A short qiang would be very difficult to come by, but Ying knew a man who specialized in finding hard-to-locate goods. Understandably, his warehouse was located in the heart of the Jinan wharf, the region's trading hub.
The man's name was HukJee, or Black Pig in Cantonese. He was the ringleader of a vast underground network that distributed black-market goods. If you had enough money, HukJee could get it for you, no matter what “it” was.
Ying had met HukJee after winning an impressive string of fights at the Jinan Fight Club. Ying had been an unknown fighter at the time, and HukJee had won a lot of money by betting on him. Ying had a hunch HukJee would remember him.
What Ying wanted was simple enough. He planned to trade all three of his long qiangs for one short one. Ying thought the deal was fair. If HukJee's opinion differed, Ying felt confident he could persuade him otherwise.
With the blanket full of qiangs over his shoulder, Ying hugged the moon shadows for more than two hours, staying out of sight. Several times, he circled back upon himself to check if anyone was following him. No one was.
Ying reached HukJee's warehouse as the sun was rising. The building was situated on the crowded bank of the mighty Yellow River, surrounded on three sides by docks. Each dock contained several slips of various sizes, and each slip was filled with some sort of vessel.
In the morning glow, Ying saw small and large Chinese junks, as well as a wide range of skiffs and a few foreign boats he couldn't identify. This was a busy place.
Although the curfew must still be active, no one at the wharf seemed to pay any attention to it. Dock-workers were busy loading and unloading vessels, carrying items to and from the warehouse's many doors.
Breakfast was being prepared on several of the boats, and tantalizing aromas twisted Ying's stomach into knots. He hadn't eaten in almost two days, and his last meal had been nothing more than a few handfuls of raw vegetable trimmings he'd plucked from a trash pile.
Ying stifled his hunger pains and continued toward HukJee's front door. As he approached, he felt someone watching him. Several people, in fact. Ying adjusted the white silk across his face, doubtful that any of them would recognize him. He glanced at his Pit Cleaner's uniform, and his heart skipped a beat. People who tended to frequent places like HukJee's also tended to frequent the fight club. He hadn't thought of that.
Ying hurried the rest of the way to HukJee's warehouse entrance and banged on the front door with his fists. It was still early, but hopefully an ambitious businessman like HukJee would already be in his office.
“Go away,” a deep voice mumbled from behind the door. “Come back after breakfast.”
Ying heard someone slurp loudly, then belch. Ying tried the door and found that it was unlocked. He pushed it open.
Inside, Ying saw a small front office occupied by a huge Chinese man. The man had a gigantic head, unusually dark skin, a piglike nose, and more chins than Ying could count. Creamy rice porridge dripped off the man's lower lip onto a large table covered with an unbelievable amount of food. It was HukJee, Black Pig. Flanking the doorway were two huge men, both covered with thick muscles from their ears to their ankles. The men scowled at Ying and folded their impressive arms.
HukJee scowled at Ying, too. He wiped drivel from his chin with a stubby forearm. “How rude,” he said. “Who do you think you are? You were not invited.”
Ignoring the muscle-bound men, Ying put the bundle of qiangs under one arm and stepped through the doorway. He closed the door behind him and ripped the silk from his face.
“Ying!” HukJee proclaimed, his round face breaking into a smile. “Why didn't you just say so? Come in, come in!” HukJee tried to stand, but his enormous belly was wedged beneath the table. He shrugged and sat back down.
Ying cringed, and HukJee laughed. “I suppose I could be stuck in worse places than the breakfast table,” HukJee said. “I'd offer to have you join me, but as you can see, I barely have enough food here to feed a starving mouse, let alone two grown men like us.”
Ying glanced at the mountain of food. He didn't reply.
HukJee looked at the men guarding the door. “Why don't the two of you go get some fresh air? Leave me alone to catch up with my old acquaintance.”
The bodyguards nodded and left.
HukJee shoved a salted egg into his enormous maw and muttered, “You do know that there is a healthy price on your head, don't you?”
“I assumed as much,” Ying replied.
“Well, you have nothing to fear from me,” HukJee said, swallowing. “I learned long ago never to burn any bridges, no matter how unstable they may appear. I can't give you refuge, but I see no reason why we can't make a deal or two. I see you've brought something. Is that a bundle of qiangs?”