"Is he dead?"
The abandoned warehouse was pitch-black, with a few shafts of light leaking through its sheet-metal roof. Overhead, a dim bulb crackled and hissed like a rusty saw scraping through the air.
Dressed in a black suit, Feng Wanting stood with his hands in his pockets, his shoes in a mossy puddle, and looked down at Pei Zhi, who was pinned to the concrete floor by two men.
Pei Zhi knelt in a twisted position, his clothes in tatters and his face covered in blood. His eyes were swollen into bloody slits, the eyeballs barely visible.
"We live under the rule of law. We're all law-abiding citizens-how could we kill him?" the scar-faced man said to Feng Wanting, bending slightly at the waist.
"Good."
Feng Wanting undid a button on his suit with one hand, took a thick stack of envelopes from inside his jacket, and handed them to the scar-faced man. "Thanks for your work. Split these among yourselves."
"Thank you, thank you. Thank you, boss."
The scar-faced man gave the two lackeys holding Pei Zhi's arms a look. They understood at once and let go. Pei Zhi hit the ground face-first with a thud and lay motionless.
"Then... we'll be going, boss."
With his eyes lowered and his face expressionless, Feng Wanting looked more like a gangster than the gangsters themselves. Even their actual leader felt an inexplicable fear.
Feng Wanting shot him a cutting look. "You know the rules?"
"Yes, yes!" the scar-faced man said ingratiatingly. "Once we leave, we've never seen you, and you've never been here!"
"Go."
The three bloodstained men took to their heels.
The old ventilation fan overhead labored with a heavy rumble. Feng Wanting said, "Get up."
Pei Zhi remained face-down without moving.
"Can't you hear me?" Feng Wanting lifted