Chapter 37: Catastrophe Approaches

Zhou Sen suddenly felt his scalp tingle! This was disaster descending upon him.

He truly wanted to rush forward and slap Wu En twice, to demand fiercely, “Before you act, can’t you use your brains? Is there really no other way to solve this problem?” Yet as soon as this thought flashed through Zhou Sen’s mind, it vanished; with Wu En’s intelligence, he likely couldn’t come up with anything better. If you can use your fists, why bother with words? Men of the black earth were just this reckless!

What now? Zhou Sen instantly thought of silencing witnesses, but there were four people—if it were only one, he’d do it without hesitation. One person disappearing could be concealed, but four Japanese rōnin vanishing at once would surely alert the Special Affairs Division and the Japanese Kempeitai’s Tokko Section. He didn’t even know which faction these four rōnin belonged to; if they were raised by some official organization, it would be even worse, as such groups always had murky ties to the Japanese military, and the investigation would be relentless—a terrifying prospect.

The young girl was already frightened out of her wits. Wu En, who had just faced the Japanese rōnin without flinching, now stood helpless before the crying girl, his face flushed, hands awkwardly hanging, not knowing where to put them.

This fellow had followed the original Zhou Sen for two years, and only now caused such a calamity—it was almost miraculous.

Zhou Sen bent down and checked the pulses and breathing of the four men one by one. Thankfully, they were still breathing, not dead. He let out a sigh of relief.

Now, how to handle this? Silencing them was out of the question; Zhou Sen couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t be discovered. The alley wasn’t sealed off, it was broad daylight, and if anyone saw and reported it, everything would be over.

Should he turn himself in? Admit guilt, accept punishment? Impossible—he couldn’t hand his fate over to others, absolutely not. Wu En might suffer, even lose his life, and Zhou Sen couldn’t allow that.

Doing nothing and waiting for doom wasn’t Zhou Sen’s style. Wu En hadn’t done anything wrong.

At that moment, Zhou Sen suddenly smelled the strong odor of alcohol on the four Japanese rōnin—a detail he’d overlooked earlier. These damned men, chasing and harassing the girl, must have been heavily drunk, driven by lust.

Drunkards rarely remember clearly what they’ve done. That was an opportunity.

Zhou Sen quickly searched the four men, and indeed, found a bamboo token on one of them inscribed with “Kawahara Dojo.” He immediately recalled a Japanese rōnin swordsman named Kawahara Shin-Gorō who had opened a martial arts school called “Kawahara Dojo” on Merchant Street in the port district. Could these four rōnin be Kawahara Shin-Gorō’s disciples?

He’d heard at the police station that Kawahara Shin-Gorō had trained under the same master as Akiyama no Suke, and they were close.

“Wu En, go find a carriage right away, and take this young lady to the warehouse to be held for now!” Zhou Sen ordered.

The girl, terrified, cried out, “Young Master Zhou, why are you arresting me?”

“You know me?” Zhou Sen was startled—the girl actually recognized him. Even if he wasn’t especially memorable, he never forgot anyone he’d met.

“You forgot? On the first of this month, at the Fragrant Pavilion…” Zhou Sen’s mind exploded—how did she know about that? He quickly reached out and covered her mouth.

“Don’t speak. I’m saving you right now! Trust me—do as I say from this moment onward.” Zhou Sen had no time to explain further; he had to enact his plan immediately or it would be too late.

“Wu En, you know the trouble you’ve caused. Now, immediately, do exactly as I say, or we’ll both be in serious trouble!” Zhou Sen ordered sternly.

“Mm, mm.” Wu En was straightforward and slow to react, but not brainless; he understood the gravity of their situation.

Without another word, he grabbed the newly rescued girl and ran out of the alley.

Zhou Sen checked the four Japanese rōnin again; they were breathing, just unconscious. He dragged them to the wall and lined them up.

Wu En soon returned with a carriage—finally showing some cleverness. He’d rented the carriage himself, without bringing the driver, and drove it over.

The two together loaded the four rōnin onto the carriage, making sure no one could see inside.

“I’ll make a call; watch the carriage.” Zhou Sen hopped down and entered a roadside shop with a public phone.

…

“Hello, Mr. Akiyama? This is Zhou Sen. I have something to report,” Zhou Sen called the office of Akiyama no Suke at Nangang Police Station, his tone urgent.

“Go ahead.”

“This afternoon, while patrolling, I passed through Fourth Alley and found four Japanese Imperial rōnin drunk and collapsed there. I checked their belongings and discovered they are disciples of Kawahara Dojo. I’ve rented a carriage and am sending them back to the dojo. To avoid misunderstanding, could you please call Mr. Kawahara at the dojo to explain?” Zhou Sen said “humbly.”

“Were they injured, or did they lose any valuables?” Akiyama no Suke asked anxiously.

“None visible. As for valuables, I didn’t find any, but their clothing and self-defense weapons are intact.”

