Muay Thai Expert A Wei

He Qingguo sat upright behind a rosewood desk, slowly rolling a pair of collectible walnuts in his hand. They rubbed against each other in his palm with faint, intermittent creaks.

The study was spacious, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covering three walls, every row packed with hardcover books.

He Long pushed the door open and walked in, his face still marked by injuries.

A flesh-colored bandage covered the bridge of his nose, a bruise sat beneath his left eye, and a cut at the corner of his mouth had yet to heal.

A man followed behind He Long, his footsteps so light they were almost silent.

He wore a dark gray jacket. His face was thin, his cheekbones high, his eyes sunken. His pitch-black eyes looked like two glass marbles that reflected no light.

Once inside, he paid no attention to either side. He stared straight at He Qingguo for a second, then lowered his gaze to the tips of his shoes.

He stood there without moving, like a wooden stake driven into the floor.

He Qingguo did not look up. The walnuts kept turning in his hand.

"Found someone?"

He Long pulled out a chair and sat down, its legs scraping across the floor with a squeak.

"Dad, this is A Wei. He's from Thailand, and he practices authentic Muay Thai."

He turned to glance at A Wei, raising his voice a little, unmistakable pride in his tone.

"He's fought twelve underground bouts and won every one. Eight of them ended with him knocking his opponent out with a single kick."

He stressed "eight knockouts" especially hard, as though afraid his father might not hear him.

The walnuts in He Qingguo's hand abruptly stopped.

He slowly raised his head, looking past his son to A Wei.

He studied him from head to toe for several seconds before speaking slowly.

"That kid with Chen Desheng practices Baji Fist. Do you know Baji Fist?"

The corners of A Wei's mouth twitched upward.

"I have no interest in knowing what Baji Fist is. I've seen plenty of people who can fight. In the end, they all wind up at my feet."

His voice was extremely soft, as though forced from deep in his throat, hoarse and dry. Every word carried a sibilant breath, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, sinister enough to make the back of one's neck prickle.

He Long suddenly leaned forward and planted both hands heavily on the edge of the desk. His eyes shone with an unnerving brightness, his barely restrained excitement almost spilling out of his bones.

"Dad, I'm going to cripple that little bodyguard this time! He beat me in front of everyone and humiliated me. I can't swallow that. I'm not letting him off!"

He Qingguo glanced at him, his gaze lingering briefly on the wounds on his son's face before withdrawing.

"Getting revenge on that little bodyguard isn't the most important thing."

His voice was steady, neither loud nor soft, each word clear and firm, without a trace of impatience.

"This time, I'm going to humiliate Chen Desheng and leave him with no way to save face."

He Long froze for a moment, then broke into an even broader smile.

"Dad, don't worry. A Wei said he only needs three days to figure out all of Baji Fist's moves."

He Qingguo turned to A Wei with a frown. "Figure them all out?"

A Wei raised his head and looked straight at He Qingguo with his pitch-black eyes, not flinching in the slightest.

"There's no fighting style that can't be beaten."

He Qingguo stared at him for two seconds, then stood, his chair scraping backward across the floor.

He walked around the desk to the middle of the study and addressed A Wei.

"Let's see what you can do."

A Wei glanced at He Long.

He Long nodded eagerly and waved a hand toward the punching bag in the corner.

The black punching bag hung from the ceiling on an iron chain. More than half a person's height and filled with over a hundred pounds of sand, it hung heavily in the air, pulling the chain taut.

A Wei walked over without adopting any stance, his hands still hanging at his sides. He stared at the bag for two seconds, then suddenly moved.

His right leg shot up, his knee drawing swiftly toward his chest before his lower leg snapped out hard. His instep stretched straight as an arrow as he unleashed a vicious Muay Thai shin kick.

The whole motion flowed seamlessly, so fast that his leg was little more than a blur. Before anyone could make out its path, a muffled thud rang out as his shin slammed squarely into the bag.

The sound was not sharp, but frighteningly deep, like a burly man swinging a sledgehammer into a thick tire. The entire study floor trembled faintly.

