For preview purposes only; final product may differ
Author: Huai Shang
Translator: Veah, Adrian S. Mei
Boom!
Shock waves surged through the air, accompanied by a shower of sparks as burning debris flew haphazardly. The load-bearing wall could no longer handle the strain, its integrity crumbling with each passing moment. It was only a matter of time before the building succumbed to the blast and engulfed him in its collapse. Flaming debris rained down on him like an infernal storm, the scene inside a stark contrast to the flashing police lights and the distant clamour outside.
“Backup required! Requesting immediate backup!”
“Where’s Cap? Where is he?!”
“Fuck, he charged in! Hurry!”
The purgatory around him blended into a swirling blur of distorted hues, while the noise around him abruptly ebbed away like a retreating tide. His palm, pressed against the scalding wall for support, seared with pain, and the blood from his fingertips evaporated instantly in the intense heat.
Yet, he felt and heard nothing.
No matter how many times this scene played out in his dreams, the result was always the same—he gasped for breath, watching as a demonic figure emerged from the sea of flames.
He raised his gun.
Bang!
The figure drew closer.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The bullets whizzed through the illusory figure as if traversing mere air and silently landed among the raging flames.
His hold loosened, and his QSZ-92 handgun quietly clattered to the ground, the sound lost in the blaze.
“I’m here,” a sly voice whispered into his ear from behind him, obviously amused. A hand caressed his cheek. “I’m here, Jiang Ting.”
For the thousandth time in his dreams, he turned. No matter how hard he tried, however, he could never make out the identity of the figure in this nightmare.
“Come with me to hell,” the figure smirked. “You’re done… Everything’s over.”
He closed his eyes.
As he began to fade into the unconscious, the last he heard were the sirens of fire engines and police cars drawing near. The rapidly expanding flames devoured everything in their path as the ground quaked and cracked under him. Innumerable phantom claws stretched out towards him and dragged him down into a bottomless abyss…
Three years later in Jianning.
Jiang Ting opened his eyes.
Sunlight streamed into the hospital room through sheer curtains, creating a golden hue from the reflection of the clean white walls. Laid in front of the bed was a bouquet of fragrant white roses with dew still glistening on their petals.
“The patient in Bed 538 is going to be discharged today, so talk to the director and prepare the documents for his family.” The gentle voice of a nurse could be heard through the slight crack in the door.
“I can’t believe he woke up after being comatose for so many years. And to think he’s getting discharged! People really are—”
“Shh!” the head nurse hissed. “Back to work!”
Even as the sound of footsteps disappeared into the distance, Jiang Ting did not react.
He lay in the daybed by the window, maintaining the position he had awoken in. His gaze, icy and indifferent, mirrored the incessant nightmares that haunted him, in stark opposition to the lush greenery and faraway azure sky reflected in his eyes.
A while later, the door opened quietly, signalling someone’s cautious entrance. Footsteps approached and stopped beside him. All this time, he stared straight ahead.
“Jiang Ting.”
Yang Mei sported carefully permed and dyed hair, red nails and a black dress. Draped over an arm was a Birkin bag, and under the other a large envelope, which she had just received from the doctor’s office.
Noticing that he had glanced over at her, she beamed. “You were sleeping so well that I didn’t want to wake you. Everything’s done, and the car’s downstairs. Let’s go.”
Jiang Ting silently considered her words and nodded.
This was an excellent private nursing home in Jianning County, and simply being hooked up to a machine would still make it an expensive stay. Seeing as he had been in relatively good condition when he came to, he must have been carefully tended to over the past three years.
Regardless, he had been in a coma. Regaining his strength would be no easy task.
“Have you heard? That guy in 538 who was comatose for three years is her fiance!”
“What a waste of a rich and beautiful woman…”
“What a pity for such a young man. Who knows if he’ll ever stand again?”
Yang Mei pushed his wheelchair into the lift. The doors slowly closed, blocking off snippets of conversation.
As the lift made its descent, Jiang Ting’s expressionless face was reflected on the metal doors. Yang Mei, who was behind him, looked a little embarrassed and coughed. “I had to fill in a form when transferring you into this nursing home. They needed to know what our relationship was and I panicked, so…”
“I would‘ve died if it wasn’t for you,” Jiang Ting said.
“What are you talking about? If not for you, I’d still be behind bars. I owe everything I have now to you—”
“But those guys haven’t given up yet,” he interrupted. “I’m not very mobile and still in danger. Don’t let yourself get dragged into my problems.”
Yang Mei wanted to respond, but saw in the lift’s reflection that Jiang Ting had closed his eyes. She had no choice but to hold her tongue.
