Chapter 11: Turning the Tide

The person who had stepped in was Chen Ye.

All trace of his former youthful awkwardness had vanished. His eyes were fierce; he looked nothing like the honest country boy everyone had met. The onlookers were stunned.

Shanghai was a commercial metropolis with good public order. Shanghai Beauty’s flagship center was usually peaceful, and even disputes rarely went beyond a shouting match. People might stand face-to-face and curse each other, but they didn’t come to blows. Seeing Chen Ye send a man flying with one kick shocked everyone, including Bai Xueyan.

“Bai-jie, didn’t they want to settle privately?” Chen Ye said calmly. “Let me settle it with them.”

“Chen Ye…”

“It’s all right.” He put himself between her and the men.

Clutching his stomach, the man struggled up, grimacing. “You fucking hit me? He started it! Get him!”

His companions, feeling justified, rushed Chen Ye. Their leader grabbed a steel pipe and swung first.

Chen Ye calmly snatched an umbrella from beside the reception desk. As the pipe came down, he jabbed the umbrella’s tip into the man’s armpit.

“Ah! Shit!” The man dropped the pipe. Half his arm went numb and refused to move.

“The Jiquan point. That should keep you busy,” Chen Ye said.

His mentor in prison had taught him that acupoints could harm as well as heal. Proper acupuncture and massage could treat illness; force applied to them could injure the limbs or internal organs and temporarily incapacitate someone, or even kill. Years of frequent fights in prison had made Chen Ye quick, steady, and accurate.

The other men charged, swinging their pipes. They looked fierce, but compared with the vicious criminals he had faced in prison, they were less threatening than children.

Chen Ye ducked one blow and punched the attacker in the stomach. “Zhongwan point!”

The man dropped to his knees, unable to fight, and vomited violently. The mess contained white, green, and black bits; his meat-filled wontons from breakfast were still partly undigested. Disgusted, the onlookers covered their noses and backed away.

The rest surrounded Chen Ye, bringing their pipes down like rain. Afraid he would be badly hurt, Bai Xueyan called the police.

“Jing’an 110, operator 023. What is your emergency?”

“I’d like to report—”

Someone tugged her sleeve and pointed. “President Bai, look.”

The men who had surrounded Chen Ye were sprawled across the floor. He stood among them, breathing hard. It had taken only a dozen seconds or so, and everyone in the lobby was stunned.

“Hello? What’s happening there?” the operator asked urgently.

Bai Xueyan came to herself. “Oh, it’s all right now. I’m sorry.” She hung up and ran to Chen Ye.

“Are you all right? Were you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Bai-jie.”

“How can you be fine? You’re bleeding!” His sleeve was torn, with several bloody scratches beneath it.

People as sheltered as Bai Xueyan had no idea what he’d endured in prison; to Chen Ye, this was nothing by comparison. He smiled. “Really, it’s just a scratch.”

There was none of his earlier boyishness now. He seemed solid and dependable, and the sense of safety he gave her left Bai Xueyan momentarily dazed.

Chen Ye turned to the ringleader, seized his collar, and forced him to look up. “Still want to fight?”

Faced with his fierce gaze, the man lost his nerve. “No! No more!” Half his arm was useless, and his helpers were all down. He was in no position to continue.

“Bai-jie, what should we do with them?” Chen Ye asked.

Bai Xueyan surveyed the damage. “Quite a few things were broken. You’ll pay for them. Li Bo, ask accounting to calculate the cost.”

“Yes.”

Li Bo soon returned with a calculator and the figure from accounting. She glanced at it. “Eighty-seven thousand, six hundred and thirty-two yuan. That’s the purchase cost of the furnishings. I’ll waive the change; make it eighty-seven thousand.”

“Eighty-seven thousand?” the man exclaimed. Could a few tables and chairs really cost that much?

“This is an upscale interior. Many pieces were custom-made overseas. I have the invoices if you want to see them.”

“I believe you!” His face crumpled. “But I can’t afford that!”

“If you won’t pay, I’ll call the police. You came into my business and threatened us with force. My employee acted in self-defense; all of you could be detained.”

The man knew they had come to extort money and might end up in prison if the police got involved. But he couldn’t afford to pay either, and he was nearly in tears.

His wife rushed forward, fell to her knees, and knocked her head against the floor before Bai Xueyan. “Please don’t call the police. We’ll pay, but we can’t afford it now. We’ll write an IOU and repay you when we earn the money.”

“If you write an IOU and disappear, where are we supposed to find you?” Chen Ye asked.

“But we really don’t have any money!” she sobbed.

Her phone rang. She hurried to answer. A woman’s voice came through the speaker: “Ms. Zou, when are you going to make the payment? The match can’t wait, and your hospital fees are due again.”

Her inexpensive phone was loud enough for everyone in the suddenly quiet room to hear.

“Please give me a little more time,” she said through tears. “I’ve raised over a hundred thousand yuan. I’m only a little short.”

“Your child has no insurance, so you’ll have to pay the full amount yourself. It will cost nearly six hundred thousand, and the deposit alone is three hundred thousand. If you can’t pay today, the match will go to the next patient. We all know your daughter’s condition. If she misses this chance…”

The caller hung up. The woman collapsed weakly to the floor, as though the sky had fallen.