16: Chapter 16 Liu Kun, the Boxing Stadium Owner

Yan Zheng spent an entire week cultivating this lead.

January 4th, January 11th, January 18th—for three consecutive Saturdays, he appeared at the Underground Fighting Ring right on time.

Five hundred for the ticket, never haggling.

After entering, he would sit quietly in a corner watching the matches, occasionally placing small bets; he remained expressionless whether he won or lost.

Wearing a suit, sporting gold-rimmed glasses, speaking politely, and behaving with refinement, he was completely out of place among the foul-mouthed gamblers around him.

In the Underground Fighting Ring in Hells Kitchen, such a person was, ironically, the most conspicuous.

On the evening of the third Saturday, just as Yan Zheng sat down in his usual spot, a man with a buzz cut wearing a black leather jacket walked up to him.

"Mr. Yan?"

Yan Zheng looked up, his gaze calm as he sized up the other man from behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

He was in his forties, medium build, with a lean face, a faint old scar on his cheekbone, small but darting eyes, and a jade thumb ring on his finger.

"And you are?"

"Liu Kun." The man with the buzz cut pulled over a chair, sat down uninvited, crossed his legs, fished a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes from his pocket, and skillfully flicked one out to offer him.

"Just call me Old Liu; I run this place."

"You're too kind, Boss Liu. I'm just an ordinary spectator here for the excitement."

Yan Zheng didn't take the cigarette and waved his hand with a smile.

"I don't smoke; it's bad for the throat."

Liu Kun put the cigarette back, clamped it between his lips, clicked his lighter, lit it, and took a deep drag, blowing smoke out through his nostrils.

"Mr. Yan, you've been here for three consecutive Saturdays, always sitting in this spot, not batting an eye at the five-hundred-dollar ticket price, yet your bets never exceed two hundred."

He eyed Yan Zheng sideways, a shrewd smile typical of a businessman playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Either you're genuinely rich and just here for fun, or you have ulterior motives."

"Which one are you, Mr. Yan?"

Yan Zheng pushed up his glasses and calmly picked up the glass of low-quality whiskey provided for free by the fighting ring, but he didn't drink, just sniffed it.

"A bit of both."

"I am indeed here for the fun, but I also do want to get to know the owner of the place."

Liu Kun's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why do you want to know me?"

"When a businessman arrives in a new place, he must first pay his respects to the local power."

Yan Zheng set down the glass, his voice unhurried.

"I opened an Antique Shop on 46th Street, so I suppose I'm a new resident in Boss Liu's territory."

"An Antique Shop?" Boss Liu blew a smoke ring, his tone tinged with amusement.

"The one on 46th Street? Next to Jack's old tavern?"

"You are very well-informed."

"I know about every greasy spoon that opens in this area, let alone a shop." Liu Kun flicked his ash and leaned forward half an inch.

"But Mr. Yan, I had someone check out your Antique Shop, and the items on your shelves, well, how should I put it..."

He made an "OK" gesture with his hand, then flipped it over and pressed his palm downward.

"So-so."

"Is Boss Liu an expert?"

"I'm not an expert, but I know experts. That 'Made in the Xuande Period of the Great Ming' bronze censer of yours—the font on the bottom mark is in simplified Chinese characters."

After Boss Liu finished this sentence, the two men looked at each other for a second.

Then they laughed simultaneously.

"Mr. Yan, the cost of the items in your shop probably doesn't add up to five hundred. Yet you've spent fifteen hundred on tickets to come watch fights here for three Saturdays in a row."

Liu Kun stubbed out his cigarette on the armrest of the chair, leaned back, and rested his hands crossed over his stomach.

"You can't make that kind of money selling fake antiques, so you must have another business."

"Am I right?"

Yan Zheng was silent for two seconds, then smiled—a gentle, just-right smile.

"Boss Liu has a sharp eye."

He took a business card from his inner suit pocket and pushed it across the small table between them.

The business card was something he'd had made at a print shop on the corner two days ago for eight dollars—white background with black text, simple and appropriate.

