Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Underbelly of the World

After they left the club, the neon lights along the street still gleamed, and drunken patrons lay scattered everywhere. The two of them walked deeper into the district, where the surrounding shops grew ever more dazzling. Massive signs, their names etched in gilded letters, stationed several voluptuous women at their entrances.

That was the way of things here. Male attendants only hurried out to greet female customers or to assist with parking when needed. Should they offend a customer, upset a lady, or so much as scratch a bit of car paint, they would likely lose their meager wages and be out of a job. Typically, during quieter hours, the male staff would hide inside, silently awaiting their turn to serve.

But tonight, as Chen Qing followed Karans through the avenue, the male attendants' faces showed a mix of disdain, regret, and envy. In their eyes, guests escorted by immaculate butlers or staff were of a much higher class than themselves. They lingered in the shadows behind the doors, while the busty hostesses—all barely trained in etiquette—rushed out to greet newcomers.

Yet none of them approached Karans, nor did they spare him a second glance. Someone so sharply dressed, in a tailored suit and flawless at this late hour, could not possibly be the true patron of the party. They wouldn’t bat an eye at a peer. Instead, they clustered around the young man, pressing their curvaceous forms close, their heated bodies no match for the fervor in their hearts.

Encircling the youth, one of them asked, “Young sir, are you expected? Is someone waiting for you?”

Chen Qing nodded. Though he felt no particular affection for those at his side, neither did he reject them. “Someone is expecting me,” he replied.

He caught a whiff of their cheap perfume. An older woman elbowed her way to the front. “Sir, may I ask your name? I can check your reservation for you.”

Chen Qing hesitated, but as the others who were pushed aside showed no particular reaction, he said, “I don’t know the other person’s name. But he should have left mine—Chen Qing.”

“Chen Qing…” the woman murmured, her fingers flying over the tablet at her waist. In mere seconds, surprise replaced the polite smile on her face.

“You… The other party is Mr. Su. He did leave your name… Please confirm, are you here to handle a commission?” she asked again, her tone suddenly serious and a little nervous.

Her shoulders tensed, and she strained her arm and neck. Chen Qing, puzzled by her anxiety, nonetheless answered, “Yes. That’s me.” She was visibly nervous, though for what reason, he couldn’t say.

Chen Qing frowned. The woman hurried to explain, “Please forgive me… We are required to ask. It’s to ensure you don’t enter the wrong suite…”

She lowered her head, yet seemed unable to retreat, as if some force bound her in place. She stepped aside, arm outstretched to show Chen Qing the way forward.

She was trembling, her hand shaking uncontrollably. Chen Qing frowned and quickened his pace, passing in front of her. Yet, for reasons he could not explain, he felt that all of this was somehow cruel to her. With a sigh, he averted his gaze, hastened his steps, and chose not to look back.

Even so, he could not block out the subtle sound of her breathing as they entered the elevator. In the enclosed space, only her unsteady breath echoed. Chen Qing, increasingly baffled, turned to ask her, “How many years has this hotel been open?”

She flinched, then looked up at him beneath her brows. Seeing he meant nothing more, she gathered her courage and replied, “Perhaps eleven or twelve years. Some say the establishment is older than any of us… But according to the paperwork, it’s only been around a little more than a decade.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “And have you worked here long?”

“No… not really.” She paused, as if reluctant to say more. “I’m thirty-five… I lost my job just last month.” She managed a wan smile, tinged with regret. “Perhaps I wasn’t good enough, or not hardworking enough, or maybe I simply didn’t help the company enough.”

She laughed softly, but there was no joy in it.

“No compensation?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I went to the union, but they told me I hadn’t worked hard enough overtime.”

She chuckled faintly, for reasons she herself did not know. “I only had one day off in a month… They said I just didn’t work as hard as my colleagues. They urged me to go back and quickly find another job before arbitration started, in case a mark on my record made me unemployable.”

Chen Qing listened, but no words came. He was not skilled at comforting others, and perhaps this kind of thing was the norm in a place like this.

“At least this place pays on time,” he offered.

“Yes…” she smiled again. “At least here, we’re paid daily.”

As their conversation wound down, the elevator doors opened at just the right moment. She shielded the doors with one hand, letting Chen Qing step out onto the top floor, outside the private suites.

She hurried ahead, bowed slightly at Chen Qing’s side, and pointed the way forward. “It’s just ahead,” she said.

Chen Qing followed her into the suite, whereupon the woman remained outside, standing guard by the door, her nerves visibly frayed.

“This month’s pay is just about enough…” she murmured, a message arriving on her phone, which vibrated in her pocket by her leg. She dared not check it—being caught on camera would mean a deduction from her pay.

She clutched her pocket, feeling as if ants were crawling inside her heart. “Maybe the child is asking about food…” She shook her head. “Or maybe the child just misses me.”

A faint smile appeared on her face. She touched her pocket; as the vibration ceased, she breathed a sigh of relief—only to see a man hurrying toward her.

He wore a jacket with six or seven knotted buttons, a felt hat pressed his hair flat, and beneath it, silvery strands were visible. His steps were awkward, but his shoes gleamed. Glancing at the suite number, he ignored the woman at the door and pushed straight inside.

As for the woman, she was supposed to stop and question the man, but she dared not. If blame were to fall, perhaps the young man inside would be easier to reason with. Trembling, she patted the phone in her pocket, the warmth of its battery soothing her somewhat.

She glanced around—perhaps at the corner, she could sneak a look at her messages.

…

Inside, Chen Qing barely reacted to the arrival of the newcomer. He shelled sunflower seeds at the table, his mouth dry.

“Karans, see if there’s any water,” he said, lounging on the sofa, the most luxurious woven carpet spread at his feet.

Karans, crouching, poured fresh water from a pot. “He’s here,” he called out, his voice raised to direct the newcomer deeper inside.

The man entered, face pale, and after removing his hat, his hairline was revealed to have receded nearly to the crown. “You… are so young,” he murmured. He looked unwell, but some unspoken fear kept his words few.

“Don’t worry,” Chen Qing reassured him with a glance. “If nothing can be identified, another investigator will take your case.”

The man forced a smile and nodded. “My surname is Su. I own this place, and usually rest here. I haven’t been able to sleep deeply for some time… so…”

He nodded again, pulling a jade pendant from around his neck. It was wholly green, but at the center, a vivid red stain had seeped in, palm-sized, carved in the shape of a crocodile. That red patch, by chance or fate, marked the crocodile’s head.

“You know there’s something wrong with this, yet you still wear it?” Chen Qing asked, curious. He took the pendant, feeling its gentle warmth.

It was likely valuable. Holding it up to the light, he saw only the cloudy jade, opaque.

“I can’t let it go… I just can’t…” Mr. Su replied awkwardly, as if there was more he could not say.

“What happens if you take it off?”

He forced a laugh, but just then, someone pushed in from the hall. This new arrival wore a thick gold chain and a watch, yet was so thin that his shirt hung loosely on him.

“Come on! Tell me what’s wrong with this jade pendant!” he bellowed, his arrival cutting short Chen Qing’s inspection.

“Did you bring him?” Chen Qing asked Su.

“Yes… Well, not exactly.” Su nodded, his earlier deference fading. “He’s one of those who sold me the pendant. If it turns out to be the problem, they’ll have to refund my money.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then it has nothing to do with them, of course.”

No sooner had Mr. Su finished speaking than two more men entered. All three looked like streetwise drifters, idle wanderers. They raised their chins in Chen Qing’s direction, gesturing.

“So you’re the one who says the pendant’s bad? If there’s something to say, say it.”