Chapter 122

"You wouldn't be preparing to arrest Brother Zheng, would you?" I furtively glanced at the harmonious guests, seeing nothing abnormal. Moreover, I couldn't tell which were attendees and which were plainclothes in disguise.

Chen Mo gasped: "Who said I want to arrest Chen Zheng?"

"Well, if you're not arresting Brother Zheng, why bring so many people in?"

Chen Mo glanced around, then leaned close to my ear and lowered her voice: "The gang leader of the Fierce Tiger Gang, Northeast Tiger, is dead—he died at three a. m. last night. We've investigated; before his death he had a clash with East Mausoleum's top enforcer, Fan Wuchang. Now everyone on the streets suspects that Chen Zheng killed Northeast Tiger."

"Ah, Northeast Tiger is dead—how did he die?" I was first startled, then frowned and asked Chen Mo: "Do you suspect that Northeast Tiger was killed by either Chen Zheng or Fan Wuchang?"

"No," Chen Mo shook her head firmly: "Chen Zheng couldn't have killed Northeast Tiger; he wouldn't do such a foolish thing. So, Chen Zheng is the least suspicious."

Chen Mo's words sparked my curiosity: "With Northeast Tiger dead, Chen Zheng could monopolize Aomen's underworld; anyone can see he's the biggest beneficiary. So how come, to you, he's become the least suspicious?"

Chen Mo shook her head, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as if mocking my ignorance: "You don't understand Aomen's situation; East Mausoleum and the Fierce Tiger Gang appear to be opposed, but in fact they are maintaining a balance—a balance that all the bigwigs and we police hope to see."

Seeing me lost in confusion, Chen Mo had no choice but to patiently continue explaining.

"In this city of Aomen, the underworld's roots run deep, tightly tied to the interests of Aomen's major casinos. If the underworld were uprooted, it would certainly harm the casinos' interests; once all casinos shut down, Aomen's economy would instantly collapse."

"But from a businessman's perspective, one certainly doesn't want only a single business partner, nor does one want Aomen to have just one underworld group to cooperate with. Because then the stakes would be raised without limit, and in serious cases one could even be controlled by others. The casino magnates of Aomen are crafty old foxes; how could they allow such a situation?"

After taking a sip of red wine, Chen Mo continued in a low voice to dispel my doubts: "Third, the existence of the underworld is mainly for profit, while we police merely seek harmony; as long as our goals don't clash, the two can coexist. The underworld's history predates our police elections by far. We police cannot eradicate them completely. Therefore, we must keep them within a controllable range. We absolutely forbid any gang from becoming dominant; we must maintain this delicate balance."

"So, once the Fierce Tiger Gang falls, Brother Zheng will become an enemy of all Aomen's bigwigs and the police. Given Brother Zheng's wisdom, he would never do such a thing." After a moment, I finally understood what Chen Mo meant.

While understanding, I also felt a secret alarm at Aomen's murky waters.

This move is nothing less than the ancient strategists' and rulers' favored tactic of uniting to counterbalance: support one side, strike another; when a side is weak, help the weak side suppress the strong; when a strong side is about to collapse, decisively crush the rising side.

In short, whether it's dogs biting dogs or thieves fighting thieves, I will pull this situation to a point of balance, preventing any side from tipping.

And the behind-the-scenes operator of all this is obviously the police and the bigwigs of Aomen's various factions.

"If what you say is true, once the Fierce Tiger Gang falls, will the police and the casino bigwigs soon move against Chen Zheng?" Having recovered from my shock, I continued discussing with Chen Mo; her earlier words suddenly let me grasp many things.

"No," Chen Mo extended her slender jade finger and made a "no" gesture before me.

"Before we have a firm grasp on controlling the situation, we will absolutely not move against Chen Zheng. At least judging by past circumstances, Chen Zheng is still relatively upright, and East Mausoleum enjoys a far better reputation among Aomen's populace than the utterly wicked Fierce Tiger Gang."

"Then what's your purpose here?" After going around in circles, I felt dizzy again. Since you don't want anything to happen to Chen Zheng, why are the police mixing into the banquet? Could it be just to have a meal? This far-fetched excuse—I wouldn't believe it, let alone a three-year-old.