[Echoes of the Past Antique Firm, Yan Zheng, Purchasing Agent for Overseas Chinese Collections]

Liu Kun picked up the business card and looked at it for a moment.

"Purchasing Agent for Overseas Chinese Collections?"

"I help the North American Chinese community acquire some special items; antiques are just a cover for the public." Yan Zheng lowered his voice by half a degree and slowed his speech, as if sharing a secret that wasn't convenient to make public.

"The truly valuable goods are never placed on the shelves."

His fingers rubbed against the edge of the business card, and the jade thumb ring spun in the light.

"What kind of goods?"

"Depends on the situation." Yan Zheng smiled slightly.

"My client base is quite special; they don't care much about the 'source,' only the scarcity of the items themselves."

"The scarcer, the better; the harder to get, the more valuable."

"As for the middleman process, it's best if we all just keep it between ourselves."

Liu Kun had finished his cigarette; he didn't light another, but instead folded the business card once and tucked it into the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

"Mr. Yan, you are a very interesting person to talk to."

"Every sentence sounds like the truth, but every sentence also sounds like you're beating around the bush."

"You flatter me. In our line of work, people with tongues too straight don't live long."

Liu Kun chuckled and pointed his index finger toward the VIP box upstairs.

"Want to go up and sit? The liquor in my private box is much better than what's down here—at least it's not watered down."

"I'd be happy to oblige."

The VIP box was on the mezzanine level of the underground space, a small area partitioned off with soundproof panels, equipped with a sofa, a coffee table, and a small refrigerator.

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the box, one could overlook the entire ring, offering a view infinitely better than downstairs.

Liu Kun fished a bottle of Moutai out of the refrigerator; it wasn't fake, and the anti-counterfeiting label on the cap was intact.

"To be able to drink real Moutai in Hells Kitchen, Liu Kun's connections are not shallow."

"It's just about the only thing I have left to look forward to." Liu Kun poured a small amount into two glasses and took a sip first.

"Mr. Yan, we are both smart people, so I won't beat around the bush with you anymore."

He set down the glass, leaned forward, and rested his hands, fingers interlaced, on his knees, the jade thumb ring glowing with an oily green in the dim light.

"You've come to watch the 'Special Matches' for three weeks in a row. While everyone else is shouting until their faces are red and necks are thick, you sit in the corner without a sound, and your eyes aren't even fixed on the fighters in the ring."

"You're staring at the door where the fighters are dragged out."

Yan Zheng's hand, holding the glass, paused in mid-air for a moment.

"Mr. Yan, what exactly are you interested in?"

Yan Zheng was silent for three seconds. During those three seconds, his expression transitioned from "subtle embarrassment of being exposed" to a "candid, wry smile," the transition seamless.

"Boss Liu, since you've seen through it, I won't pretend anymore."

He set down his glass, folded his hands on his knees, his posture relaxing slightly, but his gaze turned serious.

"One of my clients is very interested in the biological tissues of Mutants."

"Specifically, blood, bone marrow, and skin tissue."

"They want them alive, and they want them dead; prices vary based on quality, but there is a market for both."

Liu Kun's expression didn't change, but he changed his grip on the glass, moving from cradling the bottom with his palm to holding the rim with his fingers.

"Who is your client?"

"That wouldn't be convenient to disclose." Yan Zheng smiled.

"Just as I won't ask where Boss Liu's Mutants come from."

The private box was quiet for a few seconds.

The shouting from the ring faintly drifted up through the glass window, like noise from another World.

Liu Kun suddenly laughed, a hearty laugh, and slapped the coffee table.

"Brilliant, I love dealing with sensible people."

He leaned in, his voice low, carrying the mellow aroma of Moutai and calculation.

"Mr. Yan, you've come at just the right time. These Mutants I have on hand are expensive to keep, and the betting money earned from fighting isn't even enough to fill the gaps between my teeth."

"Are you interested in partnering up for a big score?"

He picked up his glass and gently clinked it against Liu Kun's, not drinking, just making a gesture of a toast.

"Boss Liu, I'm all ears."