In the office of Shengping Theatre in Shanghai, Old Knife Handle sat on the sofa, a white jade cigarette holder between his lips, taking an occasional slow puff.
He had gone nowhere that evening and had not even watched the opera.
He knew Zhang Xiaolin would definitely act once he learned that the Bazi goods were passing through the French Concession. He had even worked out the timing well in advance.
The cargo boat would leave Shiliupu Wharf at nine and enter Dongjiadu about forty minutes later. Once Zhang Xiaolin's men stopped it and searched the cargo, they would catch the culprit red-handed.
However clever that brat Chen Fan was, he was no match for Zhang Xiaolin's pack of wolves and tigers.
When that happened, he would most likely meet his end in the French Concession.
But the news should have come back by ten, and there was still not the slightest word.
If only this era had cell phones, Old Knife Handle would have asked whether something had happened over in Dongjiadu.
Time seemed to crawl. The Western clock in the corner chimed again, striking eleven this time. It was eleven o'clock.
Old Knife Handle rose impatiently. Suddenly, with a bang, someone burst through the door from outside.
Agen rushed in, covered in blood. His face was black and blue, and his left shoulder looked as though something heavy had smashed into it. His entire arm hung limp, and his clothes were soaked from shoulder to chest.
Judging by his appearance, he clearly had not had time to go back, shower, change, and get laid...
Agen stumbled over to Old Knife Handle. "Boss... something... something's happened."
"Warehouse Three... Warehouse Three was... was smashed up. The goods... the goods were all... all taken..."
"What?" Old Knife Handle seized Agen by the collar, his expression darkening instantly.
After a long moment, he released Agen's collar and slowly straightened up. "Do you know who did it? What happened to the goods?" he asked coldly.
"N-no, Boss. They... they were unfamiliar faces. I don't know who they're with. Not a scrap of our stuff was left. He took it all..." Agen lay prostrate on the floor, kowtowing over and over, his voice choked with tears. "Boss, I... I really never thought this would happen..."
"What are you crying for? It's not time to cry yet." Old Knife Handle was trembling slightly, but he forced himself to calm down.
That shipment alone had cost over two hundred thousand in capital. Once it was all distributed, the profit would exceed a million. It was also the biggest deal of his career.
It would have been a lie to say he was not panicking, but things were still far from irretrievable.
"Did they leave any message?"
Only then did Agen suddenly remember. He hurriedly said, "Boss, that man seemed to know the shipment was yours. He also said his name was Brother Bao."
"He told you to get two hundred thousand ready, or he'll burn the whole shipment."
"Brother Bao? Burn the shipment?" Old Knife Handle's brow suddenly tightened.
"Brother Bao... I feel like I've heard that name somewhere." Old Knife Handle thought for a while but still could not remember.
"Still, if he said he'd burn it, it looks like he's not in our line of work."
"Otherwise, he'd know that burning opium would bring disaster on every person and animal for dozens of li around."
"But he demanded two hundred thousand right off the bat. That's more or less our cost price."
"Someone outside our trade actually knows the goods' value that well."
"There's only one explanation, then. Someone told him to do this."
Agen wiped the tears and snot from his face and agreed. "Definitely. One of them was a terrific fighter. With just one saber, he left our blood flowing in rivers."
"Boss, someone must have paid a man like that!"
"Paid him? Looks like I underestimated him. After wandering around outside for a few years, he's learned that two fists can't beat four hands and started looking for backup."
As he spoke, the door burst open again. This time, it was a tall, thin young man.
"Hm? Lai Houzi, why have you come back? What about Dongjiadu?"
Lai Houzi panted heavily. "Boss, we've been played. They didn't stop the boat at Dongjiadu at all. They let it straight through."
"We grabbed the boat captain and only then learned that Chen Fan had switched the cargo in the Yangshupu waterway. There weren't any goods on the boat at all."
"We've brought the captain back. Do you want to question him yourself?"
"What?" Old Knife Handle laughed in fury. "Hahahaha! He's got guts, real guts! He even dares to sit on my goods. Isn't that brat afraid he's bitten into something so hard it'll break his front teeth?"
"Agen, tell A Xiang to fetch Boss Jin. Chen Fan's a tough customer, and now he has backup. Our people alone can't handle him."
"Boss, but he wants two hundred thousand..."
"Then two hundred thousand it is. Isn't he afraid he'll live to take the money but not to spend it...?"
Delight appeared on Agen's face. He bowed slightly, pushed the door open, and went to find A Xiang, the theatre manager.
A Xiang might normally just take care of odd jobs around the theatre and treat everyone politely, but when it came to inviting a star performer from another house, he really was the one they had to rely on.
Before long, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door.
A Xiang entered and cupped his hands toward Old Knife Handle. "Sixth Master, you wanted me?"
At Shengping Theatre, most people addressed Old Knife Handle as Boss, but A Xiang was different. He had followed Old Knife Handle from very early on.
They had known each other for nearly thirty years, ever since Old Knife Handle had been learning his craft in the opera world.
A Xiang normally helped run Shengping Theatre's business, including managing the theatre, making arrangements for travelling opera troupes from north and south, and handling the channels through which supplies came.
Simply put, he was Old Knife Handle's stand-in. Even when Old Knife Handle was absent, A Xiang could arrange everything properly.
Old Knife Handle dispensed with pleasantries and asked directly, "Where's Boss Jin?"
A Xiang replied, "Boss Jin had a performance tonight. She's only just turned in."
Old Knife Handle said gravely, "Get her up. Something's happened..."
"Don't go anywhere else tonight. Take her to the French Concession and find Fourth Master Rui."
"If Fourth Master Rui asks, tell him some brat who doesn't know his own limits has come to Shanghai and wants to cut off the income of everyone in our line."
"He's extremely good with his fists and feet. We'll need the tough fighters under Fourth Master Rui."
"Keep your wits about you when you get there. Don't talk too much. Let Boss Jin do the talking."
"Fourth Master Rui is notoriously lecherous. If Boss Jin agrees to go, she'll be more effective than our money."
A Xiang hesitated. "Sixth Master, wouldn't that be a little inappropriate?"
"If you bring in Fourth Master's men, won't that make it easy for people to find out about our goods...?"
Old Knife Handle's expression chilled. "A Xiang, what are you trying to say?"
A Xiang advised him quietly, "Sixth Master, we were in the wrong first in this matter. If people find out about that shipment of Bazi goods..."
Old Knife Handle glared with his little eyes. "So what?"
"You're still worrying about that now? If we can't recover this shipment, I'll be the first one dealt with."
"Do as I say. Take her to see Fourth Master. Everything else can wait until we get the goods back..."
A Xiang dared not keep trying to persuade him. Old Knife Handle was clearly carried away at the moment.
If he kept talking, A Xiang did not know whether Old Knife Handle would go after Chen Fan, but he was certain he himself would suffer for it...