Chapter Ten - (Part 1 of 2)

I began to think about retirement.

With the demise of my business agent, I realized that no new contracts would be forthcoming for me. But I did not go to pieces because of this. After getting mired with this liquidation shit for donkey's years, I was fed up with it anyway. It was high time to cast away my guns. Also, when Suet-foong came into my life, she changed me. I could no longer feel my adrenalin pumping in excitement when I blew somebody's brains off, like in the case of Mayor Tan Chin. Right now, the only thing able to stir me up was the soft moans and the pleasurable writhing of my wife when we made love. Guess her flame of femininity, ignited by both the god and beast in her, had morphed me from a killer into a lover, if you know what I mean. Blame it on my raging hormones.

Of course Suet-foong did not believe me when I told her of my intention.

"You're full of baloney," she remarked. We were sitting on the verandah with the nocturnal creatures and the moonlight after dinner.

"No, I'm serious," I protested. "I'm getting tired of killing people. There must be a healthier way to make a living."

"You can never retire, Ake."

"That is not a very encouraging answer."

"I know. But let me ask you this: apart from being a sharpshooter, what else can you do best?"

"Well, I ... umm ..." I spluttered, trying to think of something. But my mind was blank. In the end, I kept my mouth shut.

"Did I hurt you with my not-so-subtle choice of words?" she asked.

"Nah, it didn't hurt one teeny-weeny bit. To tell you the truth, I like my wife to be honest to me."

It hurt like hell, goddammit.

"Take another break, this time a longer one," she suggested. "You are just exhausted. Get away from this hellish place. You need to renew, refresh, and re-energize yourself. Decide what you want to do with your life only after you return."

My eyes lit up, remembering our wonderful sojourn in Hangzhou. That experience had triggered my interest in travelling that I was not aware of. "Wow, that's a swell idea!" I replied with mammoth excitement. "And I guess you will be joining me again, right?"

"It's either that or I am divorcing you."

"What, divorce?" I almost yelled. "Hey, this word is banned between us!"

"Then don't ask silly questions, do I make myself clear?"

"Loud and clear, skipper."

The months turned. Spring gave way to summer. The Moon Festival came and went. Despite our eagerness to begin our sabbatical, all the more so for Suet-foong when she smelled adventure, we were not able to do so straightaway. For one thing, my wife found it absurd to pay rent for an unused studio after our departure. With that thought, she decided to put her business up for sale. Easier said than done, it was an arduous task looking for buyers; she, like many other artists in China, was ahead of her time and her works were not highly regarded by the people here. Eventually in early October, her good friend Mabel Wong, the head organizer of the art fair, and one of the very few who recognized her genius, accepted half of her proposal; she would purchase all her illustrations, but declined to take over the lease of the studio as she had her own gallery. Suet-foong agreed and after inking the deal, she gave a month's notice to her landlady before vacating the premises as stipulated in her tenancy agreement. Then with the proceeds from the transaction and the seven paintings sold at the art fair including the butt piece, she sent three hundred dollars home. The rest of the money was deposited in the bank under our joint savings account.

Upon reflection, these few months were our happiest in our oh-so-brief time together. Making the commitment to apply ourselves to our marriage with the same energy that we placed in our respective line of work, we undoubtedly got on very well. We would take turns to cook dinner, go shopping or watch an opera during the weekend, or just gaze at the sunset while holding hands. I would write her love notes and put them in places where she would expect to find them, like the laundry basket or her purse. She would fix my favorite jasmine tea drink, and buy herself sexy outfits, saying that they were actually presents for me to ultimately take them off her body. Yeah, memories are all that I have now, sweetened as time goes by, just like wine.

On one of my rare nights out with the boys, I caught up with my best buddy Du Sze-hoi at his nightclub. Only thirty-one years old, he was the leader of the Green Gang who controlled the narcotics trade in Shanghai. Having ears that stood out like mushrooms and eyes of a triumphant rat, he was a homicidal and vulgar drug lord with bottomless talent for inducing fear. But when he was with me, he always showed his softer side. Perhaps knowing I am Mr. Clean had something to do with him holding me in high regard.

After Sze-hoi and I had made ourselves cozy at a private corner, we laughed and chatted away while drinking our Johnnie Walker like a fish to water. But when he offered to get a few of his buxomly hostesses to join us, I politely declined out of my respect for Suet-foong. My pal was naturally jabbed by shock; this was the first time I said no.

"You got fucking castrated or something?" he bellowed.

Told you he was vulgar.

"No, I got married," I replied casually.

To be continued ...

The concluding part of Chapter 9

There was another round of praying for God's blessing on us before Father Buckingham finally pronounced us man and wife. "You may kiss the bride, Fighting Dragon," he concluded with a smile.

To celebrate this momentous occasion, the newly-minted Mrs. Akecheta Lung and I went to a classy restaurant where I picked a nice, cozy corner for optimum privacy and ordered the best champagne - money was no object. She did not drink, but for today, she was game for a glass or two.

