NB Chapter62

Sister Azhu dropped out of school early; she was halfway through university when she ran off to work as a saleswoman in a mall. After two years of working, she caught the eye of Brother Cheng, the head of Hongtang, who brought her into his villa, where she stayed for five or six years. Some guessed they would marry; others guessed that Brother Cheng would soon kick Little Sister Azhu to the curb and find someone else.

No one guessed that Brother Cheng, who had evaded investigations and assassinations from both sides of the law, would fail to evade a car accident at a crossroads, leaving behind children from his ex-wife before breathing his last.

Little Sister Azhu immediately inherited the estate and became the sole spokesperson for Hongtang. From then on, no one called her Little Sister Azhu anymore; there was only Sister Azhu in Hong Kong.

Some said Sister Azhu was ruthless and had killed her own husband. Yet her relationship with her stepchildren was genuinely good; she even seemed to indulge her stepdaughter a little too much. Last summer, Paparazzi captured her again, wearing a green dress and a necklace with an enormous ruby pendant; even in the pixelated, blurred shot, the gemstone still stood out brilliantly, set right in the hollow of her collarbone.

Sister Azhu stood on the street while her stepdaughter, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, pointed at her nose and scolded her in English. Sister Azhu naturally understood not a single word and simply waited for the outburst to pass. Once her stepdaughter had calmed somewhat, she walked over, put an arm around her shoulders, and led her away, speaking softly all the while as she escorted her back to her residence.

The next day, when the stepdaughter went to work, that very ruby necklace was hanging around her neck.

That week, a tabloid remarked: pitying her late husband’s eldest daughter, the wealthy Sister Azhu used the ruby as a pacifier.

Sister Azhu had great poise and didn’t lower herself to the level of the paparazzi. Sensing this, the reporters took the opportunity to be sharp but mostly positive in their teasing, making it a win-win for both sides. Over the years, Sister Azhu had gradually laundered many of the Cheng family’s businesses, and Hongtang slowly became more legitimate, losing the bloody aura of its days in the underworld.

Right now, I’m just a low-ranking police officer. If I wanted to meet that legendary Big Sister, I’d probably have to strip off my old identity, shed my skin and blood, be reborn into a gang at thirteen, risk my life for a boss, and have my entire back tattooed.

That way, by Lunar New Year, I might finally be eligible to receive a reward from Sister Azhu’s own hand.

“How could she be Auntie Yang’s younger sister?” I murmured.

“My grandfather was married several times; it’s only natural. He had many children in name who weren’t related by blood, all raised elsewhere.” Zhang Mingsheng replied with unusual details. I wasn’t sure what he was busy with, but every so often, faint, rhythmic sounds drifted through the phone.

“After Mother left, misfortune struck the Yang family one after another. Accidents piled up, and they slowly declined. I can barely think of anyone from that family who is still alive today.” Zhang Mingsheng’s pace of speaking slowed down considerably.

“Then what about Sister Azhu? You said she hates you, have you two actually met?”

“Mhm,” Zhang Mingsheng said. “When I was sixteen, her men tied me up like a crab and threw me into a Buddhist ancestral hall. She made me kneel there all night.”

“Why?”

“Because she finds anyone with the surname Zhang unpleasant to look at.” Zhang Mingsheng said flatly.

“But you’re her sister’s child.”

“Which is why she finds me especially unpleasant.”

I reflected for a moment. “How much do you think she knows about what happened back then?”

“I’ve asked. She told me that if she had to look at my face while recounting those past events, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from killing me.”

“Then… what if she were looking at someone else’s face instead?”

“You want to see her?”

“Yes.”

Zhang Mingsheng gave a short laugh and asked, “And why should I help you?”

“If you weren’t going to help me, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of finding my phone number.” I replied nonchalantly, my mind was already drifting elsewhere.

“Did Sister Azhu ever put a bounty on the heads of the Zhang family?” This was something Ah Hai had told me.

“She did. But Zhang Yaonian didn’t take it seriously; Brother Cheng was still alive then, and Sister Azhu hadn’t taken over as the spokesperson yet. In the eyes of others, she was just a mistress without an official status; no one dared to actually listen to her.”

“Is that bounty still active?” In truth, I wanted to ask if she knew whether Zhang Yaonian was involved in the disappearance case back then.

“There are only two living people left in the Zhang family now, and both our heads are still attached. I’d guess it’s probably still valid,” Zhang Mingsheng said lightheartedly. “Are you going to take my head to trade for a chance to see Sister Azhu?”

“It’s not out of the question either,” I said. “It’s just that I’ve been too tired lately to bother doing the work. Why don’t you deliver it yourself and let me have the reward?”

“Officer Yu, do you always get this prickly when you’re tired?”

“So, you do know that fighting is exhausting.” I rolled over and tossed a magazine onto the nightstand.

“My mistake,” Zhang Mingsheng said with a laugh. “Then I’ll give Officer Yu a hand; it’s a small favor, after all.”

“Is it a ‘small’ favor or a ‘severed head’ favor?” I asked sarcastically.

With a soft chuckle, the call ended.

Three days later in the afternoon, I was eating noodles at a roadside stall. I had just lifted a mouthful when my phone vibrated twice.

It was a text from Zhang Mingsheng containing an address, a time, and four additional characters:

A head-strong favor ^^

Childish.