The street lights were yet to be turned on, but the neon lights of Nightless had long since been illuminated. With a dramatic halt, a large Mercedes pulled up right outside the karaoke bar’s back door, and Yang Mei hurried to open the rear door. When she and the driver attempted to assist Jiang Ting out of the car, though, he signalled them to stop.
Jiang Ting grabbed the door, exerted his strength all at once and, with a slight grunt, managed to shuffle into an upright position.
“You should take it slow, sir!” The driver reached out to help, but Yang Mei had beaten him to it. She grabbed Jiang Ting firmly by the arm and together, they headed towards the back entrance.
It had been less than a month since Jiang Ting had regained consciousness. Walking was still strenuous, and with Yang Mei in heels, the two swayed and staggered onto the pavement.
“Still open, huh,” Jiang Ting remarked, referring to the bar.
“Well, you settled the contract dispute for this place. I get access to all sorts of information here, which actually makes it safer—what are you looking at?”
She followed his gaze to the sight of a young man with a backpack standing on the road kerb, just a short distance away from the desolate back door of the bar. He seemed to be waiting for somebody. The moment their eyes met, however, he quickly lowered his head and hurried away.
“It’s nothing.” Jiang Ting looked away. “Let’s head in.”
“The first and second floor are where the karaoke rooms are, while the third floor has the office and dormitory—it’s where I usually stay. It’s nothing special, but I hope that’s alright with you. Hey, Zhang! What are you standing around for? Get Jiang Ting something to drink!”
The waitress rushed to carry out the order, but Jiang Ting stopped her. “You can get on with your work.”
The soundproofing in the dormitory was decent and blocked out most of the ruckus from the karaoke bar downstairs. The room had been decorated by Yang Mei, and it seemed just like a small hotel suite with the furniture and view of the back alley.
“You might be seen with the number of people passing through here, so I’m planning to buy a place in the next couple of days so we’ll have a safe house. There’s no way those guys from Gongzhou can find this place considering how many years have passed. They probably think you’re dead. If nothing happens in the next two years, I’ll close the bar and we’ll be free as birds!” Yang Mei prattled on ceaselessly as she moved around elegantly, tidying the room and pulling the curtains shut.
Jiang Ting’s eyes landed on the dressing mirror. Warm, dim lighting softly illuminated his face, and his eyelashes and nose bridge cast intricate shadows, veiling his lips and dispassionate eyes in the darkness.
“With the size of this country, it’ll be easy to move somewhere remote. Nobody will ever find us. I’m leaving your toiletries here, ‘kay?” She turned behind to see Jiang Ting, who was seated under the light. The light and shadows accentuated his slender frame, highlighting the delicate contours of his crossed fingers as they caught glimmers of light.
No matter how naturally good looking one may be, illness would inevitably leave its mark. Surviving a horrific car accident and spending three years in a coma would undoubtedly have taken a toll on his appearance.
Yet, as Yang Mei studied Jiang Ting, she found little had changed about him. There was just something attractive about him in his very bones that had not changed from when they had first met.
Yang Mei did not say more for fear of bothering him. It was only a good while later that Jiang Ting spoke in a low voice.
“Once I’m more mobile, I’ll head back to Gongzhou. You should pack up, return to your hometown and lay low when the time comes.”
“What?” Yang Mei was completely taken aback. “No way! Those guys don’t do things by halves. If they find out you’re still alive, they’ll definitely come for you! It’s not just them— there’s also that guy! He’s way more terrifying…” Her voice sounded incredibly strained as she eventually trailed off.
There was a much more terrifying existence. Even without mentioning him by name, she was already too frightened to speak.
“I know,” he acknowledged, “but when the plastics factory exploded, a dozen men from my team lost their lives. I need to make it up to them.”
Yang Mei couldn’t find the words to respond, and Jiang Ting made a gesture to indicate she didn’t need to say anything.
“Get me some ID, a mobile phone, a laptop and a few anonymous SIM cards. Go.”
Yang Mei hemmed and hawed for a while, then let out a long sigh and left.
The karaoke bar was already open for business. Vibrant colour-changing lights decorated the corridors, powerful, rhythmic music could be heard blasting from the main hall, and fashionably-dressed youths ambled around in clusters. Yang Mei relayed Jiang Ting’s instructions to her assistant, saying it was to be done quickly and carefully, and then went downstairs to patrol the establishment absent-mindedly.
She had turned the corner after exiting the crystal lift, when the door to one of the private karaoke rooms abruptly opened.
