The Cook, the Crook, and the Real Estate Tycoon

by Liu Zhenyun

  Your son, Liu Pengju.”

  Liu immediately sobered up. His first reaction was to climb onto the bed and remove the movie star calendar from the wall; now there was only a hole where he’d stashed the last bit of money he had. A grand total of a 1,652 yuan, wrapped in a plastic bag to keep it dry, now gone, including the bag. He’d worked hard selling swill to save that amount, which he’d put separately to keep his sources of income straight; it was his emergency fund that he would touch only in the direst situation.

  At two in the morning every Wednesday and Sunday he rode his bicycle with a bucket on each side of the rack to deliver leftover rice, buns, and swill he’d saved up over three days to the Shunyi Pig Farm, about eighty li away. The dining hall food wasn’t rich enough to fetch a good price, so he had to save one yuan here and eighty cents there, and now it was all gone. He hadn’t touched the money even when he’d run a three-day fever of a hundred and three the month before. He jumped off the bed to check the vat for fermented tofu, where he’d stowed the purse taken from Yang Zhi. It too was gone.

  “You bastard.” He stomped his foot and cursed. “Your father’s broke and now you’ve added insult to injury.”

  He sat down on the bed with his head in his hands, when he detected a strange smell. A quick sniff told him it was from the woman’s cosmetics, as well as the smell from what they’d done the night broke, on his bedding. He pulled his own sweaty hair; it stank.

  “I’ve been looking for a thief. Who’s the thief?” he muttered to himself. “My bastard son, that’s who.”

  21

  Yang Zhi

  After five fruitless days of searching, Yang Zhi found Zhang Duanduan by accident.

  He finally realized he should have known the difference between robbers and thieves; the latter had defined territory that must not be encroached upon, while the former moved from job to job, migration being an important characteristic of the profession and the reason behind thieves’ distain for them. He had been robbed in a small room in the eastern suburb, which he mistook as their base, thinking they would work the area, like dates not falling far from the tree. That was why he had concentrated his search in the Chaoyang District, including the snack stalls by the Tonghui River, all to no avail.

  In the meantime, he’d gotten tangled up with Brother Cao’s people, who had sent him to burgle the Beethoven Villa, a job that had ended up with him escaping the complex with a purse that had subsequently fallen into the hands of a man he had stolen from before. Breaking into a luxury house was no small matter, so he decided to hide out in the western suburbs, staying out of sight from the police and Cao’s lackeys. Thieves from Yang’s hometown had a base in this slum area that offered some potential for small-time crooks.

  After fleeing the villa, he came straight to the base, ignoring the greetings from several petty thieves, and went into the back room. When he calmed down, he began to sense disappointment over what had transpired that day—leaving behind a sack of loot and then losing the purse in his flight.

  As his thoughts returned to the villa, he was reminded of the trouble between his legs, a more serious matter than losing the loot. Lying in bed, he fondled himself, but not much happened—just a half-hearted stiffening.

  Disregarding the scare and fatigue of the night, he went in search of a prostitute, who managed to arouse him along the way; but nothing stirred once they were in bed. Holding her in his arms, he strained to recall the woman at the villa, but what he managed to conjure up was Zhang Duanduan’s face and the fright he’d experienced in that small room. It dawned on him that he’d gotten away with a whole bottle of potency pills; he took a few, but half an hour later still no effect. For him it was all over.

  After one whole gloomy day, he refused to accept reality and went out again with his satchel to find a prostitute. Looking at the brightly lit world on the main street, thoughts of his impotence and his attempts to solve the problem dejected him; the whole world faded in front of him. He knew precisely where to find what he was looking for, in the hair salons or under nearby trees, but he wasn’t sure he should even try, unlike the day before, when he’d first been concerned about his problem.

