Chapter 82: Hands-Free

The word for “search” in Chinese is composed of the hand radical on the left and, on the right, a character resembling “sou” without the mouth component. The implication is that searching should be done with hands, not mouths—no need for idle chatter, just act swiftly and decisively. Unfortunately, the traffic officer who had let the old woman go hadn’t mastered this technique; otherwise, he might have realized that the seemingly simpleminded old woman was no ordinary woman at all.

In stark contrast, Wang Chao had perfected this technique to the highest degree.

Just over ten minutes before his encounter with the traffic officer, Wang Chao had emerged from the ventilation duct into the back alley, where he quickly spotted a battered bookcase and an old scavenger woman, her back to him as she struggled to move it. Without engaging in any unnecessary conversation, he silently picked up a wooden stick from a nearby trash pile and struck her hard on the back of the head.

A dull thud echoed through the back alley.

The scavenger woman collapsed instantly, not even having the chance to glance back, greet him, or utter a word.

Wang Chao exhaled deeply, swiftly removed the woman’s floral cotton jacket, retrieved the wig the young doctor had hidden inside the bookcase, disguised himself, stuffed the woman into the bookcase, and pushed the tricycle onto the main road, heading steadily away from the hospital.

Disguising himself as a woman was something Wang Chao excelled at—partly due to his features, partly due to his skills with makeup and attire. Even though this time he had to look like an elderly woman, it wasn’t much trouble; a few deep wrinkles drawn on his face sufficed.

His claim about heading for Erxian Bridge was a ruse, as was his supposed route along Chenghua Avenue.

His aim was simple: to divert the traffic officer’s attention away from himself and to create a deliberate sense of miscommunication—like a chicken talking to a duck, neither understanding the other, prompting a swift end to their exchange.

He didn’t know how long or how far he had gone, until he heard a rooster crow three times from a farmhouse on the outskirts—“cock-a-doodle-doo”—and finally came to a halt. He removed the wig, opened the bookcase, pulled out the scavenger woman, and put the floral jacket back on her. After a moment’s thought, he took a red banknote from his pocket and slipped it into the jacket’s pocket.

There was one thing Wang Chao hadn’t lied about while disguised as the old woman—the scavenger truly had gone to the hospital back alley to retrieve the bookcase for her grandson. The timing had been orchestrated by the young doctor, but the motive was the same.

Some people must work desperately hard for the simplest things—while other children had desks, her grandson had to do his homework hunched over a stone every day.

Moments later, from the direction of the rooster’s crow, a faint yellow light flickered from a clay house. In the wavering light, a small figure opened the wooden door and peered outside. Suddenly, he saw the tricycle and shouted for joy, his calls echoing through the night: “Grandma, you’re back? I waited for you all night…”

A slight smile played at Wang Chao’s lips as he strolled, hands in pockets, toward the nearest taxi stand on the edge of town. He stopped beneath the sign, pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and asked coldly, “Where are you? Why did you choose Jiangnan Hao? ...No problem.” He frowned, then flagged down a taxi, opened the door, and got in. “Send me your room number. I’ll be there soon.”

Inside Jiangnan Hao, a man dressed in designer suit hung up the phone and glanced at a slightly overweight middle-aged man soaking in the hot pool, then walked impassively toward a massage suite. Passing through the complimentary dining area, he picked up a glass of red wine and, turning, collided with Zhu Dachang, who was devouring food with gusto. The wine spilled onto Zhu Dachang’s clothes. The suited man looked up at the mountain of flesh before him and apologized, “Sorry, I’ve dirtied your clothes…”

Zhu Dachang wiped the wine off with his greasy sleeve and waved it off, “No trouble, no trouble. I wasn’t paying attention, just too busy eating.”

The suited man offered a gentle smile, took a red banknote from his pocket, handed it to Zhu Dachang, and said coolly, “After all, I spilled wine on your clothes. I don’t like owing people. Take this for the laundry.”

Zhu Dachang stared blankly at the money and was about to refuse, but the man had already turned to leave. Scratching his head, Zhu thought the man’s back looked strangely familiar, though he couldn’t place it.

Nearby, a bored female masseuse’s eyes lit up instantly. She stood, gazed after the suited man, bit her red lips, and murmured, “So handsome…” She undid two more buttons on her blouse, smoothed her hair, glanced at the simple-minded Zhu Dachang, and compared the two—one was heaven, the other earth. Clearing her throat, she said, “Fatty, take your time eating. I have other work, so I’ll be off now…”

Before Zhu could respond, the masseuse hurried after the suited man, soon catching up and walking beside him, her face wreathed in smiles. “Hey handsome, first time here?”

He glanced sidelong at her and, without expression, produced a black-gold membership card. “I’m a member.”

Her eyes shone even brighter, like a hungry dog spotting a juicy bone. “You look unfamiliar. I thought it was your first time. From your accent, you’re not local, are you here in A City on business?”

“What, do I need a household registration to spend money at Jiangnan Hao now?” he replied coldly, fixing her with a stare. “I don’t come often, but I’ve never heard Jiangnan Hao only serves locals.”

“You misunderstand,” she said awkwardly. “I was just curious, that’s all…” She naturally slipped her arm around his, pressing close and feigning intimacy. “Don’t be mad. Your accent sounds like people from my hometown, so I just asked.”

Feeling the softness against his arm, he frowned. “Where’s your hometown?”

“Lvteng City—the city famous for stinky tofu…” she replied coyly. “And you?”

