Chapter 264: Give Me the Knife

Chapter 264: Give Me the Knife

These past few days had been a nightmare for Jiang Chuan.

He had been trying to flee. But while retrieving his passport, someone had struck him down from behind. Only after waking did he learn it was Old Dao’s men who had taken him. He asked why. No one answered. They blindfolded him, bound him, threw him into a vehicle, jolted him around again and again, moved him through several places, and after two days of it he finally arrived here.

From the names on the office buildings outside the windows and the advertisements on the buses along the way, he had worked out that he had been brought to Donghai.

Extreme fear and despair came with the knowledge.

Donghai was Li Ruotai’s territory.

Jiang Chuan did not know exactly how Li Ruotai, Wu Chen, and Old Dao stood to one another.

But he could picture the outcome. Whether he had fallen into Wu Chen’s hands or Li Ruotai’s, he would not survive. Worse, he might suffer a fate worse than death and drag his family down with him.

By noon today he had even begun thinking of dying.

He was going to die anyway. If he died early, the Ding family would not think him a traitor, and they would not harm his family.

He had made up his mind.

And then, out of nowhere, they had tied him up.

He did not know why. Before that they had only kept him locked in the room, unbound.

He fell into despair all over again.

Until Wu Chen appeared.

And with him, a sliver of hope.

“Let me go! Or I’ll kill him!” Jiang Chuan shouted again at the perfectly calm Wu Chen. The dagger pulled back slightly; he himself retreated a step.

The small man was trapped in his hold. A line of blood had already opened on his neck.

The man was highly skilled. But with the blade in Jiang Chuan’s hand he did not dare move rashly.

Jiang Chuan was better still. He was past forty and no longer what he had been in his youth, yet he remained formidable. Even Old Dao called him Master Chuan—not only because he was a man of the Ding family, but out of respect for a tough man, a man who could truly fight.

Barehanded, only Old Dao could hold him to even odds.

With firearms, Jiang Chuan was even better than Old Dao.

But with a knife, with cold weapons, Jiang Chuan could not beat Old Dao.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Fuck you!”

The bedroom door stood open. The other two in the living room caught what was happening and heard Jiang Chuan shouting. They came over cursing—one drawing a short knife, the other, the fair-skinned man in glasses, pulling a gun straight from inside his clothes and leveling it at Jiang Chuan.

“Let me go!” Jiang Chuan ignored them entirely.

He went on shouting at Wu Chen, wild with it, the veins standing out on his forehead.

Jiang Chuan knew perfectly well that these three trusted men of Old Dao’s carried guns. He also knew all three were men who would gamble their lives, men with blood on their hands. One against one, none of them was his match. But all three together could beat him, or kill him, without much trouble.

That was why he had not dared try anything these past days. He knew he had no chance. Taking one hostage would gain him nothing—the other two were the sort who would take the risk and shoot him anyway.

They were all men willing to gamble their lives.

Wu Chen’s arrival changed that.

Wu Chen was the one who could decide.

Taking a hostage was useless against men carrying out orders. It could work against the man in charge.

The difference was simple. If subordinates let a prisoner escape, they had no way to answer to the man above them; they had no authority to release him. But the man in charge was the boss. He could decide.

So Jiang Chuan had taken the small man hostage and shouted only at Wu Chen, threatening him, demanding release, ignoring the other two.

His only chance.

A desperate measure when there was no other choice.

He wanted to see whether Wu Chen would stand there and watch him kill one of his own. Doing that would make the rest of his men lose faith in him.

“Why bother?” Wu Chen looked at him and smiled, perfectly calm.

As he spoke he raised a hand, signaling the man with the gun to lower it.

“Let me go and I won’t hurt him! Whatever’s between you and the Ding family has nothing to do with me anymore! Let me go!” Jiang Chuan grew more agitated by the second. He could not hold it in. He had been bottling it up for days.

Had he seen Wu Chen the moment he was taken, he would never have been in this state.

