Chapter Eight: Undercurrents

“Miss Cheng!” Ah Chen’s voice was urgent and tight. He just wanted to stop Cheng Qing’s troublemaking mouth immediately. “Don’t talk nonsense! When did the master… when did the master… he was just… just admiring the madam…”

“Admire?” Cheng Qing scoffed, cutting off A-Chen’s incoherent explanation. “Oh? So Mr. Qiao started ‘admiring’ Madam so early on? How…deeply affectionate and scheming!” She deliberately emphasized the last four words.

“Miss Cheng, what nonsense are you talking about! Back when the gentleman was still a porter at the docks, he saw Madam walking by with her classmates in a blue cheongsam from Mingde. Just that one glance, and he went back and became completely obsessed, desperately climbing the social ladder, saying that one day he would be worthy of you…”

The more he talked, the more guilty he felt.

Cheng Qing covered her mouth, let out a soft "oh," and admired everything before her with satisfaction. She then gently and gracefully opened the car door and got out of the car.

Standing on the bustling side of Xiafei Road, where the neon lights were just beginning to illuminate the scene, Cheng Qing bent down and gave Lin Tang's pale face through the car window a sweet but utterly cold smile: "Madam, I'll get out of the car now. You... please take your time going to the Chamber of Commerce!"

After saying that, she didn't look back at the car again, swaying her hips like a poisonous poppy, and quickly disappeared into the bustling crowd.

The car door was gently closed, shutting out the noise from outside.

The carriage was filled with a suffocating silence.

Ah Chen's Adam's apple bobbed several times with difficulty before he finally managed to squeeze out a dry voice: "Madam... please don't listen to Miss Cheng's nonsense. The master... back then..."

"Drive." Lin Tang's voice cut in without any emotion, colder and harsher than the night wind outside the car window.

Those two words struck Ah Chen's heart like a cold block of iron, instantly silencing all his attempts to explain. He opened his mouth, but the words were frozen in his throat.

The car rejoined the traffic on Avenue Joffre.

...

Meanwhile, Qiao Yuan and Uncle Chen's car was on the other side.

An almost frozen silence filled the carriage, with only the deep rumble of the engine and the rustling of the wheels on the road.

Uncle Chen sat to one side, leaning on his cane, watching Qiao Yuan, who was leaning against the back seat with his eyes closed, looking particularly cold and hard in the light and shadow flowing outside the window.

“Sir…” Uncle Chen’s hoarse, hesitant voice broke the silence, “That Cheng Qing…”

Qiao Yuan didn't lift his eyelids, only letting out a short, soft hum from his nose as a response.

Uncle Chen said cautiously, "I've lived to this age, and I have a pretty good eye for people. This Miss Cheng has an unknown background, and I'm afraid she's not as simple as she seems on the surface. Her mind is probably quite deep!"

He paused, and seeing that Qiao Yuan still had no reaction, he continued, "Mr. Qiao, you used to be indifferent to those women, but this Miss Cheng used a little trick to not only get into the mansion, but also constantly clashed with the madam and sowed discord... Sir, you... you should be more careful."

"Ha!" Qiao Yuan finally opened his eyes, his gaze filled with icy indifference, a cruel smile curving his lips. "I know she's no saint, but she has designs on me, and I need her for something too, so let her stay!"

Looking at that cold and arrogant face, Uncle Chen's Adam's apple bobbed, and finally turned into a long sigh filled with endless worry.

The car stopped deep in a secluded but heavily guarded alley.

This place was once an important stronghold of the Black Tiger Gang, but now it has become the prison where Golden Tiger is being held under house arrest.

The air was filled with an old, gloomy atmosphere, mixed with a damp, musty smell and a faint smell of rust.

Several men in black appeared silently from the shadows. Upon seeing Qiao Yuan, they bowed slightly and made way for him.

Uncle Chen remained outside the door, warily surveying his surroundings like a mountain eagle.

Qiao Yuan pushed open the heavy, peeling wooden door, and a thick smell of smoke and the sour odor of rotting food hit him.

The room was large, but unusually dark, with thick curtains drawn and only a dim wall lamp lit.

An extremely bulky figure was slumped in the large sofa, almost filling it completely.

Huang Jinhu was even fatter than Qiao Yuan remembered. Layers of fat piled up on his face and neck, making his neck almost invisible. His small eyes were sunken in his swollen eyelids, turbid and sinister, like silt in a swamp. He held a thick cigar in his hand, and the smoke swirled around him, enveloping him in an aura of decadence and danger.

"Oh, so Chief Qiao has finally deigned to come and see this old codger?" Huang Jinhu's voice was hoarse, thick with phlegm, each word seeming to be squeezed out with difficulty from the depths of his throat, full of undisguised sarcasm and resentment.

Qiao Yuan's icy gaze was like two knives, fixed on Huang Jinhu's fat face. He sneered, "Old man, can't you even have peace locked up here?"

Golden Tiger took a deep drag on his cigar, the crimson flame illuminating the hideous flesh on his face. He let out a grotesque laugh, his fat trembling violently: "Peace? Hahahaha... Qiao Yuan, you fucking locked me up here like a dog, yet you dare not actually touch me, and you even pretend to leave me some 'power'? Why should I let you have peace!"