"And what would your parents say to our marriage?" I asked, toasting her. "I bet they will be happy and proud."

"Nope, I bet they will burn you at the stake," she replied, sipping her champagne.

Was she taking another stab at humor? Was I supposed to laugh? Her somber visage told me otherwise. "Come on, you don't really mean that," I said, trying to downplay the threat with a moronic grin. "Okay, they might freak out if they had attended our wedding, but at the end of the day, you are being married off. And to a very fine man too, if I may immodestly add. That's what parents always wish for their daughters, isn't it?"

"Where were you when Chinese history was taught in class?" she queried me, sounding more like my teacher than my wife. "My folks, like most people in China, hated the Westerners including half-breeds like you for invading our fatherland." She paused - her eyes looked kind of misty. "Oh, why do you have to mention them? I'm no longer their daughter, you know. In our feudal society, parents favor their sons. My folks are no exception. They dote on my elder brother, but they do not value me."

Oh boy, I think I touched a raw nerve when I mentioned her parents. I wish I had kept my big mouth shut. There was a short silence. During that brief period, my head was churning furiously to think of something to redeem myself in her eyes. "Well, if you ask me, I prefer daughters," I finally blurt out. "I love girls; they are like roses, filling the world with beauty. In fact, I love them so much that we're gonna have dozens!"

"Why, that's very sweet of you," replied Suet-foong. She began to smile once more - thank goodness, my little white lie worked. "I didn't know you love daughters ... hey, wait-a-minute! Have dozens? Who do you think I am? A sow?" She gave me a face.

Oh, dear Lard ... I mean, Lord, I bungled again. Hastily, I replied with a faked frown: "Did I say 'have dozens'? No, no, you heard wrong. I said 'we'll make them decent' ... it must be the champagne, it's making you tipsy."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"But I only have one glass."

"Err ... that's more than enough. Did I tell you about the time when I took one glass and I got drunker than a fiddler? The only difference between you now and me then was that I couldn't recall whether it was the eighteenth or the nineteenth."

My punchline must have been funny because she laughed like a loon, nearly choking on her drink. The next thing I knew she gave me a hug, saying in a whisper: "You're one cute, adorable dumdum."

Trust me - a man who tells little white lies and makes wisecracks to his wife can get away with anything. 

The Wedding - excerpt from Chapter Nine

Having reached the zenith of their relationship, Ake and Suet-foong got married in a chapel. It was also at this time that Suet-foong came clean with Ake: when she refused to an arranged marriage because she did not love the man, her old-fashioned parents, furious after being made to lose face, disowned her; such was the severity of her punishment. But she still loved her folks, sending them money through her brother whenever she could afford to. She was indeed a filial daughter.

Following is an excerpt from Chapter Nine:

Father Clark Buckingham, the bespectacled, rotund Caucasian head priest of the church, could not believe his ears when we went to his office to announce our intention to him.

"You like me to do what?" he asked, adjusting his glasses to have a better look at Suet-foong and me. He was clad in a black cassock, his fading black hair flecked with gray, and in his bearded face a pair of blue eyes - they were wide. I think he was stunned.

"We'd like you to marry us," I repeated.

"I can't marry you two just like that," the fifty-something priest replied. "There are procedures to be followed. Besides, are you Christians?"

"No, we're human beings," said Suet-foong matter-of-factly.

Father Buckingham smiled. "Yes, I can see that."

"Love is above religion and race, Father, and we are deeply in love," I declared. "We came here because we want our lifelong commitment to each other to be officiated by someone who has the authority to perform the sacred wedding rites: you. Kindly spare us a few minutes of your precious time, we shall be forever profoundly grateful." With that, I slipped five one-hundred-dollar bills into his hand. "For your trouble, it is our utmost pleasure to make a small donation to you ... err ... I mean, to your church."

"Well ... since you put it that way, okay," the priest acquiesced with dollar signs in his eyes.

They say God is great. But in this case, I had to disagree; money was greater.

When Father Buckingham asked us our names, he grew curious with mine as he had never heard of Akecheta before.

"I'm half Sioux," I enlightened him. "Akecheta means 'fighter' in the Sioux language, and my Chinese character Lung is 'dragon' in English. If you like, you can call me Fighting Dragon - that is also my name."

"I see," replied the priest. Then he looked at my bride. "And if my grasp of the Chinese vocabulary is anything to go by, Suet-foong means 'snow phoenix', right? Please correct me if I am wrong."

Snow Phoenix gave him the thumbs-up.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" said the priest as he led us to the hall. "According to your Chinese mythology, the dragon represents masculine majesty, power, and authority whereas the phoenix attributes the qualities of feminine beauty, inspirations, and grace - the perfect combination for good luck and harmonious marriage. Both of you are truly made for each other."

I was uncertain whether he was telling the truth or just fawning upon us because I paid him handsomely. No matter, as long as his words were easy on the ear, I let him ratter on to his heart's content with me feigning attentiveness and grinning like an enchanted ape.

