A Prophet - Chapter 15 (Part 2)

Chapter 2 - The Death of China's Number One Assassination King

The night was pitch black and the wind howled, blowing withered leaves across the ground.

Beneath an oil lamp, Grandfather picked up a copy of Dead Souls: One Hundred Illustrations and studied it earnestly. This was a book compiled and personally prefaced by Mr. Lu Xun. The reason Grandfather liked Dead Souls: One Hundred Illustrations was that its protagonist was also a swindler—an exceptionally clever, opportunistic con artist capable of pulling strings with everyone from provincial governors down to ordinary citizens.

Right in the middle of his reading, the sound of hurried footsteps suddenly echoed. Grandfather swiftly blew out the oil lamp, reached out to fish out a few iron nails, and hid behind the door.

"Grandfather, it's me." A low voice came from outside the door.

Recognizing Second Boss Ba's voice, Grandfather let out a long breath and pulled the door open.

"Grandfather, look who's here!" Second Boss Ba said excitedly.

"Grandfather!" A dark figure behind Second Boss Ba pushed him aside, dropped heavily to his knees, and burst into tears while choking out, "I finally found you!"

Grandfather recognized him at once—it was First Boss Ba. He reached out to haul him up, and the two embraced tightly. Grandfather forcefully pounded on his back, unable to utter a single word.

Grandfather had truly grown vulnerable. During those days when the brothers were scattered and their future seemed hopeless, he prayed for his brothers every day. At night, he frequently suffered from nightmares, waking with a start only to sink back into a heavy sleep. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, one day he had asked Huang Farong to commission a statue of Guanyin from a nearby temple, venerating it daily to anchor his grief.

Huang Farong and Second Boss Ba understood that this was Grandfather's lowest ebb in life. Grandfather was human after all, and to be human meant to feel apprehension and fear. A hero was like a sheet of paper: one could splash ink across it to construct boundless brilliance and majesty, yet it could also be punctured in a fraction of a second, sending flying scraps into the wind to drift away in desolation. Grandfather had reached his trough, much like countless heroes throughout history who, in their glory days, could "laugh and chat as enemy warships were reduced to ashes," but once their luck turned sour, even a hero would find his breath failing, and an overlord would lose his voice.

It turned out that after taking his leave of Zeng Jingwu that day, Grandfather, along with Second Boss Ba, Huang Farong, and Little Liu, had donned disguises and sneaked back to the outskirts of Shanghai. This was Grandfather's consistent tactic: the most dangerous place was the safest place.

Laying down a trap on the island and destroying the Japanese spy agency was a grand strategic chess game masterminded by Grandfather. In puppet Manchu State, Grandfather had first agreed to cooperate with the Japanese alongside Nishida Yoshiko, and then painstakingly plotted an I Ching debate conference to concentrate all traitors of the various "sectarian secret societies" in one place. In the meantime, he coordinated with Mei Xuanzi, Pei Jinglong, and Zeng Jingwu to lay out a formation in the Zhoushan Archipelago, and further dispatched Huang Farong on a thousand-li journey to Yunnan to procure snake poison gu, which ultimately gave rise to the grim spectacle of watching the tides, the seawater backflow, and the invasion of ten thousand snakes in the Zhoushan Archipelago.

If any single link in this chain had failed, the entire formation would have collapsed. Once the formation collapsed, Grandfather would have died. Death was not what terrified him; what terrified him was that his notoriety as "the number one traitor of the Chinese I Ching community" would never be washed clean. The greatest tragedy in life was to be wrongfully accused! People always said history was just, but justice required time, and Grandfather did not want to wait a hundred or a thousand years! Grandfather took the gamble! Just like countless swindlers throughout history who dared to wager everything at the critical moment: if he won, "his might would shake the seas within as he returned in glory to his hometown"; if he lost, "he would draw his blade for a swift execution, failing not his youthful head!"

Heaven had eyes, and it granted Grandfather success. Yet Grandfather had also lost, for his faction's hall was gone in an instant. The bosses who had landed with him were of unknown fate, and the pawns of the hall had all been dismissed the night before. Regarding this unreasoned "scattering of the arena," the pawns were full of doubt, but they dared not disobey the Grand Master's orders. Each took their silver and went into hiding; without a command, none of them dared to step out and stir up trouble.