“I don’t like tofu, let alone stinky tofu,” he said, a flicker of distaste in his eyes. “I’m not from Lvteng; I’ve just done some business there lately and picked up the accent. Actually, I’m Dutch.”

“Henan is great!” she chirped, misunderstanding. “I love Daokou roast chicken, mutton noodles, spicy soup…”

He glanced at her, his lips twitching, but said nothing more, shaking his head as he continued toward the suite.

Just then, Hou San emerged from a suite, brushing past the suited man. He glanced at the masseuse, looked down, and hurried over to Zhu Dachang. Patting Zhu on the shoulder, he said, “What are you staring at? All women like that have the same pair of eyes—mercenary. Don’t get attached… Come on, are you full? Time to go. This isn’t a place for us to linger.”

Zhu snapped back to reality, shook his head, and handed Hou San the red banknote, quickly explaining what had happened. “San-ge, I feel like I’ve seen that guy somewhere before…”

“You’re dreaming. People like that aren’t from our world,” Hou San snorted. “Rich folks are all the same; you probably just got it wrong.”

Zhu blinked, thinking Hou San had a point. That guy did dress a lot like the bosses who owed him wages for hauling bricks. He patted his head, grabbed a drumstick, and followed closely behind Hou San to the exit.

Once they’d left, a head poked out from behind a pillar. Song Lao’er, face full of anxiety, pulled out his phone and dialed Song Yicheng. “Ready? They’re coming out. Don’t let any other driver scoop them up!”

“Relax,” Song Yicheng boasted, “In all of A City, who hasn’t heard of me, the king of snagging fares? No one’s ever beaten me yet.” He kept his eyes glued to the entrance of Jiangnan Hao, and when he saw the tall and short figures emerge, he immediately started the car. “Gotta go, the fish are in the net.”

He hung up, put on a mask, and, like a whirlwind, parked where the black Ford had been. He rolled down the window and called out to the approaching Hou San and Zhu Dachang, “Bosses, need a ride?”

Hou San fished out his car keys and waved them. “I’ve got my own car, don’t need—” He broke off, looking left and right, face stiffening. He rubbed his eyes. “Where’s my car?”

Zhu, still chewing his drumstick, mumbled, “San-ge, I’m sure we parked it right here.” He pointed to a nearby no-parking sign. “No mistake, I saw that cross sign when I got out last night.”

Hou San followed his finger and his face darkened. He slapped Zhu on the back of the head. “That’s a no-parking sign! Why didn’t you say something? Now we’re screwed—the traffic cops must’ve towed it… Ridiculous, do A City traffic cops not sleep at night?”

“It’s obvious you’re not locals,” Song Yicheng chuckled. “It’s almost New Year’s, so the traffic police patrol at night, working with the security squad to clean up the area and punish violations. Jiangnan Hao is a key spot every year. Parking right by a no-parking sign is just asking for trouble.”

Hou San sighed deeply, closing his eyes. “Well, what isn’t yours was never meant to stay…”

Song Yicheng seized the opportunity. “So, bosses, still need a ride?”

Hou San narrowed his eyes. “Of course we need a ride, but don’t think about jacking up the price… If you overcharge, we’ll just walk. It’s healthy and eco-friendly.”

“Come on, look at my badge,” Song Yicheng said, pointing to the sign on his cab. “I’m a five-star driver, never scam passengers. Price is fair. Where to?”

Hou San rubbed his sore backside, thought for a moment. “How much to Erxian Bridge?”

“Ha! What a coincidence, I’m headed there anyway,” Song Yicheng coughed. “Treat it as a carpool, flat rate, eight yuan. Deal?”

Hou San did the math—even if they waited till daylight to take the bus, it’d be four yuan each. He nodded. “Barely acceptable. Not too greedy. You get a few yuan out of us.”

Song Yicheng felt a wave of revulsion, like he’d swallowed a dead fly. Years of driving a cab, and he hated passengers who took advantage yet claimed he was the one profiting. Forcing down his anger, he pressed the vacant sign. “Forget it, this one’s on the house. Free ride for you two—money doesn’t matter, let’s just call it making friends.”

“Generous!” Hou San gave a thumbs-up, pulled Zhu into the back seat, and urged, “Hurry up, I’ve got urgent business. Hope we can make it before dawn.”

Song Yicheng grinned wickedly. “Buckle up. I’m famous for my speed—guaranteed to get you exactly where you belong before sunrise…”

The engine roared and the cab shot onto the expressway, speeding off in the opposite direction from Erxian Bridge.

A little over ten minutes later, a phone rang inside the car. With one hand on the wheel, Song Yicheng picked up, hit speaker out of habit, and tossed the phone into the cup holder. He answered with a booming, “Hello, who’s this?”

“It’s me…” The voice of Zhang Xiaoman crackled through, old and weary. “I heard from Song Lao’er you’ve succeeded. The two idiots are in the car?”

“They’re in…” Song Yicheng glanced at Hou San and Zhu Dachang, whose faces were now ashen. Only then did he realize the blunder, and swallowed hard, his hands trembling on the wheel.

“Then take them to the hospital, not the police station. There are more cops here than at the station…” Suddenly Zhang Xiaoman seemed to sense something wrong, his voice dropping, “They didn’t hear, did they?”

Song Yicheng, pale as death, croaked, “I’m on speaker…”

For a moment, the air in the car froze—total silence. After a few seconds, Zhang Xiaoman’s voice came again: “Then just take them to the nearest police station. We’ll be there soon.”

Song Yicheng glanced down at the gleaming knife pressed against his throat and stammered, “I’ll try, but that may be difficult. Depends if they agree…”

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