I held on until early Saturday morning, dressed neatly, then took a bus followed by a taxi. After nearly two hours on the road, the view outside the window slowly shifted into dense greenery, with the occasional glimpse of white villas flashing past.

A trauma flashback hit me again.

The high-end wealthy districts devoid of the bustling crowds made my skin crawl. I had been trapped in a place like this for too long; neighbors were kept at a distance, and even if you cried for help, no one would pay attention either. People with peculiar fetishes were everywhere. Once, when Zhang Mingsheng was taking me home, I saw a naked person dash across the path, wearing nothing but a red collar around their neck.

That night, Zhang Mingsheng asked me if I wanted to move.

At that time, Keke was one year old and couldn’t even run out the door yet, but the days ahead were long. Who knew what she might encounter if she ran out to play?

I nodded firmly. After that, we moved for the first time.

However, Zhang Mingsheng appeared to have come back a few times, trying to find out who had been playing those kinds of adult games. Once he obtained that kind of leverage, he would undoubtedly know exactly how to use it.

I stared out the window while forcing the memories back down.

Upon reaching the destination, the taxi driver struck up a conversation before letting me out, asking if I had friends living here.

I gave a couple of dry laughs and said I was just looking for someone’s help.

I didn’t have many friends, but I certainly had plenty of enemies.

Before me stood a brand-new, ivory-colored gate.

Zhang Mingsheng was wealthy as well, but most of his properties were old. Ancient buildings tended to feel more benign, they didn’t give off the sense of being sliced by sharp, angular edges.

Under the watchful eyes of the bodyguards behind the gate, I double-checked the house number several times to ensure I hadn’t gone to the wrong place.

Zhang Mingsheng had specifically instructed me that Sister Azhu had invited me personally and that I was a guest. Therefore, I shouldn’t worry about how I’d be treated, let alone the gossip of others.

In truth, what did I have to worry about? At the end of the day, it was just a matter of death.

I owed Auntie Yang a life.

I gave my name, and the bodyguard in sunglasses nodded before pressing a button that made the gate slowly swing open. I got into his car, and after winding through several turns, we arrived at a courtyard where the buildings looked like a small temple complex.

Then, the bodyguard left, leaving me alone.

I continued further inside, passing through several nested archways guarded by solemn-faced men in black. Further in sat a Buddhist Hall.

The closer I got, the stronger the scent of sandalwood became. In the center stood a golden Buddha, flanked by Arhats and Guanyin, while below the altar was filled with fresh fruit and flowers. A plump woman in a dark red long-sleeved robe with a string of bodhi beads in her hand was bowing in prayer.

I stopped about five steps from the threshold as the guard at the door reached out to block me. The woman heard the movement and slowly turned around; she had a kind, benevolent face and a joyful expression. She smiled, and with a slight shift of her gaze, the guard lowered his hand.

I lowered my head slightly. “I’m pleased to meet you, Sister Azhu. I am Yu Fuchao.”

To my surprise, the woman didn’t speak. She left me standing there, still smiling, and then nodded toward a direction before exiting through the side of the hall.

“Yu Fuchao,” a lazy female voice sounded; at first, it even carried a faint childishness, not because of the tone itself, but because of the drawn-out cadence, like a child reciting a lesson. “Which three characters?”

I quickly replied, “The Yu like the character ‘gan’, but with a hook on the left…”

Before I could finish, the drawling voice interrupted me impatiently, “Enough, come in and write it for me!”

I walked forward, crossed the threshold, and turned my gaze toward the direction where the voice had come from.

Zhang Mingsheng was actually here.

He wore a thin cobalt-blue suit and a watch on his wrist, kneeling perfectly upright on a dusty pink prayer mat, his eyes fixed steadily on the floor. I couldn’t make out his expression, but I noticed his hair was slicked back, revealing his forehead; in the dim light of the Buddhist Hall, his skin took on a hazy, pale quality with a faint bluish tint.

Beside him sat a woman in an orange dress. She looked to be in her forties with reddish-gold dyed hair and a cluster of gold bracelets on her wrists. She was a vision of brilliant, fiery red that seemed almost gaudy at first glance, but her slender frame and sharp chin diluted that laziness with a certain piercing edge. At that moment, she was reclining in a lounge chair with her legs crossed, squinting as she casually sized me up.

A lounge chair was placed in the prayer hall; she lay back on it, while even the Buddha stood upright.

She was the real Pang Azhu.

She extended her hand, and Zhang Mingsheng took the fountain pen from his pocket before respectfully placing it into her palm.

She tossed the pen onto the floor with a sharp clack and said, “Write.”

I bent down to pick up the pen up.

There was a pen, but no paper.

I uncapped it and wrote my name in the palm of my own hand, then held it out to her.

Pang Azhu didn’t look at it. She left me hanging for a dozen seconds before suddenly grabbing my wrist, laughing as she said, “So bold. Aren’t you afraid I’ll chop your hand off?”

“Even if you did, my name would still be on it.” I said as I met her gaze.

“What a stubborn child.” She said, releasing my hand and reclining lazily once more.

Kneeling off to the side, Zhang Mingsheng kept his head lowered with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“This kid says you insist on seeing me,” she said, closing her eyes. “Whatever it is, speak.”

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