9
My throat tightened, and my breathing grew ragged.
In his half-drunk state, Trương Tiểu Niên was bound to get into trouble if he went alone, and I couldn’t stop him.
After thinking it over, I could only go with him.
Lê Mặc Các was in a fairly secluded spot—or not exactly secluded, just very quiet.
There were no overly bright lights around it, just old-fashioned lanterns used as decoration. Two men dressed in opera costumes stood at the main entrance to greet guests.
There was no way people like us could go in through the front door.
We circled the sprawling club, but couldn’t find anywhere suitable to get in.
Just as we were at a loss, a glimmer in the darkness caught my eye.
“Tiểu Niên, look over there. Is someone smoking?”
He followed my gaze. The red glow flickered, then finally fell to the ground, sending up a spark.
“Looks like it.”
I widened my eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness around us. The person seemed to flash into view, then disappear.
“Shit, I think he went inside.”
We crouched down and went to the spot where he’d just been standing.
“Strange. He was right here a moment ago.”
Trương Tiểu Niên was taller than me. He tried the fake-wood railing over the window. “Here—we can take it off!”
Sure enough, three of the railing bars were only loosely fitted, leaving an opening just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
He went in first, grabbed my hand, and pulled. I scrambled through the window after him.
Once we were inside, we put the railing back. There was no sign we’d been there.
We were in a restroom. When we pushed the door open, the lilting tune of Nghê Thường Vũ Y Khúc drifted in, though I couldn’t tell who was singing.
The restroom was right beside the stairs, so the two of us casually made our way up to the second floor.
On the way, we ran into a tall man dressed like the greeter at the entrance. He looked us over a few times, said nothing, and nodded.
From the second-floor railing, we looked down at the first floor. It was a large stage.
A young woman in revealing clothes sang with a delicate voice. Nghê Thường Vũ Y Khúc was coming from her lips.
I called her outfit revealing because, though she wore an opera costume, it wasn’t traditional. It was skimpy and showed a lot of skin.
The seats below the stage were packed with men in suits or sportswear, who occasionally clapped in appreciation.
When the song ended, the men below began raising paddles. There were no numbers on them, only different colors.
When everyone saw a man in a white shirt raise a black paddle, they slumped back onto the sofas in disappointment. The man smiled, undid a few buttons on his shirt, and swaggered up to the second floor.
“Don’t look. Find him first.”
I nodded.
The entire second floor was made up of private rooms, most of them open. Glancing inside, I saw antique-style furnishings everywhere. Some tables even had tea and pastries laid out, which left me a little confused.
As we passed a private room with someone inside, I pretended to tie my shoelace and peeked in.
The man inside looked to be in his twenties and was dressed plainly.
He cracked sunflower seeds as he watched a large screen in front of him. The screen’s angle looked like it came from a surveillance camera.
What it showed was quite exciting: girls changing backstage before going onstage.
10
I more or less understood. The second floor was like a place to choose performers: if a man liked a girl, he’d wait for her to go onstage, then go downstairs and raise a paddle.
Besides the man in the white shirt, a few others went up to the second floor. They probably weren’t interested in the next performer.
Some stopped on the second floor, while others went straight up to the third.
We followed the crowd up to the third floor.
There were fewer rooms on the third floor, and most of the doors were closed. Listening carefully, we could hear laughter and moans coming from a few of them.
We didn’t need to go inside to know what they were doing.
Trương Tiểu Niên’s face had gone pale.
I put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle pat. “It might not be what you think.”
He shook his head hard, trying to stay calm.
“Look over there…”
At the end of the third floor stood a shadowy figure with no clear features. I recognized it at a glance: it was the same dark figure that had slipped in like we had.
The figure flashed into view, then vanished around the corner.
Trương Tiểu Niên and I exchanged a look and hurried after it.
There was nothing at the end of the hallway.
There was no way there was nothing there. We must have missed something.
We didn’t know who that dark figure was, but it seemed very familiar with this place.
It kept appearing where no one would notice, then moving on somewhere else.
We felt around for a while and found a lamp that could be turned.
The lamp was off, so it didn’t attract attention.
When we turned the lamp’s post, a hidden door opened. Trương Tiểu Niên slipped inside.
For some reason, my throat suddenly tightened.
Gritting my teeth, I followed him in.
I turned a corner and jumped. Two people lay motionless in the hallway. From their clothes, they looked like employees.
