Jiang Hansheng had always been particular about cleanliness. He found everything about this place repulsive — the filth of it, and the people before him.
“Don’t touch me.”
There was no hostility in Jiang Hansheng’s eyes, no ferocity — only a faint, shallow edge. Yet the man felt an inexplicable sense of invisible pressure.
He paused, instinctively looking toward Qi Yan, waiting for his command.
Qi Yan waved a hand and signaled them to step back.
Though utterly spent, Jiang Hansheng’s expression remained resolute. He dragged his leaden legs and walked to the opposite side of the table from Qi Yan.
Qi Yan produced a regulation police handgun, and in full view of Jiang Hansheng, began disassembling it piece by piece — the components falling away like scattered fragments.
Once it was fully disassembled, he pushed a second, fully intact handgun directly across to Jiang Hansheng.
Jiang Hansheng’s reflexes were still reasonably sharp. He pressed his hand down on it firmly.
The hard, cold surface felt unfamiliar beneath his fingers.
Jiang Hansheng’s wrist was trembling — not from fear, but because the drugs were corroding his body’s functions.
Perhaps for that very reason, Qi Yan felt no apprehension at all about a firearm landing in Jiang Hansheng’s hands.
He spoke with the ease of someone who held all the cards. “I’ve heard you introduced on television, Mr. Jiang — a top graduate of the University of Public Security, no less. Are you familiar with firearms?”
Jiang Hansheng asked, “What are you trying to do?”
“We’ll play a round — using that as the target——”
Like a child on the verge of beginning a game, he rubbed his fingers together with anticipation, looking around, until his eyes landed on a long, rectangular iron plate mottled with rust. He had someone stand it upright.
Then he continued. “That’s the target. Assemble the components, then fire a shot at it — bang! If you can do it faster than me, you win.”
His eyes were dark and bright. He made his promise: “If you win, I won’t touch that woman.”
Jiang Hansheng said heavily, “I won’t stake someone’s life on a gamble.”
“Oh? What a shame.” Qi Yan pressed his index and middle fingers together slowly, forming the shape of a gun, and pointed it at the young woman. “She might have lived a while longer. Because of you, she dies right now.”
The young woman had been pushed to the absolute edge of terror. She grasped at this final lifeline, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Please save me, please save me — I’m begging you, save me! Please——”
Jiang Hansheng knew, with complete clarity, that he could not accept any terms from Qi Yan.
The only reason he had survived three days at the hands of this ruthless group of criminals was that Qi Yan had not yet obtained whatever psychological satisfaction he was seeking from him.
The moment Qi Yan lost interest in continuing the game, it would mean the end was not far off.
One of the men raised his gun toward the young woman and pulled back the hammer.
Jiang Hansheng clenched his jaw. “Wait!”
Qi Yan made a gesture to stop him, then broke into a soundless smile.
He tilted his chin, signaling Jiang Hansheng to disassemble the gun.
Jiang Hansheng pressed his lips together, pushed the gun back across to Qi Yan, then fixed his full attention on Qi Yan’s hands. “Do it again.”
“What?”
Qi Yan narrowed his eyes briefly, and quickly read Jiang Hansheng’s intention. He let out a scornful laugh. “You want to learn on the spot?”
Jiang Hansheng said nothing.
Qi Yan didn’t mind. He took his time disassembling it — deliberately, unhurried — making sure Jiang Hansheng could see every step with perfect clarity.
Then the components were pushed to Jiang Hansheng’s side of the table.
Jiang Hansheng gripped his trembling wrist to steady it, his gaze sweeping rapidly over each part.
“Begin.”
Recoil spring. Barrel. Firing mechanism. Locking pin. Slide — metal components clashing in rapid succession, the sound sharp and cold. A round was loaded into the magazine and seated into the frame. Clack — the slide was racked, chambering the round. The trigger was pulled——
Bang! Bang!
Two shots in a row — deafening!
The enormous force of the bullets punched clean through the iron plate and sent it flying across the floor!
The entire warehouse fell abruptly silent.
The dark barrel trailed wisps of smoke. Behind it was Jiang Hansheng’s face — cold, sharp, pale.
He lowered his arm. The rigid tension that had locked his spine eased, fractionally. He said quietly, “I won.”
Qi Yan had known full well what the outcome would be. His expression shifted, and something slow and glacial began to solidify in the depths of his eyes.
He snatched a gun and, without a word, fired three consecutive shots into the young man of the couple.
The sudden turn of events — the gunshots erupting out of nowhere — sent a faint tremor through Jiang Hansheng’s chest.
“Ah! Ah——!”
The young woman screamed. Her composure shattered completely. She crawled and stumbled to her lover’s side, threw herself over him, and sobbed out his name in a voice gone raw and hoarse.
Perhaps that final act drained the last of her strength. Before long, she lost consciousness where she lay.
Jiang Hansheng looked upon the scene of carnage before him. He closed his eyes, as though straining to hold back some deep and prolonged anguish.