A Xiang cupped his hands toward Old Knife Handle, then headed straight backstage after leaving the room.
Although Jin Xiangyu was a star performer, at a time like this, she was, frankly, nothing more than a tool.
Seeing A Xiang leave, Old Knife Handle got up and took a stack of Central Reserve Bank notes from the safe.
These were issued by the bank and could be exchanged anywhere.
The Chen warehouse was in Zhujiaji, not far from Huishan Wharf.
Under cover of darkness, Old Knife Handle led his men stealthily to the vicinity of the warehouse.
But he did not dare get close, stopping half a li from the warehouse.
Half a li sounded far, but it was only a few hundred meters. From this distance, they could already make out the warehouse's hazy outline.
Old Knife Handle and his men hid in a nearby landfill area.
The cold night wind blew over them, leaving everyone's hands and feet trembling.
Though the men were unhappy, none dared say much.
They waited for over an hour before footsteps sounded in the distance, and A Xiang came striding over with a large group of men in black.
"Sixth Master, they're here," a subordinate said, moving up beside him.
Old Knife Handle rose to meet them. "How did it go? What did Fourth Master say?"
A Xiang pointed to the crowd behind him. "Fourth Master sent over all his capable fighters. Tonight's practically in the bag."
A flicker of excitement appeared in Old Knife Handle's small eyes as he looked at the burly men.
"Good, good, good." Then he waved and said, "Listen up, everyone. That brat Chen Fan dared to swallow our goods."
"Tonight, we're taking those goods back, no matter what."
"As long as we get the goods, everyone gets twenty silver dollars. I'll host a feast at Full Moon House and treat you all to a good meal."
"Thank you, boss..." Hearing there was money to be had, the men seemed to perk up. They stopped complaining about being out in the cold wind in the middle of the night and got to their feet, stretching their limbs.
Old Knife Handle waved forward. "Follow me."
The crowd charged toward the Chen warehouse.
The warehouse gates were tightly shut, but Old Knife Handle knew Chen Fan had to be inside. He gave a look, and several men came forward from behind him, hammering at the hinges with iron axes.
Amid the crashing, a wide gap finally burst open in the iron gates.
Just as everyone rushed into the warehouse, the lights flicked on, instantly lighting the whole place as brightly as day.
Chen Fan sat in the very center of the warehouse, with a small mountain covered in dark tarpaulin behind him.
Greed showed in Old Knife Handle's eyes. This shipment was clearly the goods they had gone to such lengths to bring in.
Chen Fan watched Old Knife Handle with interest. Long Si stood to his left, dressed in a neat black cloth fighting outfit and holding a long saber. Its edge gleamed like snow, faintly carrying a bloody air.
Brother Bao stood to his right, half a cigarette clenched between his lips and an iron rod roughly half a foot long held downward in his hand.
Brother Bao's men were arrayed on either side, some standing and some squatting, each occupying an advantageous position.
Sacks filled with sand and earth were piled in the warehouse's four corners, clearly makeshift cover.
The two groups faced off across the open space at the center, as though a rigid dividing line had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the warehouse.
Standing in front of his men, Old Knife Handle said sinisterly, "Young Master Chen, it's only been a few days, and what a grand setup you have."
"Looks like you've been eyeing my goods for more than a day or two."
Chen Fan curled his lips. He really had only thought of it in the past day or two, but he did not say so.
He smiled faintly at Old Knife Handle. "Sixth Master, your methods aren't bad either. Making a show of one thing while secretly doing another-you were trying to screw me to death..."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Bringing so many people to visit me in the middle of the night. There isn't even enough tea in my warehouse to go around."
"Cut the useless chatter. I didn't come here for tea."
Old Knife Handle said coldly, "Both sides were at fault tonight. I only came to give you some face, Young Master Chen."
"This shipment is worth two hundred thousand. Give it back, and we're square. We'll act like nothing ever happened between us."
"From now on, here in Shanghai, you take your broad road, and I'll take my narrow bridge. We stay out of each other's business. If you refuse, don't blame me for turning hostile."
Chen Fan dug at his ear. "Sixth Master, did I hear that right?"
"You want to take away two hundred thousand's worth of goods with a few words and call us square?"
"Square, my fucking ass! What about the debt you owe my father?"
Old Knife Handle froze for a moment, then replied stubbornly, "Young Master Chen, what do you mean by that?"
"Selling that opium was Chen Laosan's own choice."
"I told him beforehand that it was dangerous money, not easy to earn."
"He went down because he had bad luck. He can't blame anyone else."
Chen Fan scoffed. "Sixth Master, do you really take my father for an idiot?"
"Would he have dared get involved with the opium dens in the French Concession if you hadn't promised him something?"
"I've thought about it for a long time. My father wasn't that bold, nor was he that muddleheaded."
"He'd been in business for over twenty years, and no one ever got anything on him. How did he get caught red-handed, with both him and the goods seized, just for helping you sell a few crates of opium?"
"Unless someone stabbed him in the back, I refuse to believe my father could have been that stupid."
Old Knife Handle's expression shifted slightly. He waved a hand. "What's the point of bringing up all that ancient history now?"
"I didn't come here today to settle old scores with you."
"For Chen Laosan's sake, I'll give you one more chance. Fifty thousand silver dollars. Can we settle this?"
"Well, well. Fifty thousand silver dollars. That's quite a sum-enough to buy my whole family's lives." Chen Fan said mockingly, "But what if I say we can't?"
"We can't?" Old Knife Handle roared. "Hmph! Then tonight, this warehouse will be your grave."
"Hahaha!" Chen Fan laughed aloud. "Sixth Master, you've seen me fight. Do you really think this bunch of small fry you brought will do?"
"Heh. Right now, I'm not wondering whether you can kill me. I'm wondering whether you can walk out that door alive."
Old Knife Handle snorted. "Hmph. Young Master Chen, I know you're a great fighter. I also know these men of mine can't handle you."
"But since I came here today, I came prepared. A Xiang..."
At Old Knife Handle's shout, another group of men poured into the warehouse.
Old Knife Handle took two steps forward. "Chen Fan, even if you can take on ten men by yourself, I have seventy or eighty men here altogether, and dozens of weapons."
"I just wonder whether you're faster than a gun."
"Seventy or eighty men?" Chen Fan burst out laughing. "Sixth Master, your eyes really are failing in your old age. Why don't you take a good look at how many men you actually have on your side?"
"You really have a death wish!" Old Knife Handle shouted. "A Xiang, do it!"
The next instant, A Xiang stepped forward and pressed the short blade in his hand firmly against Old Knife Handle's neck...
Apart from Chen Fan, everyone present was stunned...
Shocked and furious, Old Knife Handle said, "A Xiang, what are you doing? You've been with me for thirty years, and now you're pointing a knife at me?"
"How have I ever wronged you for you to betray me?"