Before landing on the island, some bosses had asked, "What if everyone gets separated?" This was actually an indirect way of asking about the rendezvous and hiding spots after coming ashore in the future.

Grandfather had not told them specific addresses; instead, he directly issued an order to rendezvous at the riverhead on the island. Those who could make it would make it, and those who could not would leave their fates to the heavens. The reason Grandfather refrained from revealing Zeng Jingwu's hiding place in Shaoxing was still out of fear that if anyone fell into enemy hands and failed to withstand brutal torture, leaking the news, everyone would be completely doomed.

The more meticulous a plan, the more ruthless it was. Now Grandfather was safe, but what about his brothers? Grandfather could not sleep night after night, and by day he sent Second Boss Ba and Huang Farong, disguised, into the city to search for the scattered brothers. After several days of searching, they finally reconnected with First Boss Ba.

Grandfather squinted his eyes as he slowly listened to First Boss Ba recount his escape.

That day, when venomous snakes surged into the "Sino-Japanese I Ching Friendly Exchange Institute," absolute chaos erupted on the scene. First Boss Ba bolted the moment he stood up. Though not particularly tall, he was solidly built, packed with sinewy muscle, and once he started running he was impossible to stop; seven or eight people who collided with him were sent flying. The fellow ran like mad all the way, becoming the first to reach the rendezvous point at the river's end. Yet upon arriving, his heart sank—he had run so fast that the rescue boat had not even arrived yet.

First Boss Ba grew so frantic he howled at the top of his lungs, "Motherfucker! Motherfucker!"

At that moment, a small boat hove into view in the distance. First Boss Ba charged into the water with outstretched arms and scrambled onto the boat with a slippery heave. Just as he wanted to order the boatman to row fast, he remembered that Grandfather had not arrived yet, driving him to let out another round of frantic hollers!

Amidst the gloom, several figures came charging down the bank—it was Mei Xuanzi, Gai Xia, along with Third Boss Ba, Fifth Boss Ba, and others.

"Hurry! Hurry! Get on board!" First Boss Ba shouted at the top of his lungs. At that instant, a piercing screech tore through the sky, and First Boss Ba possessed exceptionally sharp ears: "It's an artillery shell! Motherfucker!" Without caring whether it was aimed in their direction, he plunged headfirst into the water and fled.

With a loud bang, the shell exploded, blowing the boat to smithereens. A fragment of shrapnel flashed like lightning and drove straight into Mei Xuanzi's throat, killing him on the spot.

When First Boss Ba surfaced again, the riverbank was already engulfed in roaring flames. Armed personnel resembling Japanese soldiers had also arrived, fighting and killing in total chaos. First Boss Ba hardened his heart: "Forget it! I'm not waiting anymore!" Clutching a blown-off piece of the boat's bottom plank, he swam toward the open sea.

First Boss Ba possessed considerable confidence in his own physical stamina. Having grown up by the river since childhood, his swimming skills were top-notch. He swam continuously for two hours before finally growing exhausted. Floating on the pitch-black surface of the water, freezing and starving, he looked out at the boundless sea and sighed repeatedly: "I'm going to feed the fish today, goddamn it!"

Just as despair set in, a glimmer of fishing light suddenly flickered across the dim sea, as if fishermen had ventured out to sea to catch fish. First Boss Ba mustered every last ounce of his strength and swam desperately toward the fishing light.

First Boss Ba was saved. A couple was out on the sea and hauled the half-dead First Boss Ba aboard. After regaining his vigor in the cabin, First Boss Ba drank a whole pot of noodle soup made by the couple and devoured seven large flathead mullets. The couple stared in sheer disbelief: this fellow must have been a starving ghost in a past life reincarnated!

After finishing his meal, First Boss Ba pulled a stack of legal tender paper currency from his damp pocket and handed it to the couple. At that time, the Nationalist government had just introduced the legal tender, which still held substantial value; one hundred yuan of legal tender could buy two large oxen. The couple had never laid eyes on so much money and were too terrified to accept it. First Boss Ba raged, "Take it! Isn't my life worth this much?!"

After coming ashore, First Boss Ba could not find Grandfather or the rest of the brothers, so he had no choice but to don a disguise and wander the streets every day, waiting for the summons.

"Ancestral secret recipe, specialized in treating bruises and injuries, bean sprouts pop out, old and wide..." That day, Second Boss Ba was posing as a wandering quack doctor to gather the brothers hiding in every corner.

