Chapter 55: That Scoundrel

This was why Chai Jin hadn’t yet started reselling the subscription certificates, but would always make time to visit Cai Weiqiang. Connections are always more important than mere hard work. Over the years, this old friend had been working in the black market, dealing exclusively with the super-rich and powerful local figures. The more of these people one knew and talked to, the more likely it was that with a bit of networking, business could be struck just like that.

They exchanged phone numbers before parting ways. Before leaving, Chai Jin made a point of asking at the front desk—the price of subscription certificates had already risen to two thousand eight hundred. Still, Chai Jin held back from selling.

When he returned to the guesthouse, it was already past six in the evening. Opening the door to his room, he saw at once that his suitcase had been pried open. He hurried over to the room where Houzi and the others were staying. Inside, chaos reigned; even Xiong Dan’s women's undergarments were strewn all about. It was clear they had left in a great hurry.

An uneasy feeling crept over him. He jogged to the front desk to ask about his friends. The answer left him flustered: someone had taken his friends away and left an address for him to settle the matter. He checked the name and address—it was a nearby karaoke bar. The name left was “Baldy.”

After speaking, the receptionist looked visibly nervous, glancing outside warily. “Boss, I think you’d better call the police. Baldy is notorious around here—a real old hand in the nightlife business. He’s ruthless. If you go alone, something bad is bound to happen.”

Chai Jin frowned. “When did they leave?”

“They’ve been gone quite a while already, and they even took the girl who was with your friend. Boss, please call the police.”

Chai Jin stood there in thought, brow furrowed. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to call the police, but with people from the underworld, things would never end so easily. The police couldn’t be by your side twenty-four hours a day. Matters of the street had to be resolved by street rules. Besides, with so many subscription certificates in his hands, he had to keep a low profile—very low. The entire city was ablaze with the fever for stock and the wealth that subscription certificates promised. If he was exposed, there’d be real trouble. Last year, he was followed for selling just one hundred thirty-five shares of Feiyue; now, he held nearly twelve thousand subscription certificates.

After thinking for a long time, he ignored the front desk clerk’s advice. The only person he could think to call was Cai Weiqiang.

At this hour, Cai Weiqiang had already closed up shop and was at his store playing cards with some old friends. Four men sat around a table, each with a brick-sized mobile phone propped up in front of them. The shop was in an alley, and the signal was weak, so they’d all extended their phone antennas as long as possible, afraid of missing any important calls. From a distance, it looked almost comical, like a bunch of spies exchanging secret messages.

Beep beep beep beep! Suddenly, one of the phones rang, startling everyone at the table. One man tossed down two cards. “A pair of twos.”

“Xiao Cai, can’t you turn the ringer down? Every time it blares out, you nearly give me a heart attack,” the others grumbled.

Cai Weiqiang grinned apologetically. “Sorry, old habits. My apologies, gentlemen.” He picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

“Chai Jin?”

“Yes, old brother. I may need your help finding someone.”

“Finding someone? Go ahead, your business is my business.”

“Do you know Baldy?”

“Baldy? Who’s that?” He glanced at the others at the table. “Anyone here know a guy called Baldy?”

One of them, a bearded man in a traditional Chinese jacket—he even looked a bit like the old Green Gang boss Du Yuesheng at first glance—spoke calmly, “You mean that old Paste on Yunxi Road?”

Cai Weiqiang relayed through the phone, “Is it the one on Yunxi Road?”

Chai Jin checked the address. “Yes.”

“Someone here knows him. What happened?”

“He kidnapped my friends and left me a note to come ransom them. I don’t think this will be easily resolved. Can you help me round up a few people? I’ll make sure you’re compensated afterward.”

“Nonsense, compensation! There’s no need to stand on ceremony between us,” Cai Weiqiang replied. He looked at “Du Yuesheng.” “Brother Zhang, I need your help. This old Paste has kidnapped my little brother’s friends—the same Xiao Chai who convinced us to stock up on subscription certificates.”

“Oh, it’s Xiao Chai’s matter? Then it’s our own business,” another man chimed in. Everyone knew by now that Chai Jin was one of Cai Weiqiang’s protégés, so they’d all give him some respect.

“Du Yuesheng” tossed down a three and laughed, “Just a small-time punk, easy enough.” He picked up his phone, looked around for a signal, and extended the antenna even further before putting it to his ear.

But then an awkward scene unfolded. “Du Yuesheng’s” phone antenna accidentally poked the man next to him right in the nostril. As it slid out, it flicked a lump of snot into the air, tracing a perfect arc before landing with a splat on another man's face.

“Zhang, what the hell are you doing? I’ve told you so many times—just make your calls without pulling the antenna so long! It’s disgusting! How many times have you stabbed me in the nose already?”

The old men, all in their sixties, began complaining loudly. Cai Weiqiang watched them, trying hard not to laugh, his stomach aching with the effort to keep a straight face.

“Du Yuesheng” kept apologizing, “I’m making a call, just trying to help Xiao Chai.” Embarrassed, he walked to the side with his phone. A few seconds later, his voice sounded out gruffly, “You got time? I need you to handle something. Some punk over on Yunxi Road kidnapped my friend. Bring a few dozen men over.”

Chai Jin waited outside the guesthouse for about ten minutes. When the convoy arrived, the scene left him stunned: more than a dozen Mercedes pulled up before him.

The lead car’s window rolled down, revealing a scar-faced man with an icy expression. He looked at Chai Jin and asked coldly, “Boss Chai?”

Chai Jin nodded.

The scar-faced man gestured to the side. “Get in. We’re Zhang’s people. Here to settle this for you.”

So it was that Chai Jin and the group arrived at the karaoke bar. He didn’t have to lift a finger—didn’t even get the chance to talk. Scarface led the charge, smashing everything in their path. They stormed up to the second floor, kicked open a door.

Inside, the balding old man was in his office, his pants halfway down. Bent over the desk was Xiong Dan. Before Baldy could react, Scarface rushed over and tried to grab him by the hair—only to remember he was bald, so he awkwardly seized him by the collar instead. With one yank, he pulled the pair apart.

“Old Paste, you’re in high spirits, aren’t you? Remember me? I’m one of Zhang’s men.”