Her Imperfection for Wifehood - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

An Jing had Lu Cheng wait and drove alone to Lu Gang (Slaying Gang), one of Shanghai’s three major gangs, to pick up its youngest leader, 35-year-old Xu Weiqiang. Trailing behind her were three more Lu Gang cars.

“Xu Weiqiang, you have to make such a grand display every time you go out? Can’t you have a bit of personal freedom?” Sometimes, An Jing envied Xu Weiqiang; other times, she felt a profound sadness for him.

A gang leader commanded the wind and rain, seemingly imposing, but he was actually living on the razor’s edge.

His path was riddled with enemies and rivals eager to take his place. He had to be constantly wary of both open attacks and secret plots, never finding a moment’s peace.

Xu Weiqiang gave a bitter smile: “Do I look like a man with freedom of life to you?”

“Pah! What’s a dignified gang leader afraid of death for? Die sooner, be reborn sooner; you’ll be a hero again in eighteen years.”

“I swear, Boss Jing, why is it so hard for you to say something kind? After seven or eight years of a life-and-death friendship, I still don’t rate a few nice words? Fine, fine, I’m broad-minded, I won’t argue with a woman.” Xu Weiqiang was accustomed to being playful. “What’s the plan tonight?”

“A regular item: to blow off steam (xiaohuo). All expenses are on my tab. You just focus on staying alive, eating well, and drinking heavily. Don’t ask about anything else.”

Xu Weiqiang’s grin remained, and with a rakish air, he placed his hand over An Jing’s right hand on the steering wheel: “Don’t make them blow off my steam every time. If you’d kindly do it for me just once, the Lu Gang and my life are yours.”

An Jing was unperturbed: “If you want to get into my bed, I’m afraid you won’t see the sun rise the next day. Care to test that theory?”

“You’re ruthless!” Xu Weiqiang reluctantly pulled his hand back.

To claim he was hopelessly in love with An Jing might be an overstatement. But honestly, he was genuinely captivated by her. Having crossed paths with countless people in the underworld, only An Jing had ignited his desire for conquest.

However, deep down, he knew that keeping their current “ally” relationship was the most sensible thing. He couldn’t cross the line. If he did, he and she were equals, but their paths diverged too much for them to ever maintain a long-lasting “lover” or “partner” relationship.

So, when they met, he simply bantered, occasionally taking harmless “small liberties” for his own amusement.

Xianle Gate (Heavenly Music Door).

One of Shanghai’s most famous dance halls, and the one An Jing and Xu Weiqiang had patronized most often during the past two years of their “mixing.”

There were two reasons.

First, Xianle Gate was outside the concession areas, making a quick escape easier if trouble arose. Second, it was the only place that played the tune An Jing most loved to hear.

This tune did not come from the beautiful headlining courtesans, but from an ordinary, plain-looking singer who normally dared not show her true face.

Xu Weiqiang asked: “Boss Yu, is Miss Hongying performing tonight?”

Hongying was not the dance hall’s star, nor a girl who could be taken outside, yet she was uniquely favored by the two influential figures. Even the owner thought Hongying was the luckiest girl at Xianle Dance Hall.

Boss Yu bowed deeply: “Lord Qiang and Boss Jing have perfect timing. Miss Hongying hasn’t been on stage for days, but she’s here tonight. Please come to your private room on the second floor.”

Xu Weiqiang teased An Jing: “I’m curious. This Hongying can’t be looked at or touched, she’s just a common singer. Why are you intentionally or unintentionally protecting her? If you really wanted to blow off my steam, you’d book Hongying for tonight. Don’t tell me you want a woman for yourself, eh?”

An Jing frowned coldly, her eyes lethal.

“Fine. A gentleman helps others achieve their aims. There are plenty of women in Shanghai. I won’t fight you for her.”

The classic poem ‘After a thousand calls she emerges, still hiding half her face behind a Pipa’ perfectly described Hongying’s appearance on stage.

The music swelled, the song began, and before it was over, Xu Weiqiang loudly clapped, drawing the attention of the entire crowd: “Wonderful! Beautiful singing and playing!”

Xu Weiqiang deliberately cheered loudly for Hongying’s performance to make a public statement: he wanted everyone to understand that Hongying was a woman under the protection of Lord Qiang of the Lu Gang, ensuring that those with ill intentions would behave.

The person An Jing wished to protect, he would naturally look after.

Hongying wore a scarlet, low-cut cheongsam that outlined her shapely figure. She wore a Western-style black veil on her head, concealing most of her face.

If not for the known fact that she was “unattractive,” any observer of the beautiful scene on stage would want to rush up and embrace her.

Hongying unconsciously glanced toward the source of the applause, and that one look completely shook her.

In this moment, she should have been calm and composed, but in reality, she was utterly flustered and helpless.