"Our purpose for mixing in?" Chen Mo's gaze sharpened, and she said solemnly: "It's to protect Chen Zheng."

"With Northeast Tiger dead, everyone on the streets assumes East Mausoleum did it. We received word that Northeast Tiger's brother, the Down-the-Mountain Tiger, rallied the remnants of the Fierce Tiger Gang, hired mercenaries from Southern Viet, and plans to kill Chen Zheng at his birthday banquet—tonight—as a sacrifice to Northeast Tiger."

Chen Mo's index finger lightly tapped the table, her brows furrowed, resembling a female Zhuge Liang plotting strategy: "If Chen Zheng dies, Aomen's underworld will instantly plunge into chaos. Hong Kong and Thai gangs will seize the chance to infiltrate Aomen, and the various big and small gangs previously suppressed by the Fierce Tiger Gang and East Mausoleum will also stir up trouble. … This would plunge Aomen into a prolonged period of turmoil, which we police cannot bear."

Aomen's waters are truly not ordinarily deep; they twist and turn like a nine-curve, eighteen-bend Eight Trigrams formation, going round and round until one's mind can't keep up. Fortunately, Pangzi and I are here only to look at feng shui; if we were forced to rack our brains all day like those top figures, scheming and fighting, we'd probably end up with worn-out minds before our bodies aged. I looked up at the sky and gave a silent wry smile.

"By the way, there's one more thing. I think it's necessary to tell you." Chen Mo's face instantly turned somewhat pallid, as if recalling something terrible.

As I wondered why her expression changed so quickly, she, looking shaken, told me: "We've examined Northeast Tiger's corpse—he… he died in exactly the same way as the female corpse in the alley. His face still bears unretracted terror, but his body is intact, without a single wound. I suspect…" Saying this, Chen Mo shuddered with terror, her face pale with fear: "I suspect that the killer of Northeast Tiger is the monster we encountered in that alley that day."

Chen Mo's words inexplicably made me think of that eerie serpent infant, and my body involuntarily shuddered.

"Hey, isn't that Chen the beauty? Why are you here too?" Just as I was about to ask Chen Mo again, Pangzi suddenly appeared like a lurking ghost, holding a bowl of udon noodles, chewing the noodles indistinctly as he gazed at Chen Mo.

"What, do you have to micromanage where Miss goes?" Chen Mo has never given Pangzi a pleasant look.

With a gurgling sound, Pangzi swallowed the udon in his mouth, then suddenly gave a lewd smile: "Where, where… Miss Chen, beloved by all, flowers bloom at her sight—tonight honoring my humble abode is simply to let my shack shine with splendor, celestial air floating, fairies scattering flowers, all kinds of things…"

I shoved him hard: "Pangzi, what exactly are you trying to say? What 'humble abode,' what 'all kinds of things'—is this your house? Can you speak like a human?"

Pangzi scratched his head, his lewdness turning sheepish: "Well, I spoke too rudely in the park that day… isn't this me expressing my apology?"

Chen Mo: "……"

I: "……" Your apology is so "outstanding" that you could be considered unconventional.

"Who wants your apology? Get lost…" After a moment, Chen Mo, her head full of black lines, roared angrily at Pangzi, lifted her head like a proud peacock, and turned to leave.

Not long after, Chen Mo suddenly turned back and gently urged me: "You were also present when I clashed with Northeast Tiger last night—be careful too."

After saying that, Chen Mo's warm smile vanished instantly; her gaze turned cold as it passed over Pangzi, she gave a disdainful hum, and walked away—this time without looking back.

Behind me, Pangzi scratched his head, looking innocent: "Is she forgiving me or still hating me… and why is she being so gentle with you?"

Helpless, I could only rub my forehead and retort irritably to Pangzi: "Ask your dad."

Pangzi gave an "oh," then lowered his head; others calmly shoved forkfuls of udon into their mouths, looking like starving ghosts reincarnated who could never get enough.

I could only rub my forehead again and sigh to the heavens, thinking: I, Hai Sheng Chen, have a lifetime of reputation—how did I end up with such a stupid brother?

Although we haven't known each other long, I can be certain that in Chen Mo's heart she is completely fond of Pangzi. Including that moment just now when she deliberately acted gentle toward me—on the surface gentle, but actually it was all for Pangzi's benefit.

