EPThttp://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?id=394514
+ Show Spoiler [author note] +
Changed the last part of the 2001 storyline a bit. Now, instead of selling the whole company, they're just selling a 40% stake to American Bromide--after which Wang Baosen will step down. Shenghan, instead of trying to get control of the deal process, is seeking to win approval to run the company after Baosen is gone.
Also, our 2001 girl has a name now: Xia Yilin.
Read revised part 5 here: http://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?topic_id=392521
Read revised part 6 here: http://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?topic_id=393480
Also, our 2001 girl has a name now: Xia Yilin.
Read revised part 5 here: http://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?topic_id=392521
Read revised part 6 here: http://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?topic_id=393480
Sometime in 2001
+ Show Spoiler [music] +
Shenghan pushed the wheelchair through the door, sat her down on the couch. Yilin was murmuring something.
On the wall behind the couch, knocked askew--a portrait of Yilin and her fiance in happier times. Shenghan's hand moved to straighten it, pulled by OCD picked up while making three years' worth of pitchbooks on Wall Street. Fingers on something hard and gray behind the frame--a safe.
On the couch, Yilin stirred.
Guilt, running hot up his cheeks. Shenghan set the picture frame to its proper position, knelt by her side. Then he shifted sideways, saw the table, and stopped.
The new IKEA woodwork was covered with a barrage of despondent knife marks and shreds of torn red paper. Shenghan picked up one of the larger pieces, turned it around in his hand twice--one half of a double-happiness symbol, the kind festooned over doors and walls in a Chinese wedding.
Shenghan dropped his eyes back down towards Yilin's face. He watched a single teardrop roll down her doll-like, porcelain skin into a tangle of jet-black hair. Then he was gone, a calling card in the remnants of matrimonial bliss: ten hundred-yuan notes, hot pink squares in bright red confetti.
The party in full swing, the karaoke chamber standing-room-only.
A banquet table: remnants of a fish--its head still locked in a vain struggle to swim upstream. Assembled around it, humble Tsingtao beers, loyal, ever-present Moutai, and a bottle of Hennessy still wearing its duty-free label. The TV on the wall matched lyrics about the Long March with some Taiwanese blend of softcore and kung-fu mythology. The seats were packed: Party-issue windbreakers, cufflinks--thirsty from talking business.
Shenghan watched the crowd from the door. On the corner table, Old Yao was running a dice game, rigged as usual; Little Bao and Little Wang, cops, were the victims. Two fresh-faced twists, maybe high school, maybe younger, endured hands up their skirts and kept the policemen distracted from their losses. Snores from Party Secretary Ma, the host, pitched face first onto the table in front of him. On either side, two more girls, topless, playing cards on his broad back. Li Yinghai, the Secretary's secretary, eyes on his boss, sipping mineral water.
And singing in a drunken contralto: Chen Zhuo, the banker, a mass of lipstick stains right above his belt. Onscreen, a maiden in Ming dynasty dress untied her robe in front of a wooden bathtub. Then the song cut out. The men let out a collective groan, punctuated by giggles and purrs from the girls.
Chen looked around, holding the mike with an awkward expression on his face. Without missing a beat, Shenghan cocked his chin, signalled to one of the girls along the wall. She picked a Britney Spears song, invited two of her pals. In rhythm, the three thrust their hips and began stripping--cheers and claps from the room. Shenghan moved quick, found a spot next to Zhuo.
"How was Xiaowei?"
Zhuo giggled from his nose. "She's got a mouth like a vacuum cleaner--everything you promised. Is she gonna be in my room tonight?"
Shenghan refilled Zhuo's glass, emptying yet another Moutai in the process. "If you like. On the house."
Zhuo flopped back, stretching his arms. "You guys--you guys really are the best. There was this one client, out in Shanghai. They sent us out on a yacht--gave us a look-but-don't-touch. Most painful night of my life. I wondered if the dinner was gonna be a smell-but-don't-eat!" A low, belly laugh. Zhuo picked up his glass of baijiu. "Anyhow. What's Old Wang want?"
"Backing from Sino-International on our deal."