A tall man strode out, accompanied by the howling cries of “Even in Death I’ll Love You” behind him, and went straight to the bar. In an impudent manner, he loudly placed a glass on the counter right in front of the bartender.
“What the hell is this?!”
Yang Mei stopped in her tracks, watching as the bartender took a close look and replied, “It’s a Long Island Iced Tea, love.”
“Try it yourself. Does it taste like there’s any fucking alcohol in there?”
“There’s no alcohol in there, love. It's an iced tea.”
“Seriously? Isn’t this consumer fraud?”
The bartender immediately put on a straight face and confidently retorted, “I don’t like what you’re saying, handsome. It’s called Long Island Iced Tea, and it’s made with black tea and fresh lemon. It’s high-quality iced tea. How is this fraud?”
The man was obviously aghast and stunned into momentary silence before he hit back with, “I’ll get a Bloody Mary then. Does that mean you’ll slit your wrists and drip some of your shitty blood in there for me?”
Yang Mei was speechless.
The man was around thirty years old and quite attractive. Not even the changing coloured lights of the bar could diminish his defined features. His unruly hair stuck out in a way that made him seem a few centimetres taller than his actual height of around 185cm. The t-shirt under his leather jacket displayed his lean body, and when he twisted his head to the side to speak, the muscles in his neck bulged.
“Haha, a Bloody Mary, was it, handsome? Sure, I’ll cut up a tomato for you right away!” the bartender immediately answered.
Slam!
Stupefied, the bartender could do little but watch as the man retrieved a Swiss army knife from the back of his trousers and remarked snidely, “You gonna do it yourself, or do you want my help?”
Yang Mei’s heart skipped a beat. She’d been in the game long enough, and it was obvious that despite the man’s wicked good looks, he was up to no good.
“Hey, hey!” The bartender exclaimed weakly while hastily trying to move backwards. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”
“Apologies, sir.” Yang Mei marched forward and laughed diplomatically. “I’m the boss here. For safety reasons, we don’t sell anything with an alcohol content over 40%, which is why the Long Island Iced Tea is non-alcoholic. If you’d like a cocktail, how about we make you another? Liu!”
The bartender, whose name tag read “Agatha Tang Francisco Tony”, immediately squeaked in answer.
“Make our guest a Sunset Peach.” She smiled alluringly at him. “It’s on me.”
The man eyed her up and down before putting the knife away, making sure to take his time. He sniggered. “Guess your little regulated business does know who’s in the right, eh?”
Yang Mei chuckled. “Of course, of course. It’s our fault that our bartender didn’t explain it well. Please have a look here. Long Island Iced Tea is written on this list under “Non-Alcoholic Beverages”. Our sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding.”
Unfortunately, the explanation had the opposite effect. The man was, once again, appalled.
“Misunderstanding?” He pointed at the glass and asked incredulously, “You’re selling Lipton ice tea here for 50 bucks and you’re saying I’m the one who caused the misunderstanding? Do you think I’m blind or stupid?”
Before Yang Mei could respond, the man turned to return to his room, obviously about to enlist his friends’ help to make his case.
Just as Yang Mei was about to go after him, one of the chefs suddenly came staggering out of the kitchen and grabbed her as if his life depended on it.
“We-We’ve got a problem, Ms. Yang! In the freezer…the freezer in the kitchen…”
She glanced down, only to see half of the chef’s ashen face shone green and the other, blue from the lights. He was trembling so much that it looked like he was having convulsions. “A thief sneaked into the freezer, and it-it looks like he fr-fr-froze to d-death!”
Yang Mei stood in front of the large industrial freezer, completely dumbstruck.
The ruckus in the bar seemed far away in the kitchen, which was huge and deathly silent. A draft was coming in from the doors leading to the back alley, where the waste bins were. It was akin to the breath of the dead brushing against the ears of the living.
A kitchen assistant, waitress and bartender hid behind her. It was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.
“Is-Is-Is he… dead?” the bartender whimpered.
There was a young male around 20 years old lying face-up on the ground, face bluish-green, eyes wide open. Blood had flown out of his nostrils and mouth, and there was still some frost on his naked upper body while he maintained the posture he had at his death: with two arms slightly outstretched.
Yang Mei breathed hard and slowly crouched down. With trembling fingers, she checked if he was breathing.
All of a sudden, a hand appeared over hers.
“Ah!” She jumped, turning to see it was only Jiang Ting. “J-Jiang Ting!”
He gestured for her to get behind him without saying a word, and she staggered backwards, watching as he got down on one knee, removed the chef’s latex gloves and put them on. He first examined the male’s neck, then lifted the eyelids and, after a moment, shook his head.
