Chapter Seventeen: Kim the Plump

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“Oh dear! What’s happening—what’s all this commotion?” The first to react was the madam of the brothel. Fights breaking out in her establishment could spell disaster. In her line of work, harmony meant profit; as long as the customers were pleased, tossing out thirty or fifty copper coins as a tip was common. But if you offended a local tough or a wealthy patron, you risked cutting off a steady source of income. Worse, it might bring a whole heap of trouble down on your head.

“Xia Qing! What’s gotten into you, girl? How did you manage to provoke Lord Jin the Third?” The madam exclaimed, rolling her eyes at Xia Qing, who was slumped over the railing with tears streaming down her face. She quickly raised her voice, addressing the man in question. “Lord Jin, please don’t be angry! Let’s talk this out—truly! There are plenty of girls here, don’t let this spoil your mood! Take your pick, as you please!”

With that, she hurriedly rushed into the hall, snatching a few girls by the arm as she went, shooting them an impatient glare and hissing under her breath, “What are you standing around for? Get upstairs and help! If you don’t, you’ll be sorry tonight!”

“Sister Xia Qing?” Saijigade, who had been about to chase after Ding Li, stopped in shock, gazing up at the commotion above. To his surprise, Ding Li had returned almost immediately. Seeing Xia Qing, her face streaked with tears, Ding Li couldn’t help but feel a surge of pity. A frail woman forced into this life, and yet still suffering such abuse—his anger flared. In a low voice, he demanded, “Saiyi! What’s going on?”

“Huh?” Saijigade, lost in his own worries, jumped at the sudden voice beside him. But seeing who it was, he brightened and hurried to explain to Ding Li, “That woman upstairs—she’s a famous entertainer. She sells her talents, not her body. Looks like that fat Jin tried to force himself on her, and that’s what caused the trouble!”

“Fat Jin? Who’s that?” Ding Li felt his anger spike. Nothing disgusted him more than bullies who preyed on the weak, especially when the victim was a defenseless woman. He strode forward and soon spotted a squat, brutish man with a face full of jowls.

“That’s him!” Saijigade sneered, introducing the middle-aged fat man to Ding Li with unconcealed contempt. “Fat Jin is an old local thug—rumor has it his ancestors were Silla people. He’s in the shipping business now, but he keeps a gang of ruthless henchmen. He’s quite a figure here in the Foreigners’ Quarter.”

“So, even you foreigners have your own gangs in Tang lands,” Ding Li mused aloud, and then the truth dawned on him. Wherever there are people, there are cliques and conflicts. It was hardly surprising that in a place like the Foreigners’ Quarter, outsiders would band together for survival—just as the ruffians from Xunzhou and Chaozhou did when they came to Guangzhou. That was simply the way of the world.

But Ding Li’s creed was not that might made right. If the road was uneven, someone should set it straight. That, to him, was the way to live.

“Stupid woman! Still trying to act chaste in front of me after all this time? It’s just money—I’ve got plenty!” Fat Jin’s arrogance showed in every word. He barked at her in rough, accented Tang, then added a few harsh words in Silla tongue for good measure. The flesh on his jowls quivered as if ready to tumble off at any moment. His barrel-like body blocked the corridor entirely, forcing Xia Qing to retreat in terror, her face pale, unable even to speak through her fright—her eyes wide with shock.

“This Fat Jin is not the one I have in mind,” Ding Li thought, recalling a certain notorious leader with a smile. He swept his gaze across the tall upper floor, muttered to himself, and, ignoring the bewildered Saijigade, strolled toward the two supporting columns outside the entrance.

The distance to the upper floor was nothing to Ding Li, especially with sturdy columns and a solid wood sign hanging down from the second story. After a short run, he leapt lightly, grabbing the edge of the sign with both hands, braced a foot against the column, swung his body up, and hooked his feet over the second-floor railing. With another twist, he flipped over—so quickly that no one could see clearly, as if he had simply teleported.

“Ah!” Fat Jin, in the middle of cursing, reached for Xia Qing, only for his vision to be suddenly blocked. He instinctively staggered back, crying out in surprise. When he saw Ding Li’s impassive face before him, he quickly recovered, his temper flaring. He bellowed at Ding Li, “You brat! You’re one of the Tang, aren’t you? Do you really want to cross me here in the Foreigners’ Quarter?”

“Get lost, brat! Don’t ruin Lord Jin’s fun, or you’ll be sorry!” Two of Fat Jin’s thugs rushed up behind him, snarling at Ding Li, but Fat Jin’s massive frame blocked them completely, leaving them to glare helplessly from behind.

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“You should be grateful you’re so fat!” Ding Li ignored the curses, smiled coolly, and with a sudden move, kicked Fat Jin hard in the stomach. As the man doubled over in pain, Ding Li’s hands shot out, locking onto his shoulders like lightning. Planting his feet wide, he heaved mightily and flung Fat Jin aside with a grunt, “Off you go!”

