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墨書 Inktalez
The room had no windows, poorly lit and dark. Two people were packaging something on a table against the wall that had slightly better lighting. One of them, with a 16 Assault Rifle slung across his chest, sat at a desk on the opposite side of the wall. In the deepest and darkest corner of the room was an upscale-looking office desk, behind which sat a bald man. If it weren't for his shiny head reflecting the light, I wouldn't have noticed there was someone there at all.
The two men in black who entered with us were positioned differently; one with an AK-47 leaned against the door, casually locking it from the inside. The other approached the bald man and whispered something in his ear. The bald man rubbed his gleaming scalp and stood up, walking out from behind the desk into the shadows. The first thing I saw was his hawk-like nose, followed by a gloomy face with thin lips.
After entering this room, Fatty's expression turned ominous as he watched the bald man emerge from the darkness. Suddenly, Fatty said, "I brought the money. Where are my people?"
The Bald Man chuckled a couple of times, his voice unpleasant. His eyes, deeply set in browless sockets, glanced at me before fixing on Fatty. He spoke in a thick Hubei dialect, "Black Steel, why are you still so hot-tempered? Old friends haven't seen each other in years; shouldn't we catch up first?" Fatty's face turned pale as he replied coldly, "I'm here to redeem someone. I know what kind of person you are, Nine-Headed Bird, and you know my temperament too. Let's get straight to business—Da Zhang got himself into trouble here; that's on him, not me. I understand the rules; I'm here to follow them. The money is ready, but don't try to bend the rules. I want to see my people first. There's no need for small talk between us."
Fatty's words were too stiff; I felt sweat forming in my palms as I silently cursed him. We were here to redeem someone, and our weapons had been confiscated by them. How could he be so arrogant? If that bald man decided to turn hostile now, it would be disastrous. Was this really the time to act tough?
The man sitting at the desk suddenly changed his expression and jumped down to stand beside the Bald Man. The Bald Man waved him off, signaling him not to act rashly while still looking at Fatty: "Black Steel, I like your straightforwardness; you never play games. Alright then, I'll be direct: money isn't an issue for me; I kept Da Zhang here because I wanted you out. I'm offering you a way to make money together—how does that sound?"
Guai Zi Liu was right; Nine-Headed Bird had ulterior motives for luring Fatty out. Fatty remained unfazed: "Making money is great, but I'm here to redeem someone first. Let's settle today's matter before discussing anything else."
Nine-Headed Bird stepped forward a few paces and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Fatty, who shook his head and declined. The Bald Man lit one for himself and exhaled smoke: "Da Zhang is doing quite well here; he's enjoying himself and might not want to leave at all—as long as you agree to cooperate with me."
Nine-Headed Bird pointed at the briefcase in Fatty's hand and continued: "Not only can I waive this payment, but I can also offer you more money on top of that. What do you say? Think it over."
Fatty looked at Nine-Headed Bird thoughtfully and asked, "Why come to me? I don't believe you couldn't find another partner."
"To be honest," Nine-Headed Bird replied while gesturing toward his shiny head, "I had another partner before coming to you. But he turned out to be a real piece of work—he ran off with a shipment of mine. You know my reach doesn't extend into mainland territory; when something like this happens, there's nothing I can do about it. If he dares come back here, I'll make sure he pays back every cent with interest; but do you think he'll show up again? I'm looking for a trustworthy partner—Black Steel, I know you've had a rough few years; let's work together and carve out a future while we still can. You’re not afraid of that, are you?"
Fatty fell silent for a moment before asking, "What about Da Zhang? You haven't mistreated him, have you?"
The Nine-Headed Bird forced a smile on his gloomy face. "I know you value loyalty. He is doing well, with food, drink, and women to keep him company. I won't mistreat an old friend."
"I want to see him," Fatty said.
"Of course." The Nine-Headed Bird turned to the black-clad man searching us. "Go bring Da Zhang over. Let's have a little reunion."
Fatty and the Nine-Headed Bird each dragged a chair to the center of the room, and I played my role as a follower, standing behind Fatty. Fatty didn’t take the cigarette offered by the Nine-Headed Bird; instead, he pulled one from his pocket and lit it. The two seemed to relax as they started chatting.
I couldn’t tell if Fatty was genuinely relaxed or just pretending; inside, I was extremely tense. From the Nine-Headed Bird's words, it was clear he didn’t intend to let Da Zhang go. He had gauged Fatty's temperament and planned to keep Da Zhang here as a hostage, forcing Fatty to comply. I knew Fatty too well—he was someone who would yield to soft persuasion but resist hard threats. To be precise, he wouldn’t budge under pressure; once he set his mind on something, not even eight oxen could pull him back. I didn’t think Fatty would give in, but they were armed and dangerous; what could we possibly do against them?
While they chatted away, I discreetly observed the room. It was a standalone wooden cabin, disconnected from the surrounding buildings. Frustratingly, there were no windows, and the door could be locked at any moment—essentially a sealed chamber cut off from the outside world with no escape route. In one corner were several stacked green wooden crates that clearly contained weapons or ammunition. A few tables lined the walls, where two men worked under the light; one stood behind the Nine-Headed Bird with an M16 rifle slung over his shoulder while another leaned against the door with an AK47. I scanned the room and realized that the chances of making a break for it were almost zero. The problem was that their people were outside too; whether we tried to escape or not, it would lead to dead ends.
Was Fatty really going to agree to the Nine-Headed Bird's terms? I couldn’t see any other way out.
Before long, Da Zhang was brought in. This was my first time seeing him; he was tall, over six feet, dressed in local ethnic attire. His left sleeve hung empty, tucked into his pocket, and his face bore an unnatural and apologetic expression that belied his actual age.
Fatty glanced back at Da Zhang and remarked, "It's only been half a year since we last met, but you look older."
Da Zhang’s face darkened as he fell silent for a long moment before saying, "I’ve put you in trouble; I'm sorry."
Fatty lifted his suitcase slightly higher. "They don’t want money; they want me."
Da Zhang nodded slightly. "I know; they’ve been following me. Just do what you think is best."
"Are you ready?" Fatty asked.
"I've been ready for a long time."
What did they mean by that? My mind raced. There had to be a purpose behind their words, and I needed to figure it out quickly; being slow to react could cost me my life.
The Nine-Headed Bird also sensed something was off in their conversation and widened its eyes, ready to speak. Suddenly, Fatty slapped the high-held suitcase with his other hand. With a loud "thud," the suitcase's back cover popped open, and seven or eight smoking grenades rolled out from inside. In an instant, the grenades clattered across the room.
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