man speaking was Zhang Maoming, a beat cop from the Yong’an Police Station. He was off-duty today, clad in just a tank top and shorts, he lay prone on a massage table. Lin Anwen was manipulating his joints, making them crack audibly.
“Why do you ask about that?” Zhang Maoming asked, lifting his head while his neck was being adjusted to glance at the young man sitting nearby, who was helping roll moxa sticks.
Lin Zhixia was fair-skinned and handsome, with a pair of dark, alert, cat-like eyes that made him even more charming than a girl.
Zhang Maoming instantly grew wary.
“Kiddo, have you run into some shady adult?”
At these words, Lin Anwen paused. The other customers in the shop, along with the proprietress, Aunt Liu, all turned to look at Lin Zhixia.
“Oh, it’s not me!” Lin Zhixia quickly smiled. “I saw a news story about a child getting into trouble and got curious about the relevant laws, so I thought I’d ask you, Uncle.”
Lin Anwen breathed a sigh of relief.
“That’s a relief.” Zhang Maoming lay back down. “There are some lowlifes around Yong’an, real bad eggs. You kids shouldn’t wander around aimlessly during the holidays ow, Master Lin, take it easy!”
“If I go too easy, I can’t set it right,” Lin Anwen said. “Old Zhang, you really need to take better care of that lower back of yours…”
Lin Zhixia lowered his head and continued rolling the moxa sticks, lost in thought.