Chapter Twelve: Entering the Game (Part One)

Zhang Maolin’s reverie was abruptly shattered by the ringing of the clock at four in the morning, and the vivid scenes of the past instantly vanished. He slipped into his deep blue synthetic fleece pajamas and slowly paced around the living room a few times. When the drowsiness eased somewhat, he sat back down on the sofa to leaf through the pictures and written materials about Wen Luzhao’s incident, which Tao Kan had procured. Picking up a pencil, he scribbled circles, dots, and symbols only he could decipher in the blank spaces of the papers.

Zhang Maolin stretched his waist and abdomen with effort; it seemed the long winter night had been whiled away through fragments of memory. Drawing back the curtains in the living room, he saw the faint light of dawn outside. He knew that going back to bed at this hour would not bring restful sleep but rather a whole day of mental fog, so he decided to wash up and make breakfast instead.

...

Bian Zecheng did not knock.

Seeing the office door slightly ajar, he slipped quietly inside without a sound.

At that moment, Zhang Maolin was bent over, watering the Milan flower by the window sill. Bian Zecheng approached silently, intending to play a prank and startle him.

Just as Bian Zecheng was about to lean in and shout, Zhang Maolin suddenly let out a loud, foul-smelling fart that hit Bian Zecheng’s senses with full force.

Instantly, Bian Zecheng felt as if his respiratory passages were completely blocked, overwhelmed by nausea. Helpless, he covered his face and retreated.

“Heh heh, kid! You think you can fool old Zhang? Ever since you stepped in, your shadow’s been reflected all over the aquarium glass. Did you think I’m some pushover? Ha ha ha…” Zhang Maolin laughed heartily.

Seeing Zhang Maolin’s gloating expression, Bian Zecheng was speechless and could only respond with an awkward chuckle.

“You’re just wandering around with nothing better to do, yet you clutch a stack of documents to look professional? If you really want to show dedication, better go impress Provincial Bank Governor Tan’s office. Trying to show off here is worthless—and you’ll have to endure authentic fart odor!” Zhang Maolin teased.

“All right, I admit it—I’ve been completely outwitted by you old Zhang!” Bian Zecheng raised both hands in a comical gesture of surrender and added,

“Didn’t you hear the ruckus in my office just now? The entire row of radiators in the third group burst. The plumbers are down in the boiler room fixing it; they say it won’t be done until tomorrow morning at best. I was at my wit’s end, so I thought I’d come bother you for a laugh! Haha, tried to catch a fox but just got covered in its stink! Nearly knocked over by your rear salvo, heh heh heh…”

Bian Zecheng joked self-deprecatingly.

“Hmph, you’re sensible, kid. I’m no pushover! Since a friend’s come from next door, we might as well make a fuss! Tonight, I, Secretary Zhang, will treat you, Director Bian. Tell me, what do you want to eat? I’ll dip into my salary to satisfy your appetite.”

Zhang Maolin set down the watering can and wiped his wet hands on his pants haphazardly.

“No need, no need. Tonight’s on me, little brother. It’s been a long time since we had a good chat.”

Bian Zecheng’s sincerity was evident.

“Cut it out! Every time we drink, your crowd of scoundrels gets me so drunk I’m spouting nonsense! Your wife’s been cursing you behind your back for that,” Zhang Maolin said.

“Heh heh, not tonight, not tonight! We’ll toast with tea instead—no alcohol at all!” Bian Zecheng insisted.

Zhang Maolin quickly shot back,

“Oh ho, that’s a twist! If you don’t drink, it’s like a mouse raising a cat—makes no sense!”

...

Almost all the teahouses in Songyang City clustered along both sides of Sandalwood Road near the train station. Though none of the shops had wide storefronts, their decor was exquisite and refined. Most owners were veteran tea merchants from Zhejiang, Fujian, Jiangxi, Sichuan, and other provinces, long settled and prosperous in Songyang.

At sunset, as twilight deepened, the seven-colored lights flanking the teahouse entrances glowed especially bright. Well-dressed men frequenting the place were always surrounded by groups of pearl-adorned, finely dressed tea girls bustling in and out.

Following Bian Zecheng’s plan, the two took a taxi and hurriedly got off at the corner of a narrow alley on Sandalwood Road.

“Why get off so early? There’s still a long way ahead,” Zhang Maolin muttered, puzzled and suspicious as he looked at Bian Zecheng.

Ignoring him, Bian Zecheng grabbed Zhang Maolin’s arm and hurried down one side of the narrow alley.

The surroundings felt completely unfamiliar to Zhang Maolin, as if they had entered another city. Despite living in Songyang for over thirty years, he had never ventured into such a narrow, quiet, and secluded alley.

“Hey, Zecheng, what are you up to? Why leave the taxi and walk into this dark, deserted place?”

Zhang Maolin kept asking, but Bian Zecheng remained silent. He tugged Zhang Maolin’s sleeve tighter and quickened his pace, almost jogging.

Zhang Maolin’s breathing grew rapid...

They arrived at a luxuriously decorated KTV private room.

What struck Zhang Maolin most was the unique walls, entirely clad in semi-circular birch wood panels. The silver-white birch bark was perfectly preserved, and with the tasteful lighting, sitting on the sofa felt like being immersed in a tranquil birch forest.

The floor was paved with apricot-yellow artificial marble tiles, each a foot square.

Near the corner, the wall displayed undulating hills sculpted from plaster, sprinkled with thick, fluffy foam snowflakes that looked incredibly lifelike.

Surrounding the ceiling was a genuine “Yadike” sound system. From eight reddish-brown speakers floated Richard Clayderman’s piano piece—“Mariage d’Amour.”

Zhang Maolin’s gaze finally settled on the tea table in the center of the room:

It was a remarkable piece, carved meticulously from a massive, oval tree root. Zhang Maolin could not immediately identify the species of the wood, but judging by the size and shape, it must have come from a giant tree decades or even centuries old. Most astonishing was a thick root curling up at one corner, splitting at the end into two slightly thinner branches forming a “V” shape. Zhang Maolin gently prodded it and realized it was entirely natural, not artificially assembled.

“Who would have thought that such a rare treasure could be found right here in little old Songyang!” Zhang Maolin exclaimed, impressed.

...