Retribution Arrives Swiftly – Part One

Human energy is finite, even when base desires have been stirred up in ordinary men by Jiang Fangli’s depraved methods. Thus, in a situation where too many monks compete for too little porridge, aside from the psychological trauma, those women who lingered in the hospital, refusing to leave and doing everything to shut out patients and relatives, did not actually suffer much physical harm in terms of frequency.

Only Sister Li was an exception.

She had thought that swallowing her pride and begging for survival would grant her the exclusive favor of the leader, but once again she miscalculated. After Sister Li’s careful and attentive service had been thoroughly enjoyed, Jiang Fangli, through threats, forced her back into the room.

This time, she was completely naked.

To stay alive, she was forced to serve every man in the room, at least once.

According to Jiang Fangli, this was called “sharing the blessings.”

To be fair, Jiang Fangli’s methods were crude but effective. Using Sister Li, a worn-out middle-aged woman, as a prize was a stroke of genius: it soothed the wounded pride of these ordinary men—allowing them to share a woman with the leader—and successfully awakened their primal instincts, pushing them from ordinary citizens to the threshold of mob violence.

Those women who had fallen to the status of second-class citizens in the small group, seeing someone whose fate was even more miserable than their own, were at least docile in the short term, if not terrified. No matter how harshly they were treated, they dared not complain. After all, if they did, there was always someone even lower to vent their anger upon.

As for Sister Li, who after repeated abuse drifted from consciousness to unconsciousness and back again, finally collapsing filthy in the center of the room, subject to the contempt and insults of others—who would care, really?

Of course, these truths were not something Jiang Fangli truly understood. He merely borrowed the methods of prison bosses managing their cell blocks. No wonder his earlier tactics were to dish out both punishment and reward, to let everyone share in the spoils, and to establish a communal toilet for venting frustrations.

Perhaps, when Sister Li and Sister Chen had divided up the supplies and driven out the orphans, they should have realized their day would come—either dying violently or becoming a public toilet. Retribution always comes quickly.

After the frenzy came rest. When Hu Qianqian was stealing drugs, it was dawn and most were still asleep. After the quarrels, shootings, and shameless gathering, it was now midday, and everyone was starving. Jiang Fangli did not hold back, opening up the food supplies and letting everyone feast. This generosity further enhanced his prestige among the group. However, once their hunger was sated, these men—who believed they had no future—once again fell upon the women around them, venting their desires.

Curiously, Niu Laoshi did not continue to “share the pleasure with the masses.” He simply found a woman to satisfy himself, then got up, fastened his pants, and slipped out of the room, heading for the adjoining director’s office. When Jiang Fangli saw Niu Laoshi enter, he shoved aside the woman busy at his crotch and gestured for her to leave. As he pulled up his pants and walked to the door, he glanced around, closed it securely, and in that instant his posture slumped—his presence as a leader vanished, his sly eyes narrowed into slits, and he ingratiatingly grinned at Niu Laoshi: “Boss, I’ve done pretty well, haven’t I?”

Niu Laoshi nodded and pointed to the chair in front of him. “Sit.”

Hearing Niu Laoshi speak, Jiang Fangli dared to sit in his presence. Yes, these two were not what they appeared: Jiang Fangli on the surface as leader, Niu Laoshi as subordinate. In truth, it was the opposite—Niu Laoshi was the one pretending to be meek while hiding a tiger’s ferocity! Their arrangement was simple: to guard against the mob outside, men and women without any moral boundaries. If someone wanted to seize control, they would target the apparent leader, Jiang Fangli. But to dispose of Jiang Fangli, they would inevitably have to deal with Niu Laoshi, whose comfort with guns and killing made him an unavoidable obstacle. Whether by bribery, sowing discord, or assassination, if the target was wrong, these two would quickly catch wind of any plot.

Niu Laoshi stroked his chin, cold light flickering in his beady eyes, clearly contemplating nothing good. Jiang Fangli, familiar with him, dared not even breathe loudly. He knew that Niu Laoshi’s skills were pure street-fighting, honed from juvenile detention to prison; though unorthodox, he had received guidance from many underground figures. After more than a decade of brawling, not only was his personal combat prowess unmatched in prison—no ordinary trio could harm him—but his experience surviving in society was equally formidable. Had the plague that destroyed human society not broken out, Niu Laoshi, freed half a year ago, would now be a successful financier worth millions.

After all, loan-sharking had been rebranded as micro-lending.

Niu Laoshi’s silence lasted rather long. As Jiang Fangli grew impatient, imagining new ways to make Sister Li beg for mercy, Niu Laoshi finally spoke: “Let these people make a mess for another hour. At two o’clock, we pack up supplies and weapons. Before nightfall, we leave the hospital.”

“Huh? Boss, what do you mean? Where are we headed? Will these people even want to go with us?”

“If they don’t want to leave, don’t force them.” Niu Laoshi curled his lip in a sinister smile. “Anyway, they’re just expendable. They’ll die sooner or later. There’s no place for them in my plans.”

“But… isn’t that rather wasteful?”

“No, not at all.” Niu Laoshi knew his subordinate was clever but lacked real guts, so he explained patiently, lest things go awry: “Fangli, what do you think our future path should be?”

“Our path? Of course we need to build a gang—that’s what we do best! Before, with Lei keeping us down, there was no chance to build one; getting involved with crime meant getting shot. But now, as long as someone has guns and food, after two or three years those zombies outside will rot to bones, and the world will be ours to roam! Even if the government survives, by then we’ll have people, guns, turf—might as well pull a Water Margin and become local officials!”

“Damn! What a jinx! You look decent on the outside, but you’re empty inside. The Water Margin gang ended up crushed by the authorities—almost none died well!” Niu Laoshi laughed and scolded his subordinate, then nodded in approval: “But you’re right about one thing: we’re best at collecting debts, chopping hands, and guarding turf! No joke, my favorite movies growing up were the Young and Dangerous series. So tell me, can those people outside become our little brothers?”

“Come on, boss, a gang starts with loyalty! Even if loyalty is worth nothing now, you still need somewhat reliable subordinates. Them? They’d sell their own children and mothers to survive. Take Sister Li: when she threw her kids out, we arrived too late to see it, or else she’d have earned herself two bullets—she’s worse than anyone we ever met in prison! From this lot, I might as well train her to become a willing public toilet…”

PS: It seems I’ve been drafted into the regular army. Today I mailed out the contract for my signing. To avoid causing trouble for my editor, from today on, I’ll update sixty thousand words per month—no, I mean two thousand words per day… Covering my face, I drift away…