  With a sigh, he squatted down at the curb to smoke, when he heard some people arguing in the wooded area behind him. He didn’t pay much attention at first, but he heard a familiar accent and took a closer look. His eyes lit up at the sight of Zhang Duanduan with the three Gansu men, who were quarrelling among themselves while she tried to be the peacemaker. As the saying goes, you wear out a pair of steel-soled shoes in a futile search, but then what you’re looking for falls into your hands.

  Jumping to his feet, Yang was about to rush them when he realized he’d left his knife behind, whereas these robbers would surely be armed. He wanted to go back to get his knife, but was afraid of losing sight of the robbers, who started to walk out of the wooded area heading east. Yang Zhi, though weaponless, followed, checking to see if there was a shop along the way where he could buy a cleaver, a razor, even a paring knife. Anything would be better than nothing. But all he could see were shops selling soft drinks, alcohol, cigarettes, and condiments. No hardware store in sight. Then he spotted one, but it was closed. They came upon a supermarket, well lit and packed with shoppers. Supermarkets sold household items and might carry cleavers; yet the gang would likely be out of sight by the time he found the shelf, got a knife, and paid. He had to pass it up and settle for a broken brick he managed to pry off a flowerbed. Stuffing it into his satchel, he continued to follow the four, who were bickering the whole time. They argued when they walked and argued when they stopped, which was why they never noticed Yang behind them.

  By then he had changed tactics. Instead of direct confrontation, he’d follow them to see where they went and find their new nest. Then he’d either go back for his weapon or get some Shanxi thieves to help him. His plan to kill Zhang Duanduan had expanded into taking every member of the gang, now that even potency pills were no use in helping him to get the thing up. He wouldn’t spare a single one of the Gansu men.

  When they reached Bajiao Street, they ducked into the subway station; Yang picked up his pace and followed along. They boarded a subway train through the front door of a car, and Yang did the same, through the back door. The car was packed but he managed to squeeze his way up front, closer to the gang, but keeping a three-meter safe distance. As the train rumbled along, the Gansu men stopped arguing. Liu wondered where they’d get off and where they were headed after that, hoping they’d return to their hideout. His thoughts were all over the place when he heard an argument break out again. After hearing them argue all that time, he didn’t pay much attention.

  The train stopped at Muxidi station. Yang watched them carefully; they showed no sign that this was their stop, so he relaxed. Passengers were piling into the car when one of the men pointed at something on the platform and yelled out, drawing the attention of his companions, and, before the door closed, the four of them fought through the crowd and got off. Caught off guard, Yang sprang into action but was grabbed from behind by someone when he reached the door. Surprised, he struggled and demanded angrily:

  “What are you doing? You got a death wish or something?”

  The man’s hand was clamped onto his arm like a vice. It was a stumpy fellow with a square face and short but powerful arms that, with each slight movement, made Yang’s arm crack. Knowing he’d met his match, Yang changed his tone:

  “I’m in a hurry, my brother.”

  The man smiled before whispering into Yang’s ear:

  “Don’t make a move or you’ll suffer even more.”

  Yang took a good look at the man, but couldn’t figure him out and decided to obey his order, since he could be a policeman nabbing him for a prior offense.

  The stumpy man was not a policeman. He was Lao Xing, from the Worried Wise Men Agency, who had managed to locate Yang with the help of the delivery bicycle left at Beethoven Villa. Yan Ge had said it was useless with the d
eliveryman gone, but he was wrong. Yang got away, but the real deliveryman still worked at the restaurant, oblivious to what had happened that night with Yang. By looking into the bike, Xing quickly found the place, and the man who looked like a college student. “Liu Yong” feigned ignorance at first by saying that his bike had been stolen. Xing’s threat to send him to the police scared him enough to reveal that he’d lent his bike to some people and had no idea what they did with it. Xing told him to take him to see these people. When asked how many there were, “Liu Yong” gave only Yang Zhi’s name, on condition that Xing would let him go if he helped him find Yang. It was a calculated move by “Liu Yong,” who knew he wouldn’t be in trouble as long as he didn’t rat on Brother Cao and his people. Besides, Yang wasn’t one of them.

