Third Master

"Extra toppings?" Granny ladled out a bowl of soup with practiced ease, then scooped up a small spoonful of pig's blood and offal—and shook it, and shook it some more. The fragrance of spices, laced with that distinctive aroma of organ meat, rose to meet him. "Granny, quit shaking your hand. One of these days, when your Ah Wen strikes it rich, I'll come here and add a dollar's worth of toppings every single day—just to give you business." Li Xiuwen couldn't help himself. The old woman's hand shook worse than a cafeteria lady's, stinting even on a few pieces of pig's blood. "By the time you strike it rich, Granny here will be six feet under." "How could that be? Ah Wen has already put the matter before the Buddha himself. A granny as kindhearted as you is bound to live to a hundred." "I believe in the Lord." "It's all the same thing." "Granny, where's your son? Not helping you out anymore?" "My Ah Hua has come to his senses. These past few days he found work as a laborer—earning money to keep me in my old age." At that, Granny's face lit up with a gratified smile. "That's good. Once Ah Hua can support himself, you'll be able to go in peace when your time comes." Ah Hua had been born with an intellectual disability. Past thirty, never married, he still had to rely on Granny to support him. Before long, Li Xiuwen had emptied his bowl of pig's blood soup, drinking it clean to the bottom. "Refill!" "Were you a starving ghost in a past life? This pot of my ancestral good soup—half of it has gone down your throat alone!" Granny took his bowl, and grudging as she was, she still ladled him out a great heaping bowlful. "Cheer up... I'm going over to buy some flatbread. Granny, don't you take my bowl away—I'll want another refill when I'm done." "Refill, my foot. I'm closing up." Li Xiuwen ran across to the bakery and waited for fresh flatbread to come hot off the griddle. He had just bought the bread, not yet out the door, when a clang sounded across the street—a bowl hitting the floor, most likely. He looked out through the window. Over at the pig's blood stall, a tall, sloppily dressed figure, flip-flops dangling in one hand, stepped one foot up onto the table where Li had just been eating. It was Brother Ji. The Thirteen Taibao had come to make trouble. The stall's few remaining customers kept their heads down and slipped away, not daring to look them in the eye. "Granny, you know your son owes me money?" Brother Ji grabbed a handful of pig offal from the basin and popped it into his mouth, as much at home as if this were his own house. "How could that be? My Ah Hua never borrows money from anyone." Granny's face had gone ugly; she knew Brother Ji was here to stir up trouble again. Brother Ji clapped his hands, and out of the dark alley two punks dragged a battered figure, his face black and blue, his mouth full of bloody froth. "Go ask your dear son." Granny hurried over and helped Ah Hua up. "What's going on? You owe someone money? How much?" Ah Hua hung his head, weeping and trembling. "Ma, I... I don't know. Brother Ji said he'd give me sugar pills. After I ate them, he said I owed him money." "What sugar pills?" Suddenly Granny's face changed. Her son's eyes looked like those of the dragon-chasers on Guangwang Street. Hollow. Numb. Without the slightest spark of life. Trembling, she pointed at Brother Ji. "You tricked Ah Hua into touching that stuff—have you no humanity left? You knew perfectly well Ah Hua is a simpleton!" Brother Ji spread his hands, grinning. "I never tricked him. He wanted it himself... Isn't that right?" He looked toward the other punks. "That's right. The idiot wanted it himself—what's it got to do with us?" "Pay up, you old hag, or the Thirteen Taibao will smash your stall to pieces." Granny wiped her tears in silence. Hurried along by the punks, she went inside, turned every chest and drawer upside down, and came out with a loose stack of wrinkled bills and scattered coins. "How much does he owe you?" "Three hundred. Interest included, make it four hundred. I've always respected the old and cherished the young." Brother Ji stood with his hands in his pockets, grinning crookedly. Granny counted the money gingerly, several times over, terrified of paying too much. "To hell with your counting! Letting it go at four hundred is me being merciful." Impatient, Brother Ji snatched away every cent of Granny's money and turned to leave with his men. Granny was knocked to the ground, her head split open. She crawled up, crying out, "That money was