Chapter Fifty-Seven: Officer Ah Fei

Ye Chong rose early. Grandpa Qian was getting on in years, and his health was not what it used to be, so Ye Chong naturally took it upon himself to be diligent.

He opened the shop door. It was still early, and there were few pedestrians on the street. Ye Chong casually pressed the switch for the air purifier on the wall. The device began to hum softly, releasing the faintest mist and a continuous stream of invigorating negative ions. In no time, the shop’s air was fresh and delightful. This model of air purifier was quite expensive, but it had been part of Grandpa Qian’s year-end welfare from the government, and he chose to install it in the shop.

Despite the nano dustproof flooring, daily cleaning was still necessary.

Eight metallic stands, shaped like flower buds, were set up in the shop. A gentle press on the tip of a bud would make it bloom like a real flower, unfolding four seats. The chairs were attached to the stands by metal frames at their bases. In the center of each stand was a round table that could expand or contract, its silvery-gray surface smooth and reflective. Embedded at the center was a payment device connected to the cash register via the shop’s optical computer; customers could settle their bills without ever having to leave their seats.

In one corner stood an automatic noodle machine, though it was rarely used, for the shop’s reputation rested on its handmade noodles—no machine could match the taste of those crafted by hand.

Grandpa Qian had originally wanted a more retro style, but the price of wood was astronomical, so he let go of the idea.

Soon enough, Grandpa Qian was up and joined in the cleaning.

As they finished, a middle-aged man with a cigar in his mouth walked in. Grandpa Qian paused in surprise. “Ah Fei, you’re early today!” The man, called Ah Fei, replied, “Morning, Uncle Qian. No choice, I’ve got things to do.” He chose a seat by the wall with practiced familiarity. Seeing the cigar, Grandpa Qian couldn’t help but scold, “Ah Fei, how many times have I told you? It’s bad for your health to smoke these things first thing in the morning. Why can’t you change?”

Ah Fei was momentarily embarrassed and hastily removed the cigar, laughing awkwardly. “Oops, I forgot!”

“What would you like to eat today?” Grandpa Qian asked.

“Plain noodles, Uncle Qian. Your handmade noodles are the best in the area! I haven’t been by in a while, and I’ve really missed them!” Ah Fei replied with a grin.

Grandpa Qian laughed cheerfully. “Ah, I’m getting old and not as skilled as I used to be, but fortunately I’ve got Ye here now. His noodles are even better than mine!” He wore an expression of pride. Then he called out, “Ye, one bowl of plain noodles!”

“Alright,” Ye Chong replied simply.

Ah Fei asked curiously, “Uncle Qian, did you hire someone?”

“No,” Grandpa Qian chuckled, “Ye is a distant relative. I was feeling lonely, so I brought him to stay with me.”

Ah Fei’s curiosity was piqued. “So where did he live before?”

Grandpa Qian’s expression changed slightly, and he hesitated. “Oh, a very distant place.”

Ah Fei quickly laughed it off. “Sorry, occupational habit acting up again, don’t mind me!”

Ye Chong’s voice came from the kitchen, “Grandpa Qian, we’re out of cilantro.” Grandpa Qian smacked his forehead, “How could I forget? That’s something we can’t do without.” He raised his voice, “Ye, I’m going out to buy some cilantro. Don’t forget to take care of the customers!” Ye Chong responded, and Grandpa Qian hurried out.

Ye Chong brought out a bowl of plain noodles, placed it on the circular table before Ah Fei, and murmured, “Enjoy your meal,” before turning to leave.

Ah Fei called after him, “Hey, young man, your name’s Ye?”

Ye Chong couldn’t say why, but this man made him uneasy and seemed vaguely familiar. He replied coolly, “Yes,” and turned to go.

“You killed those men that day, didn’t you?” Ah Fei took a drag of his cigar, which he had somehow relit, and spoke slowly.

Ye Chong’s eyes instantly turned cold. That sentence radiated danger. At last, he remembered: this man was one of the police officers he had seen that day—no wonder he felt threatened! Ye Chong didn’t have many ways to deal with danger, but the one he was most familiar with was to eliminate it. Almost instinctively, without a conscious thought, he chose the method he knew best.

His figure flickered as his right hand shot toward Ah Fei’s throat like lightning. The resulting gust of air swept away the cigar smoke in front of Ah Fei.

Ah Fei realized the instant he saw Ye Chong’s expression change that his guess had been correct, and he had been prepared for trouble. But Ye Chong’s speed was far beyond his expectations; even with his precautions, he only had time to raise his arm in defense.