  Xing agreed to his condition, and they headed to Shijingshan. Baldy Cui had been there a few times to get Yang to pay off his debt, but each time Yang was out working and they never got hold of him. Xing was in luck on this day, however, since Yang had returned for safety and stayed close to home, only going out for sex. “Liu Yong” spotted him while he was trying to make up his mind about getting a prostitute. He was so intent on watching the Gansu gang he was unaware that he was being followed by Xing, who in turn let the gang get away from Yang.

  Xing was civil when he took Yang out of the subway station and found a diner, where he revealed his true identity. Knowing that Xing was a PI, not a policeman, Yang felt better, except for the fact that the gang had gotten away. They ate and drank, including some hard liquor. Yang saw that Xing had powerful arms but was a gentle man who smiled a lot when he talked, though he avoided coming to the point. First he told Yang that he was originally from Hebei and asked Yang where he was from. Then he talked about how hard it was for him to make a living under such conditions. All rubbish. Yang had too much on his mind to beat around the bush and began to lose patience as he looked around the diner.

  “Why were you following those people on the subway?” Xing asked out of the blue.

  So he knew that Yang had been after the gang. With his tongue loosened by alcohol and no one to talk to about the problems he’d been having, Yang began telling the stranger what he’d gone through, starting with his first encounter with the gang, but skipping the parts about stealing Liu’s pack and the botched job at Beethoven Villa. Focusing solely on his stolen pack, he also omitted his impotence and the reason behind it.

  “Losing a pack is no big deal,” Xing consoled him. “Those people weren’t that bad. For a few hundred yuan, the really vicious ones will shut you up permanently.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Yang flew into a sudden rage.

  Then he forgot to hide his secret and told Xing about how he’d become impotent from the scare. Xing paused and began to snigger, but quickly turned that off when he saw Yang’s face.

  “That does sound serious.”

  “It’s all your fault. I’d have killed them all if not for your meddling.”

  “Killing them now won’t do you any good,” Xing tried to soothe him. “You need to see a shrink.”

  That only fanned the flames of anger in Yang, who ran out of patience.

  “No more nonsense, all right? Tell me why you were looking for me.”

  “Take it easy, my friend.” Xing gestured to calm him down. “There’s no need to get so riled up. I want to make you a business deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” Yang asked blankly.

  “Did you steal something from Beethoven Villa last night?”

  His question sent a shock through Yang, who realized that this was why Xing wanted to talk to him. He’d thought he was safe once he’d made it out of the place; who’d have guessed that he’d be found out so quickly. Then suspicion of Xing’s true identity crept into his mind and he tensed up; no longer angry, he was tongue-tied as he made one last desperate attempt to feign ignorance.

  “What villa? I didn’t go out last night.”

  Xing laughed, immediately deflating Yang’s bluster. Knowing he could not pull this off, he came clean:

  “Yeah, I did. But I was nearly caught, so I didn’t steal anything.”

  “What about a woman’s purse?” He framed the shape in the air.

  Another surprise for Yang. Obviously, Xing knew everything.

  “I don’t care about the purse.” Xing gestured again. “But there was something in the purse, about this big, a USB drive.” He took out his wallet and continued. “Give me that drive and I’ll give you ten thousand yuan, here and now. Not a bad deal, wouldn’t you say?”

  Yang looked lost as he sighed. “Not a bad deal at all. I only wish I had it.”

  Now it was Xing’s turn to be surprised. “Where is it then?”

  “Someone spotted me, so I ran off and tossed the purse along the way. It’s probably in some other asshole’s hands.”

  “Who could that be?” Xing stared wide-eyed.

  “What’s on the drive?” Yang asked. “Is it important?”

  “What’s on it is of great importance to someone, but insignificant to you and me.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “Who’s asking the questions here?” Xing was getting irritated. “Who took the purse?”

  Yang could not help playing dumb again. “It was so dark in the alley I couldn’t see his face.”

