Chapter 815: The Debt Collectors Arrive

Bandage Man listened intently, his voice hoarse as he asked, “And then?”

Kao Wei wiped her tears. “The big brother in his gang was wiped out, and for a while, it seemed like everything was calm. He took the blame but was let off with just half a month’s detention. He came to see me, happy, saying surviving such a calamity meant he’d have good luck. Two months later, a television arrived at our place, but we didn’t know who sent it, claiming it was won in a lucky draw. He joyfully plugged it in, while I was in the kitchen washing grapes. Suddenly, there was a bang, shaking the house. The TV had exploded. Later, I realized it was payback from his past. He was covered in blood, diagnosed with severe burns. I stayed with him all night. He kept saying we should break up, over and over, but I just cried. I knew he didn’t want to drag me down. We thought the hospital was safe, but days later, he disappeared. He’s never been seen since. Maybe he’s dead, maybe they encased him in cement and threw him in the river. I hope he’s dead, so he doesn’t suffer anymore, but I hope he’s alive. I’m so conflicted!”

Kao Wei began to cry softly, covering her face.

Bandage Man reached out to pat her shoulder but hesitated midway and withdrew his hand. He asked, “What’s his name?”

“Wang Xi.”

“Do you know him?” Kao Wei asked hopefully.

“No, I don’t. I’m just an ordinary person.” Bandage Man picked up a bottle of wine. “Take this with you.”

“You drink it. It’s already open anyway.”

“Drinking it will only make it more painful…” Bandage Man’s eyes dimmed, memories of that cruel night flooding back.

“I’ll go rest now. You should sleep too,” Kao Wei said, heading downstairs. As she descended, she saw Bandage Man sitting in the dark, holding the bottle to his lips, tears glistening in his eyes.

When the downstairs was quiet, Bandage Man climbed out of the window. The houses here were tightly packed, and he scaled two walls to reach the alley below.

Under cover of night, he moved through the sleeping city like a ghost. Occasionally, he glanced at his phone. A navigation-like app marked all surveillance camera locations and orientations along his route.

He had obtained this phone using fake IDs bought on the black market. He carried several IDs, techniques he’d once seen used by criminals, now used by himself.

He stole a bicycle along the way and only felt relief when he reached the outskirts. His legs were nearly giving out.

Ahead was a mountain with a snowy white tombstone. Bandage Man tossed the bicycle into the bushes, climbed the hill, and slipped into the cemetery. Among rows of tombstones, he finally found Han Luo Xi’s name.

Her smiling face was on the tombstone, a stark contrast to the mourners’ grief.

Bandage Man traced his fingers over each letter on the tombstone, then rested his head against it and wept. After he’d cried enough, he poured wine onto the tombstone and addressed the person in the photo, “Luo Xi, I don’t know how to go on.”

The response was still a smiling face.

Then he visited another old friend. Li Mu’s tombstone was next to Han Luo Xi’s. Bandage Man took out three cigarettes, lit them, and placed them in front of the tombstone. Facing the person in the photo, he said, “Master, now you don’t have to worry about dying of lung cancer. But you won’t find peace either. I bring cigarettes every year to choke you… as long as I’m alive!”

After paying his respects, Bandage Man retraced his steps. On the way back, he encountered a police car. He immediately abandoned the bicycle and dove into the roadside bushes. The police, suspicious of the figure, searched briefly before returning to their car.

He returned to the city and found a gang of thugs in an alley, tormenting an office worker. The man knelt, trembling. A thug with blue-dyed hair slapped him repeatedly, his face already swollen. His companions laughed.

Bandage Man clenched his fists, wanting to intervene, to release his pent-up anger. But when he looked up at the surveillance cameras, he hesitated. Finally, he straightened his collar and silently left.

Back in Kao Wei’s attic, he lay down and slept without a word the whole night.

The tranquility of Dogskin Alley in the early morning was shattered by a crash. Debt collectors had found the old tailor and were tossing his belongings out, one by one. The tailor begged, “Sir, please don’t throw out the things I need to make a living!”

The lead man’s grotesque features resembled an impressionist oil painting. He ran his hand roughly through his hair and demanded, “When are you paying back the money!”

“Give me two more days…” The old tailor said uncertainly.

“Impressionist” contorted his body like a possessed being, crab-like. He gritted his teeth.

A lackey nearby commented, “Our boss goes nuts whenever he hears ‘two more days’. Try saying it again.”

The tailor paled. “I really have no money right now.”

“Old man, who are you fooling? How do you eat, drink, and dress without money?” Impressionist pointed accusingly, his gaze turning icy. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

“I really… really can’t come up with any money, not even a penny…” The tailor pleaded.

“Hehehehehe!” Impressionist burst into laughter, chilling the tailor to the bone.

Residents gathered in the alley, watching the spectacle with morbid fascination. Zhang Daxiang even brought sunflower seeds, munching away contentedly.

Bandage Man observed the scene from the attic window.

Impressionist gestured, and his lackey jumped into action, kicking and hitting the tailor. Suddenly enraged, Impressionist kicked one lackey over, saying, “When I do this, it means to fetch the stuff from the trunk, not beat people!”

The lackey looked innocent. “Usually, this gesture means to beat someone up. Did I misunderstand?”

“Am I wrong?” Impressionist kicked him down again, then repeated the gesture.

The lackey hurried off to get the items. Impressionist ran his hand through his hair vigorously, half-smiling. “Let’s play a little game.”

“Please, give me two more days. I really have no money.” The old tailor begged, prostrate.

This time, Impressionist truly lost his temper, kicking the tailor violently. “Are you a robot? All you say is this, trying to get us to pity you. Who’s going to pity us? If we don’t get the money, the boss will chew us out. If you’re so broke, why borrow from loan sharks in the first place? Huh?”

“Take him and sell his organs. They say a testicle goes for 400,000, a kidney for 600,000. Best to turn this old scoundrel into cash!” Zhang Daxiang suggested eagerly.

In no time, the lackeys fetched a prop – a thin chain about the width of a pinky finger. The onlookers were exhilarated.

When Impressionist ordered his lackeys to start stripping the tailor’s clothes, the crowd’s excitement reached new heights, faces lighting up with cheerful smiles…