To Think Such a Thing Existed

Bar No. 15 was in the Fifth District, having opened not long ago. The reason it was named Bar No. 15 was simple: the boss behind the scenes was ranked fifteenth on this year's assassin rankings. His name was Slog. Actually, Slog's ranking had been slightly higher last year, when he held fourteenth place. Later, his mission to Huaxia to assassinate Han Qingyu ended in failure, and points were deducted upon his return, dropping him down one rank. Slog himself had never quite accepted this. He felt his ranking shouldn't have fallen at all; if anything, it ought to have gone up, because he had returned alive from under Marshal Hua's hands. He was a man who had seen the bird of paradise and lived to tell the tale. There weren't many such people. Were it not for fear that Marshal Hua might return one day, he would have named the bar "I Once Saw the Bird of Paradise." In the City of Iniquity, that would have been a magnificent name. In any case, the bar bearing this name now served both as an outward deterrent and as psychological reassurance of safety for the patrons. Naturally, if someone ranked third or fourth on the assassin rankings were to open a bar, they wouldn't need to call it Bar No. 3 or Bar No. 4. It was precisely because Slog was only fifteenth that he needed to do this. In the staff break room behind the bar, Han Qingyu and the other four changed into the uniform provided by the establishment: black leather shoes, black trousers, white dress shirts, and bow ties. Their devices were worn underneath. Fortunately, the Ninth-Generation device was relatively thin. Space was left on the suspenders over their shirts to clip their blades. They were permitted to be armed—because this was the City of Iniquity. And so, carrying buckets with white towels draped over their shoulders, the five walked out to the street and spaced themselves out along the curb. At eight o'clock, the dazzling, colorful lights of the bar behind them switched on. Moderate traffic flowed before their eyes. The five looked at each other and broke into smiles. Then together, they waved toward the old garbage truck in the shadows across the street, greeting Rusty Sister. "Suddenly, it feels like going to work to earn a living and support a family," Han Qingyu said abruptly, facing the unfamiliar street. "Yeah," Wen Jifei nodded. This was the life they should have lived along a normal trajectory. Whether working a regular job or running a small business, they would have dated (or gone on blind dates), gotten married, had children, and supported one another as lifelong friends, spending an industrious yet ordinary lifetime. Everything had been changed by that bastard Lao Jian. The first car pulled into the parking lot in front of the bar a little past nine o'clock. It was a silver Ferrari. Wen Jifei stepped forward to open the door, waited for the male and female patrons to get out, shut the door, and crouched down to begin wiping the red bloodstains off the lower body of the car. Their job wasn't valet parking, but this: watch over the cars, then wipe them down. This was probably an occupation that didn't exist anywhere in the outside world. Cars in the City of Iniquity were stolen too easily—anytime, anywhere. They got dirty too easily, too. That dirt could be mud, or it could be blood. Sometimes a car drove through a puddle, and the mud splashing up was mixed with blood. Starting from nine o'clock, cars pulled up one after another before the bar entrance. Wu Xu, Han Qingyu, and the rest stepped forward to begin their work. Every vehicle was expensive, and most likely stolen, as no one could trace them here anyway. The patrons were an eccentric and varied bunch, spanning every conceivable type. Most paid no attention to lower-class folk like them, but there were some who said thank you. A few, upon seeing Asian faces, would even stop to chat for a moment and hand out cigarettes. Over three hours passed without any incident, aside from an occasional guest staring at Han Qingyu a few seconds longer. The owner, Slog, dropped by to check on the place during that time, but he merely glanced at each of them once or twice without saying a single word. Around twelve-thirty, patrons began leaving to head home or move to another venue for round two. *Swish!* An Asian man in a suit, accompanied by a Black woman, leaned halfway out of a car window, pulled a crisp new fifty-dollar bill from his wallet, and held it out to Han Qingyu. "Thank you, sir," Han Qingyu said as he accepted the money. Surprisingly, he didn't feel humiliated at all; instead, he felt rather pleased. *Have I really gotten this money-grubbing?! What if I were an ordinary guy working here and sending money home—would I do it?* *I probably would. It's dangerous, but it makes such good money.