Chapter 31: Souls Bound by Fate

When Zhou Sen saw Bai Yulan in the carriage, he was a little surprised, but he didn’t go up to greet her. He could barely remember what had happened that night. Still, he was certain that something “pleasant” must have occurred between them. There was no question about it. The disheveled bedsheets he’d awoken to were proof enough.

Perhaps because of this, Zhou Sen felt a peculiar emotion toward this woman. He didn’t care about the original owner’s romantic past, but Bai Yulan was, in this lifetime, the first woman he had truly been physically intimate with.

The carriage stopped in front of a bank. Judging by the sign, it was the Songjiang Provincial Official Bank. Though it was said to be government-run, in reality, it was privately operated—albeit with the local authorities holding shares. This was a regional bank: though it didn’t have the right to issue currency, it enjoyed considerable autonomy.

As the owner of the Ningxiang Pavilion, Bai Yulan was certainly wealthy and naturally accustomed to dealing with banks. Otherwise, if she kept her money at home, wouldn’t it just gather dust and mold? She must have come to the bank to take care of some financial matters. That was what Zhou Sen assumed.

“Wuen, go on ahead. I’ll have a smoke and rest my feet for a bit,” Zhou Sen said, sending Wuen off.

“Oh, alright,” Wuen replied, not suspecting anything. He nodded and walked ahead. After all, they were on a broad street—one look and you could see everything.

Seeing Bai Yulan and her personal maid enter the bank, Zhou Sen followed them inside. However, among the people conducting business in the main hall, he didn’t see her. Clients of Bai Yulan’s stature were certainly treated differently than the small customers in the lobby; she was likely being attended to by a manager in a private office.

Zhou Sen took out a pack of cigarettes, found a seat in the waiting area, and lit one. He had watched her go in; she would have to exit through this door, and her carriage was still waiting outside. He didn’t really have a purpose—he simply wanted to see her.

He hadn’t even warmed the seat or taken more than two puffs when he saw Bai Yulan descending from the upper floor, her face clouded with anger.

Zhou Sen’s heart skipped a beat. What had happened? He quickly turned his face away, not wanting her to notice him.

But Bai Yulan didn’t pay him any attention. She stormed out of the bank, boarded her carriage, and drove off in a huff.

Zhou Sen frowned. Something must have happened. He told himself not to worry about other people’s business when his own affairs were enough of a mess. Yet, despite himself, his feet carried him up to the second floor of the bank.

“Stop! The upper floor is restricted—no entry without invitation!” A guard stopped Zhou Sen.

“Are you blind? You dare block Young Master Zhou?” came a stern voice from above. A middle-aged man in a suit hurried down, all warmth and enthusiasm. “Young Master Zhou, he’s new here and didn’t recognize you. Please don’t take offense.”

“It’s fine, manager. I just want to ask you about something,” Zhou Sen said, waving aside the apology.

“Yes, sir?”

“Wasn’t the owner of Ningxiang Pavilion, Miss Bai, just here?”

The manager’s expression turned awkward. With an embarrassed smile, he said, “Young Master Zhou, if you have a question, just ask directly.”

“Does your bank do business with Miss Bai?”

“We don’t have much business with Ningxiang Pavilion. Miss Bai wanted to take out a loan for three hundred thousand.”

“That’s a large loan. Your bank should make a tidy profit. But why did Miss Bai seem so displeased?”

“We would, of course, like the business. Who can turn down money? But Miss Bai’s terms were too harsh—we couldn’t agree to them,” the manager explained.

“Did you offer her a high interest rate?”

“No, we offered the standard rate, even gave her some leeway on repayment. But she wanted a clause in the contract forbidding us from ever transferring the loan to a third party. That, we couldn’t accept.”

“I see. I understand.” Zhou Sen chuckled.

He didn’t press further. Bai Yulan must be in some kind of trouble; otherwise, even if she needed a loan, she wouldn’t have insisted on such a clause.

“Young Master Zhou, why are you interested in Miss Bai? If you’ll allow me to give you some advice, don’t get involved with that woman—she can barely look after herself right now,” the manager offered.

“Oh?”

“Well, you’re better informed than I am. I’ll leave it at that,” the manager quickly withdrew.

“Alright. I came here today just to inquire about your bank’s deposit rates. I have some money at home, and I don’t feel safe keeping it there…”

…

So Bai Yulan was in trouble. Should he help her? Though their interactions had been few, from what he knew of her, she was fiercely proud and would never ask for help lightly.

The cash in his family safe, plus gold and silver, added up to several hundred thousand. That money just sat there, lifeless, and he was always worried about thieves. Why not take it out and lend Bai Yulan a hand? Money in the safe was just dead weight—it might be a good investment. He couldn’t confront Ivanovich directly, and taking back Anthony’s company seemed nearly impossible. But he couldn’t just sit and watch his fortune dwindle, either.