She clearly knew the origin of this strange feeling in her heart, but today, it was exceptionally intense.

Hongying withdrew her gaze, calmed her nerves, and finished the tune with her eyes closed.

She bowed gracefully and prepared to exit the stage. Just as she stepped away from the stool, a man who had rushed onto the stage from nowhere violently grabbed her.

On stage, the woman was terrified, and the pipa crashed to the floor.

The scruffy man reeked terribly of alcohol.

He pressed a dagger against Hongying’s neck and shouted over the noise: “An Jing, I know you’re here! If you don’t want to see her die because of you, then come out and take my life!”

“Damn it, who is that?” Xu Weiqiang slammed his hand on the table, and a subordinate immediately entered the room to report.

“Lord Qiang, Boss Jing, the man holding Miss Hongying hostage is Wang Man, who we broke the leg of a few days ago. He’s also Miss Wanyun’s ex-husband.”

“Him?” Xu Weiqiang looked at the silent An Jing and cursed, “That despicable scoundrel! If I’d known this, I should have broken his neck back then to eliminate future trouble.”

The owner’s men had completely surrounded the stage. Wang Man’s eyes were blood red. He limped, dragging Hongying forward.

“An Jing, Boss Jing, don’t you like this woman very much? Come out, you coward! I don’t want to live anyway, and if I die, I’ll take a scapegoat with me! If you don’t come out now, I’ll drag her to hell, letting you…”

“Bang!”

Xu Weiqiang fired a shot into the ground near Wang Man’s feet: “You damn well go die if you want to! What are you screaming about!”

Wang Man was badly spooked by the shot. His hands were already shaking, and this time he genuinely nicked Hongying’s neck, a small amount of blood staining the blade.

He had built up his courage with alcohol before coming, but now his mind was clearing rapidly.

Death had just grazed him.

He was terrified.

An Jing reached for a weapon from Xu Weiqiang’s attendant, and Bai Yang instantly understood, handing her a gun: “Five bullets, Boss Jing. Use as you like.”

After securing the gun, An Jing patted Xu Weiqiang’s shoulder: “Don’t scare the little girl.”

She spread her hands and walked down the stairs, step by step, until she stood in front of the stage. Only up close did she clearly see the gash of blood on Hongying’s neck.

Only a handful of onlookers remained in the dance hall, and upon seeing An Jing, they naturally cleared a path.

“Wang Man, you just want to retaliate against me, don’t you?”

An Jing easily leaped onto the stage and stood a few steps away, slowly rolling up her sleeves. “Dying is a poor bargain. Isn’t money more attractive than death? Let her go, and I’ll give you whatever amount of money you want.”

“Let her go? If I let her go, can I still walk out of Xianle Gate alive? I’m a cripple now, living like a street rat! I’ve had enough of this humiliating life!”

The dagger was pressed firmly against the wound. Hongying clenched her fists, her palms digging in until they bled, using the pain to maintain her composure.

She knew she couldn’t scream or shout; that would only confuse An Jing and Wang Man, and the result of provoking them would surely be a faster death for herself.

“What do you want? Name your condition. I, An Jing, am a woman of my word.”

Wang Man definitely didn’t want to die anymore. After deliberation, he said: “Give me ten thousand silver dollars, and send me out of Shanghai. Swear on your, no, swear on An Xi’s life that you will never send anyone to hunt me down! Otherwise, may your An family line be cut off!”

Upon hearing Wang Man’s vicious condition, Hongying finally spoke, her voice trembling violently: “Boss Jing, no.”

Bai Yang, who had secretly moved behind Wang Man, signaled to An Jing.

“You can swear on my life, but not An Xi’s. Besides, do you really think a mere low-class singer is worth me sacrificing the An family?” As she spoke, she pulled out the gun from her waist.

“You, you…” Wang Man was stammering in fear.

“Heh, what are you afraid of? This gun is for you.” An Jing showed him the magazine, then offered it out with one hand. “How much damage can your little dagger do? How about you take this instead?”

Wang Man was desperate. A gun was obviously better than a knife; at the very least, he could take more people with him.

He reached out his other hand for the gun, loosening the restraint on Hongying’s body.

Just as Wang Man’s hand touched the gun, An Jing let go. Wang Man was momentarily distracted, looking down at the fallen gun. An Jing instantly lunged forward, grabbed his dagger-holding left wrist, and Bai Yang, from behind, locked his neck.

Unexpectedly, Wang Man had a surprise: he pulled out another knife from his clothes and thrust it straight at An Jing.

“Boss Jing, watch out!” Hongying screamed, reaching out to push Wang Man away, and was cut on the arm by the knife herself. Blood instantly gushed out.

Seeing this, Bai Yang, using Wang Man’s own right hand, plunged the knife directly into his chest and abdomen.