He had spent these days thinking far too much. The more he thought, the more frightened he became. The more he thought, the more hopeless. His mind had already run through every twist and turn until it arrived at the state he was in now—the belief that he had finally seen it all clearly.

If he could run, he would run. If he could not, he would die.

There was no turning back.

“There’s a great deal you can’t make go away simply by declaring you’re not involved.” Wu Chen looked at him with a faint smile, his tone light.

“Take all the dirty work you’ve done for the Ding family over the years. If word of it gets out, your woman and children, far away in Jia State, Mi Country… might die in a fire. Or a robbery. Don’t you think?”

Jiang Chuan’s expression changed.

“I hear the scenery in Shengkela is quite good. It’s been two years since you were last there, hasn’t it?” Wu Chen added.

Then he smiled.

Jiang Chuan’s face changed drastically.

Two simple sentences, and Wu Chen had let loose an enormous amount of information.

Shengkela was a place name, a county under Jia State, Mi Country, and a very famous city besides. It formed part of Silicon Valley. The headquarters of many international corporate giants stood there. And in terms of population, more than thirty-five percent of the people there were Asian.

Jiang Chuan’s woman and children lived in Shengkela.

Not even anyone inside the Ding family knew that. They could find out if they looked into it. But before they looked, they certainly would not know.

Wu Chen knew.

He even knew that the last time Jiang Chuan had gone abroad to see his woman and children was two years ago.

“Don’t you want to talk to me?” Wu Chen asked, a trace of amusement in his voice.

He had named where Jiang Chuan’s woman and children lived. He had spoken of fires and car accidents.

Yes. Jiang Chuan had understood correctly.

Wu Chen was threatening him.

When he had dealt with Old Dao, Wu Chen had not wanted Old Dao to feel threatened. He had let Old Dao decide for himself. He had even handed Old Dao a gun.

With Jiang Chuan there was no need for that.

People differ. Jiang Chuan’s nature and Old Dao’s were far apart. Old Dao was the sort of man you could torture as you pleased and who would still say nothing. Jiang Chuan was not. Jiang Chuan’s mind was often far more flexible than Old Dao’s.

And Jiang Chuan’s circumstances were more complicated. He had worked for the Ding family for twenty years. And between Wu Chen and Ding Ruilong it was a fight to the death.

Wu Chen knew Jiang Chuan had already thought through every possibility. He also knew that if he had not specifically told Old Dao at noon today to have him tied up, Jiang Chuan would already have gone out the window.

The only leverage still able to restrain him was his woman and children.

Jiang Chuan stared at Wu Chen, eyes wide, the veins still standing on his forehead. His breathing came heavier.

At last—

he flung his knife hand out to the side and shoved the small man away with the other, sending him staggering two steps toward the door before he caught his balance.

Jiang Chuan still gripped the knife. He backed away until he reached the window.

He had released the hostage.

His position was made plain.

Yet he would not put down the blade. He wanted to talk to Wu Chen, but he did not want to place himself entirely at another man’s mercy. The knife was the only thing he could rely on.

In truth it was little more than psychological comfort. Wu Chen’s side had a gun. Holding a knife meant nothing.

The small man touched his neck, then turned and glared at Jiang Chuan in fury.

“Everyone out,” Wu Chen said.

The small man looked at Wu Chen, shot Jiang Chuan one more glare, and went. The other two at the doorway withdrew as well. All three returned to the living room.

Wu Chen closed the bedroom door.

Wu Chen by the door.

Jiang Chuan by the window.

Only the two of them left in the room.

Wu Chen strolled about the bedroom for a moment, taking in the filth and clutter. Then he stopped a little over a meter from Jiang Chuan, let his gaze settle on him, and put out a hand.

“Give me the knife.”

Jiang Chuan stared at him, breathing still heavy.

He raised his hand. Very slowly, he extended the knife toward Wu Chen.

Then, suddenly—

he let go.

The knife dropped straight toward the floor. Ordinarily that would split a person’s attention; their eyes would follow the falling blade on instinct.

In the instant after he released it, Jiang Chuan kicked straight at Wu Chen.

Extremely fast and forceful.