Taoist priest goes to America

When Ang Lee walked into the hotel he had booked, it was already 2 a.m. on his phone screen.

Old Bai ate until he was about 70% full, leaving the rest for Doyle and Isya to finish. He also poured gasoline from the trunk of the bus and set it ablaze.

Exhausted after a day of killing, Mr. Li arrived at a secluded motel to rest for the day.

The hotel was an old four-story building, sandwiched between a convenience store and an abandoned car wash. The exterior walls were red brick, and much of the cement in the joints between the bricks had peeled off.

The iron gate at the entrance was painted a dark green, the paint was bubbling, and the edges of the paint were curled up. A neon sign hung above the gate with the words "Cohen" on it. Half of the lights were out, leaving only the two characters "Cohen" flashing, the red light flickering on the sidewalk.

Ang Lee pushed open the door. The lobby of the hostel was paved with gray and white tiles, some of which were cracked and taped back together with black tape.

The front desk was an L-shaped wooden counter covered with laminate flooring, the edges of which were worn smooth. On the counter sat an old-fashioned cash register, a withered potted plant, and a small television.

The television was on, but the screen was filled with static; there was no signal, just a hissing sound, and the volume was very low. Behind the reception desk sat a middle-aged man in a gray polo shirt, his head resting against the back of his chair, asleep with his mouth open.

His phone was on the counter, the screen still lit, playing a short video that had been looping for who knows how long.

A short-tailed calico cat lay beside a milk bowl, licking the milk little by little with its pink tongue.

Ang Lee knocked on the counter. The first knock had no effect. The second knock, and the calico cat leaped up from the floor, climbed onto the counter, and licked the middle-aged man's face.

The middle-aged man jolted awake, and before he even opened his eyes, he reached for his phone, nearly knocking it to the ground.

The man squinted at Li An, looked him up and down, and lingered his gaze on Li An's Taoist robe for a few moments.

"I have a reservation," Li An said. He showed his phone, which displayed the online reservation confirmation.

The man glanced at it, then pulled a key from the drawer and placed it on the counter. A diamond-shaped plastic tag hung on the key, with "304" written on it in marker.

"Third floor, turn left at the top of the stairs. Hot water is available all day, but the water pressure is unstable." The man's voice was still sleepy from just waking up. He yawned, leaned back in his chair, and picked up his phone to continue scrolling through short videos.

The television was still on, its screen displaying static.

Ang Lee took the key and headed towards the stairs.

The staircase is made of cement and covered with a dark yellow carpet. Each step has a green fluorescent sheet attached to it, and some of the fluorescent sheets have already peeled off.

He went up to the third floor. The corridor on the third floor was very long. Fluorescent light tubes were flashing in the ceiling. Two of them were broken and made a "buzzing" electrical sound.

The doors on both sides of the corridor were closed, with some light shining through the cracks and others completely dark.

He found room 304, inserted the key into the lock and turned it, and the door opened.

There was a double bed in the room, covered with white sheets with a few creases. A white lamp sat on the bedside table, and heavy dark blue curtains were drawn over the window.

There was an old-fashioned television set in the corner, mounted on an iron frame. The bathroom was on the right-hand side as you entered, the door ajar, emitting a foul smell of toilet cleaner.

Ang Lee closed the door, plugged it in, and turned on the air conditioner using the remote control on the table.

He then took the string of puppets from his waist and placed it on the bedside table. Next, he pulled the Glock from his waist, checked the magazine, and placed it under his pillow.

He took off his Taoist robe, which was stained with blood. The bloodstains on the cuffs had dried and turned into small, dark brown dots. He took the robe to the bathroom and turned on the tap.

When it was first turned on, the water was cold, but it gradually got warmer. Li An used the hot water to rub off the blood spots.

Ang Lee wrung out his sleeves, draped them over the back of the chair, washed his hands and face with hot water, dried them with a towel, and was finally able to lie down in bed.

The mattress was very soft, and Ang Lee sank into it completely. The springs made a "creaking" sound when he lay down.

"Phew—" Li An let out a long breath, looking at the warm yellow light on the ceiling. Finally, finally he could lie comfortably on the soft mattress. He could finally rest tonight...

"This bed..." Li An shifted his body on the soft bed, finding it much more comfortable than the dilapidated and cold coffin board in the mortuary.

So much happened tonight. On my first night in America, I was held at gunpoint three or four times, and nearly forty or fifty people were killed. I also offended three major powers.

The initial group consisted of the Black gang Skullfinger, Mr. Rabbitface Ishers and his military and political family, and the Vought Corporation, which was partnered with Aunt Maria.

He couldn't believe how many assassins and troubles would come knocking on his door in the days to come; all these messy things would give him a huge headache.

"But since things have come to this, let's go to sleep first."

Ang Lee turned his head to one side and fell peacefully asleep.

The air conditioner's outdoor unit was buzzing outside the window, a muffled sound like a fly trapped in a cage.

Li An closed his eyes, his fingers resting on the wooden puppet on the bedside table. The jujube wood puppet felt warm and smooth to the touch, and Doyle's hat brim pressed against his palm.

He didn't let go; he just held on. Someone walked by in the corridor, their footsteps very light, heading in another direction from the stairwell, growing farther and farther away.

A cat meowed from the street, followed by the sound of a trash can lid being lifted, but all the sounds faded into the distance; Li An had fallen asleep.

Occasionally, a car would pass by on the street outside the window, its headlights filtering through the gaps in the curtains, casting a silhouette on the ceiling before disappearing.

Meanwhile, on a highway in Queens, Brooklyn, a black Chevrolet SUV sped through the night.

There were two people in the car. One was tall and thin, the other short and stocky. Both were wearing black suits with their ties tied tightly.

The tall, thin man was driving, while the short, stocky man sat in the passenger seat, holding a phone on speakerphone. On the other end of the line was only a hoarse, deep voice, the kind that comes from long-term alcohol abuse.

That was the voice of Mr. Rabbitface, Ishes.

"Have you found the person?" Ishers asked.

The short, stocky man glanced at the tall, thin man, then said into his phone, "Found him. The last signal from the locator on Doyle was near Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, where he boarded a B15 bus."

Our informant found the bus at the bus terminal; it had been burned to ashes, and inside were several charred skeletons.

He paused for a moment. "But we've been tracking his location, and there's someone with him who's an old acquaintance of ours... Butler Isya."

"He also has a locator on him, and we've been tracking the signal. That Chinese man may have taken Isya's butler hostage and taken him with him. The signal keeps moving, and it's currently stopped at a hotel near Flatbush Avenue."

The person on the other end of the phone pondered, "Isya is still alive?"

"We don't know. The signal keeps moving, which means the person is moving. But Butler Isya isn't contacting us, and communication is completely cut off. We suspect he's been kidnapped."

Ischius on the other end of the phone didn't speak for a moment. After a pause, he spoke again:

"Did you inform the assassin I asked you to find, Qigul?"