If disaster ever struck—if his house was raided and his family wiped out—it would be the puppet police and the Japanese who benefited from his wealth.

He needed to find a chance to speak to Bai Yulan. The money couldn’t be spent carelessly.

But for now, he set the matter aside. The most pressing thing was to rescue that scoundrel Ye San’er.

…

At noon, Zhou Sen took Wuen to the lamb noodle shop Ye San’er had recommended. They ate lamb soup noodles, and Wuen devoured three large bowls in one sitting. With his belly round, he declared that he could skip dinner entirely, which annoyed Zhou Sen so much he flicked him on the forehead.

Afterward, Zhou Sen gave Wuen a lecture on “scientific eating.” If you stuff yourself when you’re young, you’ll know the consequences when you’re old. But Wuen just replied, “Who knows if I’ll live that long,” leaving Zhou Sen at a loss for words. All he could do was sigh deeply.

A full belly—this was an instinct ingrained in their people. After all, they had struggled on the brink of hunger and poverty for so long that good days were a rarity.

After eating so much, a bit of exercise was in order. Zhou Sen and Wuen boarded a tram heading toward Taiping Bridge in Daowai District; the terminal stop was Sankeshu. Taiping Bridge was roughly halfway along the route.

The Jiang Family Carriage Inn was their rendezvous point with Old Six Gu. Zhou Sen and Wuen arrived a little early; Old Six and his men hadn’t yet shown up, so they found a table, ordered a pot of tea, and sat down.

The owner didn’t recognize them, but people often came in to rest and drink tea. It was nothing out of the ordinary, so he didn’t pay them any special attention.

At the appointed time, Old Six Gu entered with two others. Spotting Zhou Sen, they hurried over. All three were in civilian clothes; in their police uniforms, they would have stood out like sore thumbs.

“Boss.” Old Six Gu sat down and gulped down a cup of tea in two swallows.

“Only two?” Zhou Sen asked in surprise—he’d offered a handsome reward for the job.

“I only brought two with me. The rest are watching the gambling house. Given the connections between the businesses here and the casino, if we all showed up—strangers, every one of us—it would alert them,” Old Six explained.

Zhou Sen nodded. He realized he was still inexperienced in these matters and that he had much to learn.

“In a bit, Wuen and I will head inside. You stay outside for backup. If anything happens, I’ll send you a signal,” Zhou Sen instructed.

“What signal?”

“If we’re out within half an hour, nothing’s wrong. But if an hour passes and we’re not out, you and the others storm in to rescue us and call the police at once,” Zhou Sen said resolutely.

“If they mean you harm, that means they’re not afraid of the police. Even calling them might not help,” Old Six pointed out.

“When you call, tell them I was at the Taiping Bridge Casino investigating and discovered Soviet spies operating inside,” Zhou Sen said with a laugh. Bluffing was a game anyone could play. No matter how powerful Old Seven Qin, the casino boss, was, the charge of “colluding with the Soviets” would be more than his head could bear.

Old Six’s eyes lit up. That was a clever move!

“And Old Six, hire a car—just in case!” Zhou Sen added as he got up to leave.

“Understood.”

…

The Taiping Bridge Casino!

The five-character signboard hung above the grand entrance, the brushstrokes bold and full of ambition, exuding an extraordinary presence. One wondered which “master” had written it—there was no signature, so perhaps it was nothing to boast about.

While entry was unrestricted, four burly men in matching uniforms always stood guard at the door, their belts bulging—clearly, they were all armed.

The moment Zhou Sen stepped inside, a wave of heat and a pungent mix of scents assaulted him—the perfume of powder, the acrid stench of feet, and the heavy odor of opium. It was enough to make him want to vomit up his lunch noodles.

While his predecessor had occasionally played cards for relaxation, he had never visited such a smoky, chaotic den. The atmosphere was unbearable. But for some, this was a taste they had grown to savor.

After stating his purpose, someone led Zhou Sen and Wuen through the main hall, down a long corridor, into a sumptuously decorated room. The carpet was expensive, the lamps and ornaments all rare and valuable, but the room’s layout screamed nouveau riche—gaudy and in poor taste, without rhyme or reason.

The only thing that caught Zhou Sen’s eye was the enormous chair draped with a complete green wolf pelt. That was a rare thing, even in later times; in this era, few could boast of owning one.

Sitting atop the wolf skin was a young man, one leg crossed over the other, spinning a razor-sharp dagger in his hand as easily as if it were a toy top—no matter how he twirled and flipped it, it never left his palm.

On the table sat a glass with a little amber liquor left in it; the bottle beside it was clearly brandy. Zhou Sen recognized it.

Qin Lang, nicknamed “Green Wolf,” was the second son of Old Seven Qin, the underworld boss of Daowai, and the man in charge of the Taiping Bridge Casino.