“Boss, why Little Seven?” The young man on the other end of the line sounded puzzled. “Let me bring Old Hu and Big Fatty. Little Seven won’t cut it — he’s scared of the dark.”

“Stop talking so much! Little Seven… he… doesn’t he know how to pick locks?” The tattooed man lowered his voice and barked, “I told you to bring him, so bring him. Why all the chatter?! And why would you want to bring Old Hu? Don’t you know he was born with a foghorn voice? Keep the numbers small, don’t make too much noise and let those little brats notice…”

A’Ping sounded even more puzzled. “Boss, are you scared? We got caught off guard today, but if we all come prepared, we can definitely take out that whole group of little troublemakers in one sweep — get revenge for everyone!”

The tattooed man thought to himself: Of course I’m scared — scared that if you bring too many people, my share of the points will get divided away to nothing.

“That’s… a gentleman waits ten years for his revenge, there’s no rush. After all that pepper today, everyone’s eyes and noses are still swollen, right? Once I’m back, we’ll rest up properly. There’ll be plenty of chances to settle the score — no need to rush for the satisfaction of this one moment.”

A’Ping listened and replied admiringly, “You’re something else, Boss. Well said. I’ll go get Little Seven right now!”

“Right. Keep it quiet coming in — don’t wake anyone up.”

The tattooed man gave a few more careful instructions, told them his exact location, and finally hung up.

He put away the phone and looked around the room again. Whether or not Bai Youwei had been careless, the large cleaver he’d brought with him was lying right there on the floor.

The tattooed man picked up his blade, wedged it into the gap between the door and the frame, and tried to pry it open.

The door lock groaned and creaked under the pressure — not a small sound — yet showed no sign of giving way.

The tattooed man inwardly cursed his luck. This welfare home looked rundown, but the door locks were solid.

He didn’t dare keep at it. The noise might bring Bai Youwei. He still felt uneasy about that electric baton. Even knowing it was all for show, nobody wanted to get electrocuted for nothing.

…Would he really just have to wait for Little Seven to pick the lock?

He paced around the room, and his eyes drifted to the window.

The window could be opened, but this was the third floor… a somewhat awkward height. Jumping might leave you unharmed, or might leave you crippled. There were a few air conditioning units that could serve as footholds partway down, but the tattooed man had doubts about how securely they were mounted. He thought it over and decided to keep waiting for Little Seven.

He’d barely sat down when footsteps outside the door started up — moving away. The tattooed man froze.

He could hear them clearly: footsteps began right outside the door, then gradually moved toward the staircase… heading downstairs now, step by step, growing quieter with distance.

Which meant — someone had been standing at that door the entire time he’d been moving around inside the room.

And they might well have been watching him through the small window on the door.

The tattooed man felt a wave of goosebumps at the thought.

He’d only planned to play along for the show, but now — a genuine feeling of trapped dread was actually taking hold.

“Come on…” he gripped his cleaver tighter and muttered to himself. “It’s all just for show. It’s fine… it’s fine…”

…

Half an hour later.

Rustling footsteps sounded outside the door, followed by hushed voices:

“Boss? Boss, are you in there?”

“A’Ping?” The tattooed man answered quickly. “Is Little Seven here? You weren’t spotted, were you?”

“Don’t worry, we weren’t. Little Seven and Big Fatty are both here.” A’Ping replied.

“Big Fatty?” The tattooed man was anxious. “Big Fatty came too?”

That big lump was too reckless — what if he messed everything up.

A’Ping said, “Little Seven wouldn’t come without Big Fatty — he gets scared.”

From outside came an apologetic, sheepish laugh. “Boss.”

That was Little Seven’s voice.

The tattooed man said impatiently, “Alright, alright. Just get this lock open.”

—