First Boss Ba had observed this wandering quack for a long time, but Second Boss Ba's disguise technique was too formidable—he used acupuncture manipulation to shift all his facial features. Fearing he might be a Japanese imposter, First Boss Ba observed him for several days before daring to step forward and strike up a conversation.

"You fraud!" First Boss Ba suddenly patted Second Boss Ba on the back from behind.

Startled, Second Boss Ba felt a rush of warm current surge through his lower abdomen, nearly wetting himself. Turning around, he blurted out, "You..." First Boss Ba was also disguised, with soot smeared all over his face. Given that he already had a face full of bumpy muscles, his entire face now resembled a lump of air-dried excrement, causing Second Boss Ba to fail to recognize him for a moment.

The two stared at each other for a moment before crying out in unison, "It's you!" and bursting into laughter.

Hearing the account, Grandfather burst into hearty laughter. Then his expression tightened once more: "Where are the rest of our brothers?"

That night, Grandfather still could not sleep, tossing and turning until the fourth watch before finally managing to doze off...

In a hazy slumber, Grandfather heard a series of hurried footsteps. He wanted to open his eyes to look, but could not. With great difficulty he managed to pry them open, only to find everything blurry and indistinct, seeing nothing clearly. At that moment, the door creaked open, and Grandfather was alarmed: he had bolted the door from the inside, so how could it have opened?

A vague figure walked in. Grandfather forced his eyes wide open, and suddenly everything snapped into focus—it was Ninth Master (Wang Yaqiao)!

"Ninth Master!" Grandfather got up and walked over.

Wang Yaqiao looked at Grandfather in silence, as if he had words to speak yet could not get them out.

"Ninth Master..."

Wang Yaqiao said nothing, turned around, and walked away.

"Ninth Master! Ninth Master!" Grandfather hurried after him. Outside the door lay pitch-black nothingness—there was nothing there. "Ninth Master! Ninth Master!" Grandfather shouted.

With a sudden struggle, Grandfather snapped awake, finding his head drenched in sweat. "Oh... just a dream." Hearing Grandfather's cries from the next room, Huang Farong hurried over. "What is it, Grandfather?"

Grandfather wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Nothing... nothing... Has any news come from Instructor Zeng's side these past few days?"

"No." Huang Farong picked up the thermos to pour Grandfather a cup of water. "Grandfather, you..."

"It's nothing, nothing. You may withdraw."

Three days later, a news story that shocked China and the world broke out: the legendary hero Wang Yaqiao was assassinated in Wuzhou, Guangxi, by Dai Li, the head of the Nationalist secret police!

The news appeared in print. Grandfather trembled all over, and the newspaper slipped from his fingers instantly. A grief of this magnitude had only ever struck him when members of his own family were murdered; he could not even stand steadily. Despite Huang Farong coughing several times to prompt him, he failed to realize that he had severely lost his composure in front of his brothers. Tears immediately burst forth, and with a heart-wrenching wail of "Ninth Master!", Grandfather's legs went weak and he collapsed to his knees. First Boss Ba, Second Boss Ba, and Little Liu felt a resonance in their souls and all dropped to their knees, crowding around Grandfather as tears streamed down their faces.

The next day, Zeng Jingwu rushed over, wrapped in a mourning sash with white silk tied around his head. When Grandfather met him, the two brothers embraced and wept bitterly, crying until their tears ran dry and turned to blood.

That night, Grandfather and Zeng Jingwu sat knee-to-knee by candlelight. Only then did Zeng Jingwu recount Wang Yaqiao's recent movements to Grandfather.

As it turned out, Wang Yaqiao had long been listed by the Nationalist authorities as their number one assassination target, especially given his repeated orchestration of plots to assassinate Chiang Kai-shek, Song Ziwen, and Wang Jingwei, which left Chiang Kai-shek unable to sleep in peace. Following Wang Yaqiao's successful assassination of Wang Jingwei last year, Nationalist agents led by Dai Li hunted down his trail with even greater frenzy.

Wang Yaqiao's steps became fraught with difficulty, and he gradually realized that relying solely on assassination as a path was unviable. In front of a powerful state apparatus, no matter how formidable a lone ranger was, he would eventually turn into a drowning dog; without a proper organizational leadership, it was a dead end. Weighing all the factions in China at the time, Wang Yaqiao decided to defect to the Chinese Communist Party. Only this organization genuinely cared for the toiling masses, and only this organization could save China.

