The actions above are entirely CGI. If you lovelies don’t have Uncle An Jie’s physique and luck, please do not copy him. If something similar ever occurs to you, please remember that it was entirely bullshit.
The heatwave from the explosion ripped apart the clothes on An Jie’s back, but also provided him with enough support to quickly adjust his position midair. After all, unless he was in some sort of martial artist novel, after falling from a third storey building, what he would end up doing would be ascending.
Pain was the best stimulant for him. The speed at which the ground approached him seemed to slow down. An Jie’s feet touched the ground, bending instantly by instinct, and his body curled up into a ball to reduce the impact. He fell forwards and rolled involuntarily for quite a few turns before stopping, dizzy beyond dizzy.
An Jie braced against the ground with both hands and was about to climb up when his feet failed him and he fell back down, his vision turning black. At that moment, some unknown fiery object flew at him like an unlucky star. Unfortunately, An Jie had temporarily lost his vision and didn’t notice.
A pair of hands suddenly reached out and pulled him away, so strong that An Jie felt his feet leave the ground for a few seconds before he slammed into the other person. Not far away from them, the unknown flying object hit the ground with a boom and exploded.
An Jie caught his breath, pushed himself up, and discovered the person he was lying on was none other than the one who was meant to be sipping tea with Morpheus, Mo Cong. He rolled to the side and looked at the burning building, his eyes reflecting the fire, terribly bright.
Mo Cong was nowhere near as calm as him. No matter how thin An Jie was, he was still a tall man. The impact from then made his chest ache, which only added fuel to the fire. He grabbed An Jie’s collar and dragged him stumbling up from the ground, his expression twisted as he forced the words from between his teeth, “Did you come here just to die?!”
An Jie smiled. For some reason, Mo Cong felt that there was a particular sort of excitement on his face.
An Jie went to say something, but suddenly turned his face to the side and coughed. When he jumped down, his hands had naturally gone up to protect his head and there were wounds all over them and his arms. Thin, bloody marks covered the skin from underneath his tattered jacket. Mo Cong couldn’t help but let go. He sighed, took off his jacket, and wrapped it around An Jie.
At that moment, voices approached them. An Jie frowned and pulled on Mo Cong. “We’re leaving!”
The two hid themselves in a small grove of trees. An Jie signed ‘be silent’ to Mo Cong and carefully spectated the firefighters. After a short while, firetrucks and police cars both arrived, along with a bustle of voices. Many people had been shocked awake, then ensnared into spectating the blaze.
Mo Cong rudely grabbed An Jie’s shoulder. “What are you looking at? If you don’t want to die then go with me to the hospital right now!”
An Jie looked at him with half a grin. “If you leave now, I swear you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. The person who set off the explosion isn’t far off. They’re probably waiting somewhere, watching the drama, just like us. That motherfucker, if I don’t catch him right now, how will I beat him until he chokes on his own blood?”
There was something strange about an An Jie who spoke like that. Mo Cong was a little dazed.
An Jie stared at the scene for a while, then turned around. He pressed a hand against his abdomen and bent down slightly with a light grunt as he leaned against the tree, a frown on his face.
Mo Cong deadpanned from the side, “And I thought you were Ultraman. So you do know it hurts?”
An Jie ignored him. He was frowning but it seemed that he was in a very good mood. He glanced at Mo Cong and seemed to understand something. “How did you follow me? Who warned you?”
Mo Cong’s expression turned dark. “If a crippled man like you can manage to hop about like this, why would I not be able to follow you as easily? It was just some sleeping pills… An Jie, are you looking down on me?”
“Bullshit,” An Jie cursed good-naturedly. “I’d be useless if I couldn’t even put you down.”
Mo Cong sneered. “Yeah, if it wasn’t for Doctor Song’s warning, I wouldn’t have known that you have a bad habit of putting down people close to you.”
An Jie shook his head and sighed. He knew it was that meddlesome bastard Song Chang’an. That idiot contributed nothing but trouble.
Suddenly, Mo Cong pulled on An Jie and ducked behind a tree, holding his breath. An Jie’s expression turned serious. There were too many leaky bits in his body right now and his senses were no longer as sharp as Mo Cong’s.
After a while, the sound of footsteps approached. A man wrapped in a dark, raincoat-like jacket stood still as they observed the noisy crowd. They seemed very muscular, with one hand in their pocket and their face hidden. They seemed to be wearing some sort of walkie-talkie as they muttered, “No… I understand…”
His voice sounded awfully mechanical, as if he was using some sort of voice changer.
Pausing a little, that person continued, “You’re not awake yet, are you? Hmph… as usual.”