Whoosh—

The sound of Fat Jin’s bulk slicing through the air drowned out the collective gasp from both floors. Tumbling through the air, Fat Jin was seized by a dizzying vertigo—before he could react, there was a dull thud, and his flabby flesh quivered violently, though his bones were miraculously unharmed.

“Now for you two!” Ding Li’s shadow flickered before the two snarling thugs. Suddenly their throats and chests ached, and they were sent flying, crashing through the wooden railing, which splintered under their combined weight. The two bodies tumbled down, landing right on the dazed, head-shaking Fat Jin below.

“Ah!” Fat Jin, still seeing stars, caught sight of the looming shadow and, in panic, rolled clumsily aside to avoid being crushed, caring little for whether his two loyal men survived the fall.

“Do you want to go down as well?” Ding Li grinned wickedly at the remaining henchmen in the corridor. As soon as he took a step toward them, they scattered in panic, rushing for the stairs.

Ding Li smiled, unconcerned. They were nothing but cowardly bullies. He was about to turn away when he heard Xia Qing’s trembling voice behind him, “Th-thank you...”

“No need to thank me! It’s what any man should do!” Ding Li didn’t look back, merely waved his hand, vaulted over the railing, and landed lightly below—right in front of the thugs who’d fled the scene. They froze in place, then began to back away warily, too scared to make a move.

“Fat Jin! Don’t go picking on defenseless women just because you’re a little drunk! If you’ve got the guts, fight me! Beat me, and you can do whatever you want after!” Ding Li ignored the cowering thugs and strode toward Fat Jin, kicking the two unlucky men still groaning on the floor, eliciting fresh cries of pain. He shot Fat Jin a mocking look, his face full of disdain.

“You—you know who I am? And you still dare lay hands on me?” Fat Jin was panting from his tumble. The fall had been no joke, and his whole body ached, but he forced himself upright, unwilling to lose face, and glared back at Ding Li with wounded pride.

“Yes, you’re right!” Ding Li nodded matter-of-factly, grinned, and took a step closer, adding with meaning, “I just want to see if you’re fat enough to handle being thrown three times in a row!”

Seeing Ding Li approaching, fists clenched, Fat Jin’s courage failed him. Memories of what had just happened sent shivers down his spine. Though he wanted to resist, his legs were already trembling, his feet backing away of their own accord.

He wasn’t stupid—he’d survived this long in the Foreigners’ Quarter for a reason. Anyone who could toss him around so easily was no ordinary opponent. With all his bulk, Fat Jin knew he was no match for Ding Li.

Still, unwilling to lose face, Fat Jin forced out, “Give me your name if you’ve got the guts! There’s always a reckoning!”

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“You’re not even worth it!” Ding Li’s eyes turned steely. Normally, he might have answered, but after what happened at the docks earlier, he had to keep a low profile. Without another word, he darted forward and kicked Fat Jin square in the chest, roaring, “Get lost!”

Thud!

Fat Jin never imagined Ding Li would so brazenly flout the unspoken rules, attacking without warning. He barely managed to shield himself with his arms, but for the first time in his life, he realized how useless his flabby limbs were—they couldn’t absorb any force. With a muffled bang, it felt as if an iron bar had slammed into him. He staggered back several steps before catching himself.

“You, you—” Fat Jin, clutching his aching arms, glared with bloodshot eyes, still wanting to retort. But seeing Ding Li ready to strike again, he wheeled around and fled, not forgetting to salvage a shred of dignity by shouting over his shoulder, “You just wait, boy! I’ll deal with you yet!”

“Hahaha! Hahaha...” Laughter erupted from the onlookers—brothel girls and spectators alike. Watching the blundering figure of Fat Jin flee, many of the women doubled over with laughter, their gauzy garments clinging to their curves, leaving the crowd with an eyeful and especially tempting Saijigade and his friends to rush forward for an embrace.

“Hmph! Coward—let’s see you run now!” Ding Li watched the retreating bulk, snorted coldly, waved to Saijigade and the others, and left without a backward glance.

“Hey—hey! Sir!” The madam seized the moment to rush out, waving her scented kerchief after Ding Li, calling anxiously, “The—the broken railing...”

“I’ll pay for it,” came Xia Qing’s quiet reply, appearing behind the madam. Her gaze lingered on Ding Li’s receding figure, her beautiful eyes misting once more. Though her tears had ruined her makeup, her beauty remained undimmed.

“It’s over—there’ll be no good business tonight. The girls’ hearts aren’t in it anymore... There’s no point in staying!” Saijigade looked around, sighed helplessly, offered his companions a wry smile, and left with a shake of his head.