My sugarplum was in seventh heaven when she finally saw the aisle - it was exactly the way I described it. Frankly, I was quite overwhelmed by the view too; it was breathtakingly beautiful. By the way, so was she.

"Are you both ready?" asked Father Buckingham, standing at the altar and holding the Bible.

I glanced at my bride; she was so excited that she could hardly speak. She just stared at me. "Yes, we are," I replied for the two of us.

Chapter Eight - Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned (5)

But ... ahem ... being a fearless chauvinist, I took up the challenge and chomped the food with gusto, commenting that they tasted marvelous.

"Good! Good! Eat more then," replied my other maleficent half as she took a few sips of the curry soup with her spoon. I was taken aback - the spiciness did not seem to bother her. She sure was one tough cookie.

Anyway, it started with a sniff. Then, sweat came out of my face like a squeezed sponge. Eventually, tears rolled down my cheeks and my nose was running. In order to preserve my manly pride, I drowned myself in gallons of water - hell, I was breathing fire! - and continued eating.

To say that I was extremely glad when I finished my last bite would be an understatement; I was dying back there! But that was not the end of the story, oh no, certainly not. The coup de grace of her vengeance came when the effects of the spicy food applied pressure on my bowel. I had a weak stomach and Suet-foong knew it ... oh, the skunk! The call of nature was too much for me to bear. I made a dash for the toilet and unleashed my poo-poo of epic proportions.

When my tummy was cleared, I used the toilet paper to clean myself. The next instant I felt my anus was on fire! Quickly I checked the toilet roll: there were traces of chili pepper all over it. Then I recalled Suet-foong had used the toilet a few minutes ago; she must be the culprit behind this dastardly act! Screaming in pain, I came out, naked from the waist down, and made for the bathroom. Unfortunately, Suet-foong was inside taking a bath, or was she? I thought I heard her laughing her brains out. I banged on the door pleading with her to let me in, but she replied cold-heartedly: "No way, you two-timing fink! If you want to save your red-hot ass, use the stream at the back of the house instead!"

There was no time to lose. I shot out of the house faster than the speed of light. Thankfully, the knee-deep stream was just a short distance away. I jumped into the cool waters, landing bum first on the sandy bottom. And there I sat like a contented monk who had attained nirvana as the burning sensation began abating.

A little while later, Suet-foong, wearing a feral grin on her face, came to the riverbank near to where I was. Holding a torch light, she flashed it at me. "Had enough, Dumdum?" she asked.

"Yes, my darling angel," I replied in submission. "I've learned my lesson well. Never again shall I deceive you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Scout's honor," I said, holding up three fingers.

She roared and walked back to the house in triumph.

Yup, do not play her for a fool. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned - especially if she was Suet-foong. 

Chapter Eight - Her vengeance begins! (4)

The sun had already sunk and the shadows of dusk fell like a drapery when Suet-foong returned home. Earlier, the rain had stopped. A ghostly mist began to crawl around the house, making it look like a mystical bowl of steam. In the living hall, I was in a fidget when I heard her unlocking the front door. I was expecting her to blow her top as soon as she saw me. How wrong I was; she had a big grin on her face instead. However, before I could breathe easy, I realized that it was not a beatific grin. Rather, it looked extremely wicked. Oh shit, this was getting scary.

"So, how was the art fair?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I took a seat at the sofa. "Sold anything today?"

She did not answer; she just looked at me with that same sinister broad smile.

I gulped, realizing that to beat around the bush could mean a quicker end for me. "Look, Suet-foong, about the liquidation of the mayor," I said in a palpitating tone, "I'm sorry I left you out in Plan B."

"Oh, that's okay," she finally replied, rather frostily, and with a devilish glint in her eye.

She was lying - it was not okay. I know women well enough that this is one of the deadly terms used by them when they are thinking long and hard on how we poor men are going to pay for our mistakes.

"But you know in your heart that it had to be done," I stressed, doing my best to defuse the crisis. "I didn't like the idea of you getting hurt should things go wrong back there."

"Whatever."

God - another deadly term! It is their way of saying "screw you"!

An hour later, when dinner was ready, I bit my nails when I saw the two dishes on the dining table: curry fish head and deep fried tofu in red chili bean paste and ginger. They were spicy stuff which I dread - Suet-foong's plot of wrecking vengeance on me had begun!

To be continued ...

Chapter Eight - Plan B begins (3)

"I'll tell you all about it when we see each other later at the house," I replied, sounding very business-like. "Now you'd better get back to the hall. I believe the organizers are looking high and low for you." Before she could have a chance to ask further, I hooked back the telephone receiver and walked away, leaving her dumbfounded.

In truth I knew nothing of Plan B. It was something I made up on the spur of the moment when I saw the bimbo. Her unexpected appearance was a blessing in disguise; it gave me the perfect excuse to finally dismiss Suet-foong from my perilous mission without offending her. Right away, I felt the albatross around my neck loosening. What a relief! I could do my own thing with total freedom and a peace of mind now. I smiled coyly - my maneuver was a masterstroke, if I may say so myself.

