Tòumíng stepped through the bronze door and into a world that looked exactly like what he'd expected to find on the other side of that white door.
The warehouse was massive, stretching back into darkness, the ceiling lost in shadows above. Rows upon rows of metal shelving units lined the space, each one stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic crates. Workers in white coats moved through the aisles with practiced efficiency, their movements smooth and mechanical, like they'd been doing this for years. The air was thick with the smell of chemicals—sharp and bitter, making his eyes water slightly.
And there, in the center of it all, were the bricks. Stacks and stacks of them, wrapped in plastic, bound with tape, each one stamped with a logo Tòumíng didn't recognize. Workers were loading them into boxes, sealing the boxes, then moving them toward a loading dock at the far end of the warehouse where a truck was waiting.
Tòumíng whistled softly. "Holy shit."
Lù Jī's grip on his arm tightened. Her eyes were wide, darting from side to side, taking in every detail of the operation. "There's so m-much of it," she whispered.
"I've never seen so m-much at once."
"Yeah, well, we're not here to sightsee." Tòumíng started walking forward, his gaze scanning the space, looking for anyone who might be in charge. "We need to find someone who can get us to Jin Chan."
Before he could get more than a few steps, a voice called out from somewhere to his left.
"Hey! You there! Can I help you with something?"
Tòumíng turned to see a man approaching. He was chubby, but not in the same way Xuān Láng was chubby, more of a soft, rounded build, like he'd been in shape once but had let himself go over the years. He was wearing a white coat like the other workers, but his was cleaner, newer, with a name tag pinned to the chest that read "Xióng Li."
Tòumíng straightened up, his bullshitting instincts kicking into high gear. He extended a hand, his grin wide and friendly. "Xióng Li! I've heard so much about you. I'm Tòumíng. I'm here about the Jin situation."
Xióng Li shook his hand, his grip firm but not aggressive. His eyes were sharp, assessing, taking in Tòumíng's appearance—the blood-stained clothes, the confident posture, the tiny frilly girl clinging to his arm. "I heard you were with Jin. You're here to discuss business?"
"Exactly," Tòumíng said, nodding sagely. "I was a business partner with Ào Shǔ before he died. We had some ongoing arrangements that I'd like to continue with Jin Chan now that he's taken over. I figured it was time to introduce myself and work out the details."
Xióng Li's expression flickered, something between suspicion and curiosity. He studied Tòumíng for a long moment, then gestured toward a door at the back of the warehouse. "Let's talk in my office. It's more private there."
They followed him through the warehouse, past the workers and the shelves and the stacks of drugs. The office was small, cluttered, filled with paperwork and filing cabinets and the general chaos of someone who was too busy to keep things organized. Xióng Li settled into a chair behind his desk, gesturing for Tòumíng and Lù Jī to sit in the two chairs facing him.
Just as Tòumíng was about to launch into another round of bullshitting, the earpiece crackled to life.
"We can't help you any longer," the voice said, clipped and professional. "This is as far as we'll be involved. You're on your own from here."
"Wait, what—" Tòumíng started, but the earpiece went silent. Completely dead. The connection was gone.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.
Xióng Li tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Everything alright?"
"Fine," Tòumíng said, forcing a grin. "Just a little static. Old equipment. You know how it is."
Xióng Li didn't look convinced, but he let it slide. He cleared his throat, folded his hands on the desk, and leaned forward slightly. "As you know, Jin Chan recently took over Ào Shǔ's operation. It's been a... transitional period. Some things have changed. Some things have stayed the same."
Tòumíng nodded, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "I'm aware. That's actually why I'm here. I was hoping to continue my arrangement with the new management."
Xióng Li's eyes studied him, searching for something. "What exactly was your arrangement with Ào Shǔ?"
"Various things," Tòumíng said vaguely. "Gemstones. Mining. Some other side ventures. Nothing too major, but profitable enough to maintain a relationship."
"Mm." Xióng Li leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "I'm afraid my clearance isn't high enough to make those kinds of decisions. I'm just a middle manager. I handle the day-to-day operations, but anything involving new partnerships has to go through Jin Chan directly."
