Chapter 108 — The New Year Arrives

"Yang Ce—why is it him again?" the Black Widow murmured to herself. "I've crossed blades with him before, and I never thought he was anything special."

Black Rat and Feng Dao both started at the words "crossed blades." Their own leader had fought Yan and lived? But then, the Black Widow's skills were downright terrifying; if she thought Yang Ce was nothing much, that was only natural.

"Here's what you do," the Black Widow instructed. "Look into Wu Ming's whereabouts as fast as you can, and find out whether he's really in Bao Lin's hands. But as for that Yang Ce—avoid meeting him head-on if you can, and it would be best not to stir up any conflict with him at all."

"Yes," Black Rat and Feng Dao answered.

After the two had gone, the Black Widow sighed softly and said, "This is all I can do—no more than this."

The past few days had been frantically busy, but with the New Year only two days off, Yang Ji had nothing left to do. Bored, he spent every day at Li Qiang's place, teaching them some martial arts and training methods.

These men already had a solid foundation, so they improved very quickly—faster, in fact, than Yang Ce had back then, which made Yang Mo feel rather ashamed. But then he reminded himself that these were his own disciples, and his heart felt a little more at ease.

There was one thing Yang Mo could never be matched at: his eye. Yang Ce could throw a dagger and hit a distant target with perfect accuracy, but these men could not—their aim fell far short.

They were improving, but so, by the same measure, was Yang Shuo. So catching up with Yang Ce was a hopeless chase, all the more so because Yang Ce had not passed on all his skills to them. It was not that Yang Ce was stingy; it was simply that he was still the King of Killers' disciple, and without Fang Tian's permission it seemed improper to casually teach others—and above all, the King of Killers' art was passed down one to one.

Over this period, business at Yang Dashan's Tianzixiao City had been fairly brisk, but it brought no small number of problems along with it. Yang Dashan had never run an entertainment venue of this kind before, and he had not mastered the daily food stock well, which resulted in a great deal of waste.

What was more, Yang Dashan was a man who cared a great deal about face, and so every day a great many free orders appeared at Yaoguang City. The business looked booming, but in truth it made no money at all. After deducting the spoiled goods and the payroll, he could not even break even.

He had thought this situation would improve after a while, but many people were the sort who were never satisfied with a bargain: once they had gotten something for nothing, they came back for more. And these people all felt that a man of Yang Dashan's wealth and standing surely would not miss their share; while Yang Dashan, for the sake of face, could not bring certain things up—for the others put it so pleasantly: they were coming to show him support.

But as the number of free orders grew, Yang Dashan began to complain bitterly, and in the end he could only swallow his pride and say he would charge half price, just to cover costs. At that, these people grew a little displeased—we're all good brothers, and you still want to charge us?

Well, charge or not, it was not expensive, and in fact considerably cheaper than elsewhere. But by the same token, some of them stopped coming. Yet even the cost price would not do either—Yaoguang City was so large, and its expenses so heavy; not to make money was to lose it. There was no help for it: Yang Dashan had to abolish the half-price policy and change it to a ten percent discount.

At that, the people who had once eaten there every day exploded with fury. We're all your good brothers and good friends; we came to eat at your place to give you face and show you support. You said you'd charge the cost price, and we let that pass—but now you actually mean to make a profit, and off your own people? Isn't that going a bit too far?

At the same price, we can eat anywhere and play anywhere—so why should we come to your place? In their anger these people left at once, more than half of them, and went everywhere spreading word that Yang Dashan was a man of no principle, that he was mad for money, that he had actually set his sights on his friends. Though Bao Lin carried great weight in the underworld, the tongue of the people is a fearful thing; however powerful a man may be, he cannot keep people from wagging their chins now and then.

In the old days even the Emperor of Yanjing could not control what the common folk beneath him said, let alone Bao Lin.

And so those who thought Yang Dashan a man of no principle began to spread word among their own little circles of friends: "Listen, you'd better not go to that Tianzixiao City of Yang Dashan's."

"Why not? Aren't you and Yang Dashan pretty close?"

"As for why—I'll tell you in a low voice, but whatever you do, don't tell anyone else. Yang Dashan is a man of no principle. You'd think we were close, the best of brothers, and I go to eat at his place—well, never mind not giving it free, charging the cost price would have been fine, but he only gave me a ten percent discount, the same as any other customer! A man so greedy for profit and so set on gain—let's have nothing more to do with him."

And so everyone nodded along, and the reputation of Yang Dashan's Tianzixiao City grew worse and worse. At first it hardly showed, but as time went on the business fell off sharply.

That is how business is: the busier a place is, the more people come, because those who have never been there see it too—a place this busy must be good, and so they go in. But when a place is cold and empty, those who come will think to themselves: this place is deserted, it can't be any good, better not go in.

Yang Dashan began to fret, but there was nothing at all he could do about it. He thought: once the New Year is over, with all the Spring Festival dinners and outings, perhaps business will pick up a little.

At last the yearly day of celebration arrived. January 25, 2008—today was New Year's Eve.

Early in the morning, Yang Ce's whole family took a taxi to Chen Shutang's home. The parents of both families had already spoken on the phone countless times and knew one another quite well by now, so there was no awkwardness when they met.

But when Chen Fei saw the gifts in Yang Ce's hands, he gave him a light cuff on the head. "You little rascal—coming to Uncle Chen's house and still bringing things!"

"It's baijiu, isn't it? My dad said the two of you would polish it off tonight," Yang Heng said.

"Ha, good, good. I haven't had a quiet moment all year. Now that I've finally got a holiday, today I mean to drink my fill." Chen Fei looked at Yang Cheyan, who had followed Yang Ce in through the door. "So you're Old Yang? The two of us have been kindred spirits for a long while now."

"Brother Chen," Yang Cheyan said. Chen Fei was a year older than Yang Cheyan, so it seemed more polite to address him as Brother Chen.

"Brother Chen, is it? If I call you Old Yang, you just call me Old Chen and be done with it—no need to be so formal," Chen Fei said with a laugh.

"And this must be your wife, brother? She looks so young," Chen's mother said with a smile to Yang's mother.

Since both families were thoroughly pleased with the two young people being together, the atmosphere was harmonious, and there was none of that sniping or sarcasm from either side.

Yang Ce and Chen Shutang, however, showed no excessive intimacy—they merely nodded to each other. After all, both sets of parents were present; however much they had missed each other, they could not go too far.