Chapter Ten: The Hoarse Manor

Raw Meat Town, Wreckage Repair Shop.

Unlike last night's bloody uproar, tonight's throng was gathered not for violence but for wine and meat. Zheng Nanfang's barbecue business had fizzled out before it began; once he had eaten and drunk his fill, he no longer bothered with it. At leisure, he lounged in Tang Suan's embrace—Shu Onion kneading his legs on the left, Li Green Pepper pounding his shoulders on the right. He cradled a wine jug in his own hands, entirely at ease.

"If you're tired, take a break," Zheng Nanfang said, nodding toward the ice bucket and addressing the three women. "Why so tense? Relax a little."

"I can't tell if you're brave because you're skilled or just reckless like a newborn calf," Tang Suan snorted, though she still took the offered bottle.

Zheng Nanfang paid her no heed, laughing. "I've heard that before, just a couple days ago."

"And then?" Tang Suan pursed her lips.

He let out a satisfied belch and grinned. "And now I'm lying on you, drinking beer—doesn't seem to have made any difference."

"Suit yourself." Tang Suan shifted her position, resting the new boss's head on her lap. Suddenly remembering something, she leaned in and asked, "Aren't you worried?"

"Worried about what?"

"Your invitation." Tang Suan wrinkled her delicate nose, recalling the fierce look in his eyes that afternoon. She eyed him suspiciously. "How are you going to compete without it?"

"I have it handled, don't worry." Zheng Nanfang closed his eyes, drowsiness overtaking him, though he fought to stay awake. Beer after beer disappeared as though he were a bottomless pit.

Shu Onion had been watching him all along, finding him more and more inscrutable. She offered a gentle reminder: "Boss, it's not wise to get drunk in a place like this."

Zheng Nanfang exhaled and, with Tang Suan's help, sat up, his head still drooping as though weighed down by exhaustion. He dug his fingers into his temples, as though something troubled him deeply. The three women exchanged worried glances.

Suddenly, Tang Suan recalled his medication from the night before. Her eyes brightened and she hurriedly asked, "Is it a health issue? Should I get your medicine?"

"No, no, no." Zheng Nanfang, limp as a rag, suddenly jolted, clutching Tang Suan's arm tightly. "No medicine. Don't worry, I'm fine..."

"You don't look fine." Tang Suan signaled Shu Onion and Green Pepper with her eyes, and the two women moved closer, forming a protective circle around him. To outsiders, it would simply look like Zheng Nanfang was cavorting with three women; no one would see his current state.

"Just a moment longer," Zheng Nanfang murmured indistinctly, eyes still closed, as if speaking to himself or perhaps to the three women.

Unfortunately, they couldn't make sense of his words, so they simply kept their positions, buying time for their new boss.

...

"Over there, that's the one—yeah, the guy being doted on by three chicks," said a tattooed biker with braids, gesturing toward Zheng Nanfang as he spoke to a few men and women. "Rumor has it he came from the wasteland—killed three people his first night in town."

"No other information?" The voluptuous woman who had fought two men on the hillside earlier bit her cigarette, shooting the braided man a dissatisfied look.

"I asked around, but no one knows him." The braided man was clearly intimidated by the busty woman, sweat beading on his forehead as he explained, "Folks say he's a stranger, just got here last night, seems to work at the repair shop."

"Repair shop?" The busty woman exhaled a cloud of smoke, her red lips curling. "But I heard the owner left town?"

"That’s right, just found out myself."

"I didn't ask you to tell me things I already know," she replied flatly, flicking away her cigarette with displeasure. "So he doesn't even have a car? I’m looking for real allies. What good is a tough guy if he can't even drive faster than a car?"

"I, I, I..." the braided man stammered.

"Useless," she sighed, rising to straighten her skirt and stalking toward Zheng Nanfang's table.

The braided man looked awkwardly at a man in a dog-head mask, who shook his head and called out, "Laili, forget it. I think we already have enough allies. One more or less won't matter, and honestly, I don't see anything special about that guy."

The busty woman named Laili paused, glancing back with mocking eyes. "You think? Since when do you call the shots for my crew?"

"That’s not what I meant," the dog-head man stiffened, waving his hands frantically. "I just... just..."

"Stick to your own business," Laili shot them both the finger, tossed her hair, and strode away with a sultry sway.

...

About fifty kilometers west of Raw Meat Town, a dilapidated manor stood atop a barren hill.

The manor occupied the whole summit. Though the entrance hall was in ruins, lights blazed inside, rivaling those of Raw Meat Town.

Its back pressed against a cliff, the only way in was a single road. Watchtowers ringed the grounds, torches flickering in the night. Armed guards patrolled, trading shifts with discipline.

