SES Chapter 116 Part 1

Chapter 116

Back at Fallen Street. At the corner, in front of a little clay-pot eatery, Yiwansan arrived first. He picked a table and sat down, thinking that since he was the one who invited Ma Chao, it was only right that he cover the bill.

He pulled out his wallet and flipped through the bills inside, muttering to himself: unbelievable—who would’ve thought that at this point in his life, he’d actually be spending money and running around… for that poisonous woman.

Somehow, he didn’t even feel comfortable calling Mu Dai a “viper” anymore.

Ma Chao showed up quickly, face lit with the joy of getting a free meal, his tone unusually warm. “Brother Jiang, what made you think of treating me to dinner?”

Yiwansan kept it casual. “Job’s done. I’ll be leaving in a couple of days. Thought since we’ve crossed paths, I’d ask you out to eat and chat.”

Ma Chao could hardly contain his excitement. He kept saying how embarrassed he felt, but when it came to ordering, he didn’t hold back—he picked the most expensive seafood clay pot. Luckily, the place was small; no matter how pricey, it couldn’t go too high.

When the pot arrived, the broth bubbled furiously, steam rising as the cheap assortment of seafood cooked together. Ma Chao scooped at the soup with a ladle, steam drifting right across his face.

Yiwansan pointed at the empty table beside them. “Funny thing. The folks there were talking about the bridge case…”

He lowered his voice. “They said the cops had already caught the woman, but somehow she got away.”

Ma Chao picked up a fish ball, burned his tongue, and hissed, “I heard that too. Word is she knows martial arts—jumped from the third floor without a scratch.”

Yiwansan gave him a pointed warning. “Then you’d better watch yourself.”

Ma Chao blinked, confused. “Watch myself from what?”

Leaning in, Yiwansan spoke with weight. “She killed someone. You’re a witness. You’d have to testify. She’s on the run—and she’s got skills. So, what do you think you should be worried about?”

Ma Chao gave a nervous laugh. “It can’t be that bad, right?”

But as he said it, unease began creeping in, dulling his appetite.

Yiwansan studied him closely. The nerves didn’t look fake.

Ma Chao fumbled for an excuse. “That night, it was just me and her on the bridge. If she really wanted to silence me, she could’ve done it right then. Since she let me walk away, doesn’t that mean she didn’t want to kill me?”

He looked at Yiwansan almost pleadingly, hoping for reassurance.

Yiwansan said, “But why would she let a witness go? Doesn’t add up. Killing one or two—it’s all the same once you’ve crossed the line.”

The words caught Ma Chao off guard. He mumbled, half to himself, “True…”

Yiwansan seized the opening and threw down the heavy question. “I heard the police only found you the next day, thanks to another witness’s description. Why didn’t you call the cops yourself?”

Ma Chao just stared at him.

That day, when the police knocked on his door, he hadn’t even been fully awake. Still curled up in bed, it took him a long moment to register. Then suddenly he blurted, terrified: “My friend—my friend was murdered!”

The cops’ faces had turned serious at once. They asked why he hadn’t reported it sooner.

He stammered, “I don’t remember. My head was blank. After I ran home, I—I don’t even know how I fell asleep…”

His words tumbled out, messy and incoherent. The officers exchanged a look, their eyes full of sympathy. Later, riding in the squad car on the way to Zheng Shuiyu’s restaurant, the two policemen up front muttered to each other: This kid usually acts tough, but look at him—scared witless, can’t even think straight.

Didn’t remember? Shocked senseless?

What a pathetic excuse, Yiwansan thought grimly. Oh, little boss lady, you never should’ve fled the station that night.

Ma Chao’s “I don’t remember” clearly wasn’t convincing. The police might’ve let it slide for the moment, but they’d dig deeper later. And Mu Dai’s escape? That only cemented suspicion. After all, even Ma Chao hadn’t run. If she wasn’t guilty, what was she running for?

Yiwansan resolved to press harder.

“Doesn’t make sense. You’re supposed to be a tough guy, with underlings who look up to you. Your buddy gets shoved off a bridge by some woman, and you don’t fight back? Fine, maybe you run. But not even a call to the cops? Doesn’t sound like you.”

Ma Chao’s eyes went glassy as he watched Yiwansan’s mouth move. His head suddenly throbbed. Fragmented images flashed before him.

—Zhang Tong fumbling with his pants, muttering, Where should I piss?

—Himself, drunk and grinning stupidly, pointing at the bridge railing: There, piss in the river! It flows to the water plant—let the whole county taste your piss…

The veins on Ma Chao’s forehead bulged. Cold sweat beaded at his temples.

Yiwansan fixed him with a sharp stare. “Say something.”

Ma Chao’s lips trembled. Another nightmare-like scene broke through.

—Zhang Tong is climbing the railing, his fat body struggling for leverage. He called out for help.

—Brother Ma, give me a boost. Just a boost, so I can stand up there…

—Ma Chao laughing, going over to lift him by the butt…

The headache split him apart. Sweat poured down his face.

No. That wasn’t it. Another memory shoved its way in.

—Him urged Zhang Tong to head back. Zhang Tong wobbling to his feet, tugging his zipper, muttering, Hold on, let me take a piss. Where’s the restroom?

—Zhang Tong clambering up onto the railing, laughing, turning his back.

—The sudden scream. He turned, saw Zhang Tong’s heavy body tumbling, and the girl slowly turning after shoving him down…

“Ma Chao!”

Yiwansan barked the name. Ma Chao flinched violently, looking up in horror, his face chalk-white.

That reaction confirmed Yiwansan’s suspicions almost completely.

He pressed harder, coldly. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who killed him.”

Ma Chao rasped, “No… I told the cops, it was the girl… it wasn’t me!”

But as he spoke, he broke, nearly frantic. He grabbed the clay pot off the table—broth and all—and hurled it at Yiwansan, then kicked a stool aside and bolted for the door.

Yiwansan was a second too slow. Half the scalding soup splashed over his right shoulder, but he barely felt the burn. He tore after him.