After checking out of the hotel, I mounted Flash and slowly rode past its front entrance that had a short flight of steps leading down to the main road. The mayor's limousine was parked directly below the stairway. I halted and surveyed the surroundings: his driver and a few soldiers were loitering around the car; there was a park with a small man-made lake a short distance away; and traffic was light. In an instant I realized, much to my delight, that there was a Plan B after all. Without wasting another moment, I went to a nearby toy shop and bought an opera mask. With the dark gray clouds hanging over me, I then galloped to the empty park, picking a spot behind a big tree to conceal our presence. On the other hand, I had a clear view of the hotel from here. Feeling mighty pleased, I leaped from my horse, and after removing my uncomfortable disguise, I wore the mask - it was an image of the Monkey King - before nipping over to the lakeside. This marvelous stretch of calm water made a stunning mirror in which my masked face was reflected - God, I looked ridiculous! But I had to wear it if I did not wish the soldiers or anyone else to recognize me. So with a sigh, I squatted and got myself ready for the kill.

As expected, the sky pissed down rain on the city a few minutes later. Although I was soaked to the bone, a smile danced on my face. This was what I wanted: the low visibility resulting from the downpour created a good camouflage for me. Suet-foong was right; grave misfortunes were befalling on the mayor, not me.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. The mayor emerged from the hotel lobby and headed toward his car surrounded by a group of soldiers holding umbrellas. They were too busy shielding him and his busty companion from the rain to take notice of me charging toward them on my trusty steed with astonishing speed, the fierce beat of the galloping hoofs drowned by the heavy shower. Flash was super-fast, hence his name. When the soldiers realized that their boss was in danger, it was too late. I squeezed the trigger, hitting the bull's eye with just one bullet - not for nothing am I a dead shot with a gun, you dig? At that very moment, a thunderbolt shot across the sky, turning it into an ocean of flames; it was a proclamation from Jupiter, the God of Thunder, that Mayor Tan Chin was on his way to meet his maker. Justice had been served - my sifu and Keng could now rest in peace.

By the time the shocked soldiers returned fire, I was long gone, safe and sound. Yup, when you know what you are doing, it is a piece of cake. No problem. So why did I have the feeling of impending doom? Then it struck me that I would be pulverized by Suet-foong for not including her in my Plan B. It figures.


To be continued ...

Chapter Eight - "What the heck is Plan B?" (2)

"What the heck is Plan B?"

Half an hour later, I was inside the exhibition hall in my four-eyed geek disguise. My Browning pistol was in the shoulder holster under my jacket, just in case. As expected, it was packed with people including the exhibitors, the super-rich art collectors, and a parade of models from a fashion house, many sipping from flutes of champagne. This art fair was a visual extravaganza, and the indistinct noises of people talking filled the hall to excess that everyone had to yell at each other; it was like a carnival. I groaned - just like when I was in Nanking Road, I had a phobia about the large crowd here. Before I made myself scarce, I darted my eyes across the hall and saw that Suet-foong was surrounded by a group of men; they were attracted to her like bees to nectar. What manly man would not be? She looked absolutely stunning in that sexy white cheongsam. I smiled; her stylish dress sense, her impeccable manners, and her confidence that helped her stand out from the other women in the hall, was working like a charm. Now I could only keep my fingers crossed that her seductive appearance would have the same effect on the mayor later - her task was to lure him into my room where I shall be waiting to seek revenge.

I noticed something else too: the mayor's soldiers. They were mingling with the guests. Although they were not in uniform, I could tell by their thug-like appearance and their poor wardrobe. I mean, nobody in his right mind would wear a tacky suit to attend a classy function. So the cunning mayor had exploited a loophole in the "no soldiers" rule to bring his army inside the hall. But I wonder why he did that. Was he expecting trouble? Was he expecting me?

"Now, don't jump into conclusions, you nitwit," I reproached myself silently. "He is just having a serious insecurity issue, that's all." With that thought I shrugged and headed to the lobby.

More of his men were stationed there as well. Ignoring them, I took a seat nearest to the main entrance and waited. A few minutes later, my target finally arrived with his entourage. He emerged from his black automobile - it looked like a big matchbox in four wheels to me - and waved to the small crowd that had gathered to welcome him. He was clad in a white western suit, his face was smooth and round like the moon with thick smirking lips, and his right eyelid drooped in a permanent wink, giving him an air of lasciviousness. He appeared reserved, and indeed rather standoffish, not looking directly at those who shook his hand. I glared at him like a tiger in search of prey. So this was how the bastard looked like in the flesh, I fumed.

However, the very next moment, my anger turned to deep disappointment when I saw a buxom beauty accompanying him! I was unsure whether she was his wife or mistress, but I knew at once that our carefully-laid plans had gone down the drain. As long as this sex siren who was always showing cleave stuck to him like glue, there was no way Suet-foong, no matter how pretty and glamorous she was, could capture his attention.