Looking closer, I saw the floor was stained red with fresh blood. One had been stabbed in the heart; the other had several holes in his stomach, blood pouring out like a stream.
“Tiểu… Tiểu Niên, maybe we should call the police.”
“By the time they get here, it’ll be too late.”
He stepped over the bodies and ran down the hallway.
I followed, my breathing growing more and more labored.
I opened another door, and the deafening noise nearly knocked me off my feet.
It was like another world. Outside, everything had been old-fashioned; in here, the lights glowed in liquor colors.
A naked female DJ gyrated wildly, spinning records while showing off her alluring figure.
The men and women on the dance floor weren’t wearing much either. Some were even doing it right there.
I stood stunned, overwhelmed by the provocative scene.
Trương Tiểu Niên was just as dumbfounded, standing still, unsure what to do.
For a moment, the two of us, dressed like everyone else outside, became the odd ones out.
Fortunately, we weren’t the only ones wearing clothes. A few people were also milling around the dance floor. When they found someone they liked, they embraced and headed toward a small door at the back of the room.
That was probably a changing room.
The dark figure flashed into view again, then turned a corner.
“He’s over there.”
In the crowd, I grabbed Trương Tiểu Niên’s hand and squeezed through a sea of pale bodies. A few bold people even deliberately blocked our way, using their breasts and hips to draw our attention.
By the time we finally pushed through the crowd, I was drenched in hot sweat and perfume.
A heavy door stood where the dark figure had disappeared.
The two of us joined forces and struggled to push it open. Inside, there was another pool of blood.
This time, five people were lying on the ground.
A long streak of blood led farther inside. That dark figure seemed to be injured.
11
This place was a different scene altogether.
Cold, damp, dark.
The first thing I saw was a row of rusty, foul-smelling iron bars, like something out of a living hell.
Some cages were empty; others held people.
Women, covered in wounds, their clothes in tatters.
“Ngọc Oánh!” Trương Tiểu Niên went almost mad, calling out from cell to cell.
Some of the women inside raised their heads blankly. Others didn’t react at all, like the walking dead.
“Ngọc Oánh, where are you?” He was frantic, and his hoarse voice made his shout sound like a beast’s roar.
I quickly tugged at him. “Shh, listen.”
“Peach leaves… sharp at the tips, willow leaves…”
A faint woman’s voice came from the deepest darkness, like the drunken whisper of a fairy.
We followed the song to a cell.
“Ngọc Oánh… is that you?”
Though Trương Tiểu Niên’s voice was hoarse, the woman inside recognized him at once. She crawled a few steps toward the bars and reached out… then quickly pulled her hand back…
Like someone desperate to be saved, yet despising herself as unworthy of rescue.
“Fuck!”
I cursed angrily. At a glance, I saw that Đỗ Ngọc Oánh had been tortured until she was barely recognizable.
Her waist, thighs, and breasts were studded all over with thin steel needles.
It hurt, but wouldn’t kill her or leave scars, and wouldn’t interfere with her being put to work later.
She was soaked from head to toe. I couldn’t tell if it was blood or sweat, dripping onto the floor.
I turned away, unable to look, and took off my jacket to give to Trương Tiểu Niên.
He took it and draped it over Đỗ Ngọc Oánh through the bars. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out. I promise.”
“Go. Hurry.” Đỗ Ngọc Oánh was so weak she couldn’t even cry.
“Go. I’m not worthy of you anymore.”
“It’s okay. This guy’s slept with me too, so neither of us can make fun of the other.”
Trương Tiểu Niên pointed at me and made a joke that wasn’t funny.
I don’t know how strong a person can get. I once read a story about a mother who lifted an SUV in an emergency to save her daughter trapped underneath. There was also a story about another mother who took down eight wolves with her bare hands so her child wouldn’t become their prey.
I don’t know if those stories were true, but Trương Tiểu Niên really did break a lock the size of a cigarette pack with his bare hands.
Maybe the lock was poor quality, or badly rusted. I don’t know.
Some people attribute this kind of thing to adrenaline. Maybe, but I think it was mostly rage and protectiveness.
I went ahead to clear the way, with Trương Tiểu Niên supporting Đỗ Ngọc Oánh behind me.
My steps faltered, and Trương Tiểu Niên bumped into my back.
“What’s wrong?”