Yet heaven envied the talented. Just as the CCP was about to absorb Wang Yaqiao into the party, Dai Li set up a honey trap and gunned Wang Yaqiao down in a hail of bullets. After his death, they even flayed the skin from his face—an act of cruelty so extreme it left people speechless.

Following Wang Yaqiao's death, Mao Zedong expressed boundless sorrow and regret. Heroes recognize heroes; Mao Zedong's evaluation of Wang Yaqiao was: "Guiltless in slaying enemies, meritorious in resisting Japan. Lacking in minor disciplines, clear-headed on major matters." This was the supreme verdict rendered by the top leader of the CCP upon an epoch-making hero.

"Grandfather, join the Chinese Communist Party with me!" Zeng Jingwu said.

Grandfather was stunned. Join the party? The Communist Party? He had never considered such a question.

Seeing that Grandfather remained silent, Zeng Jingwu continued, "This was Ninth Master's wish before he died. Now that he is gone, all the brothers will faithfully carry out his dying wish. Over these years, I have also seen through it: relying merely on personal brawling and killing is useless. As Chairman Mao said, 'Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.' Only by joining an organization can our collective strength grow formidable, and only with an army can we accomplish great things!"

Grandfather still said nothing.

Zeng Jingwu paused for a moment, then asked, "Does Grandfather not wish to turn away from the darkness and embrace the light?"

Grandfather let out a long sigh. "Instructor Zeng, it's not that I don't want to turn away from the darkness and embrace the light; our situations are different. You and Ninth Master are national heroes. What am I? I'm just a wandering con artist. The people you killed were all bad men, wicked men, and Japanese. As for us, what did we scam? Ordinary folks and rich people—some of whom weren't even bad—and we scammed them too..."

Zeng Jingwu nodded slightly. "Grandfather, the flaws do not obscure the jade. Grandfather destroying the Japanese spy agency and taking the opportunity to wipe out so many 'sectarian secret society' ringleaders was also a righteous act of great righteousness! Chairman Comrade Mao said, 'Those who have no errors in political viewpoint, are loyal, possess a spirit of sacrifice, can work actively, harbor no notions of making a foreign fortune, do not eat opium, and do not gamble can join the Party!' If worse comes to worst, I will join the Party first and then write a letter of recommendation for Grandfather."

Grandfather gave a bitter laugh. "I came from the mortal world to practice physiognomy; all things in the mortal world are bygone pasts. Lightning strikes and fire burns cannot blow away the wind; life and death remain within the gates of physiognomy. I am the head of a hall with so many brothers under my command—if I join the Communist Party, what will happen to them? If I don't care, they are bound to wreak havoc on the world; if I forcefully compel them to join the Party, over there they might not even accept them. Besides, the four major halls have been passed down for hundreds of years; this is not something I alone can call the shots on..."

Zeng Jingwu shook his head helplessly. "Why are all you people from the 'Jiangxiang Faction' cut from the same cloth! That Xu Huaijin (the Grand Master who partnered with Grandfather on the honey trap in Part One) said the exact same thing! What does hundreds of years of heritage matter? Feudal society lasted thousands of years, yet with a single cannon shot of the Xinhai Revolution, wasn't it still overthrown? This is an era of revolution! To cast away the old and establish the new—Grandfather, think this over carefully!"

Grandfather still remained silent.

Seeing that Grandfather's mind was made up, Zeng Jingwu could only sigh and give up. "Grandfather, I am heading to northern Shaanxi. From now on... from now on... we will probably find it hard to meet again. The Zhenjia Alliance has become a swan song, and there is no longer a 'Axe Gang' in this world. Grandfather, take care, take care, take care!"

"I want revenge! Revenge! Grandfather, I want revenge!" Little Liu's desperate, tearing cry came from outside the door.

Zeng Jingwu's tears welled up once more. "Grandfather, Little Liu... I entrust him to you. This kid is terribly stubborn; Grandfather, take good care of him..."

Zeng Jingwu left. Grandfather slapped Little Liu twice across the face to steady his emotions, and later risked danger by traveling with Xu Huaijin and Hua Yuerong to Nanjing to stage a heart-wrenching honey trap parting...