The next second, the chain holding the bag snapped in the middle. Rust-speckled links flew in every direction, clattering against the walls and floor before rolling into the corners of the study.

With its support gone, the hundred-pound bag was hurled sideways by the tremendous force and crashed to the floor with another heavy boom, landing a full three meters from where it had hung.

Dust rose instantly from the floor, drifting slowly beneath the overhead light like a thin gray mist suspended in the air.

He Long sprang out of his chair, his eyes round and his mouth gaping, his jaw nearly dropping in shock. He stood frozen for a moment.

His gaze darted back and forth. First, he stared at the bag lying three meters away, then whipped his head toward the calm-faced A Wei, then looked back at the bag. His astonishment quickly gave way to wild delight. His grin stretched from ear to ear, and even his ears flushed red.

He Long clenched his fists, trembling all over with excitement as he shouted repeatedly at He Qingguo, his voice shaking uncontrollably.

"Dad! Did you see that? Did you see that?"

He Qingguo had not moved an inch. His gaze settled first on the split punching bag lying three meters away, then slowly shifted to A Wei. His eyes were inscrutable, revealing little emotion.

A Wei had already lowered his right leg and returned to his previous posture, standing straight with his hands hanging naturally at his sides. His face remained expressionless, as though the savage kick that had snapped the chain and sent a hundred-pound bag flying had been nothing more than a trivial everyday act.

He Qingguo nodded slightly, his tone as noncommittal as ever.

"Interesting."

"Dad, with A Wei here, that punk Chen Yuan is bound to lose! Look at that kick. He can even snap an iron chain. Imagine what it'll do to a person!"

He Qingguo said nothing. He returned to his desk and sat down, picked up the walnuts, and began rolling them again, slowly, turn by turn.

A Wei was still standing in the middle of the study. He Qingguo glanced at him and tipped his chin toward the door.

"You can leave for now."

Without a word, A Wei turned and walked out.

The walnuts made two more turns in He Qingguo's hand, then stopped.

"Have you thoroughly checked this A Wei's background?"

He Long hesitated. His smile stiffened for an instant, then quickly returned.

"I checked. No problems. Dad, don't worry. Don't you trust me to handle things?"

He Qingguo stared at him for three seconds. During those three seconds, He Long's smile gradually receded like an ebbing tide, exposing the nervousness beneath.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and his eyes involuntarily shifted to the side.

He Qingguo withdrew his gaze and began turning the walnuts again.

"Underground fighters do it either for money or revenge. Why did he come here?"

"Dad, I offered him five hundred thousand. Five hundred thousand for one fight. In Thailand, he only makes a few tens of thousands of yuan per underground bout. He came here for the money."

He Qingguo said nothing. The walnuts kept turning. Their rubbing sounded especially distinct in the quiet study—creak, creak, creak—like a small animal gnawing on a bone.

He Long sat there twisting his fingers together. He felt a little panicked, but forced himself to keep it off his face.

After a while, He Qingguo spoke quietly.

"Five hundred thousand is enough to buy a life. Keep your wits about you."

He Long nodded hard and fast. "Dad, I understand."

He Qingguo waved him away.

He Long left, closing the door gently behind him.

In the hallway, A Wei leaned against the wall with his arms folded and his eyes closed, as though dozing. At the sound of the door, he opened his eyes, his pitch-black pupils shifting toward He Long.

He Long smiled at him. "Come on. I'll see you out."

A Wei said nothing. He straightened and followed He Long outside. They went down the hallway, through the living room, and out the front door.

A black sedan was parked in the courtyard. A Wei opened the rear door and got in. He Long stood outside the window and bent down.

"We're counting on you for this fight."

A Wei nodded. The car drove out of the courtyard and turned onto the main road.

Sitting in the back seat, A Wei took out his phone and dialed a number. The call connected after two rings.

He offered no pleasantries, only a single sentence.

"I've taken the job."

The other end went quiet for a moment, then a woman's voice came through, neither high nor low, giving no hint of her age.

"Contact me when it's done."

"Mm."