The Lu Gang men immediately surrounded the area, quickly dragged the man away, and cleaned up the blood.

Xu Weiqiang laughed: “Everyone, please excuse the disruption. Boss Yu, you too. Just minor gang business, a little skirmish. I’ll pay for the dance hall’s losses tonight.”

Bai Yang violently tore down two strips of fabric from the curtain and wrapped them tightly around the wound on Hongying’s right arm, two layers deep to stop the bleeding.

An Jing put her arms around Hongying, softly comforting her: “Don’t be afraid, don’t talk. It’s alright, you’ll be fine soon.” Then she took off her own jacket, draped it over the girl, and picked her up without a word. “Bai Yang, drive to the hospital immediately.”

“Boss Jing, please put me down, I can walk.”

“Be quiet.”

Inside the car, Hongying leaned against An Jing, weak and exhausted. Noticing that An Jing’s left palm was also cut, she endured the pain, took out her handkerchief, and gently bandaged An Jing’s hand.

Sensing Hongying’s body trembling, An Jing wrapped her right arm around the girl’s shoulder, holding her closer to ease her fear and anxiety.

“I apologize, I dragged you into this.”

Hongying shook her head.

“Does your wound hurt much?”

An Jing expected her to continue to stoically shake her head, but instead, she heard her soft “Mm” of assent.

After the bandaging was done, Hongying carefully supported An Jing’s left hand. An Jing closed her fingers, gently holding Hongying’s hand: “I have quite a few people who hate me. If you’re scared, I won’t come here anymore.”

“Boss Jing, I’m not afraid.”

Hongying’s gentle whisper was like the murmur of fine spring rain falling on green grass. Every word was clear, and every touch resonated in An Jing’s heart.

The moment made her recall the scene of their first meeting two years prior.

It was a full moon night in late autumn, and An Jing came to Xianle Gate alone to drink away her sorrows. Half-drunk, she heard a familiar tune on the stage downstairs and called a waiter to request the girl playing the song to her room.

A girl entering a private room was tacitly agreeing to drink and sleep with the guest. An Jing hadn’t realized this at the time, and soon, the girl was brought up.

That person was Hongying, who had only recently started performing.

An Jing spoke drunkenly, asking her to play the qin, saying her music was soothing.

She played for the entire night.

When An Jing woke up, all of Hongying’s fingers were raw and bleeding.

After stopping her, An Jing said nothing, only threw a hundred silver dollars to Hongying, tidied her clothes, and left the empty, desolate Xianle Gate. She stood on the street, smoking several cigarettes in the cold wind to clear her head.

Hongying emerged from Xianle Gate, hugging herself, lonely. She looked around and walked in the opposite direction from An Jing.

Her thin figure disappeared around the corner for only a few seconds when a cry broke the night’s silence.

Hongying’s handbag was snatched by a ragged beggar. The beggar was an adult man, much stronger than Hongying. Coupled with the severe pain in her fingers, Hongying was quickly pulled and thrown to the ground by the beggar.

An Jing arrived just in time, performing a heroic rescue by retrieving Hongying’s handbag and severely beating the beggar. After chasing him away, Hongying stood up and tremblingly said: “Thank you, Boss Jing.”

When An Jing handed the bag back, the girl raised her hand and pointed at An Jing’s face. An Jing was puzzled.

Hongying took out a handkerchief, slowly approached An Jing’s face, and wiped the dust off her cheek, then neatly smoothed the stray hairs around her face.

An Jing grabbed Hongying’s hand and returned to Xianle Gate. She got medicine from Boss Yu, then applied the ointment to Hongying’s fingers one by one, clumsily wrapping each one with gauze.

The rough bandaging made Hongying unable to help but chuckle.

An Jing asked her: “What are you laughing at?”

Hongying shook her two hands and spoke her second sentence: “They look a bit ugly.”

Because of the veil, An Jing couldn’t clearly see Hongying’s expression, but from her tone, she could detect a hint of innocent, girlish shyness.

An Jing asked again: “How old are you?”

Hongying was startled. Her hands rested lightly on her legs, but her knuckles were stiff with tension. She lowered her head and quietly replied: “Seventeen.”

Looking at this girl, a full ten years her junior, forced to maintain a livelihood through performing in a dance hall at such a young age, An Jing felt deeply moved. She instructed Hongying to focus on playing music and singing, and never to enter a guest’s private room again.

From then on, she and Lord Qiang became the primary patrons of Xianle Gate, and Hongying’s “loyal” audience.

Breaking away from the memory, An Jing asked: “You’re not afraid of death, so what do you fear?”

“Death is not scary. What’s scary is dying before my wish is fulfilled.” Hongying countered, “And what about you, Boss Jing? Is there anything you fear?”

An Jing did not reply.

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