A New Identity

At three in the morning, a man carrying a heavy bag of cash did not feel particularly good.

The bag was heavy, and the bills inside gave off a murky stench of tobacco, alcohol, and cheap perfume, with the faintest trace of blood beneath it. This money was the first asset he had acquired after landing in this era—and his first trouble as well.

Chu Hang did not return to that cheap motel. He knew full well that a local snake like Butcher, who had spent years surviving in the underworld, could not possibly have only two useless thugs under his command. His thunderous methods last night might have intimidated them for a while, but no one could guarantee that, out of humiliation and rage, they would not use even dirtier connections to get even. The simplest option was calling the police. An Asian young man carrying over a hundred thousand dollars in cash with no identification would look like a walking slab of meat to the cops—the kind that came with a criminal record.

He needed to change locations, find somewhere safer and more concealed to hide.

He bought some simple disguise supplies from a twenty-four-hour pharmacy: a pair of nonprescription glasses and a baseball cap. Then he hailed a cab and crossed more than half the city, arriving in an entirely different neighborhood. Lush trees lined the streets, the roads were clean and tidy, and beautiful detached homes stood everywhere. It was a typical middle-class community.

He checked into a chain hotel that looked more respectable—and, naturally, more expensive. When he paid cash for the room, the sleepy blonde girl at the front desk merely gave him two extra looks and asked no questions. In this country where money came first, as long as you could pay, no