Chapter 3: Enormous Wealth (Part 1)
After finishing my exchange with the woman, I shrank back into the shadows of the back seat, not daring to make a sound.
She'd been through everything that just happened too, and her face was still pale with residual terror, but she shifted gears and started the car anyway, driving slowly forward.
I crouched behind her seat, keeping as low as possible so I wouldn't be visible through the windows. She was close enough that I could still smell her perfume.
It was a familiar scent—intensely familiar.
A police car finally appeared alongside us and chose that moment to pass. I watched it pull away in the passing lane, growing smaller and smaller, and only then did my racing heart begin to settle.
I'd dodged a bullet—literally.
But my relief didn't last. I was just starting to sit up when the woman suddenly slammed the gearshift and floored the accelerator!
The violent lurch threw me sideways, making it impossible to get my bearings. A cold spike of panic shot through me—she'd already whipped the car around, pedal to the floor, keeping my body thrown around so violently that I had no chance of gaining control over her.
This was bad.
I dragged myself upright and glanced at the dashboard—the speedometer was already past a hundred kilometers per hour. Seeing me getting up in the rearview mirror, the woman stomped on the brakes!
My body pitched forward again, hurling me from the back seat straight into the front, my forehead smashing into the dashboard with a sickening crack.
Stars exploded across my vision, the impact so severe I thought my skull had split open. I managed to grab her jacket, but she thrashed wildly; when she couldn't shake me loose, she simply slipped out of the garment altogether.
The moment her coat came off, she killed the engine, yanked out the key, and threw open the door—fleeing with a speed that left me no time to react.
The door slammed behind her, and the lock chirped simultaneously—she'd hit the remote lock!
That treacherous woman. I'd saved her life, and she'd betrayed me twice.
I clutched the seat and hauled myself upright, rubbing my throbbing head. By the time my vision cleared, she was long gone—swallowed by the dark mountain road. I had no idea which direction she'd run in, and worse, I didn't even have the car key. The SUV was nothing but a two-ton paperweight now.
I cursed under my breath and threw my weight against the door a few times, but it was locked solid. My chance to go after her was gone.
Frustrated, I tossed her jacket aside. It struck the door and landed with an unexpected thud.
I froze. Something in the jacket?
I picked it up and rummaged through the pockets, discovering the woman's phone.
The lock screen showed her photo, protected by a passcode I didn't know. Even so, I turned it over in my hands, thinking deeply.
Whatever else, this was a lead.
The air still carried traces of her perfume—that same distinctive scent. It was Chanel Chance, the light formulation.
I recognized it because Elena used to wear it. I'd always told her how wonderful it smelled, how I loved breathing it in when I held her close.
But after we bought that stalled condo, she could never bring herself to buy it again. The fragrance she wore day to day became the cheap, lavender-scented laundry detergent. Only for the rare occasions when she went out with friends would she dust on a spritz—and even then, she'd keep the bottle long past its expiration date rather than throw it away.
That memory always cut me to the bone.
Recalling the woman's appearance—the Chanel perfume, the earrings, bracelet, and rings—she was a devotee of the house of Chanel, through and through.
Our city wasn't exactly a metropolis; I knew there was only one Chanel boutique in town. Maybe that would yield a lead. But going there meant turning back, heading straight into the dragnet the police had cast for me—the very web I'd just escaped.
I weighed my options for a long time. Finally, I clenched my jaw and made my decision. Do it.
They say the most dangerous place is the safest place. By now the cops probably assumed I'd left the city. If I slipped back in to chase a lead, and as long as nobody reported me, wouldn't I actually be safer than I'd be on the run outside?
Shame about the car, though—no key, no ride.
I rubbed my face, willing myself to stay alert. Fatigue crashed over me in waves. I was exhausted, hungry, and so thirsty my throat burned. Thinking back, I'd been running at full throttle ever since this nightmare began—fleeing, fighting, never resting.
My throat was parched, and there wasn't a drop of water in the cabin. Fortunately, most SUVs have a pass-through between the back seat and the cargo area, and even without the key I could crawl through. I clambered into the trunk to see if there was anything to drink—plenty of people stashed cases of bottled water in their cars.
Among the random clutter, I found two plastic containers. I popped open the first one and—just as I'd hoped—it was packed with mineral water. I cracked one open and gulped it down, finishing the entire bottle before the dryness in my throat receded even slightly. I stuffed another bottle into my pocket for later.
With my thirst sorted, I started rifling through the rest of the cargo area. I couldn't drive the car, so if I was going to make it back to the city, I'd better take stock of whatever else might be useful.
I had to hand it to Swallow Lin and her brother—they were professionals at operating outside the law. A quick search turned up face masks, sunglasses, and caps for disguises, even a few changes of clothes.
I couldn't help wondering: these two making a living in remote villages—could they be fugitives themselves? It wouldn't surprise me. If someone dug up their wanted posters, the bounty might even exceed mine.
I took the mask and cap, but passed on the sunglasses. Wearing shades indoors or at night would be a dead giveaway—practically a billboard that read "suspicious person here."
My eye drifted to the second plastic crate. Since the first one had held water, maybe this one had cookies or other food. I cracked it open.
The moment the lid came off, I was blinded by a blaze of gold.
The streetlight out there wasn't bright, but whatever filled this crate reflected a far more brilliant light, and I just stared, stunned.
It was a trove of gold bars—pristinely packaged, each in its own transparent case, lined up in perfect rows that filled the entire container.
I gaped at them, then reached in and picked one up, turning it over in my hand.
It seemed... real.
My mind flashed back to the way Swallow Lin and her brother had fought so desperately to take the car back. Maybe their fury hadn't been about losing the vehicle at all—it was about the crate of gold in the trunk.
I swallowed hard, scooped up an armful of bars, and hefted them. The weight was staggering. There wasn't a single Chinese character on any of them—just English lettering: 999.9 fine gold.
What... what was this?
I shook my head hard, trying to clear it. The wealth I'd known in my life had never prepared me for a shock like this. They had taken a bag of cash, but they'd left behind a crate of gold bars. That was hardly an even trade.
The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. I was only beginning to grasp the magnitude of the trouble I'd stumbled into.
This was no windfall. If I dared to keep this money, the rest of my life would be spent in agony!
I couldn't fence it. I couldn't flee with it. I was just an ordinary man who'd accidentally laid hands on a black-market fortune—and the cold-blooded killers who owned it knew exactly who had driven off in their car.
I remembered what the elders always taught when I was young: grow up and earn your living honestly. I was about to make a decision that went against every ancestral tradition.
I was going to turn these gold bars in. Because I had the guts to take them, but not the life to spend them. If the gold was confirmed as contraband, I could at least earn credit for a reduced sentence.
My apologies, ancestors.
I lifted my leg and kicked the window as hard as I could. Several thundering blows later, the glass finally shattered.
I grabbed the mask and cap, then lifted the crate—nearly threw out my back when I tried. The damn thing was absurdly heavy. Yet somewhere deep inside, a perverse thrill shot through me.
Turns out, the heavier the gold bricks, the happier you feel lugging them.
Once I'd hauled the gold out of the car, I went back in and released the parking brake, then scrambled out through the broken window.
We were on a mountain road. With the brake off, the SUV immediately began rolling forward. The slope ahead dipped into a long descent—the gradient was subtle, but enough to set a heavy vehicle in irreversible motion.