Chapter 2 - Fifteen Years Later (1/2)

“Ah!”

Zhang Meng was roused from sleep by the screaming. The weight of irrational horror pressed on his chest like a huge stone. He could hardly breathe. It was that nightmare again, bizarre and horrible. This was the fifth time he had suffered from the same nightmare so far this month!

Holding a quilt, Zhang Meng sat there still, staring blankly for half an hour. Later, he calmed down.

With a wry smile, he got up, drew back the curtain, and gazed pensively at the great snowflakes falling from the sky.

The scene in his nightmare was the favorite story that his father used to tell him for four or five years when Zhang Meng was a little boy. Actually, the story lasted until the four brothers found Zhuge Demonic Shrine. As for the rest of the story, no matter how Zhang Meng asked for it, his father refused to tell him. Thus, he had to resort to dreams to find the answer. He fancied various versions of the story in his dreams which were just like horror movies.

When Zhang Meng was eight years old, his father, Zhang Shaoye, was no longer in his right mind. His father, sometimes, isolated himself in the study, muttering to himself, crying and laughing, and even breaking things frequently. It was hard to imagine that a gentle man like him would change dramatically into another person. Radical and unreasonable, he even punched his wife and children for no reason.

Without telling anybody, Zhang Shaoye ran away from home, leaving behind his families to his three elder brothers. At that time, Zhang Meng was 12 years old. The only thing that Zhang Shaoye left for his son was the nightmare haunting him for ten years or so. Sometimes, Zhang Meng wondered whether he had been to the tomb in his dream. If not, how could all this feel so true and so real?

“Look, younger lord, did you have bad dreams? Or… erotic dream?” Zhao San joked, sticking the opium pipe between his lips. He glanced at Zhang Meng’s crotch and gave it a good sniff, with a hint of irony on his face.

“You junkie! Leave me alone! You can’t even have an erotic dream, can you? Hah-hah!” Zhang Meng felt sick to his stomach and immediately talked back to the middle-aged man in front of him, who was one of the pioneers establishing Zhang’s family business. Zhao San, nicknamed the Whit Horse Zhao San, who always fooled around and stooped himself to annoying vulgarity got along well with Zhang Meng.

“Little brat, in those old days, riding a white-mane horse, I fought against more than thirty gangsters all by myself with just two Mauser pistols. At that critical moment, I hid myself under the horse belly and fought my way out. Driven by a crazed blood-lust, I killed all of them within seven rounds. After that, I was said to be Zhao Yun (T/N: a great fighter who was spoken highly of his very superior bravery and combating skills in the Three Kingdom Period of China) reincarnated. Then, I got my nickname the Whit Horse Zhao San. If I were younger, I would have killed you for what you said!”

Zhao San was fuming, his eyes glaring.

“Enough!” Zhang Meng ended the talk immediately before the old guy began his automatic patter about his past experience, which had already been carved in his memory.

“Fine. Forget it. Let your uncle dress you up. Tonight is Spring Festival’s Eve. Come back and enjoy a reunion dinner together. I need to warn you. Many big names in the Zhang Family will come to the dinner tonight. If you do anything that shames your family, your third uncle will keep you grounded for days. Well, go help them make dumplings in Shui Yue Xuan. They are short of hands.” Zhao San said, waving his hands and walking out with a smile on his face.

“Lucky money! Lucky money (T/N: money given to children as a lunar New Year gift in Chinese tradition)!”

“No way.”

“What a cunning old fox!” Zhang Meng muttered. He turned around and looked at himself in the mirror, a handsome young man with fair skin. But… he looked just a bit spiritless somehow.

Zhang Meng, wearing mink fur coat, walked out leisurely and arrived at Shui Yue Xuan. The staff all clamored to greet him. Shui Yue Xuan was the leading shop in Ming Tang, the most popular antique market in Hong Kong. In Ming Tang, over half of the antiques were traded in Shui Yue Xuan.