At its heart stood a three-story mansion. The battered exterior betrayed no particular style, but the many patches bore witness to the storms it had weathered.

The brightest lights shone from the top-floor ballroom, where lively voices and the faint strains of piano music drifted.

Xi Bafeng shrugged off his tailored jacket, handing it to the one-eyed butler, then loosened his shirt collar and slouched into the seat of honor at the long table. One leg hung over the arm of a pearwood chair, his shoes polished to a mirror shine.

"Whatever it is you brought me," he began, eyeing the trembling blonde woman across the table, yawning with indifference as he ran fingers heavy with agate rings through his slicked-back hair, "I'm not interested."

"But, but..."

He waved her off, stroking his neatly trimmed mustache. "But I am curious—who gave you the guts to come here and try to do business with me? Hmm? Little... Little Manman?"

"Shaman," the blonde corrected him, her tone tart.

"Oh, whatever." Xi Bafeng clearly cared little for names. He bit into a grape, peeled by the sultry man beside him. "Who sent you?"

"I came alone." Shaman steadied herself, choosing her words with care. "The Hoarse Manor's reputation is renowned. I just thought, if anyone could pay the price, it would be you."

Xi Bafeng let out a piercing laugh, drawing glances from the dozen men and women at the table.

"Flattery won’t work on me," he yawned, waving a hand. "But I’m in a good mood tonight, so I won’t argue. Take the invitation and go—I have no interest in the road race. Since you dared to come here alone, I’ll give you a reward..."

He gestured around the ballroom. "Anything here you can carry, take it."

"I don't want any of that," Shaman replied through clenched teeth, mustering her courage. "If I may, I’d like a chance to stay at the manor."

This time, Xi Bafeng didn’t laugh, but the others at the table did.

"Hey, know when to quit," said a boy at the far end, scratching his nose with a dazzling smile. He looked only eleven or twelve, dressed in a suit and bow tie, his face boyish but his voice savvy. "You have five minutes to take what you want," Xi Bafeng added, pulling a pocket watch from his coat. "Better hurry."

...

Shaman's eyes dimmed; she knew her trip had been for nothing. She looked around the opulent ballroom—gold and jewels everywhere—but none of it useful. Without force to back her, these treasures were as worthless as trash.

The blonde woman shook her head and trudged toward the door. As she reached for the handle, she paused, summoning her resolve, and turned back.

"I have one last question."

Xi Bafeng nodded.

"Everyone outside is desperate for the invitation. Why, as the so-called emperor of the Lower City's west, do you not care?"

"You said it yourself—I'm an emperor," Xi Bafeng replied, letting out another shrill laugh and spreading his hands. "I have everything here. Anything I want is at my fingertips. Give me one reason why I should join that ridiculous contest. A chance to enter the Upper City? Ha! In my eyes, the Upper City and the Wasteland are no different—just another pile of dung swarming with flies."

Shaman nodded at his assessment of the manor, then after a moment's thought, said, "But surely there are things even Hoarse Manor cannot provide."

"Go on, enlighten me."

She gritted her teeth and uttered two words: "The Hive."

...

A hundred miles away, Deep Blue Hospital.

In the broad, flat hospital yard, seven ambulances with flashing lights lined up. Two squads of men and women in matching hazmat suits boarded the vehicles in order, weapons in hand.

Hong Xiangcai donned a crisp white coat, a stethoscope around her neck, hands in her pockets as if ready for rounds in the inpatient wing.

Behind her, two young nurses dragged Hu Bi, one on each side, into the Red Bird vehicle.

Hong Xiangcai donned a mask and got into the driver’s seat, clearing her throat and signaling with her eyes. The nurse in the back nodded, drew a syringe from her pocket, and injected its contents slowly into Hu Bi’s shoulder.

Hu Bi, clad in a hospital gown, slumped weakly, mouth working soundlessly as the nurse administered the drug.

"Morita, you know what happens if you lie to me, right?" Hong Xiangcai asked, turning back.

Hu Bi blinked feebly to show he understood.

"Good," she smiled with satisfaction, revved the Red Bird, and led the convoy out of the hospital, bound for Raw Meat Town.

...

Meanwhile, Zheng Nanfang, still slumped in Tang Suan’s lap, finally opened his eyes, drenched in sweat as if he’d just been through a storm.

"How are you feeling?" Tang Suan wiped his brow, eyeing him with suspicion. "Are you really alright?"

"I’m fine," Zheng Nanfang answered, drawing a deep breath and frowning. "Have any of you… heard of Xi Bafeng?"