Zhuo set the glass down. "The investment committee isn't interested."
"We're not a big enough name?"
"Yeah, but your dance partner more than clears the size hurdle. No, the problem is your working capital is out of line. Your receivables are at three hundred and ninety million, for heaven's sake. You were in Merill Lynch, right?"
"Something like that."
Zhuo leaned in closer. "Yeah, point is, you've been in the trenches. You should know how far we can bend things, and this is one favor I can't do." Zhuo clapped a sweaty palm on Shenghan's shoulder. "Sorry."
Shenghan put his hand on the palm, looked straight into the banker's eyes. "Don't worry about it. If we fix the receivables problem, can you underwrite us?"
"Of course. And--tell you what--we'll even get it on the NDRC fast-track. Don't you worry--we serve the people, and all that."
Shenghan smiled. "Good. Let's get you to that hotel."
A lobby twenty meters wide, both sides lined with idle clerks, most of them reading, newspapers in their hands talking about a foiled bank robbery, actors screwing actresses, Party bigwigs rearranging deck chairs--but no mention of the accident. Shenghan smiled, satisfied.
Shenghan sent the banker up to the fourth floor, the one he assumed was the most empty, then ordered the bellhop to hold off on calling Xiaowei. Shenghan knew Zhuo wouldn't remember a thing in the morning, and he wanted to save the poor girl a night of abuse. He was just about to leave when he heard click-clack heels behind him, and then a voice, painfully familiar.
"I checked an item in for safekeeping. Could I get it?"
"Of course, miss." A pause. "Here it is. Now if you'd just sign your name and room number here..."
Shenghan turned around, cleared the distance in a running dash, and twirled her around by the shoulder. She looked straight into his eyes, dropping her jaw, ring, and purse--in that order--before fleeing straight through the glass revolving doors.
Shenghan picked up the ring and purse, set them on the desk next to a half-finished signature, then asked the clerk, "Did she come with a guest?"
"Pardon me?"
"Did anyone else check in to--" Shenghan looked down "--room three-thirty-one?"
"I'm sorry, we don't reveal the names of our guests, as a matter of policy. I'm sure your friend would appreciate that--"
Shenghan slowed his voice to a death crawl. "I don't care what your policy is. I want to see your guest list. Now."
"Sir, I..."
Shenghan held out the ring, turning it back and forth on shaky fingers. "How about I give you this for it? Eighteen-karat white gold, a perfect way to show commitment. And see that? That, is a three-and-a-half-karat diamond--all yours, if you just show me that list." Shenghan smiled with an almost feral intensity.
"Sir, the ring belonged to the lady, I'm not sure you have permission to give it away."
"Permission?" Shenghan roared. "Why would I need permission to give it away when I bought the damn thing?"
The clerk blinked twice, trying to understand Shenghan's words. Then his face blanched.
"Get it, dumbass? Who was that bitch fucking?"
The clerk's eyes caught something behind Shenghan. His hands began to shake as well. Shenghan noticed it, turned around, and saw Gu Zhenlun.
"Hey, Xiao Zhang, good buddy..."
Shenghan balled his hands into fists, but smiled. His voice froze solid. "You?"
Gu saw the ring, fought a chuckle. "Like I said, not everyone thinks I'm ugly, and not everyone cares that you're engaged."
Shenghan stepped closer. "I spend my days and nights cleaning up your goddamn mess, and this is what happens?"
"The only times you cleaned up my mess, kiddo, were when you did your girlfriend's laundry for her."
Shenghan lost it, launched into Gu. Gu sidestepped, laughing, stuck a foot. Shenghan felt his right ankle twist, tried to get up, couldn't. Gu lowered his face above him, put his arm on Shenghan's neck, smirked--Shenghan kneed him in the balls and bit into Gu's nose. Gu shrieked; Shenghan grabbed a wrist, bit into it too, then threw his weight down, flipping both of them over.
They tumbled. Gu made animal noises. Shenghan thrashed his head, felt tendons snapping under his teeth. Then he tossed the mangled forearm aside, and beat Gu into unconsciousness with his own two hands.
Read part 12 here:
http://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?id=395508