Back when Zhang Meng took over the shop, many subordinates didn’t believe a child like him would run the shop well and waited to see his failure. However, to their great surprise, the profits doubled in the first month. After a year, everyone was convinced by his expertise in antique evaluations, and all got along with him since they found him easygoing and kind.

Many firecrackers hanging on the gate were ready to be lit for the celebration at seven o’clock sharp. All the people in Shui Yue Xuan were busy preparing for the Spring Festival, which made the atmosphere more auspicious. Having a reunion dinner together at the eve of the Spring Festival was a tradition for the staff in Shui Yue Xuan, most of whom were single or living nearby.

The accountant Cripple Chen and the executive nicknamed Sick Ghost were making dumplings with other staff members. When Zhang Meng entered the room, they all greeted him with a smile except Zhao San who kept a poker face and totally unresponsive to everything. Maybe he was still mad at Zhang Meng because of the joke. Zhang Meng smiled. He knew that his uncle, Zhao San, was an absolute chatterbox and soon the itching of talking would be more than he could stand.

Cripple Chen had excellent skills of tomb robbery, though his leg was broken; while, the Sick Ghost was a powerful man, though he often coughed violently. They all liked Zhang Meng very much. When Zhang Meng was mulling and hesitating at some critical moment, those three people would always help him take care of the matter in secret; therefore, Zhang Meng had great relationships with all of them.

“Uncle Sick Ghost, why did you buy so many cabbages?” Zhang Meng asked.

“Cutie Meng, about this question, you’d better ask me. The cabbage dumpling is your father’s favorite. Though your father has been away from home for many years, each year we still prepare many cabbage dumplings for him at the eve of Spring Festival, hoping he returns and has reunion dinner with us.”

Sure enough, Zhao San cut in before Zhang Meng finished.

“What? Not back home for dinner again? Well, I haven’t seen him for so many years. I can’t even remember exactly what he looks like…” Zhang Meng felt a bit sad.

“Zip your mouth!” The Sick Ghost cast a stern glance at Zhao San, who ducked his head to hide his embarrassment and went on making dumplings.

At that moment, with the noise from outside, a middle-aged man was seized by several staff members and brought to the room. He was shivering and huddling up, as if a sense of impending doom overwhelmed him.

“What’s all this about?” Zhao San placed his dumpling wrapper aside and said, his eyebrows knitted, “Today is a big day! Don’t let the idiot screw up everything!”

“This asshole sold a counterfeit in our market this morning and was found out. That buyer insisted on money compensation. How to deal with him?”, one staff said, pointing at that middle-aged man.

His face turned dark with rage, which looked scary. Zhao San was, by nature, and a witty man with a sense of humor; however, he was perfectly strict and impartial and never sided with anyone who broke the business rule.

You know, the Ming Tang of Zhang family controlled over 70% the total antique transactions in Hong Kong. They had stressed the rules over and over again that no counterfeit was allowed to be traded in the market, and every antique should be reasonably priced. Anyone who dared to violate the rule would take the consequence!

Different from some picky antique collectors, some collectors were just curious about the antique collection. Many collectors chose to buy antiques in Ming Tang, largely due to the high credibility of Zhang’ family, which in many years attracted a large number of overseas collectors.

But today, to their surprise, that guy even dared to break the rule knowingly! If someone made use of this scandal and spread it, the reputation of Zhang family would be ruined!

Zhao San kept a straight face and remained in silence for a long while. His eyes were fixed on that middle-aged man, who was scared in cold sweat and couldn’t help trembling. He must have heard about Zhao San. Once an infamous pirate had sold a fake porcelain vase made in the late Qing Dynasty at the price of a million yuan, Zhao San had even chased him to Malaysia and returned with the pirate’s hands cut off. At that moment, after seeing the fierce look of Zhao San, the middle-aged man’s face turned ashen because he knew he was doomed.

Zhang Meng dared not to say a word; he was so in awe of him. Zhao San seldom took things seriously, but when he was serious, even Zhang Meng felt scared to talk to him. Cripple Chan and Sick Ghost gave a sigh softly, and went on making dumplings, with the thought that Zhao San would let that guy pay for his debt with blood.