The Anointed Ones (3)
As the riverside at the dock took on the hues of sunset, a call came in from Park Mi-joo, who was out at the Public Security Bureau.
The three deputy directors, led by Hushan Liang, had come to her expressing their goodwill. "They want a private meeting with you, hyungnim. As soon as possible—tomorrow would be fine."
They were desperate. They'd no doubt been run ragged all day.
I could easily guess why the deputy directors were in such a hurry. Even after yesterday's massive sweep operation, we'd only improved things in Guangzhou. The whole ship that was China might sink at any moment, so they wanted a lifeline just in case. Just like their superior Gao Xusen, they wanted to ship out their families and assets overseas.
But the national chairman had issued a statement declaring such insurance policies an act of treason. In a time when the motherland teetered on the brink, anyone plotting an escape was no different from the rebel bandits, he'd thundered.
For the underlings who knew the higher-ups had already secured their own escape routes, it felt dirty and underhanded. From the perspective of these deputy directors—who still lacked the stature of true high officials—I was likely the only person worth entrusting themselves to, given all I'd proven in ability and reliability.
"These are the ones you'll be dealing with from now on, so string them along a bit before sending them my way."
"Their attitudes are so desperate, I don't think that'll be necessary."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Actually, arranging for them to meet you quickly might better showcase my capabilities."
She had a point. I glanced at my watch and replied, "Then tell them to come by 8 p.m. tonight."
"Isn't that too tight?"
"That's their problem."
"Understood."
It was a bit rushed time-wise, but in China, scheduling last-minute meetings on the same day was commonplace. Even if the deputy directors hadn't requested it first, summoning them on such short notice wasn't rude at all.
"How's the matter with Gao Xusen's secretary coming along?"
"I'll handle it before midnight tonight."
Her immediate response gave me pause. I'd given the order on Christmas Eve, so only two days had passed. For a sales executive with no assassination experience, this was suspiciously swift.
After a moment's thought, I asked, "I wasn't trying to rush you... but aren't you moving too fast?"
"There was no reason to delay beyond my own resolve. I consulted the security chief from the planning stage, so no need to worry."
"Kyung-tae gave it the okay?"
"Yes."
"Got it."
I didn't pry into the details. That would've been as good as saying I didn't trust her. She'd mentioned Kyung-tae precisely to preempt that.
All that was left was to wait for the report confirming the kill, then offer a word of praise.
After hanging up with Mi-joo, I had my men prepare to receive the deputy directors. Whether they'd eaten dinner or not, a banquet was mandatory as a gesture of hospitality. It was customary protocol.
Ordering decent food from outside would suffice.
The deputy directors arrived right on time. I had to suppress a sigh at the gifts they'd each brought, pretending not to know what was inside—an ordeal in itself.
"What's all this?"
Hushan Liang replied politely to my question. "We've received so much help from you, Vice President, yet we never properly offered a meeting gift. We prepared these modest tokens to express our regret and gratitude—please accept them."
"I'll gladly take them. Sit down, everyone. We've prepared a simple meal."
According to their etiquette, the senior recipient of a meeting gift returned a token sum or gift in kind. The promise they craved would suffice as mine today.
Once they were seated, I spoke. "First things first—I congratulate you all on your promotions. You're all first-grade deputy directors now."
A first-grade deputy director could command an entire detachment under the city Public Security Bureau. Up until now, Gao Xusen had used them to control the patrol detachment's rank-and-file, but their roles would change dramatically from here on.
"It's all thanks to you sharing the credit, Vice President."
Starting with Hushan Liang, Zhang Tailong and Panhai Shan chimed in like a chorus of sycophants. "How could we possibly accept congratulations? Though it's belated, your insight in spotting the anomalies at Gongjian Corporation was truly sharp. Without your advice to check the bullet marks, it would've taken much longer to take control."
"Even when the reactionaries dragged out the artillery brigade, you stayed unshaken, issuing precise judgments and orders. So cool-headed and astute. We've owed you our lives several times over."
Listening to their flattery made my skin crawl—especially coming from Communist Party members. They couldn't survive without bootlicking glued to their tongues.
I shook my head to cut off their ode. "Enough of that. You've come to me to build a long-term alliance, haven't you? Why make such a fuss over just a few days' work?"
I paused deliberately before finishing. "I still have plenty to offer. A great deal. Some things money can't buy. Whether you qualify to receive it all is another matter."
