Chen Shen took Bian Tou and a few men to the Mingxing Studio at Liudadai, where they found Li Xiaonan, dressed in a peasant costume for a film. She was playing the role of a maid, and she didn’t even have any lines. Her gaze drifted over the noble lady’s head and spotted Chen Shen, squinting and smiling at her, which sent a ripple of warmth through her heart. During a break, she couldn’t find Chen Shen, but in fact, he was sitting not far away in a corner, drinking kvass and smoking a cigarette.
Third Brother Pudong was cornered by Bian Tou and the others in the studio restroom. His face was flushed, probably from drinking too much, and he stood in front of the mirror, breathing heavily. When his bloodshot eyes noticed several men in black standing behind him in the mirror, he must have sensed something was wrong. As he tried to leave, a hand reached out to stop him.
Meanwhile, as Li Xiaonan searched for Chen Shen, a few stagehands began joking around with her. She shooed them away, telling them to go die somewhere else. Then she spotted Chen Shen, standing like a bamboo shoot that had just sprung up after the rain, holding up his soda bottle in a greeting. Chen Shen swayed over to her, grabbed her hand, and said, “Come with me.” The stagehands who had been teasing her weren’t about to let them leave. One of them asked, “What’s your deal?”
Chen Shen squinted, smiling, and replied, “I’m a killer. If you don’t believe me, ask Xiaonan.”
Li Xiaonan nodded heavily in confirmation. The stagehands burst into laughter, and one of them suddenly reached into Chen Shen’s pocket, pulling out a pair of hairdressing scissors. The men laughed even harder, finding it absurd that anyone would kill with a pair of scissors. They jeered, calling him names like “scum” and “pig,” and one of the stagehands even gave Chen Shen a shove on the head.
Chen Shen, filled with quiet sadness, cried out, “You messed up my hair!” The stagehand reached out again, but this time he pulled a gun from Chen Shen’s waistband.
Chen Shen calmly warned, “The safety is off. It’ll really go off.”
The stagehand’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly stuffed both the scissors and the gun back into Chen Shen’s hands. Chen Shen said nothing more, yanked Li Xiaonan by the hand, and marched straight into the men’s restroom. When they opened the door, Li Xiaonan saw Third Brother Pudong lying on the floor, his left cheek pressed against the ground, while his right cheek was being crushed under Bian Tou’s foot, drooling uncontrollably. A single hair protruding from a mole on his cheek caught Chen Shen’s attention, making him uncomfortable. He crouched down, carefully snipped off the hair with his scissors, and stood up, as if completing an important task.
That day, Li Xiaonan, wearing high heels, stomped hard on Third Brother Pudong’s face. He let out a scream, and in his dazed vision, he saw that all the men in black had bulging waists, realizing too late that they either worked for Du Yuesheng, Huang Jinrong, or Yu Qiaqing. He closed his eyes in despair, just as Li Xiaonan hooked her arm around Chen Shen’s neck and walked out of the restroom with him. Chen Shen’s voice lingered in his ears: “If you ever bully my sister again, you’ll be eating bullets.”
That day filled Li Xiaonan with immense joy, though she had been on the verge of tears. She was almost like an orphan, and for the first time, she felt the benefits of having a big brother or, rather, a man to protect her. That night, she drank a lot of alcohol, clearly excited, and on their way back to Renjuli, she sang loudly the entire time. Chen Shen, in contrast, remained silent, listening to Li Xiaonan’s wild singing as she belted out “Spring Has Come, Filling the Windows with Green” and “What a Beautiful Jasmine Flower.” Their voices trailed off as they stepped into the house.
Once again, Li Xiaonan kicked off her shoes, put on Chen Shen’s slippers, and walked over to the hot water bottle to pour some water. Just as she lifted the bottle three inches off the table, Chen Shen stopped her with a sharp command, “Don’t move.”
Li Xiaonan froze in place, motionless on that cold winter night. She stood still, holding the hot water bottle, looking back over her shoulder. In that split second, Chen Shen realized that the hot water bottle, which should have been on the floor, was now on the table. He walked over, bent down, and saw a thin wire beneath the bottle. Whether the bottle was put down or the wire was cut, this booby-trap would definitely be triggered. As a former instructor at the spy training unit in Qingpu, Chen Shen was all too familiar with this simple explosive device. He crouched there, looked up at the wide-eyed, speechless Li Xiaonan, and smiled.
"Don’t move, it’s a bomb," Chen Shen repeated. He didn’t know what else to do, so he simply sat down on the floor, pulled out a Cherry cigarette, and lit it. Neither of them spoke for a while, until Li Xiaonan timidly said, “I don’t want to die yet. Our company is planning to promote me; they’re putting me in a film with Zhou Xuan from Guohua Company.”
Chen Shen took a long drag from his cigarette, then crushed the butt under his shoe before standing up and angrily saying, “You’re facing death, and you’re still worrying about making waves!”
That day, Chen Shen took the hot water bottle from Li Xiaonan’s hands and told her to quickly step outside. Then, with a quick motion, he let go of the bottle and leaped toward the open door. A loud explosion followed. Smoke filled the room, a large hole was blasted in the wall, the table was shattered, and the windows blew apart, scattering shards of glass everywhere. Not far from the door, Chen Shen held tightly onto Li Xiaonan, who had run back in fear for his safety. Her eyes were wide as she shook Chen Shen’s head desperately. “Are you dead? Chen Shen, are you dead?”
That evening, many neighbors gathered around. Clearly frightened, some were wrapped in blankets, trembling in the cold. Chen Shen stood up, smiled, and said, “It’s nothing. I accidentally set off a big firecracker in my room. Everyone, go back to bed—I can’t afford to pay for anyone catching a cold.”
Later that night, Chen Shen and Li Xiaonan stood awkwardly in the middle of the destroyed room, like two grasshoppers lost in the autumn winds. The room was a complete wreck. Li Xiaonan crouched down to gather up her belongings from the suitcase, which had been blown apart. A few records spilled out of the suitcase, as tattered as an old sack. Chen Shen bent down and picked up the records, all of them produced by Shanghai’s Baidai Company, and they were all songs by Zhou Xuan. Chen Shen laughed, holding up the records. “Is she the one you’re supposed to star alongside?”
“I just like her songs.”
“Are the songs more important than your life?”
“Isn’t living all about singing? What else is it for—eating?” Li Xiaonan pouted, feeling completely justified.
That long night, which seemed to stretch on forever, Chen Shen went downstairs to the public phone and called Bian Tou. Bian Tou arrived in the squad’s car and picked up both Chen Shen and Li Xiaonan. The night felt endless, and at some point, Li Xiaonan fell asleep with her head resting on Chen Shen’s shoulder. While sleeping, she dreamed of Yancheng. In the dream, she was like a dandelion in a field, blown by the wind all the way to the bright lights of Shanghai. Yet, even in her dream, she still thought of her old family home, with its deep courtyards that seemed to hide secrets that would never be uncovered.
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