  Xing knew that Yang was playing games with him, so he simply sighed.

  “Obviously, I was wrong to think of you as a friend, because you’re not treating me as one.” He continued, “Think hard and tell me what he looked like. Once you remember, you’ll help me find him and I’ll still give you ten thousand yuan. If you can’t, we’ll be here till you do.”

  “Okay if I use the toilet?” Yang asked, with sweat showing on his head.

  Xing glanced at him and then at Yang’s satchel on the table, which was made of synthetic fabric but looked heavy and bulky. Yang might be planning on making a call in the toilet, Xing thought; that was all right with him, since he likely just wanted to check with someone to see if it was a good deal. So he nodded. Yang got up and headed toward the toilet but ran out as he passed the door, leaving his satchel behind. He vanished into the crowd.

  Xing cursed himself for his carelessness, like letting a cooked duck fly out of his hand. Knowing it was no use chasing after him, he picked up Yang’s bag, hoping to find useful clues inside. He opened it and was greeted by a broken brick, whose purpose escaped him. He threw the brick away and continued to search; in addition to six hundred or so yuan, there were his tools of the trade—picks, pliers, a length of wire. Then, from the inside pocket, he retrieved two colored boxes that contained imported male enhancement drugs. So, Yang had been telling the truth about his impotence; Xing shook his head and sighed, both for Yang’s sake and for his.

  22

  Lao Xing

  The loss of Yang as a link to the missing purse made Lao Xing’s search for the other thief, Liu Yuejin, much more difficult. Since the cooked duck had flown away, he had to return to where it all started, so he went back to the restaurant the following morning, only to find “Liu Yong” gone. There went another clue. His next stop was the Beethoven Villa, where he began anew his investigation around Yan’s house. He blamed neither others nor himself for the full circle he’d made, for he followed a motto he often used on others—no matter what happens, don’t lose your calm.

  He failed to unearth anything useful around Beethoven Villa; the security guards knew no more, perhaps even less than what was recorded on the surveillance cameras. On the tape, Xing saw Yang Zhi fleeing with a purse; he watched it a second time and Yang was still fleeing, and the same for the third time—utterly useless in finding him again. Besides, locating Yang was no longer essential, since he’d thrown away the purse and someone else had picked it up. The critical step now was to find that other person, but the tape did not show who that was; nor did the guards have anything to share. Lao Xing was troubled by the lack of progress.

  Leaving the villa, h
e went to check out the area near the alley and talked to the residents, which included a bicycle repairman, a vendor of roasted sweet potatoes, a popcorn vendor, a cobbler, and sellers of flatbreads and boiled corn. Not a single one of them had heard anything that night; that made sense and was to be expected, since everyone, the vendors and the residents, should have all been in bed. By mid-afternoon, he had yet to make any headway in his investigation. He sighed and cursed himself again for being so careless at the diner. He’d had Yang right where he wanted him but then had let him slip away. A growing sense of self-reproach made him anxious, no matter how hard he tried to stay composed.

  His next stop would be the Shijingshan area, where he might be able to nab Yang again and find the other thief, though it would most likely be an unproductive trip. He’d run out of ideas. Where to go next? He couldn’t make up his mind. His indecision caught the attention of a bald old man with a hunched back.

  “I’ve been watching you,” the old man shouted, probably hard of hearing. “You looking for someone?”

  Xing nodded.

  “Not the upright sort, is he?”

  It was a vague question and Xing wasn’t sure how he should answer. He nodded again.

  “I know who you’re looking for.”

  Xing was elated by the glimmer of hope.

  “Tell me who that is, Grandpa, and I’ll buy you a carton of cigarettes.”

  The old man pursed his lips and sniggered the way Xing so often did.

  “You think I’m a doddering old man, don’t you, young man? I figure it has to be something big to have you so worried. If you could take care of this with a carton of cigarettes, you’d be off having a leisurely smoke somewhere. Let’s make a deal.”

  Xing paused; the “nosy old man” had gotten his attention.