Film and Television: My Cheat Code is AI

It was completely dark when Zhang Yang drove an inconspicuous gray Jetta, while Ding Jian drove a taxi. The two cars entered the parking space opposite the Fuyuan Karaoke Bar one after the other.

Zhang Yang parked the car with the front facing outwards, without turning off the engine. He rolled down the window a crack, letting in the sounds and people from outside.

His eyes swept over the people coming in and out of the karaoke bar. His earpiece was filled with the quiet static of electricity, occasionally punctuated by the sound of Ji Jie announcing the time in a low voice on the monitoring end.

A short while later, Chang Baole and Tian Rui arrived. The two got out of a taxi. Chang Baole straightened the hem of his suit, and Tian Rui took his arm. The two walked at a moderate pace, blending in with the customers coming and going at the karaoke bar entrance without drawing any attention.

Looking through the rearview mirror, Zhang Yang watched them walk into the neon sign and thought: Yang Zhen was right, youth has its advantages, youth is the best disguise.

Sound began coming through the monitoring headphones; the background was the surround sound system of a karaoke room, the volume not high, playing popular love songs from the 1990s. Then came Mao Dayong's voice, with a deliberately ingratiating warmth.

"Sit down, come on in, have some watermelon."

Tian Rui whispered "Thank you".

"Hey bro, what's your name?"

Chang Baole's voice came through steadily, with a slightly lazy tone and a calm demeanor typical of someone who frequents the docks: "Acheng."

"Ah Cheng," Mao Dayong muttered, chewing on the name as if trying to glean something from it, then turned his attention to her, "May I ask your name, Miss?"

Tian Rui's voice was soft and gentle, completely different from her usual tone in the office: "Fangfang."

Mao Dayong paused, as if rummaging through his memory. "Fangfang?" he drawled, "I feel like I've seen you somewhere before."

"Hey, big brother, what era are we living in? You're still so pretentious." Tian Rui's tone was just right, deflecting the question without being too harsh or too soft.

Mao Dayong gave an awkward laugh and changed the subject back to Chang Baole: "Where have you been making your fortune lately, brother?"

"I used to live in Xiamen, and I just came back recently." Chang Baole deliberately dragged out the last syllable of "Xiamen" as if he still had some loose ends left in that place.

Mao Dayong paused noticeably. Then, changing his tone, something else had crept in beneath the previous warmth as he tentatively asked in Cantonese, "Is business good in the South?"

Chang Baole continued almost without pausing, speaking in Cantonese. His pronunciation wasn't perfect, but it was fluent enough: "Don't do it, things are getting tense lately."

Mao Dayong chuckled, switched back to Mandarin, and said in a tone that was even more intimate than before, "It's always good to come back, it's always good to come back."

Chang Baole then steered the conversation toward business, saying in Cantonese, "Don't mess around with the goods here."

Tian Rui, seizing the opportune moment, interjected at just the right time, her voice a mix of impatience and coquettishness: "Hey, stop babbling on and on, what kind of gibberish are you spouting? Do you think I can't understand you?"

"Okay, okay," Mao Dayong and Chang Baole laughed almost simultaneously, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably.

Mao Dayong picked up the conversation again, this time with a hint of probing barb: "Brother, Ah Biao's got quite a lot of stuff."

Chang Baole replied calmly, "Where? They've all gone to Thailand, what else could they possibly have?"

Mao Dayong didn't dwell on that point, and instead probed further using a different name: "Where's Xiao Song?"

Chang Baole's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. Yang Zhen had told him when he gave him this information: "Memorize all the names in the Xiamen circle, but old hands like Mao Dayong love to slip in a fake name. If you can't pronounce it correctly, he'll know you just memorized it." Chang Baole leaned back on the sofa, his tone as natural as if he were commenting on the weather: "Little Song? I don't think there's anyone named Little Song in Xiamen. Brother Mao, are you mistaken?"

A soft hissing sound came through the earphones, as Ji Jie breathed a sigh of relief on the listening end.

There was a moment of silence on Mao Dayong's end, then he laughed. Just as he was about to say something, his phone rang. He answered, but the volume was very low; he could only vaguely hear a few syllables in his earpiece. Mao Dayong grunted a few times on the other end of the line and hung up. He put the phone down on the coffee table, picked up his wine glass again, and spoke with a more confident tone than before, as if the phone call had bolstered his self-assurance: "Let me tell you, the goods I have here are no worse than those in Xiamen."

Chang Baole didn't rush to reply. He raised his glass and clinked it against his, the crisp sound of glass clashing coming through the earphones: "But, we still have to see the goods, right?"

Mao Dayong put down his wine glass, leaned back on the sofa, looked into Chang Baole's eyes, and said something that everyone understood: "See him now?"

Chang Baole put down his glass, smiled, and said, "OK."

At this moment, Tian Rui's voice chimed in again, this time with all her coquettishness, her voice carrying a hint of petulance yet also a self-righteous clinginess: "Hey, you promised to go get your hair washed with me! When are you going to go now?"

Chang Baole turned to look at her, his voice coaxing, perfectly portraying a businessman doting on his girlfriend: "Hey, why are you so inconsiderate? After we finish this deal, I'll hire ten shampoo girls for you, okay?"

Mao Dayong chuckled beside him, then his smile faded, and his tone became businesslike: "Hey, brother, know the rules, only one person can go."

Chang Baole's smile remained unchanged. He turned back to Tian Rui and said, "You should go back first. I'll have A-Jian accompany you."

Tian Rui pouted, picked up her bag, and said with just the right amount of grievance in her voice, "Then come back soon."

The sound of the private room door opening and closing came through the earphones, followed by the rhythmic footsteps of high heels in the KTV corridor, fading into the distance. Old Zheng's voice then came through the walkie-talkie, crisp and clear: "Attention, number two is coming out. Make backup."

Ding Jian's taxi silently glided out of the shadows at the street corner, its hazard lights flashing as it came to a steady stop in front of the karaoke bar. Tian Rui opened the car door and climbed into the back seat. Before the door was even fully closed, the taxi had already merged into the traffic on the main road, its taillights disappearing into the night, making it difficult to distinguish which one it was.

Zhang Yang turned his gaze back and saw two people coming out of the karaoke bar through the car window. Mao Dayong walked in front, a toothpick in his mouth, and stood on the steps, glancing left and right. It wasn't just a casual look; it was a standard counter-tracking scan. He lingered on each corner for about the same amount of time, left, center, and right. Chang Baole followed behind him, walking at a leisurely pace, the hem of his suit jacket being lifted by the wind.

Mao Dayong's car was a dark-colored Passat, parked in a parking space next to the karaoke bar. He remotely opened the car door but didn't get in immediately. Chang Baole said, "I'll follow you in my car."

"Okay, keep up."