for my coffin—you can't take it all!" Only after Brother Ji and his whole crew had vanished did Li Xiuwen come out of the bakery. He helped Granny up, then went to the clinic next door and bought her an OK bandage. "Granny, don't let Ah Hua go out anymore. Lock him in at home. The Walled City is getting more lawless by the day..." After helping Granny straighten out the wrecked stall, Li Xiuwen stared in the direction Brother Ji and his men had gone. He drew a deep breath, and his five fingers clenched tight, creaking audibly— then he turned and walked toward the Four Seas Martial Arts Hall. … The Walled City was small—a pinprick of land. The Walled City was also vast. Its people had developed the use of its space to the very limit. People often said that on the surface, the Walled City had five districts: East, West, South, North, and Center. In truth there were two more that everyone overlooked: the Rooftop District and the Sewer District. Those two districts ran through everything, connected on every side—the perfect place to harbor filth and scum, "strategic ground" that the Walled City's third-rate punks all had to fight over. The Longjin Road Thirteen Taibao were holed up in a hidden dead-end corner of the sewers. "Third Master..." Brother Ji, ordinarily so full of swagger, was kneeling on the ground. Ahead of him, on a "throne" cobbled together from scrap iron and junk, sat a bare-shouldered old man with a mustache drooping in two flaps. The old man's eyes were bright and keen, his face ruddy with health, his body lean and hardy. In his left hand he held a tobacco pipe; his right hand held a chain. At the other end of the chain was a young married woman in a qipao—meticulously groomed, her figure curved in all the right places. She lay on the ground, trimming Third Master's diseased nails. This old man was none other than Longjin Road's notorious "Third Master," head of the Thirteen Taibao. "Lanming Ji. Why is this month's protection money short again?" Third Master asked, eyes narrowed, blowing smoke rings. "Third Master, the annual Crossing the River meet just ended, and Changle has been cracking down hard lately. We daren't make any rash moves," Brother Ji said, head lowered. "Quit dawdling. Tianyi and Changle are on the verge of all-out war; before they collide, they're bound to clear the streets. Scoop up that last haul soon and get out while you can," said Third Master. "Third Master, why are the big players in such a hurry to leave? As the saying goes, when the snipe and the clam grapple, the fisherman profits. With the strength of our Heavenly King Tong, he might even swallow the whole Walled City over this." Having said his piece, Brother Ji added in a low voice, "Word is, Mr. Ming went into qi deviation from his training some years back. Whether he still has his peak strength, nobody can say." "Mr. Ming has presided over the Walled City for thirty years—even the Governor of Xianghai has to show him some face. Even if the rumor were true, he is not someone we can lightly stand against." "True enough... even a camel starved to skin and bones is bigger than a horse." "The Tong Gang are a loose rabble; they'll never amount to anything. Third Master is getting old. He only wants to lead the brothers for one more payday, scrape together some capital, take up an honest trade, and enjoy his remaining years in peace. Lanming Ji—if next month's protection money doesn't meet the quota, it's time you yielded that third seat to someone better." Third Master said this, rubbing his brass knuckles. After a silence, Brother Ji said quietly, "Understood." … In a dark alley, Brother Ji led his two lackeys up out of the sewer. One of them said, "Brother Ji, isn't Third Master just making things hard on us? Longjin Road is one tiny patch of ground—how are we supposed to squeeze five thousand in grease out of it for him in a single month?" The other lackey burst out, brimming with righteous indignation: "Brother Ji, don't swallow this crap! I remember you mentioned it once—don't you have a cousin running with Leigongpeng? What future is there following Third Master?" Brother Ji narrowed his eyes, a dangerous air coming over him. "Heh. Who do I have to thank for sinking to this state? That very cousin. I'd die before I went looking for him!" The lackeys fell silent. After a pause, he said, "Don't go talking about Third Master behind his back. We just do the work in front of us." Brother Ji's face was calm, but in his heart he cursed the old man for doing his own people dirty.