Chapter 82 - A Second Time

It would be hard to believe but Qing Chen was almost exactly like Wuming when they were in their adolescence. They were too fond of their training and the strength that grew with them everyday. Once they got used to sparring with each other, they also got used to their father's rules. At the same time, there were events that they could not help breaking some of them.

Wuming was not around when the reason why Qing Chen got his first beating lesson happened. He was out with their father as he brought him to their new restaurants that were under the mafia's protection. It was only when they had come home that they found out what Qing Chen did to some of the neighbors' boys. His own brother's face had bruises as he recounted the story while he was kneeling on salt in their living room. As far as Wuming could grasp, this was how the story went:

Qing Chen was out with their mother and Qing Lok at the neighborhood's park and Qing Chen was minding his own business as he played soccer with the other kids. However, when the ball strayed near the sandbox, he saw a group of boys around their age picking on a little girl. They were kicking sand at her, and the little girl looked like she was about to cry as she kept her eyes closed to keep the sand from getting in.

Wuming smirked at the thought of his brother playing hero but that was what exactly happened. He called out the boys and told them to stop pestering the girl and play soccer with them instead. But when those boys ignored him and continued to shower the girl with sand, Qing Chen helped the girl out of the sandbox.

The kid in the middle grabbed his shoulder. He was bigger than him. "Hey, we were playing with her."

"Yeah, but she's getting hurt in the process," he said cooly. "Play with something else."

The kid's meaty hands grabbed his shirt collar and with a garlic-smelling breath, "You're such a killjoy."

Their father had always said to let the enemy hit first so when you retaliate, it would be called self-defense. Qing Chen had waited for the punch to land and when it did, he sprang to action.

Qing Chen recounted how he did a series of movements that lead him and the kid rolling on the grass. When he was above, the other two kids kicked on his sides and punched him on the face. When it got enough he caught a foot and a fist and used their own force to push them off their balance—hard enough that they both tumbled to the ground. The kid below tried to reach him with a fist but Qing Chen held his wrist and pinned it across his neck before he landed two blows on the kid's head.

He felt a pair of hands trying to get him. Thinking it was one of the two kids, he pulled his elbow backwards to shake it off, it connected with something and he was about to continue with what he was doing with the other kid when he heard his mother yelped in pain.

It brought him right back to reality to see his mother holding her cheek. It had already bruised when he finished telling the story. Wuming almost laughed at the blank expression on Qing Chen's face but at the same time it was twisting with the pain on his knees.

"You apologize to your mother," their father said from his chair.

"I already did. About a hundred times," Qing Chen said.

"She's your mother. You need a hundred more."

"I'm sorry, mother."

"It's alright," their mother said, standing next to their father's chair. "Will you please let him up? The poor boy's knees."

"Get up," their father said and Qing Chen quickly dusted his knees where a few beads of blood formed. "Wei, show your brother out. You know what to do."

Wuming threw his arm around Qing Chen's shoulders as he led him to the front yard. He whispered, "Since you're already bruised up, I'll go a little easy on you."

Qing Chen shrugged off his arm and said, "I can take it." Then he walked to the front yard and stood in the middle with his arms wide. "Come at me, Wei."

Wuming grinned then stretched his arms and cracked his neck. He heard his mother telling his father that one of the kids lost a tooth and the biggest one had to be sent to the hospital. He heard his father's reply: "We'll just pay them."

"What are you waiting for, Wei?" Qing Chen asked.

"I'm coming," he said and leapt to the grass. "Let's beat some of that angst out of you, huh?"

Qing Chen knew his punishment was not because he sent two kids into medical care. But that he accidentally hurt his mother. Being the son of a mafia lord meant that trouble was always following you. They never had much choice when they get caught up in the middle of fights. But after what happened at the park, Qing Chen got more cautious. He was pretty much the same but watered down. He never did as much damage as he had done before. He took more hits because of it.

Wuming knew it was because Qing Chen was afraid he would hurt an innocent by-stander again that he had toned down this side of him. Completely understandable.

But Wuming thought that Qing Chen was only acting in a spur of a moment kind of thing tonight. His precious little wife got hurt and his emotions were at a peak—that he did really not intend to strangle the truck driver to death. But when they got to the warehouse (that was not really a warehouse but an empty house), Qing Chen had the man strapped to a chair.

They were in the bas.e.m.e.nt. No windows, just the little light bulbs that would not let your eyes see the rest of the room. The chair was in the middle of the pool of light and a few of their men were leaning against the wall, watching the spectacle from the shadows.

A table full of weapons were behind them and Wuming stepped in when Qing Chen pulled a gleaming knife from its leather sheath. "Are you seriously going to kill him?"

"He hurt Feng Xuan."

"Yes, but we also need answers."

"I know."

"You can't kill him immediately."

Qing Chen's eyes slid to Wuming's face without his face moving. "I know what I'm doing."

Wuming suddenly felt a prickling sensation in his stomach that he had not felt in years. "Okay," he said and threw hands in the air. "Just making sure."

"You're not the only one in this family who has killed."

Right, Wuming thought. As if he needed a reminder of the night they fed their mother's killer's body with knives. That was their first kill—all three of them. The man's blood pooled on the floor, soaking their pants and shirts, his blood running on the smooth surfaces of their skin. Their arms and faces sprayed with red. Their hands warm and wet.

It was Qing Chen who delivered the final blow to the heart as he knelt above the man. When he was no longer moving, Wuming saw Qing Lok on his knees and hands, ugly sobs racking his small body. Then he heard sniffles coming from Qing Chen and realized his younger brother was crying too.

"Let's go," Wuming said irritably. Why were they crying?

It was Qing Chen who spoke through his tears, barely decipherable, "He killed our mom!"

That was when it suddenly hit him that they really killed the person who was the cause of their mother's death. It meant that their mother was really gone.

Wuming did not remember everything that happened. He heard the dagger he used clattered to the floor and he came along with it. He stared at the man's lifeless body and his hands were shaking with his blood. He remembered feeling hot liquid on his cheeks and it suddenly got too hard to breathe. He was crying but he felt nothing and at the same time everything.

Their father must have pulled them to their feet and brought them home. His next memory of that night was lying awake on his bed, not really able to sleep, not even when the sun had come up. Their father dragged them out of bed and forced them to eat breakfast. Wuming only got a mouthful of eggs before he quit trying. He felt like he was going to vomit. His brothers looked exactly like him—sleepless and bloodshot eyes.

Seeing that letting them avenge their mother was the only comfort their father could offer, they coped differently. Wuming spent the rest of his days in the bas.e.m.e.nt of their new house, trying out new weapons until his muscles ached, and challenging his father's men into fights until he was badly beaten up. Chen spent most of his days camped in his room, sometimes Wuming saw him staring into space. He had tried pulling Qing Chen out of misery by inviting him to do training just to get his mind and body going, but his brother did not budge. Seeing that he seemed to have coped better, Lok started following him around.

Over the next few weeks, Wuming realized that something had died inside of Qing Chen along with that man. As if he had killed a part of himself as he delivered the killing blow.

But looking at his brother now wielding the knife as he crouched down in front of the man who drove the truck that sent his wife to the operating room, Wuming wondered if he would be able to kill this part of him a second time.