Ghost Claw's Base - One Hour Later
Eric dropped Tòumíng off at the alley entrance to Ghost Claw's base, his truck rumbling away as Tòumíng pushed through the main door.
The hallway was empty, unusually quiet for a building that normally had at least some activity. Everyone was either in their rooms or upstairs doing whatever vigilantes did during downtime.
Tòumíng climbed the stairs to the second floor, his healed-but-still-sore leg protesting slightly, and heard loud bickering coming from one of the rooms.
He followed the sound and entered what appeared to be a recreation room—pool table, dartboard, old couches, a ping-pong table currently being used by Marco and Polo.
They were mid-argument, their voices raised, their identical faces flushed with frustration.
"THAT SERVER BRUSHED THE NET!" Polo yelled, pointing accusingly at his twin. "IT'S A FOUL! POINT GOES TO ME!"
"YOU NEED TO GET YOUR FUCKING EYES CHECKED!" Marco shot back. "IT DIDN'T TOUCH THE NET! IT WAS CLEAN! YOU'RE JUST SALTY BECAUSE YOU'RE LOSING!"
"I'M NOT LOSING! YOU'RE CHEATING!"
"HOW AM I CHEATING?! IT'S PING-PONG! THERE'S NO WAY TO CHEAT!"
Tòumíng cleared his throat. "Hey. Where are Xuān Láng and Háo Héng?"
Both twins momentarily stopped their argument, turning to acknowledge him.
"Guest rooms," Marco said, jerking his thumb down the hallway. "Five doors down on the left."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
The moment Tòumíng left, they immediately went back to fighting.
"IT TOUCHED THE NET!"
"IT DID NOT!"
Tòumíng walked down the hallway, counting doors, and stopped at the fifth one. He could hear Xuān Láng's voice through the door—talking on the phone, his tone defensive and pleading.
Tòumíng knocked once, then entered without waiting for permission.
Xuān Láng was sitting on the bed, his phone held up in front of him on a video call. His expression was stressed, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool temperature.
"Ling, sweetheart, I promise I'm not screwing around with girls! I just can't come home right now because—"
A young woman's voice came through the phone, cutting him off with obvious skepticism. "Dad, you haven't picked up your phone in TWO DAYS! Two! Days! And now you suddenly call saying you're at a 'friend's house'? Do you think I'm stupid?!"
"I'm NOT lying! I really am at a friend's—"
"SHOW ME THEN! Show me this 'friend'!"
Xuān Láng's eyes went wide with panic. He looked at Tòumíng and silently mouthed: PLEASE. HELP ME.
His hands were clasped together in a begging gesture, his expression absolutely desperate.
Tòumíng rolled his eyes but walked over and picked up the phone, angling it so the camera could see his face.
He started to construct an elaborate lie. "Hi, I'm—"
"WAIT!" The girl's voice interrupted immediately. "Aren't you, like, the, like, bleeding kid I saw, like, last month or whatever?"
Tòumíng squinted at the screen, his brain processing the face he was seeing.
Valley Girl. Early twenties. Lots of makeup. The distinctive way of talking where every sentence had at least three instances of "like."
THIS WAS THE FUCKING VALLEY GIRL FROM THE ROAD.
The one who'd seen him covered in blood, looking absolutely suspicious.
He tried to calm down, tried to maintain composure, but she was already laughing—a high-pitched, somewhat mocking sound.
"Oh my GOD! My friends found you SOOOOO funny! Like, you were just, like, standing there all bloody and dramatic and stuff! Are you, like, a charity case or something? Is my dad, like, helping poor people now? That's, like, so unlike him!"
Tòumíng felt his temper flare. The mocking tone. The "charity case" comment. The casual disrespect.
His expression hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.
"I'm not tolerating that type of disrespect. You want me to make your father's life harder?"
The implication was clear: gangster. Criminal. Someone who could cause serious problems.
Ling's laughter stopped immediately. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"
Tòumíng fully committed to the Stone Crusher persona—the one he'd used at the phone store. Loose shoulders. Casual posture. Dead eyes. The body language of violence.
"Your father," he said slowly, deliberately, "is a good debtor. We worked some stuff out. He helped me when I was bleeding, so I forgave some... discrepancies. Recently he called in a favor in exchange for one back. And that was an offer I could not refuse."
He let the last sentence hang, the obvious Godfather reference adding weight to the threat.
Ling's face on the screen went from scared to absolutely AMAZED in the span of about two seconds.
"OMG! ARE YOU, LIKE, THOSE MAFIA-TYPE GUYS?! EEEEEEE!"
Her voice pitched up with genuine excitement, all fear immediately replaced with fangirl enthusiasm.
"I LOVE THAT! Like, it's literally my DREAM to, like, date a gangster and, like, turn him into a good guy! You know? Like that whole 'I can fix him' thing! Like, imagine—"
She started acting out a scenario, her hands gesturing dramatically.
"—like, you're about to, like, kill some guy, right? And I'm like, 'Baby, this isn't like you!' and you're like, 'You're right, I've changed!' and then we, like, kiss in the rain or whatever! ISN'T THAT, LIKE, SO ROMANTIC?!"
Tòumíng rolled his eyes so hard it physically hurt, but he maintained the persona for Xuān Láng's sake.
Ling continued, completely absorbed in her own fantasy. "And, like, I think you're pretty cute! Like, in that rough, dangerous way! So I was wondering, like, could I maybe, like, date you? In exchange for, like, my dad's debt being, like, forgiven? That would be, like, SO cool! My friends would be, like, SO jealous!"
Tòumíng looked at Xuān Láng with an expression that clearly communicated: Are you serious right now?
Xuān Láng was frantically nodding, his hands still clasped in prayer position, silently begging: PLEASE SAY YES. PLEASE. I'M DESPERATE.
Tòumíng sighed heavily. "Ughhhh. Well, I suppose—"
"EEEEEEEE!"
Ling's scream of excitement was so loud it distorted the phone's speaker.
"OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! I'm, like, TOTALLY telling my friends! I'm going on a date with a GANGSTER! This is, like, the BEST DAY EVER! EEEEE!"
She was practically vibrating with excitement, her phone camera shaking as she jumped around her room.
Tòumíng hung up before she could continue, his ears already ringing from the pitch of her voice.
He looked at Xuān Láng with the most exhausted expression he'd ever worn.
"You owe me. Big time."
Xuān Láng nodded vigorously, relief flooding his features. "Yes! Absolutely! Whatever you need! I'm doing 95% market value on all your gems from now on! That's a five percent markup from before! You'll make so much more money!"
Tòumíng's exhausted expression immediately shifted to a grin. "Deal."
Xuān Láng sagged with relief, then immediately pivoted to his next request. "Speaking of the shop... I need you to help me run it for a bit. Just a few days while I sort out this Black Hawk situation and—"
"No."
"Please! I'm begging you! Just—"
"No."
"I'll give you my blessing to marry my daughter! Official permission! You can—"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO. NEVER."
Xuān Láng sighed in defeat, slumping back on the bed. "At least I tried."
He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then muttered under his breath, "I really need to get that girl out of my house. She's twenty and still acts like she's sixteen. It's exhausting."
Tòumíng patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Good luck with that."
"Thanks. I'll need it."