My sugarplum wore a face of frustration when she saw the mayor's companion. Her first reaction was to look for me. When we finally caught sight of each other, I gestured to her to go to the telephone booths near the reception counter. Pretending to make a call with her back adjacent to mine, she asked in an agitated tone: "Did you notice that bimbo with the mayor? She has got bloody udders of a cow!"

I chuckled. She certainly had a way with words. "Yeah, a man can suffocate in pleasure under them," I replied.

"Ha! You wish!" she scoffed. "Okay, what is our next move? Do we go ahead as planned?"

"No, we abort this plan and proceed to Plan B."

There was a pause. Then she asked, "What the heck is Plan B?"

To be continued ...

Chapter Eight - (1)

The day before the art fair opened, I disguised myself as a bespectacled middle-aged man and checked into the lavish twenty-story Peace Hotel using a false name. The penthouse suite that I booked, with its opulent furnishings, had a bedroom and a big lounge. It was perfect. No, I was not here to live it up. Rather, this was where I intended to kill the mayor.

A few minutes later, Suet-foong, also in disguise, came to join me in my suite. That night we ran through our plan again and again. We had to. Any slip-up would mean the end of us.

All that time I noticed that her commitment to this deadly mission never wavered. There was absolutely no hint of regret or apprehension whatsoever on her face - she was one heck of a gung ho wench! On the contrary, it was yours truly who was feeling kind of nervous. I mean, I have always worked alone, thus I only need to take care of myself. Now suddenly the love of my life was joining me and I had to watch her back too. Oh, can you imagine the pressure, the stress!

D-day arrived with gray skies lingering above Shanghai. From our hotel window, I could see thunder claps cutting through the morning like cracks of a whip a short distance away. It appeared that a storm was brewing.

"What's eating you, Ake?" asked Suet-foong when she noticed me standing by the window in moody silence.

"Call me a superstitious freak, but I feel this bad weather is an omen of disaster for us," I said, turning my attention toward her. "I'm beginning to have second thoughts about our mission. I don't think we can pull it off."

"That's the trouble with you; always bound by obsolete beliefs and practices," she admonished me. "You won't advance yourself until you think outside the box."

"Tell me more, O wise one."

"Look at this thunderstorm from a different perspective. Instead of brooding over it, tell yourself this is a sign from the heavens that the day of reckoning for Mayor Tan Chin has arrived."

My sage has spoken.

At 9:00 A.M., we set our plan in motion. Suet-foong left the room first. She had to be present at the opening ceremony an hour before the arrival of the mayor anyway. At the same time, she needed to check on her ten paintings to ensure everything was in its right place - yes, she had completed the butt-baring piece with yours truly finally consenting to be her model. But there was an incentive: she was in the nude too when she painted me. I suppose it was one of the fringe benefits of being her fiancee. Amen to that.

To be continued ... 

Chapter Seven - (3 & final part)

Later that night, to coax me into going along with her suggestion to seduce the mayor, she paraded before me in full make-up and wearing a body-hugging one-piece white cheongsam with a very high slit. We were in the living hall, and I could not stop myself from staring flirtatiously at the bulging parts of her anatomy - Mamma Mia, she was sizzling hot!

"Is that the dress I bought for you in Hangzhou?" I asked, my heart beating a mile per second with excitement.

"Yeah," she nodded. "And as you can see, I'm making good use of it." She playfully placed her thigh on my lap. Gently I rubbed it; her skin was as smooth as silk. "Have your blood pressure hit the roof yet?" she asked with a mischievous wink.

"Nah, you may have gotten your mojo working, but it won't work on me," I said, feigning an expressionless expression.

"Don't give me that crap - you're drooling like a waterfall!"

I grinned. "Okay! Okay! I admit the little fella underneath me is having a tough time remaining docile seeing you like this; the mayor will surely feel the same way as I do. But we still have to lure him out in the open ... without his soldiers following him."

"That's the easy part," she answered confidently. "You remember the art fair which is seven days away? He is the guest of honor on the opening day, and as part of protocol, his soldiers are barred from the exhibition hall where he would be delivering his speech. We can close in for the kill then."

I kept quiet for a while, thinking hard. "Suet-foong, I still don't wish you to get involved - you're not cut out for this liquidation game," I said at last.

"It's either we do this together or I won't marry you!" she thundered, moving away from me. I could not tell whether she was upset or pulling a fast one - her expressionless expression was way better than mine.

"Is this a threat?" I asked, smiling meekly.

"It definitely is!"

"You are being silly."

My sugarplum did not answer; she was giving me the silent treatment.

"Very well, my empress, the Dynamic Duo we shall be," I said, kowtowing to the future Mrs. Akecheta. "Please accept my humble apology for my insolence."

"Okay, I forgive you. After all, no man is perfect," she replied with her nose in the air.

No, no, do not be mistaken. I did not suddenly become a softie. In actual fact I was just being shrewd. By pretending that I was finally giving in to the pressure, I got her back to talk, but boy, she was now acting all high and mighty! No man is perfect, she said to me? How bloody dare she!

