An unexpected turn

"I beat your villain's chest, may you catch a fever and a stroke, and have someone shaft your rear. I beat your villain's hands, may you have money but no sense to take it, and go from owning houses to begging with a bowl."

Beneath the bridge, a group of old women were viciously beating paper figures with old cloth shoes.

Customers waiting for the villain-beating ritual stood in a long line, holding yellow paper and small bundles of incense sticks.

Mak Ho-lai and Chen Ying leaned against the roadside railing, holding bottles of soda as they watched the women work their spells.

"I've been in Hong Kong and Kowloon for almost ten years, and there are still plenty of dialect expressions I don't understand."

Mak Ho-lai took a sip of soda.

"What does 'begging with a bowl' mean?"

"Actually, I'm from out of town too."

Chen Ying explained, "I think it means holding a bowl and begging. But does this stuff work?"

"Belief is the foundation of all magic. As for how effective it is? They're all licensed practitioners."

"You need a license for this too?"

This time, it was Chen Ying's turn to be surprised.

Mak Ho-lai explained, "We don't conduct any substantive review. As long as they submit the forms and pay their taxes every year, we issue them a license."

"What if someone complains that it doesn't work?"

Chen Ying asked curiously.

"As long as they pay the legal fees, they can sue, but generally, the case won't be accepted."

Mak Ho-lai drained the rest of his soda.

"Yan Ren pinned all the blame on Mah Yau Wu. He said Mah Yau Wu planned it himself, resisted arrest, and was shot dead in the crossfire."

"He wrote a very polished report and even found a witness, but getting past the autopsy was going to be difficult. We helped him smooth it over."

Mak Ho-lai looked at Chen Ying. "Consider it our introductory gift."

"No wonder they say Hong Kong and Kowloon is your turf. Joining you is like getting a license to kill."

"Don't put it like that. Mah Yau Wu brought it on himself. The cases against him were enough to earn him life imprisonment long ago. Besides, if you're in that line of work and can't even read the situation, you can't blame anyone else if you die."

Mak Ho-lai looked at Chen Ying. "Still, I advise you to be careful. You handled this beautifully, but I've heard someone isn't happy with you."

"Who?"

"That's not important. I came to tell you that the people above me want to stay in contact with you." Mak Ho-lai looked at Chen Ying. "If you can bring us valuable information..."

"You want to know about the White Lotus Sect?"

Chen Ying looked at Mak Ho-lai. "Or something else?"

"We're interested in any valuable information."

"Then you won't get any, because I'm a law-abiding citizen."

"Shouldn't a law-abiding citizen be happy to cooperate with us?"

"A law-abiding citizen should put loyalty first."

Mak Ho-lai looked at Chen Ying, unsure whether he had misheard that word.

"Xu Renying. Have you heard that name?"

Chen Ying asked.

"He..."

A trace of wariness flashed in Mak Ho-lai's eyes.

"Are you saying he was responsible for what happened on Rongyi Street?"

"I'm saying you should check whether any spirit mediums have disappeared from Temple Street recently. Then look into this Mr. Xu's social circle and see whether he has any friends in other circles."

Chen Ying set his drink bottle aside and prepared to turn away.

"How do I know your information is accurate?"

"I'm going to open a shop."

Chen Ying turned back to Mak Ho-lai and pointed at the long line waiting for the villain-beating ritual.

"From now on, I'll pay my taxes by the book, just like them. You'll be able to find me whenever you want, though I might charge you then."

"Charge me?"

Mak Ho-lai looked at Chen Ying.

"Working my way through school."

Chen Ying explained, "You shouldn't be short on funding, right? I still owe someone three hundred pounds."

Ignoring the bewildered Mak Ho-lai, Chen Ying took a series of turns through the streets and got into Uncle Qing's car.

"No one's watching us, are they?"

Chen Ying stretched in the car.

"No."

Uncle Qing replied.

"Hua Shanrong sent word that Young Master Wen from Yisheng has appeared, though he seems to be missing an eye."

"There's no rush. We mustn't alert him. Even a lion uses all its strength to catch a rabbit. If we move against him, we need to be absolutely certain."

"Several members of Wo On Sing's Uncle Generation want to meet with you privately, young master."

"I'll speak to Hua Shanrong myself. This is Wo On Sing's business. It has nothing to do with me."

"Someone from the Police Force also came to the counter today. He said someone named Lan Li wanted to have morning tea with you, young master."

Chen Ying did not answer. He merely gazed quietly out the window.

The car merged into the traffic, inching toward Little Building.

"Uncle Qing, how old are you?"

"I can't remember, young master. Over two hundred, I suppose."

"This world really is ridiculous. If you're honest and accommodating and want to be a good person, people treat you like an idiot. Every one of them is vicious, ready to dump any evil deed on you. Anyone dares to scheme against you."

"Once you become a lunatic, spending every day plotting crimes and stirring up some huge incident whenever you have nothing else to do, they all become so accommodating. It's as though the world can be reasoned with again."

"This world has always been upside down, young master."

Uncle Qing's voice came from the front, hoarse and chilling, yet heartwarming.

The car moved slowly forward and eventually turned onto a narrow road. Chen Ying watched the roadside.

A hazy gray figure was crawling slowly along the side of the road. His entire body was a mangled mess of flesh and blood, and he inched forward like a worm.

Chen Ying felt a thread of chill seep into the car from the narrow road.

This didn't seem quite right.

The end of the road connected to Little Building, but at some unknown point, a thin layer of mist had appeared on either side.

Although it was not enough to obstruct their view, things were still different from before.

Chen Ying's brow furrowed.

At the end of the road, Little Building loomed indistinctly through the mist.

"Uncle Qing..."

Chen Ying asked in a low voice.

"Young master, Little Building seems to have changed."

Even Uncle Qing's voice seemed to have lost some of its animation and become more mechanical.

The car stopped, and Chen Ying got out.

At Little Building's entrance, the yellow light at the very top flickered.

A little girl dressed in red was laughing exaggeratedly at the entrance. It had no teeth left in its mouth, and its pitch-black tongue writhed inside like a worm.

Both eyes had been sewn shut with black thread. The strands tangled together like caterpillars halfway through metamorphosis, and its two pale hands held a ball.

"Baby cries, baby laughs, Mommy's guts wind round three times."

"Red rope coils, red rope skips, want Daddy's kitchen knife?"

The faint nursery rhyme emerged from its throat.

It split its mouth open and laughed, then quickly began to cry.

"Boo-hoo-hoo, can't see, boo-hoo-hoo, can't eat..."

The crying seemed capable of seeping into a person's bones, making you forget everything.

Forget joy, forget happiness, forget how to breathe, forget your own existence.

Little Building's yellow light flashed violently, its intense glow flashing as though it were exploding.

When the flashing ended, the child's figure vanished too.

With his brow tightly furrowed, Chen Ying hurried upstairs.

Wu Jie sat hugging her legs on the stairs at the top of the fourth floor, wearing pajamas, her face pale. Beside her stood a Bronze Oil Lamp, its wick still giving off black smoke, as though it had only just gone out.

When she saw Chen Ying arrive, she forced a smile onto her face.

"Husband, did everything go smoothly? Granny has good news."