During this period, First Boss Ba, Second Boss Ba, and Huang Farong, wearing disguises, shouted slogans on the streets of Shanghai every day to gather the scattered brothers.

A few months later, the pawns hiding in every corner were fully assembled. This was the "Jiangxiang Faction"! This was organizational power! When the Grand Master gives the order, mountains shake and earth quakes! Scattered, they drift like flying catkins on the wind, yet the moment they touch the ground they take root; gathered, they flock like a hundred birds vying to pay homage to the phoenix, able to assemble in an instant!

What had yet to appear were Third Boss Ba, Fourth Boss Ba, and Fifth Boss Ba. These were the core backbones of the "Muzi Lian." Grandfather could neither eat nor sleep in peace—were these three fellows dead, or had they been captured by the Japanese?

That night, Grandfather summoned Huang Farong. "Farong, do you regret it?"

Huang Farong gave a bitter smile. "I do not regret it."

Grandfather let out a heavy sigh. "Perhaps Grandfather was wrong; I should not have dragged you and Zizhan... Now, Zizhan's whereabouts remain unknown..."

Lowering her head, Huang Farong spoke softly, "Life and death are ordained by fate; wealth and honor lie in the hands of heaven."

A blast of cold wind swept in, blowing the window wide open. Huang Farong picked up a long gown and draped it over Grandfather's shoulders.

"What day is it today?" Grandfather asked.

Huang Farong calculated on her fingers. "It is precisely the Beginning of Winter."

Grandfather nodded. "In your hometown in Shandong, what do people eat on the Beginning of Winter?"

"Dumplings."

"Mmm," Grandfather nodded again. "Dumplings (jiaozi), which also implies the intersection of times (jiaojiao). Order the brothers to eat dumplings tonight at the hour of zi."

"Ah?" Huang Farong chuckled.

"What is it?" Grandfather asked.

"With so many people, who is going to wrap them?" Huang Farong said with a smile.

"Everyone pitches in!"

The brothers were utterly shocked. These fellows were ordinarily individuals who committed murder, set fires, dug up graves, and plundered tombs; asking them to wrap dumplings was harder than ascending to heaven. Yet the Grand Master had given the order, so they had to obey!

Dozens of boisterous men crowded around the Eight Immortals table—some kneading dough, others chopping fillings—and enthusiastically set to wrapping them. Grandfather took one look and nearly laughed out loud: these dumplings were wrapped in a baffling manner. Some stood up, some lay flat; the large ones looked like donkey ears, while the small ones resembled sheep dung pellets, coming in every bizarre shape imaginable. After studying them for a moment, Grandfather was surprised to discover that the person who wrapped the best dumplings here was not Huang Farong the female con artist, but rather First Boss Ba, who had once worked under a butcher, spending all day slicing meat, chopping fillings, rolling dough, and flattening wrappers, which over time had forged this fine skill.

Watching First Boss Ba's calloused hands shape delicate and exquisite dumplings, Grandfather suddenly felt a pang of heartache: How wonderful it would be to be an ordinary person—life, ordinary life, this truly was life!

Several hundred dumplings required four or five pots to boil completely. When the first pot was done, Huang Farong suggested that Grandfather eat first, fearing they would turn unpalatable if they grew cold. Grandfather stubbornly refused; he wanted to wait until all the dumplings were boiled so he could eat alongside the brothers.

Afterward, Grandfather had Second Boss Ba haul out several jars of aged Shaoxing wine. As the brothers ate and drank, they momentarily forgot their sense of displacement and distress.

Huang Farong finally saw through Grandfather's strategy: Grandfather was coalescing their morale. Though the winter night was cold, they could not let the hearts of the brothers grow cold. Ever since Mei Xuanzi made his grand display, all the way to the crushing defeat of the Japanese secret agents, they had endured multiple brushes with death and displacement, and the team had nearly been torn apart. With Grandfather present, everyone could still gather together; once Grandfather died, the "Muzi Lian" would undoubtedly be finished. Grandfather understood very clearly in his heart that although the brothers said nothing aloud, none of them felt good inside. The glorious days of utter prestige in the Shanghai Bund were gone; now they could only grievance-wracked and wretchedly eke out a living in this cold, dilapidated place on the outskirts.

During the banquet, a pawn suggested re-entering the underworld arena to run some scams. Grandfather nodded. "We'll talk after the New Year."