Saying that, he turned and walked in another direction, his footsteps carrying a strange, clock-like rhythm to them.
“‘As usual’…” An Jie hummed playfully. “What a wonderful phrase. Follow him.”
“What are you doing?” Mo Cong gritted. They were in such a rush when they went into hiding that An Jie was leaning deep into his arms. Knowing that An Jie’s abdomen was wounded, his arm could only circle around just beneath his chest, feeling the hard ribs and steady heartbeat under his arm… Of course, in such a situation, no amount of flirtatious movement could make Mo Cong feel good. He tightened his arms and pinned An Jie down firmly. “You don’t even have a gun and you dare…”
“Are you here to help or to make trouble?!” An Jie glared and interrupted. He suddenly sent his elbow backwards slightly below Mo Cong’s ribs, forcing him to let go. “Stop spouting nonsense. Either I knock you out and have someone haul you back, or you follow me and stop being useless.”
“I…” Mo Cong felt that his teeth were about to shatter from gritting down too hard. “You… An Jie, you’re a motherfucker.”
An Jie grinned dumbly. “How fresh, did you just figure it out? Follow me, go!”
Mo Cong finally understood how he had been tracked for a whole month without a hint of anything amiss but his own intuition. An Jie, this old bastard, his stalking skills were not to be underestimated. If he suddenly decided to become a police officer one day, it would be a nightmare for the criminals out there.
To reach deep into the enemy’s den without even a gun: this was a first for Mo Cong. He finally discovered that no matter how well he did his role, ‘Chancellor’ could only ever be a lackey tactician, not an old gun. Because he understood now that whether it was the old guns from before, or the old gun from right now, they all cared shit-all for their own lives – he himself lacked this livestock-like temperament that treated life and death like nothing.
Truly, personality decided one’s fate.
The two followed the packed-up man and wandered for the better half of the night before arriving at their destination. It was a very obscure underground market; all sorts of off-the-wall creatures converged here, and everywhere one looked there was mind-numbing movement.
A slight slip in one’s focus could result in stepping on a drug addict curled up by the wall, and who knew if they were alive or dead; men and women twisted around each other in open space like some sort of art gallery… or men and men, and yes, there were even quite a few together for ‘group activities’; trades were muttered in low voices all around, perhaps for firearms, perhaps for sex, or drugs, or even organs; all that one could imagined, and even beyond, could be bought here. Everyone’s faces were covered, either by thick makeup or heavy clothing.
Neon lights next to them cast these crowds in ambiguous shadow. An Jie looked at the sign and suddenly laughed strangely. “I thought ‘the usual’ would be some sort of tea house with a touch of elegance, or at least an obscure and abandoned warehouse. To think it was an underground brothel. No wonder they said Li’s gotten better – it turns out he’s gotten rid of that nasty old neat-freak habit.”
He slickly made a move that almost made Mo Cong blow a gasket – he wrapped an arm around a woman who had been staring at him ever since they first appeared – or maybe it was a girl; her beautiful and youthful skin was still visible from under the heavy makeup. An Jie tilted her chin up and felt out the wallet from Mo Cong’s pocket. WIthout looking, he took out a few notes and shoved them into the woman’s arms. He leaned into her and chuckled lightly.
Mo Cong had never seen An Jie make such an expression. This man seemed to deliberately exude a certain seductiveness like a veteran of love affairs, and the blood stains all over him made him look as if he had some sort of eerie beauty that called to parched throats. No, not eerie… some sort of pure, masculine allure.
Mo Cong jerked his head to the side, refusing to look at this man’s peacock-like seduction, but his gaze was uncontrollably attracted to that man. Shit, where are you touching?! You, you’re even kissing her, don’t you find it dirty?!
Mo Cong’s grip tightened, then loosened, then tightened anew as he held back his desire to knock An Jie out and carry him home. Screw boiling a frog in cold water, what numbskull invented that phrase? Had they not considered that before the frog got boiled, the wooden bucket would be? In this case, the bucket being himself!
Mo Cong thought, before this frog got boiled, he’d suffocate from the fumes.
On the other side, An Jie had already hypnotized this amateur seductress. He leaned down to her ear and asked gently, “Are you from outside, or over there on the inside?”
The woman giggled. “What? Is Mister not comfortable with the outsides?”
An Jie smiled.
The woman left from his arms, fixed her clothes, and winked at him. “Then follow me.”
An Jie immediately followed. He looked back at Mo Cong and blinked, his chin raising up slightly towards the door of the nightclub.
Mo Cong thought, even if you didn’t tell me to, I would still follow. Else who knows what else you’d do, you shameless bastard!
Author’s Notes: Contents of this chapter is very PG
Vera & Luci Translations 