The waitress collapsed to her knees. Yang Mei’s knees nearly buckled as well, but she had seen worse before and managed to steel herself.
“Wh-Wh-What the hell’s going on here? What kind of dumb thief would hide in a freezer if he was being chased? Or did some son of a bitch kill him and toss him in our freezer? Did we forget to close the back door of the kitchen today? Where’s the manager?! Get me Zhao—”
“Call the police.” Jiang Ting stood in her way.
Yang Mei was immediately hesitant. “That… probably isn’t the best idea.”
In the three years Jiang Ting had been in a coma, she had done everything possible not to have any dealings with the law. She did not even speed on the road, much less leave any records in the police system.
Jiang Ting propped himself up against the wall, caught his breath, then gestured to the body with his chin.
“There are no signs of blows to his head or body. He doesn’t smell of alcohol and doesn’t have any external injuries. His nipples are inverted, and there are obvious red spots and purple swelling on his upper body, which are clear signs of frostbite developed while he was alive, unlike everything going on below the waist. He wasn’t murdered and then thrown in here; he froze to death inside.”
The waitress and bartender Tony hugged each other tightly as they quivered in fear. Meanwhile, Yang Mei stared straight ahead, her mind drawing a complete blank.
“Call the police.” Jiang Ting sighed again.
With a population of over 10 million, the metropolis was alive with throngs of people and cars lining the streets. High-rise buildings and huge advertising screens intertwined with each other, illuminating the bustling nightlife and adding to the flourishing cityscape.
At the end of the street, several vehicles with flickering red and blue police lights rushed out of the Fuyang District Police Station and onto the main road, merging into the evening traffic.
“Don’t waste your time on them, man! Just report them to the Consumer Rights Agency! This is obviously iced tea from Lipton, or maybe Nestea, and we’ve drunk enough in our lifetimes to know. There’s no way we’d be mistaken!”
Under the dim lights of the private karaoke room, eight young men had their arms flung around each other as they belted out songs and spat into a single microphone at ear-splitting volumes. Ma Xiang was leaning on Yan Xie and yelling right into his ear when the latter’s phone suddenly rang.
Upon seeing who was on the line, Yan Xie immediately stopped Ma Xiang and picked up, “Hey, chief.”
The word “chief” was like a curse. Unlike the rest, who hadn’t heard it, Ma Xiang immediately went stiff as a board and stared as Yan Xie made sounds of acknowledgement. To nobody’s surprise, Yan Xie became solemn.
“Officers from Fuyang are already on the way? Right, sure… Got it, I’ll take my men there.”
“Even in death I’ll love you, no happiness comes with restraint–”
Tap! Tap!
The song accompaniment and lights went off all at once, and the young men singing and dancing as if they were possessed immediately went quiet and started exchanging looks. Their attention was now on Yan Xie.
Yan Xie turned the light on with a loud click and tossed aside the beer bottle he had banged on the table.
“We’ve gotten word from the command centre that someone’s reported a death near Fuyang Road. We’ve got people from the precinct and neighbourhood watch on the way, and Chief told us to stop by the crime scene,” he stated grimly.
Everyone was immediately distraught.
“Seriously, Inspector?”
“Didn’t you promise you’d give us half a day off once that case was over?”
“Where’s the crime scene? Fuck, our cars are still parked at the station…”
“We won’t need cars,” Yan Xie declared unhurriedly, “because the crime scene is this bar’s kitchen. The owner was the one who called in.”
While the other men were still processing the information, Yan Xie turned to open the door, sighing deeply. “Let’s go. This must be the fastest officers from the city have ever turned up at a crime scene. Hey, miss! C’mere. Where’s your kitchen?”
The door to the kitchen was tightly shut, and the chef and waitress, who were completely in the dark, were whispering and discussing amongst themselves outside. Uncaring of the chatter around him, Yan Xie forced them to step aside, strode forward and rapped on the door.
“Police! Open up!”
The door creaked open, and Yang Mei looked up. The very moment her gaze landed on Yan Xie’s handsome face, her voice quivered.
“Y-you…”
“Me?? You’re the one who sells iced tea for 50 bucks. Never thought you’d get caught, did ya?” Yan Xie produced his ID from the breast pocket of his jacket and showed it off, to which he was greeted with gawks of disbelief.
“My name is Yan Xie and I’m a detective working for the Municipal Criminal Investigation Department. Stand clear of the crime scene, and get me two shoe covers. Now, where’s the body?”