"Oh, and I suppose a woman like you are?" I asked with sarcasm.

"Goodness no, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if I were one."

Touche.

Chapter Seven - (2)

The sun had already ended its glory when I woke up from my slumber. Looking out through the window from my bedroom, I smiled at the white moon and the lustrous dancing stars as they illuminated the jet black sky. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, awakening the nocturnal stillness. The table clock beside my bed showed it was 8:50 P.M. Holy sleepyhead, I had snoozed the whole day away!

After a shower bath, I felt refreshed. By then Suet-foong had already prepared my dinner, and what great timing; I was hungry as a wolf.

"So, you are going to kill ... err, I mean, liquidate the mayor?" she asked as I was having a second bowl of rice; the steamed fish was delicious.

"Yeah," I replied. "I've to finish him off before he gets a chance to hit me again. Today I emerged unscathed because he sent a bunch of nincompoops. I may not be so lucky the next time."

"He's not an easy target as you think. I'm sure you know that he has his own private army, his soldiers protecting him twenty-four hours a day. He stands impregnable ... invincible even!"

"Nothing is going to stop me from avenging the death of my sifu, Suet-foong. All I need is a plan to get near him alone."

"And what is this plan?"

"Err ... it's still in the planning stage."

She sneered. "Ha! In other words, you've got no plan at all!"

"Listen, smartass, if you think you have one, tell me!" I said, feeling a little bit sore ... no, correct that. I was actually feeling very sore. I am a proud bastard, get it?

"I don't need a plan to deal with the mayor. I just go for his weak spot."

"Which is?"

"Like all lecherous men, he loves beautiful women," she replied, pouring herself a cup of tea. She then sat facing me. "Get him one - the really hot stuff type. After that, killing him would be a piece of cake."

"And where do you think I can find such a 'hot stuff' as bait?" I asked between munches on my last mouthful of food.

"Here. Me."

I nearly choked to death on my rice. When I regained my faculties, I looked at her square in the eye, thinking that she was just putting me on. But she did not snicker. She did not even flash a smile. God, she was serious!

"No bloody way!" I said when I found back my voice. "It's too dangerous."

"Life without danger is boring," she replied, sounding like a philosopher. "Come on, be a sport. We would make a great team."

"I will not risk the life of my wife for my personal vendetta!" I said in a slightly raised voice; I was adamant.

Her eyes bugged. "Who says I want to marry you?"

"I am saying it now; marry me," I blurted out, although for a moment or two, I was confused as to whether or not I uttered those words.

She stared at me like a dumb ox. Finally she asked: "Why?"

"So that I can get my laundry done for free," I said in jest.

"Free, my foot - I don't come cheap!" she quipped; she was quick on the uptake.

"Name your price then."

"I am priceless."

She was. She was.

To be continued ...

Chapter Seven - (1)

I had a two-bedroom house by the stream on the outskirts of Shanghai; a sparsely populated area with a nice neighborhood. Since it was very close to the city, I got to enjoy all the advantages of a cosmopolitan center, and when I came home I escaped from the noise and dust. I was just one lucky bastard who had the best of both worlds, I suppose.

Riding at breakneck speed without a halt, I finally reached my abode when dawn broke. With the saddlebags containing Lau Beng's money on my shoulder, I quickly dismounted and strode toward the front door. I was totally exhausted. The only thing on my mind right now was my bed. Also, I was anxious to see Suet-foong; she must be worried sick over my absence.

Yup, my sugarplum had moved in with me. The feelings were mutual; I proposed, she accepted. It was a straightforward deal, no fees charged, you know what I mean?

Anyway, I must have looked terrible because when I entered the living hall, I saw her sitting on the easy chair and looking at me in astonishment. "Oh, great Buddha!" she cried.

"Not even close; guess again," I replied in a bantering tone.

"What happened? You look like death warmed over!" she said, sprinting to my side. I put the saddlebags on the sofa and we hugged each other.

"I haven't slept for the past forty-eight hours," I answered. Then as if on cue, I yawned.

"That's because you are in love with me."

I was baffled. "What has it got to do with me not sleeping?"

"Well, for the first time in your life, you have found something more beautiful than your dreams."

"That's all very fine, but if I don't get some shuteye soon, my grotesque appearance is going to give you nightmares!"

I then told her all about my vengeance on the five gunmen who had killed my sifu and his faithful dog. I could tell that she was enthralled by my tale - she did not open her mouth to make a witty remark like she usually did whenever I spurn a yarn.

"You fried all five of them?" she asked at last.

"To a crisp."

"That's horrible."

"You mean about the way I liquidated those bozos?"

"No, I mean about your cooking."

To be continued ...

Chapter Six (full length)

President Yuan Shi-kai

I was horrified, I was mad, and I was in grief - although not necessarily in that order.

