Chapter 112
After Bo Jinyan and Jian Yao had left, silence seemed to fall over the yard. His face indifferent, Zhao Kun stood up and said, “Not playing anymore, I‘m going to have a smoke.” Qin Sheng looked up at the clock and said, “I should go and see to the accounts.”
Zheng Chen had already left with Song Kun. No matter who he met, Zheng Chen would always be very close by to protect him. Gu An chuckled softly, as if laughing at his companions’ sudden evasive behaviour. He also walked out of the yard.
Zhao Kun lived in a black, detached house next to the inn. His nature was such that he liked quiet and simplicity, so there was hardly any decoration, and the walls were plainly painted. He loved gardening, so the entire yard was crawling with green, causing this dark house to be quite eye-catching.
However, his woman was sloppy and crazy. She was 30 years old and had also committed crimes. Due to one opportune incident, she had met and fallen in with Zhao Kun, and had stayed with him till the present. Although Zhao Kun sometimes fooled around outside, this woman did not care. After all, she was the one living in the house. She is the woman of one of Buddha’s Hand’s Five Luohans; how many people in the jianghu would have to address her as ‘elder sister-in-law’?
When Zhao Kun returned home that day, he heard the woman dancing in the room, and he reckoned she was still drinking. He did not greet her but went straight to his own room. The woman was not allowed into this room, which was full of firearms. Several brothers from Buddha’s Hand had visited it to admire the contents and were full of praise.
Zhao Kun lit a cigarette and sat by the window to smoke. In these past few years, his tobacco addiction had worsened, and drugs too had come into the picture. He felt like his lungs were about to rot, leaving behind a huge cavity. But, today, he smoked with some measure of anxiety, one cigarette after another, all the while staring at the building next door – the inn of Buddha’s Hand.
No gunshots were heard, and the figures of those two people did not appear anywhere.
After Zhao Kun had finished smoking, he sat in the boss’s chair behind the table. The taste of nicotine made him feel relaxed, and he smiled faintly as he rested his hands behind his head. What came to mind was the first time he had stood outside Bo Jinyan’s yard. Through the window, he saw the blurred silhouettes of the two people. Then, he threw his cigarette butt into the mud and turned his head to tell his subordinates, “They are most probably the police. Tomorrow, report this to the boss, then get rid of them.”
However, these two people had now become the hot new upstarts of Buddha’s Hand.