* Han Qingyu had earned the first money among the five: fifty US dollars. He looked at the bill and was just about to slip it into his pocket when he looked up and happened to spot the garbage truck sitting in the shadows across the street. *Bucket Girl must be pretty bored in the truck, huh?* Thinking it over, Han Qingyu crossed the street and walked toward the garbage truck. The window rolled down. Rusty Sister leaned over the doorframe, looked at Han Qingyu, and asked, "What's wrong, Qingzi? Are you feeling down?" "No." Han Qingyu smiled, handed her the money he had just earned, and said, "Here, you hold onto it." "Ah... okay." Rusty Sister blinked in surprise, took the bill, examined it closely, and said, "That's so much." She put the money away carefully. The radiant smile hidden inside the steel armor was invisible to others, but Shen Yixiu suddenly felt so happy—deliriously happy. She felt included now, and had the sensation of being their little homemaker holding the purse strings. As for the first vehicle that had arrived—the silver Ferrari—the man and woman came out of the bar and had a quickie in the roadside car first. When the vehicle suddenly began rocking, the five boys stood stunned for a few seconds before four of them quietly walked away. In the end, that guy tipped only twenty US dollars. Wen Jifei wiped the bill clean after receiving it and likewise crossed the street to hand it over to Rusty Sister to keep. A fellow countryman who had just chatted with He Tangtang for quite a while actually didn't leave a tip. He Tangtang was so furious he almost drew his blade to chase him down and hack him, but fortunately Wen Jifei held him back. At the same time, a tall Jeep drove off. The patron hadn't uttered a sound whether arriving or leaving, and hadn't even looked anyone straight in the eye. Two hundred-dollar bills dropped from the car window, landing by a muddy puddle right in front of Wu Xu. Wu Xu looked down, bent over to pick up the two bills, wiped them clean, and crossed the road to hand them to Rusty Sister. This was the largest tip so far. Zhu Jiaming tussled with Rusty Sister a bit when handing over his money, but in the end he still handed it over. He Tangtang finally got a tip as well. "Eight hundred and forty dollars now! That's so much!" Rusty Sister said happily, turning toward Zhe Qiuhong in the driver's seat after counting it for probably the fifth time. "Yeah, so much," Zhe Qiuhong nodded with a slight smile. Her gaze shifted across the street to the five men, especially Wu Xu and Han Qingyu. *What a strange feeling.* She didn't really want to admit it, but suddenly she found them rather endearing. The female scientist felt a small ripple in her heart. Truth be told, they had been together for quite a while now, in a relatively quiet yet arduous environment. Actually, Zhe Qiuhong had never wished for them to die; she hadn't wished for that from the start. She had merely said they were very likely to die, and asked whether she could dissect them if they did. *If that day really comes, will I cry when I dissect them?* ... "They're doing pretty well." "Yeah. As long as things go smoothly." At three o'clock, Qian Daofeng and Ao Yong's garbage truck was parked at the street corner. Because they were genuinely worried, they hadn't gone home after their shift and had come here instead. Rather than showing up in person, they watched from a distance. They had been watching for over twenty minutes now, and things looked very good. "Wait! Brother Daofeng, look! What's happening over there?!" An unforeseen event occurred. Ao Yong pointed, and in their line of sight, a blonde woman standing over 1.8 meters tall was beside the door of a red convertible sports car. A blue crystal source energy block was flipped out of her hand and placed onto the car's hood. "Incredible!" Ao Yong marveled. She had only just arrived and shouldn't even be drunk, yet the rumored thing was already happening. "Hey, why isn't A-Jing taking it?!" Beside the sports car, Han Qingyu glanced at the source energy block, then looked up in confusion at the lady before him... He couldn't understand a word she was saying. The tall blonde looked at him patiently and repeated herself. Wen Jifei and the others gathered around, but they couldn't understand either. "What's wrong? What's going on?" Fearing they might get into trouble over communication issues, Ao Yong and Qian Daofeng hastily jumped out of their truck and rushed over. They first apologized in English, then helped communicate with the blonde woman. The conversation was quickly finished. Both of them were momentarily dumbfounded. They turned to look at Han Qingyu, looked back at the blonde woman, and then turned back again. "What did she say?" Han Qingyu asked. "She said..." "She said she wants you to go inside with her to have fun, uh, spend the night... As long as you agree, this source energy block is your tip." "..." Han Qingyu blankly reached up and touched the scar on his face. It was still there.