When I returned to Shanghai, the first thing I did was to see Lau Beng at his nursery. Upon reaching his place, I felt uneasy because Keng did not appear to greet me like he usually did, and my sifu was nowhere to be seen. Quickly I went searching for them. About half a mile from the cottage, in a little grassy glade beside a river, I found them lying motionless on the ground, not far from each other. They had been shot to death, and their badly decomposed bodies revealed that it was more than a week ago. Lau Beng was still holding his hand pruners. I searched far and wide about the field looking for clues that would shed some light on the identity of the killers - I knew there was more than one person because there were many footprints on the ground - but there were none. Disappointed, I tottered back to the spot where the graybeard and his faithful dog had fallen. That was when I saw it: severed fingers in the jaws of Keng. He must have bitten them off the attacker's hand during the struggle.

"This is a heartening find," I said to myself as I removed the worm-infested fingers - there were four of them - from the canine's mouth. "It will make my task easier to identify the culprit."

Using a pick and shovel, I dug two graves marked by tombstones under a big tree for my sifu and Keng. Dusk arrived when I finally laid them to rest. Before the tombstone of Lau Beng, instead of joss sticks, I burnt three cigarettes - his favorite brand - as a token of respect and knelt down in silence. Mist had enveloped about me and the trees below. The waxing moon was riding in the west. Then I spoke: "In this world, there are many things that catch my eyes, but only a few catch my heart. Sifu, you caught my heart, and you shall forever be missed. You were not only my teacher and mentor, you were like my father. You'd never know that your kindness, big or small, expressed in your own distinctive manner, have such a tremendous imprint on my life. It touches my soul in a very special way. That's the sort of impact you had imbued in my senses when you said, 'Kid, you can do anything you set your mind to, because you have what it takes, but pickpocketing is not one of them. Come, let me groom you for higher things' after you caught me trying to steal your wallet. You saved me. And you'd made me a better man today."

I paused. Eventually I broke down and cried - yes, even grown men shed tears in times of great sorrow. In between sobs, I raised my clenched fist and muttered, "Your deaths shall be avenged, Sifu, and Keng ... I swear upon your graves that I'll kill those bastards who did this to you."

Surprisingly, Lau Beng's house was neat and tidy; by that I assumed he was killed while he was tending to his flowers in the field. I switched on all the lights, making his abode as bright as a flame. I did that because I wanted to attract the killers' attention. I was cocksure that they would be back to finish their jobs; they had only eliminated the business agent, and the liquidator - that's me - was still at large. Well, my job was just beginning.

I nipped over to his bedroom. There were only a few pieces of furniture: a king-sized bed and two chairs. There was also a big wardrobe; I opened its door - behind the rail of clothes was a secret compartment known only to Lau Beng and me. This was the graybeard's ammunition chest: guns, dynamites, the whole works. However, there was a metal box which I had never seen before. Curious, I unlatched it; my eyes sparkled like diamonds when I saw at least fifty thousand dollars inside - all in hundred-dollar bills - and a black notebook. The old goat not only left me memories, he left me money too! Then flipping through the pages of the book, I realized that he had kept a journal of all my hits: the dates, the names of our clients, the targets, and the amount paid. His last entry - the Song Jiao-ren contract - had me gasping in astonishment; our client was the murdered reporter Chen Yi-seng! Good gracious me, the mystery of this case was getting deeper by the day!

At four o'clock on the third morning, the enemy finally came. Hiding behind the huge trunk of an old tree not far from the house, I gazed out of the shadows: there were five of them, all tall and stern-faced. Donning stripped suits and white fedora hats, they looked like typical gangsters. Four were brandishing guns while the fifth was unarmed with a heavily-bandaged right hand; I reckoned that he must be the one who had his fingers chomped off by Keng. Cautiously, they made their way to the house. I rubbed my hands with glee; it was show-time.

As soon as the foremost gunman kicked open the front door, the house exploded in a big ball of fire - yours truly had rigged the whole place with dynamites. He was killed instantly along with the other three gunmen. The six-fingered bozo escaped death because he stood the furthest away. But the impact of the explosion flung him back a few yards, landing on the ground hard on his buttocks, a short distance from where I was. He got up and staggered to his feet, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. I saw his bleeding left arm hanging limp; he was hurt. Still, he must be thinking his luck was holding up because he survived the blast - yeah, his ass luck actually; he had not met me yet.

He was scared out of his wits when I finally showed my face to him. He should be; I was generating a menacing aura ... I was also pointing my gun at his head.

"M ... Mr. Clean, you must be Mr. Clean!" he spluttered as the color drained from his craggy face. Of course he was just guessing because no enemy before had seen my face and lived.

"At your service, bozo," I replied, heightening his fears.

He tried to make a run for it, but I shot him on the right leg before he had a chance. He fell, writhing in agony on the ground.   

"Tell me a story and I'll let you live," I said, coolly blowing away the smoke from the barrel of my gun.

"My lips are sealed, you bastard!"

"Tsk! Tsk! Watch your profanity, you son-of-a-bitch," I shot him again, this time on his left leg. He screamed like a stuck pig. "Well?" I asked.

"Go to hell!" he replied, trying to talk tough.

