Deep in Willow Twig Alley in the west of town, two red lanterns burned outside a doorway day and night, lighting up the glossy black plaque above it, adorned with a gold-patterned tiger's head.
This was the Black Tiger Gang's hall.
Jiang Fa stood at the mouth of the alley, gazing at the two lanterns from afar, and paused for a moment.
Willow Twig Alley had an elegant name, but it was actually one of the filthiest places in Qingshan County.
Years of soaking in swill and rainwater had blackened the flagstone road. An indescribable rank stench filled the air, like the entrails of slaughtered livestock, or the reek of sweat from a body left unwashed for far too long.
Several idlers squatted along either side of the alley. Some rolled dice, while others dozed against the walls, with broken wine jars and gnawed bones scattered at their feet.
Jiang Fa drew a deep breath and walked into the depths of the alley.
Two burly men stood outside the hall's entrance. The one on the left had a scar slanting from between his brows to the base of his ear, and his eyelids drooped as though he might fall asleep standing up at any moment.
The one on the right was slightly shorter, but built sideways. His neck was nearly as thick as his head, and his arms were folded across his chest, the bulging muscles of his forearms stretching his sleeves taut.
"Stop." Without even lifting his eyelids, Scarface thrust a hand out in front of Jiang Fa. "What do you want?"
"I'm here to see Master Hu!" Jiang Fa said.
Scarface raised his eyelids and sized him up, his gaze sweeping from Jiang Fa's coarse-cloth tunic, washed almost white, to the cloth shoes frayed around his feet. He gave a derisive snort.
"Here to see Master Hu?" He tilted his head and exchanged a glance with his companion. Both men grinned. "Kid, do you know what this place is?"
"I do."
"And you still came?"
Scarface leaned half a step closer, nearly spraying spittle into Jiang Fa's face.
"This isn't somewhere a penniless wretch like you can come calling."
Jiang Fa said earnestly, "I have business with Master Hu."
Scarface frowned.
"What business?"
Jiang Fa did not back down. He merely said evenly, "I'd like to borrow some silver from Master Hu."
"You? Borrow silver?"
His expression unchanged, Jiang Fa took a wooden token from inside his robe. The character "Zhao" was carved into it, and its edges had been worn smooth and rounded.
"I'm a disciple of the Zhao Clan Martial Hall. I know the rules. What I borrow, I'll repay."
Scarface took the wooden token, turned it over to examine it, then tossed it back into Jiang Fa's arms.
He turned and stepped out of the way.
"Go in." Then he jerked his chin toward the doorway. "Straight ahead. Master Hu's inside."
Jiang Fa nodded and stepped over the threshold.
The hall was much darker than outside. Only two oil lamps burned in the main room, their flames flickering in the draft, casting ghostly, shifting shadows over the painting of a fierce tiger descending a mountain on the wall.
A strong smell of tobacco filled the air, mixed with the stink of sweat and cheap liquor, making one's eyes sting.
An armchair stood in the middle of the main room. Seated in it was a scrawny man in his forties, with a sallow face, prominent cheekbones, and a sparse, two-pronged goatee. His triangular eyes were half narrowed, and he held a brass tobacco pipe, puffing out clouds of smoke.
A square table stood before him, an account book spread open on it, its cover frayed from handling. An abacus and an inkstone lay beside it.
Several men in short work clothes sat or stood around the room. Some wiped their blades, some drank, and others dozed in the corners, snoring louder than the dogs barking outside.
But it was not these men who brought Jiang Fa to a halt.
It was the shocking pool of blood on the left side of the hall.
A middle-aged man in ragged clothes lay face down on the floor, his cheek pressed to the ground. Bloody froth bubbled from the corner of his mouth with each rapid breath, leaving a large bloodstain on the gray bricks.
His left leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, everything below the knee dragging limply on the floor, as though someone had stomped on it hard enough to snap it.
Even so, he forced himself to keep kowtowing and wailing. His forehead struck the gray bricks with dull thuds, and blood streamed down his brow.
"Please... give me a few more days... just a few more days..." His voice was hoarse, his lips cracked and bleeding. "The harvest's been poor lately. Just a few more days, and I'll repay double what I borrowed, principal and interest."
"More time?"
A bald man squatted beside him, twirling a bloodstained short club in his hand. The smile on his face could not conceal the viciousness in his eyes.
"Liu Laosan, tell me yourself. Didn't we already give you an extension last month?"
The man on the floor trembled all over, forcing out a broken sentence. "I... this time, this time I really... please..."
"Please?"
The bald man's smile did not change, but the club in his hand suddenly smashed down on the man's good leg.
"What did we agree on back then?"
There was a sharp crack. The man let out a piercing scream and curled up like a shrimp, his entire body convulsing uncontrollably.
"If you had no money, why did you borrow any?"
The bald man stood and looked down at the man on the floor, his tone flat.
"When you borrowed it, you beat your chest and swore you'd repay the principal and interest within three months. Now you're telling me you have no money?"
The man was in too much pain to speak. He simply kept twitching, whimpering like a stray dog beaten half to death.
He tried to reach for the bald man's trouser leg, only to be kicked away.
The man with the goatee, who had remained perfectly composed in his armchair, slowly tapped the ash from his pipe and finally spoke. "It doesn't matter if you can't repay the money. I, Master Hu, am not without consideration for others. Don't you have a daughter at home? No money? Then use your daughter to pay!"
His voice was shrill and thin, like fingernails scraping sheet iron.
The man shuddered all over, his lips trembling. Enduring the pain, he desperately banged his head against the flagstones with heavy thuds and cried, "Master Hu, my daughter is only thirteen this year. She's still a child. Please spare her... if someone truly has to pay, take my life instead. Please, Master Hu..."
Who in Qingshan County did not know how miserable a fate awaited any woman who fell into the Black Tiger Gang's hands?
"Fuck off! How much is your life worth?"
The burly bald man kicked him hard and spat out a mouthful of thick phlegm.
He turned toward the man with the goatee, a lecherous grin spreading across his face, and rubbed his hands. "Boss, I've seen his daughter. She's fairly pretty, with a decent figure too. With a little training, she should fetch a good price at the Spring Fragrance House."
Master Hu nodded. "A child repaying a father's debts is the natural order of things. Drag him out and take the contract to his house. If that girl refuses no matter what, you know what to do."
The man slumped on the floor, utterly bereft. Every trace of color drained from his face in an instant, as though all the bones had suddenly been pulled from his body.
"Yes, boss!"
Delight appeared on the burly bald man's face, and he lowered his head to accept the order.
He waved a hand, and two nearby underlings immediately stepped forward, each taking one of the man's arms and dragging him outside like a dead dog.