This is a manifestation of lovers fallen in love, influenced by personality traits. When she likes someone, she doesn't say it outright or tell you; instead she treats the people around you with special gentleness and kindness. Her aim isn't to truly like that person beside you, but to draw your attention. Of course, if you thus become jealous, that plays right into her hands.

This trait appears among those who are image-conscious and excessively proud—regardless of gender.

Obviously, Chen Mo is proud and image-conscious, yet she also likes Pangzi. Her gentleness toward me is merely using me as a pawn to draw Pangzi's attention.

But… when a proud girl meets a naturally clueless fat guy, the so-called stimulation merely results in that seemingly honest fellow gulping down udon noodles, utterly oblivious to the girl's thoughts, and instead finding the bowl of udon far cuter than the girl herself.

At the banquet a strange scene appeared: a chubby boy holding a basin of udon noodles, gulping them down big mouthfuls. Beside him, a frail boy watched him while hanging his head in dejection, silently gazing at the sky.

Not long after, Fan Wuchang, having finished teasing an old lady, walked over to us.

Fan Wuchang said Brother Zheng would be coming down shortly, and ordered us not to run around.

And at that moment, the dazed, gluttonous Pangzi finally became aware.

"Wow, Brother Chang, you're really cool today—exceptionally cool!" The gluttonous Pangzi put down his udon and began circling Fan Wuchang.

Fan Wuchang gave him a contemptuous glance: "This is something everyone in the world knows; do you really need to say it? Can you say something deep to prove your IQ?"

"I…" the lovesick, gluttonous Pangzi answered very earnestly, then took a deep breath and put on an enraptured expression: "Ah… too salty, no, Brother Chang. Handsome, you can no longer prove your cuteness; cool, you can no longer prove your bearing… all compliments, to you, are just flashy trash."

Seeing the words "too salty" appear, Fan Wuchang's face instantly darkened, and Pangzi hurriedly corrected himself, forcibly changing "too salty" to "Chang."

Immediately, the gluttonous Pangzi's eyes lit up, and he praised Fan Wuchang with smacking lips: "Look at Brother Chang's gaze, it literally exudes Leslie Cheung's melancholy. This nose, besides resembling Andy Lau, who else could it resemble? And this demeanor, it's practically a Jackie Chan replica. Sigh, those eyebrows—if you don't look they're fine, but on closer inspection they truly have a hint of Jacky Cheung… it's that face, no matter how you look at it, it looks like Eric Tsang."

*Pfft*… I had just taken a sip of drink when Pangzi's final touch made me spit it out.

Seeing Fan Wuchang's face gradually darken, Pangzi hastily covered his mouth, grabbed a fork, speared a dish from the buffet, and offered it to Fan Wuchang with a fawning smile: "Brother Chang, don't be angry—I have a cheap mouth, I deserve a beating. Come, eat something to calm down."

What Pangzi picked up was exactly the curry panda rice ball I had earlier found nauseating.

Seeing Pangzi behave so well, Fan Wuchang's expression eased slightly; he gave Pangzi a "promising youngster" look, then took the fork and swallowed that panda rice ball.

"Don't eat, absolutely don't eat." I tried to stop him, but when I cried out in surprise, Fan Wuchang already gulped down the panda rice ball with a gurgle.

"Brother Wuchang, how does it taste?" I approached timidly and asked weakly.

Fan Wuchang licked the corner of his mouth, savoring the aftertaste with clicks of praise: "The rice ball is quite chewy, and it has a fresh curry aroma—not bad, not bad."

"What's up? Why did you say not to eat earlier? Is there something wrong with the rice ball?" After a moment, Fan Wuchang finally sensed my oddness.

I covered my face with one hand and pointed with the other toward the direction of the curry-flavored panda eating excrement……Everything was left unsaid.

When Fan Wuchang looked in the direction I was pointing, he first froze……then his complexion slowly turned from fair to pallid, after which a surge of blood rushed up, making him flush red like Brother Guan.

Especially when he subconsciously touched the corner of his mouth and pulled out a sticky, yellow droplet, his flushed face instantly turned ashen.