The things money couldn't buy were special services the organization didn't normally provide: magical power, wisdom, and their byproducts. Of course, none of these three would ever truly grasp the full extent.
As the deputy directors mulled my words in silence, the table was laid with food.
"Eat up. Given the tense situation where incidents could erupt anytime, I didn't prepare alcohol. I hope there's no misunderstanding."
In two hours, we'd put together a respectable spread—everything airlifted from the Mediterranean buffet at Guangzhou Tower. The restaurant stayed open thanks in part to subsidies from the city government.
They couldn't stomach their landmark turning into garish ruins.
'Hard to call it pure waste. A 600-meter skyscraper with shattered windows right in the city center would stoke uncontrollable panic.'
The key was the vibe. Giving the public a sense that minimal order and normalcy were maintained—or soon would be. For the Party, it was especially vital to prevent unrest and defection among the elite. Losing their support meant the country flipping upside down.
Panhai Shan, picking at a large shrimp on his plate, spoke cautiously. "What can we do for you, Vice President?"
"Wrong."
"Pardon?"
"That's not what I want."
As they looked puzzled, I explained calmly. "Though there's no liquor on the table, I too wish to go the distance with you."
In China, it was a common pun or superstition: the character for alcohol jiu (酒) sounded identical to jiu (久) meaning longevity or long association. Serving no drinks here could imply reluctance to entangle long-term with the likes of them. That's why I'd hoped for no misunderstanding.
"Listen while you eat."
I took a sip of water and continued. "A scion of some fallen royal house, down on her luck in our line of work, once told me this: Friendship must come first, then shared profit follows—never the reverse. I don't fully agree with her approach, but that's the relationship I seek with you."
Though I'd urged them to eat, these men at a major life crossroads showed no appetite.
"I believe encountering me has thoroughly reshaped your view of this industry. Am I wrong?"
They exchanged glances; Zhang Tailong nodded. "To be frank... yes. It was quite a shock to find someone like you in the underworld. Back when we were naive, we thought everyone in illegal business was Triad riffraff."
"In most cases, that's spot on. My company and I are the exceptions."
"Ah, of course. We've just realized how vast the world is."
"A fine realization. Since you think so highly of me, let me ask: Am I someone you can entrust your lives to for the rest?"
"......"
The expected silence. I eased the tension with another question. "Then let's start elsewhere. Why do you think the higher-ups obsessively build these secret vaults?"
After some thought, Hushan Liang listed the surface reasons. "No other way to hide money. Land's too visible, buildings too easy to raid, domestic banks are basically Party vaults—no secrecy, always at risk of seizure. And their hoards are so massive, smuggling overseas is nearly impossible."
Chinese citizens faced a strict $50,000 annual overseas remittance limit—soon to shrink to $40,000. Fees were hefty too. Ordinary folk barely noticed, but for corrupt officials whose illicit gains rivaled corporate market caps, it was dire.
Even illegal brokers had limits. Big money left traces. Brokers were human; they didn't want scrutiny. They'd handle maybe $10 million a year max for non-top-tier clients.
Thus, the vaguely elite built secret vaults. They'd once hyped Bitcoin—not as speculation, but to siphon funds abroad unseen. That's why China banned crypto trading and mining outright. The fervor lingered; post-2017 exchange shutdowns, the determined still found ways. As long as the Party clung to idiotic capital flight policies, crypto demand had a floor.
Panhai Shan followed with deeper insight. "Beyond greed, it's obsession born of anxiety."
"Anxiety."
"Yes. Cash in hand is power you can wield anytime. One misstep in faction wars means losing position at best, life at worst. In the end, only money's reliable."
"Quite right."
"If you can bribe your way out and still live luxuriously afterward, perfect. More in the vault, the better."
That was the answer I wanted. Vaults served other purposes too.
'Huge sums flow between them for covert political deals.'
When rivals vied for power, vault totals became raw influence. No cap on bidding wars for control.
This vault network was the world's largest shadow economy, as far as I knew.
With the profound remarks exhausted, Zhang Tailong added a safe one. "Banks are untrustworthy anyway. I heard even Japan once froze all deposits and seized private assets. Why not China? Easier here."
He sighed. "Lately, I regret it deeply. Should've bought a vault before withdrawals froze and emptied my accounts into it..."