He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray piled high with cigarette butts beside him, spitting as he shouted, "Let me tell you, as long as I'm still breathing, I'll never let you get away with this! If I hadn't taken you in back then, you little punk, you would have starved to death at the Shiliupu Wharf long ago! Now that you've grown up, you're turning on me? You're a damn ungrateful wretch!"

This roar of bringing up old grievances was like a rusty, dull knife, stabbing hard into Qiao Yuan's heart. The muscles on his face tensed instantly, and the icy coldness in his eyes suddenly turned into tangible killing intent.

He took a step forward, his leather shoes making a dull thud on the old floor.

"Turning against me?" Qiao Yuan's voice was terrifyingly low, every word dripping with venom. "Back then, you took me in only because you thought this stray dog ​​could bite people for you! I risked my life for you, shed blood for you, and conquered so much territory for you. But what did you do? You wanted to curry favor with the Japanese to reap benefits, yet you were afraid of me becoming too powerful! You didn't dare to openly attack me, so you sent that mad dog Liang Kuan to ambush me!"

Qiao Yuan's chest heaved violently. The bloodshed and betrayal of that night seemed to be right before his eyes, and a cold rage almost broke through the gates of reason.

He stared intently into Huang Jinhu's murky eyes and said coldly, "That good-for-nothing Liang Kuan couldn't kill me, but he managed to injure Lin Tang! For that alone, I was initially willing to spare you a semblance of dignity, considering the meal we shared years ago! But you…"

He approached the sofa, his tall figure exuding immense pressure, completely enveloping Huang Jinhu in shadow. His voice suddenly rose: "Since you're so ungrateful and insist on courting death, don't blame me for being ruthless! Fatty Huang, your good days are over!"

The fat on Golden Tiger's face twitched violently, and his turbid little eyes, sunken deep in his swollen eyelids, suddenly burst forth with a venomous glint, like a dying snake baring its last fangs.

He jerked forward from the sofa, his obese body emitting a nauseating, rotten stench. His hoarse voice, shrill and distorted with extreme hatred, screamed: "Qiao Yuan! Stop pretending to be a heartthrob in front of me! You think I don't know what filthy thoughts you have? Ha! You're just atoning for your sins! Looking for a substitute! You killed Bai Mu! You personally sent him to his death! You think you can hide this from Lin Tang forever?!"

"Bang!"

The last shred of reason in Qiao Yuan's eyes completely collapsed! His rage erupted like magma, and he struck with lightning speed, his iron-like hand grabbing the thick, fleshy neck of the Golden Tiger!

The immense force instantly compressed the Golden Tiger, abruptly halting its grotesque laughter. Its eyes bulged as it was choked, its face rapidly turning from flushed red to a terrifying bluish-purple, and a chilling, suffocating "hoarse" sound emanated from its throat.

His obese body writhed and struggled in vain under Qiao Yuan's grasp, like a maggot that had been nailed to a dead body.

"You're asking for death!" Qiao Yuan's voice was squeezed out from between his teeth, each syllable carrying a bloodthirsty killing intent. His arm muscles bulged, almost crushing the fat neck bone. "Who gave you the guts to mention Bai Mu?! Huh?!"

Golden Tiger's tongue lolled out from his throat, his fat face contorted with oxygen deprivation, but the venom and maniacal laughter in his eyes only intensified. With his last ounce of strength, he forced out broken, vicious words from his constricted throat: "...You...are scared...haha...she...will...find...you...even...more...died...sooner...than...her..."

Qiao Yuan's arm tightened suddenly, and Golden Tiger's voice stopped abruptly.

Qiao Yuan's chest heaved violently, his eyes churning with a crimson storm of destruction. He stared intently at the fat face that was contorted and grotesque from suffocation. Finally, he forcibly suppressed the earth-shattering killing intent, and abruptly released his grip, as if throwing away a piece of dirty trash, slamming the Golden Tiger back onto the sofa!

Golden Tiger's massive body slammed onto the sofa with a dull thud. He curled up, coughing and gagging violently, his face streaked with tears and snot. He greedily swallowed large gulps of air, accompanied by a hoarse, bellowing sound, his fat trembling like rotten mud.

Qiao Yuan slowly and deliberately straightened the slightly wrinkled cuffs of his suit sleeves, his movements as elegant as if he were polishing a work of art. Then, he slowly drew a gleaming black Browning pistol from his lower back, and the cold muzzle pressed steadily and precisely against Huang Jinhu's sweat-drenched, still throbbing temple.

Golden Tiger's cloudy pupils dilated with extreme fear as he stared intently at the cold, hard muzzle of the gun pressed against his temple. His once arrogant demeanor vanished; the tyrant who had dominated Jiangcheng was now a pile of mangled flesh. He pleaded, "Don't...don't kill me."

Qiao Yuan coldly stared at Huang Jinhu, who was kneeling on the ground, trembling violently. Those eyes that had once dominated Jiangcheng were now filled with tears of terror. The Browning pistol in his hand slowly lowered.

“Send him back to his hometown in Suzhou.”

Two men in black stepped forward and lifted the limp Golden Tiger like a sack of potatoes. His crotch was soaked, and he was still muttering "Spare me... Spare me..." His voice was broken like a crushed leaf.

Qiao Yuan didn't look at him again, turned around and stepped over the threshold. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind him, shutting out the lingering fear and bloodstains inside.

In the shadows of the corridor outside the door, Uncle Chen stood there, the embers of his pipe flickering in the dim light.