"You first," I said, my third shot hitting his left shoulder; my goodness, I seemed to be taking a sadistic pleasure in hurting him!

"Stop shooting! Stop shooting!" he finally pleaded, his tears of pain flowing down his cheeks. "I'll tell you what you want to know!"

Naturally I was not happy to hear that from him; I was hoping he could last a few more shots prior to throwing in the towel.

"First, tell me why did you have to shoot a defenseless one-armed man in the back?" I asked as my heart blazed in fury.

"Despite his handicap, Lau Beng was still a sharpshooter. Thus we had to take him down by surprise. I'm sorry, there was no other way."

"What about Chen Yi-seng? How was he connected in all this?"

"Chen Yi-seng was under the payroll of my boss. He was assigned to deal with Lau Beng and also to fabricate a story about Song Jiao-ren's death after that. But he got greedy; he wanted more money, threatening to expose my boss if his demand was not met. He had to be eliminated too."

"And who is your boss - President Yuan Shi-kai?"

"Not ... exactly," replied the badly-wounded bozo haltingly; the pain was slowly overwhelming him. "Yes, the president wants Song Jiao-ren terminated. And no, it was left to my boss Tan Chin, the mayor of Shanghai and his most trusted lieutenant, to get the job done."

"Tan Chin ... he is the most corrupted mayor in the whole of China!" I said, raising my eyebrows in surprise.

He nodded. "Everyone knows he is corrupted, but no one can prove it except Song. And he swore that once he became the prime minister, he would charge him in court and remove him from office. My boss was having none of that so when the president approached him to silence Song, he was more than willing to do it."

"Let me guess the rest," I chiseled in, my detective brain working overtime. "While President Yuan only greatly desired to have Song out of the way, your boss went one step further. He ordered you goons to wipe out everyone involved in the drawing up of the contract. That way, no evidence or witness would be forthcoming for others to nail him later, not even the president, am I correct?"

He nodded once more. "Yes, that included Shek-yau who was paid a great deal of money to take the heat. My boss hoodwinked him into thinking that he would be released unharmed after spending a couple of weeks in jail. Instead the pea-brain was killed by one of his moles while in custody."

"Bozo, your boss comes right out of a silly crime novel!" I scoffed. Then I advanced closer to his side, cocking my gun as I moved.

"Wait! Wait! What are you doing?" he bellowed, his face turning white. He knew I was about to kill him. "You said you'd let me live if I tell you the whole story."

"I lied," I said emphatically. My next shot spattered his brain in all directions.

Screaming fires had engulfed the entire cottage, the flames burning red and amber, as I dumped the bodies of the five gunmen into the raging inferno. In a short while, the building would be burnt down to nothing. After mounting my steed, I let out a sigh of sadness - it took my sifu many years to build his dream house, but the fire needed just a few minutes to completely destroy his dream.

I looked at the burning house one last time. Then I wheeled Flash to the main road and galloped away, never to return again. 

Chapter Five - (3 & Final part)

"You, a two-hundred-pound cheese hog?" I replied, quite taken aback. "God, I think I would faint from total shock!"

"You don't like me being fat?"

"You are not fat, okay? And you shall never be fat. I'll make sure of it."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I'll feed you all the non-oily and non-fatty stuff. And you'd better eat them or else I'll spank ya!"

Suet-foong looked me straight in the eye. "Not if I'm two hundred pounds, you won't!"

"But you are not two hundred pounds now."

"Yeah," she said, nibbling my ear. "But when I do, best you start running!" She laughed like a hyena.

I laughed along with her; it was real funny, I thought. However, at the back of my mind, I could not help visualizing my two-hundred-pound sugarplum, her hair in curlers and a lighted cigarette between her lips, chasing me all over Nanking Road with a cleaver, yelling, "How dare you spank me, you crappy beanpole!"

We made love that same night in our hotel room. After being with each other for more than three weeks, this was our first physical encounter. Don't ask me why I took so long to finally sleep with her - I am at a loss as you are. And no, I am not gay. Neither was she a lesbian. You see, I felt different about Suet-foong; unlike my other girlfriends, she completed me. Thus I wanted us to get intimate in a very special way. Perhaps I was waiting. Yes, that's it ... I was waiting for the right moment to commemorate this significant event. And tonight was the night.

Suet-foong's body might not have pleasing curves or a large bosom, but to me, she still possessed a stunning figure. Boy, did we make magic; I did everything right. I mean everything. I was tender, aggressive, tender again. God, I surprised myself - I seemed to know all the nifty moves to cause her moan in pleasure! And she was so loving, so soft to touch, and so sweet to smell. After we had done wetting the soil and planting the seeds, the girl in Suet-foong was chased away and she became a woman at last.

"Ake?"

"Yeah?"

"How deep is your love for me?"

We were still in bed, cuddling close to one another. I kissed her hair.

"Ocean deep," I said.

"Oh, I like that," she cooed.

I looked at her and she smiled. I smiled back.

"And how deep is your love for me?" I asked.

"Much deeper than your ocean, Ake."

What more was there for us to say, really?