“Yes.”
“Excellent. I can never have enough of those. They're worth their weight in gold, you know.”
“I'm not interested in gold,” Ying said. “I want a short qiang. Do you have any?”
“I might,” HukJee replied, leaning back in his chair. “What do you have in mind?”
Ying placed the bundle on the ground and unwrapped it. He laid two of the qiangs side by side and picked up the third. “I want to trade these three long qiangs for a short one.”
HukJee scratched one of his many chins. “Interesting. I don't suppose any of them are loaded?”
Ying smirked and aimed the qiang in his arms at HukJee's huge head. “This one is.”
“I see. Are you saying I don't have a choice in this matter?”
“Of course you have a choice. You just might not like all your options.”
“All right, then,” HukJee said. “Anything else?”
“I need a new robe and pants,” Ying replied. “Black silk, with an extra piece to use as a mask.” He glanced at the table. “I also want some of your breakfast.”
HukJee burst into laughter. “Put the qiang down, Ying. Your offer is both reasonable and amusing. No one has ever threatened to kill me for my breakfast!” He clapped his fat hands once loudly, and Ying heard a flurry of footsteps outside. “My men are coming back. If they see that qiang in your hands, they will show you what they can do with theirs. Then you'll miss the best breakfast of your life. That would be a shame, wouldn't it?”
Ying heard the door begin to open and he let the qiang slip through his fingers to his side. He kept his hand on the end of the barrel, far from the trigger.
“Wise choice,” HukJee said.
One of the bodyguards stepped into the office. “Sir?”
HukJee smiled. “I need you to round up a few things. The list is short. Be quick about it; our guest is in a hurry.”
A quarter of an hour later, Ying pushed himself away from HukJee's breakfast table, completely stuffed. He was certain he'd never eaten that much food before.
“Enjoy yourself?” HukJee asked.
Ying moaned and nodded. “It was delicious.”
HukJee grinned. “Magnificent. I'd offer to have you join me for my midmorning snack, but I believe your goods have arrived.”
Ying turned and looked out of the office door. One of the bodyguards approached, holding a brown leather bag.
“Please take a look,” HukJee said. “Let me know if you are satisfied.”
Ying stood from the table and the man handed him the bag. Inside was a short qiang, unloaded, plus lead balls, wadding, fire stones, a ramrod, and a horn of black powder. There were also black silk clothes and a wide black silk scarf that a woman might use to tie up her hair.
Ying glared at the bodyguard. “A scarf?”
The man shrugged. “The workers in back said that was all we had.”
HukJee chuckled. “What about the qiang, Ying?”
“I like it,” Ying replied, closing the leather bag. “The ammunition is a nice surprise. A pleasure doing business with you.”
“Another satisfied customer,” HukJee said. “Wonderful!”
Ying offered HukJee a slight bow.
HukJee bowed back as best he could with his stomach still wedged beneath the table. “Come back anytime, Ying. Just be sure to leave your attitude at the door. Treat me fairly, and I'll do the same for you.”
“I'll remember that,” Ying replied. He quickly tied the black scarf across his face and left.
Ying crossed the docks at a brisk pace, hurrying to find a place to change his clothes before the sun rose any higher. He zigged and zagged through four different streets before settling on a narrow alley between two tall apartment buildings. He changed quickly, shoving the Pit Cleaner's uniform and the swatch of white silk he'd had on his face beneath a small pile of rotting lumber. The new clothes were of the finest quality and fit him well. He adjusted the black silk scarf across his face, tied his chain whip around his waist, and was about to step back onto the street when he froze. He felt that someone was watching him.
Ying sank low and poked his head quickly out of the alley. At the far end of one of the buildings, he saw a man's shadow. Someone was hiding around the corner. Ying could have kicked himself. He should have been more careful leaving HukJee's.
Ying slipped the leather bag over his shoulder and quietly untied the chain whip from around his waist. He placed the chain's handle in his right hand and the weighted tip in his left. He silently wound each end of the chain around his hands until he had two metal-wrapped fists with a length of chain as long as his arm dangling between them.