Chapter 1
THE AREA NORTH of Nanping Boulevard in Huashi, a district within the city of Yancheng, was like a demon with a half-painted face. A wide, straight road split the district clean in two. To the east lay one of the metropolis’s most prosperous commercial centers; to the west was the forgotten old town, a gathering place for the poor.
In recent years, real-estate bids on the East Side soared astronomically, and good fortune spilled over into the old town, which was in dire need of redevelopment. Like a boat on a rising tide, however, the cost of demolishing the old-town buildings and relocating their residents climbed too, scaring off several developers and creating division in the narrow, impoverished western streets. Those who dwelt in the hazardous buildings dreamed all day of the sudden wealth their modest square footage of space would bring them. In their hearts, they were already basking in a sense of superiority produced by the millions they’d make once their homes were demolished.
Of course, these “slumdog millionaires” still had to slip on their sandals and line up to empty their chamber pots every day.
This early in the summer, the nights still had a chill to them. The hint of warmth left over from the daylight hours was soon overpowered, and the unlicensed barbecue stalls crowding the western streets furled their banners one by one, admitting defeat. Even the residents enjoying the respite from the summer heat went home early. Occasionally, one of the old streetlights flickered wildly due to the erratic power supply—mostly because the apartments nearby were siphoning power through illegal lines. Meanwhile, the night had just begun in the bright, bustling area only one road’s width away.
In a café on the outskirts of the East Side’s commercial center, a barista finally caught her breath after handling a huge wave of customers. Before she could force her smile-stiffened features back to their natural state, however, the little bell above the glass door rang once again. The barista stuck her standard toothy grin back in place. “Welcome.”
“One decaf vanilla latte, please.”
The customer was a tall, slender young man with hair that fell almost to his shoulders. He wore a severe pressed suit, and thin metal glasses perched on the high bridge of his nose. As he looked down, searching for his wallet, his long locks curled under his chin and veiled part of his face. Exposed to the light, his lips and the bridge of his nose seemed layered with a pale glaze.
No human heart was unmoved by beauty, and the barista couldn’t help stealing a few more looks. Guessing at his preferences, she tried to strike up a conversation. “Would you like me to use the sugar-free syrup?”
“No. And extra syrup, please.”
The customer looked up as he handed over the cash, and his eyes met the barista’s. Perhaps out of politeness, he smiled at her. His eyes curved a little behind the lenses of his glasses, and a hint of warmth and flirtatiousness pierced his somber facade. Only then did the barista realize that his good looks weren’t the dignified, decent sort; there was a playful, amorous flair to his gaze. She flushed inexplicably and quickly broke eye contact, looking down to punch in his order.
Just then, a delivery man arrived with a shipment for the café. Desperate for a diversion, the barista greeted him loudly and asked him to come around back for the shipment inspection. The delivery man, who was only about twenty, seemed to radiate youth as he bounded into the store, backlit by the glimmer of twilight outside. A dark-skinned man, he grinned widely before booming, “Hello, miss! You look great today! Business must be pretty good, huh?”
The barista was paid a fixed salary every month—she wasn’t really hoping that business would boom. When she heard his ridiculous attempt to butter her up, she waved a hand, mildly exasperated. “It’s all right. You can get to work. I’ll bring you a glass of ice water when you’re done.”
Making a bright noise of assent, the young delivery man reached up to wipe sweat from his brow. The small, crescent-shaped scar on his temple made him look like a Justice Bao1 who’d accidentally shifted his signature birthmark across his head. He moved swiftly, completing the inventory check within the time it took the barista to make her customer’s coffee.
Done with his work, he leaned on the counter and waited for his water. “Hey, miss,” he asked casually, “do you know which building Chengguang Mansion is in?”
“Chengguang Mansion?” The name rang a faint bell for the barista, but she couldn’t place it immediately, so she shook her head. “Not sure. Why?”
“Oh…” The young man looked down slightly and scratched the back of his head with one hand. “It’s nothing. I just heard that they’re hiring delivery drivers there.”
The barista wasn’t the perceptive type; she didn’t notice his guilty fidgeting. “I’ll ask someone for you, then,” she responded easily, fitting a lid onto the paper cup for the customer. “Here’s your drink, sir. Careful, it’s hot.”
The customer, who seemed to have a lot of time on his hands at the moment, looked up at the young delivery man. “Chengguang Mansion isn’t in the commercial buildings,” he drawled. “It’s a private members’ club behind those. What—are they hiring their own delivery drivers? I’m heading over; want me to show you the way there?”
At last, the barista smelled something fishy. She peered up at the young delivery man with suspicion. “A private club?”
Realizing he’d been seen through, the delivery man pulled a face. He picked up his ice water and inventory list, then dashed off.