“Yoshi, Zhou Sen, you’ve done well. Send them to the dojo at once; I’ll notify Mr. Kawahara.” Akiyama no Suke was relieved and pleased. Drunken Japanese rōnin were common; he never suspected Zhou Sen was “reporting first as the wronged party.” With Akiyama’s call, Kawahara Shin-Gorō would take Zhou Sen’s story at face value, and even if the four remembered being attacked, no one would believe them.

Besides, they were in the wrong to begin with.

They’d have to swallow the matter and never speak of it again.

Whether the four would seek trouble later was a problem for another day; for now, Zhou Sen just needed to get past this hurdle.

Sure enough, when Zhou Sen and Wu En delivered the four rōnin to Kawahara Dojo, Kawahara Shin-Gorō himself came out to greet them, thanked them for returning his men, and asked Zhou Sen to send regards to Akiyama no Suke.

How the four would explain themselves upon waking was anyone’s guess.

And four against one, yet they lost—a humiliating defeat, surely too shameful for the proud Japanese rōnin to admit.

…

“What do we do now, brother?” On the way back, Wu En asked nervously.

“Don’t worry. No matter who asks, just say you heard a girl scream while patrolling, rushed over, and found four drunken Japanese rōnin sleeping in the alley,” Zhou Sen replied.

“What about Miss A Xiang?”

“A Xiang? That girl’s called A Xiang? You two know each other?” Zhou Sen was surprised—Wu En knew the girl, but he didn’t. When had this simple-minded, muscle-bound fellow attracted a girl’s attention?

Wu En lowered his head in embarrassment.

“You really know her?” Zhou Sen was speechless. No wonder Wu En had been so impulsive today, rushing in to beat the four rōnin. If Zhou Sen hadn’t been there, someone might have died.

He didn’t care about killing a few Japanese rōnin—they deserved it—but he didn’t want to drag himself down.

Impulsiveness is the devil!

“That night, brother, when you were at Fragrant Pavilion, Miss A Xiang brought me food and wine,” Wu En said.

“No, it was Ye San’er, that rascal…” Zhou Sen had always thought Ye San’er bought Wu En his food and drink.

“Third Brother did invite me to leave with him, but I didn’t go,” Wu En explained.

…

“Your name is A Xiang?” In the warehouse, Zhou Sen circled A Xiang three times before asking.

“Young Master Zhou, you haven’t forgotten, have you? Who opened the back door for you early the next morning?” A Xiang’s bright eyes stared at him.

“The back door?” Zhou Sen remembered exiting from Fragrant Pavilion’s rear entrance without hindrance—the door hadn’t been locked.

“You’re the little maid beside Bai Yulan?” Zhou Sen finally recalled—he’d met a young maid when leaving Bai Yulan’s room, but had been in a hurry and hadn’t paid attention to her appearance.

“At last you remember. I thought Young Master Zhou was heartless!” A Xiang pouted slightly.

“Miss A Xiang, why were you in that alley?” Zhou Sen was puzzled; Fragrant Pavilion was in Huifang Lane, seven or eight streets away—why had A Xiang come to Nangang District alone?

“Sister Lan ran into trouble. She wouldn’t ask you for help, so I came secretly to find you,” A Xiang replied. “But I ran into four drunken Japanese rōnin, who chased me into that alley, then met you.”

“You came specifically to find me?” Zhou Sen was surprised.

“Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have encountered those rōnin,” A Xiang nodded.

“What difficulty did Boss Bai face, to send you, a young maid, to find me?” Zhou Sen went straight to the point.

“Fragrant Pavilion is facing financial trouble and needs a large sum to keep running. But now, no one can help Sister Lan,” A Xiang explained.

“Yesterday at the Songjiang Provincial Official Bank, were you discussing a loan? Did they refuse to lend to Boss Bai?” Zhou Sen understood immediately.

“They were willing to lend, and at low interest, but Sister Lan made a special request in the loan terms.”

“What request?”

“That during the repayment period, the creditor cannot be changed,” A Xiang said.

“That’s not a harsh condition. If I borrow from someone, I only repay the lender; others have nothing to do with it,” Zhou Sen frowned.

“But with that condition, Sister Lan has approached every bank in Ice City, and none agreed, not even with higher interest,” A Xiang said.

Zhou Sen pondered briefly and realized the situation—it was a trap set up against Bai Yulan and Fragrant Pavilion.

Ordinarily, it had nothing to do with him; he and Bai Yulan were mere acquaintances, she wasn’t his woman, so why should he help?

Whoever was behind such a scheme had considerable power—what leverage did he have to oppose them?

He already had plenty of troubles, no time for others’ affairs.

“How much does Fragrant Pavilion need?” He asked, regardless of whether he’d help.

“At least three hundred thousand.”

“Three hundred thousand!” Wu En’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Zhou Sen, however, wasn’t surprised—Fragrant Pavilion was a big establishment.

Is that really so much?

“Miss A Xiang, can you make decisions about this?” Zhou Sen looked up seriously.

“Young Master Zhou, you can really raise three hundred thousand?” A Xiang was stunned; she’d been anxious about mentioning such a sum, as most people couldn’t manage it.