Ye Chong snorted coldly, his right hand forming a fist that crashed into Ah Fei’s arm.

There was a sharp crack, followed by a muffled groan. Ah Fei’s face turned deathly pale. Ye Chong’s punch had broken his arm; the white bone pierced through the flesh, exposed to the air. Ah Fei broke out in a cold sweat from the pain, his right hand hanging uselessly. Seeing Ye Chong’s hand reaching for him again, and unable to defend himself, he cried out in desperation, “Uncle Qian!”

Ye Chong paused, and Ah Fei used the moment to scramble away, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath.

Ye Chong turned his head, realizing Grandpa Qian hadn’t returned at all. His face grew even colder as he turned back.

Between ragged breaths, Ah Fei said, “If you kill me, you’ll be hurting Uncle Qian!” Seeing a flicker of hesitation in Ye Chong’s eyes, Ah Fei brightened and pressed on, “If you kill me, the police will come looking for you. Sure, maybe you can escape, and they won’t catch you, but Uncle Qian can’t run. You’d better think carefully!”

For the first time, Ye Chong’s familiar method failed him. A wave of frustration swept through him, and the coldness in his gaze deepened. But reason told him that his opponent was right—he really couldn’t kill him.

At that moment, Mu suddenly piped up in Ye Chong’s mind, “Ye, this is a threat, and generally, it works rather well!”

Ye Chong, agitated and oppressed by the sense of danger, asked, “Mu, do you have any ideas?”

Mu snickered, his voice tinged with mischief, “Ye, give him a good beating. But don’t kill him.”

Delighted, Ye Chong trusted Mu and, without hesitation, launched a kick.

Ah Fei was shocked—could this man really be so ruthless? Did he not care about old Qian’s fate at all? Was his intelligence wrong?

Ye Chong’s kick landed squarely in Ah Fei’s abdomen, the tip of his shoe digging in. He had followed Mu’s advice not to kill, so he used only a third of his strength, but it was enough to make Ah Fei double up in agony. Ignoring his opponent’s pain, Ye Chong unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, venting all the frustration Ah Fei had caused him.

Poor Ah Fei was beaten nearly beyond recognition, but Ye Chong avoided the vital points and controlled his force perfectly. Though the pain was excruciating, Ah Fei remained conscious—no matter how strong-willed, he could not help but bitterly regret his attempt at probing Ye Chong.

“Grab his throat, but don’t suffocate him!” Mu cheered gleefully, like a little devil with black wings waving a tiny pitchfork.

Ye Chong followed Mu’s instructions to the letter.

“Tell him there are fifty-two people in their police station! And use a menacing tone!” The little devil flapped its wings.

Menacing? Ye Chong pondered what that might sound like, but it turned out he had a natural gift for it. Without any effort, his voice was as chilling as a winter wind, lowering the temperature in the shop and making Ah Fei feel as if a razor-sharp blade was pressed to his throat.

“There are fifty-two people at your station,” Ye Chong said coldly, the air around him filled with murderous intent.

Ah Fei’s expression changed at last.

“You have a wife and a daughter. Your home is in Guanghua District, n-14-328-24. Your wife’s name is He Yan, your daughter’s name is Meng Rui’er, and she is seven years old this year.” Ye Chong’s voice was detached, as if reciting something trivial.

Ah Fei’s face turned ashen, struck as if by lightning. No longer able to maintain his composure, he screamed hysterically, “Who—who are you? I warn you… if you touch them… I’ll fight you to the death!”

“Heh, scared him now, didn’t we? Just warn him and let him go!” The little devil waved its hand magnanimously.

“You’d better not get any ideas, or else…” Ye Chong threatened. Ah Fei could only muster a bitter smile—he knew he was truly finished this time.

Ah Fei wanted nothing more than to flee this place. As soon as Ye Chong let go, he staggered toward the exit. But Ye Chong called, “Wait!” Ah Fei’s heart skipped a beat. Ye Chong pointed to the bowl of noodles, “Pay your bill first.”

Watching the battered Ah Fei limp away, Ye Chong asked Mu, “How did you know this would work?”

Mu chuckled, “I’ve watched a few movies lately. There were scenes just like this!”

“How did you know how many people are in the police station, or where his family lives?”

“Oh, that was simple. I just hacked into their police records and pulled up his file. It was all there!”

“So this is what’s called a threat? Why is it more effective than killing him? Ironback Monitor Lizards never used this method…”

“Because he’s human,” Mu replied meaningfully.