Tòumíng's heart sank. He'd been hoping to get information from Xióng Li, to find a way to Jin Chan without having to actually meet the man face to face. But it seemed his options were limited.
Before he could respond, a rotary phone on Xióng Li's desk started ringing. The old-fashioned kind, with the spinning dial and the distinctive trill that seemed almost comically out of place in a modern drug warehouse.
Xióng Li picked it up, his expression shifting to one of professional attention. "Yes? Mm-hmm. Yes, he's here. Really? Right now?" He glanced at Tòumíng, his eyebrows rising slightly. "Yes, sir. I'll put him on."
He held out the phone to Tòumíng, his expression unreadable. "It's for you. It's Jin Chan."
Tòumíng's blood ran cold. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the phone, his heart hammering in his chest. He brought the receiver to his ear, forcing his voice to remain steady.
"Hello?"
"Tòumíng!" The voice on the other end was warm, almost cheerful, completely at odds with the cold-blooded killer Tòumíng had been expecting. "I'm so glad you came by. My receptionist told me you were asking for me. I've been hoping to meet you for a while now."
Tòumíng's throat was dry. "You have?"
"Of course! Anyone who's connected to Ào Shǔ's operation is someone I want to know. And I've heard such interesting things about you. The gemstone smuggling. The connections to the Ice Queen. The... shall we say, unique approach to debt collection."
Tòumíng's heart drop, how did he know that... But heforced a chuckle, trying to sound casual. "Yeah, well, I do what I have to do to survive."
"Admirable," Jin Chan said, and Tòumíng could hear the smile in his voice. "I respect resourcefulness. It's a rare quality in this business. Most people just roll over and accept whatever comes their way. But you? You fight. You push back. You find creative solutions to difficult problems. That's the kind of person I want on my team."
"Team?"
"Team," Jin Chan confirmed. "I'm building something new, Tòumíng. Something bigger than what Ào Shǔ had. And I need people who can think on their feet, who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty, who understand that the rules are just suggestions."
Tòumíng's mind was racing. This was too easy. Way too easy. Jin Chan was being too friendly, too welcoming, too eager to bring him into the fold. It didn't feel right. It felt like a trap.
"That sounds... interesting," he said carefully. "What did you have in mind?"
"I'd rather discuss it in person," Jin Chan said. "How about tomorrow morning? Eight AM? We can meet at the Ào Shǔ mansion. I'll have breakfast prepared. We can talk about the future of your business."
Tòumíng's instincts were screaming at him to say no. Every survival instinct he'd developed over three years of debt collection and gang violence was telling him to decline, to run, to get as far away from this situation as possible.
But he couldn't. He needed information. He needed to find a way to stop Jin Chan before he killed more people, before the power vacuum got worse, before Ghost Claw's team lost their revenue entirely. And the only way to get that information was to go along with this.
"Sure," he said, forcing enthusiasm into his voice. "Eight AM. That sounds great. I'll be there."
"Wonderful! I look forward to meeting you properly, Tòumíng. I have a feeling we're going to be very good friends."
The line went dead.
Tòumíng lowered the phone, his hand trembling slightly. He set it back on the receiver and looked at Xióng Li, who was watching him with an expression of mild curiosity.
"Everything alright?" Xióng Li asked.
"Fine," Tòumíng said, his voice flat. "Just fine."
He stood up, his legs slightly unsteady, and gestured for Lù Jī to follow him. They left the office, walked back through the warehouse, past the workers and the shelves and the stacks of drugs. Lù Jī was still clinging to his arm, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open.
"Did everything go well?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain. "Did you get what you n-needed?"
Tòumíng didn't answer. He couldn't. His mind was racing, his heart still pounding, his instincts screaming at him that something was very, very wrong.
"I know you're worried," Cupid's voice came from inside his chest, quiet and serious. "But do you think he actually bought your bullshit?"
Tòumíng stopped walking. He stood in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by workers and drugs and the hum of fluorescent lights, and let out a slow, shaky breath.
"No," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not for a second. He knows exactly what I am. He's just playing with me. And I walked right into it."