Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Collapsing Tank

Kangning stood at the edge of the bustling road, watching Gao Qinghua and Du Jianwu drive away. He wandered across the street and disappeared into an alley about three meters wide. Ten minutes later he slipped out onto the main road, crossed the empty yard of a food company, went past eighty meters inside, and reached the garage door. He opened it softly, then shut it from within, and worked quickly by the help of the vehicle’s dome light and low beams.

When he drove the car out, its license plate had already been changed to one of the People’s Armed Police, and he was dressed in a plain summer service uniform without any collar insignia or shoulder epaulettes. As soon as the garage door closed behind him, Kangning got in and left without hesitation.

At eleven o’clock that night, his Jeep was parked in the dark shade of a tree opposite a flavored mutton house. He took a piece of gum from a box, unwrapped it, and began chewing with an absent satisfaction, glancing now and then toward the restaurant. Tank was still inside, drinking alone, the glass untouched but his patience gone. He had changed into a full PAP uniform, adjusted the collar badge and shoulder boards, and tried on a wide-brimmed cap from the back seat. He seemed pleased with himself—though his head looked a full head taller than that of a real Armed Police officer.

As Tank staggered to his feet, swaying, Kangning moved the Jeep a little. Tank ducked into the cab, turned his vehicle around, and pulled out, and for a moment Kangning’s car rolled slowly ahead, soon leaving Tank’s white van lagging in front of it.

From the mutton house to the Sixth Construction Company was about six kilometers. About four and a half in, an uphill bend was narrow and steep. For nearly a hundred meters on both sides, the terrain offered nothing but a strip of woodland. Fifty meters below on the right lay a fish pond of a dozen mu, one he remembered once tossing a stone into. Traffic was sparse at that hour. Kangning parked to the side at the top of the slope, put on the broad cap, shouldered his bag, and walked back about fifty meters to a wider section of road, waiting there for Tank to arrive in the white van.

In under three minutes, Tank drove up the hill, weaving, the glow from his headlamps cutting a bright tunnel through the dark. Kangning stood in the center of the road about twenty meters ahead, waving. Tank hesitated, then came to a stop directly before him.

“Damn it, you in uniform—what are you doing standing in the middle of the road like that?”

Kangning, swallowing the sharp stench of strong, fermented liquor from Tank’s breath, said with unusual calm, “Brother, my car stalled at the top of the hill. Could I borrow your jack?”

“Get lost. I’m not waiting for you.”

Tank swung his bulk to start up again, but before he could, Kangning’s fist struck like lightning at Tank’s neck artery. Tank had no time for even one cry; he sagged toward the passenger side. As Kangning exhaled, the van began to roll slowly downhill. He ripped the door open, threw himself inside, and yanked the handbrake in the middle of the cab tight. The van shuddered twice and then came to rest.

He opened the broad side door and dragged Tank—nearly one-hundred-and-eighty jin in weight—from between the front seats to the second row. Kangning climbed into the cab and drove the van into the grove in front of his Jeep. He switched off the headlights and turned on the interior light, then took from his shoulder bag a bundle of nylon cord thicker than chopsticks. He tied Tank’s torso and waist firmly to the seat. He wrapped his arms and legs carefully but securely in a twisted backward posture, fastening everything to the steel beam beneath the third-row bench.

From the bag he drew a syringe and fixed the needle, aimed it at Tank’s gums, and jabbed in sharply, then withdrew. Tank jerked awake, and when he met Kangning’s cold gaze, rage burst out of him.
“You son of a bitch—if you touch me, even if you run to the ends of the earth I’ll skin you alive!”

Kangning did not flinch. “Is that so? Calm yourself. I only ask you one question. Answer it, and I’ll let you go immediately.”

When Tank quieted, Kangning asked, “Who asked you to attack Jinyuan Auto Repair Shop?”

Tank froze for a moment, then laughed in a bitter, coarse way.
“Ha! I see it now—you’re that pretty-faced mechanic, aren’t you? Don’t think I won’t recognize you just because you shaved and put on this green uniform. So, this is revenge for that pretty woman and the dead old man, is it?” He spat out venom. “Not today, not with me—not a word, I won’t tell you. Here’s the deal: if you’re hard enough, do it now. Otherwise, once I’m free I’ll first ruin your woman and then take your skin.”

Under the bright light above, Kangning grabbed Tank’s head and shoved a wad of gauze deep into his mouth. He smiled faintly, loosened Tank’s belt, and then, putting on rubber gloves, pulled out a length of copper wire over twenty centimeters long, its tip hammered into a hooked, arrow-like point.
“When you want to answer, just nod.”

He gripped Tank’s groin and slowly drove the pointed tip through the opening of his urethra. Not even a full centimeter had passed when Tank convulsed in desperate fury, but Kangning’s binding held him fast; Tank was only able to twist uselessly, drenched in cold sweat.
“It hurts, doesn’t it? It’s all right. You’re not in the bladder yet. Be patient. Let me turn it a few more times, a little harder. In half an hour it should be in place.”

Kangning rotated the wire again and pushed in about five centimeters, then eased it out about two. Tank tore at his face in pain, tears flying, muscles in spasms. When he had been impaled to roughly fifteen centimeters, he began nodding repeatedly, begging with that motion.

Kangning used tweezers to remove the dripping wad of gauze from Tank’s mouth. Tank let out a raw, high moan. His face, wet with tears, mucus, and spit, no longer held the arrogant fury of earlier; only deep pain and absolute terror remained.

Then he saw Kangning’s hand moving again toward his groin, where the wire still sat, and he cried out wildly.
“Please, please spare me! I’ll tell you everything. It was Third Brother who sent me—don’t blame me! Please, please don’t push again. I’ll die if you do... I’d rather you kill me than do that again.”

Kangning asked without expression, “By Third Brother, you mean Ni San?”

“It’s him—Ni San. Oh, please—hurt so bad, pull it out now!” Blood had already come from Tank’s teeth where he clenched down. He begged continuously.

“Who is behind Ni San?”

“I… I don’t know… I only heard Third Brother was doing another man’s bidding. I truly don’t know who, I swear—please, it hurts!”

Kangning tightened his grip and pressed again.
“If you remember, tell me and I’ll stop.”

Tank screamed and struggled, then for more than five minutes convulsed before finally blacking out from pain. Seeing this, Kangning believed Tank knew no deeper conspiracy. He carefully withdrew the wire, gathered the blood-smeared wad on the floor of the cab, and wiped Tank’s genitals clean of the blood. He opened the window and threw both the gauze and the wire outside. Then he took a bottle of Luzhou Tequ from his bag, removed the cap, and filled a syringe with most of it. He found a vein at the back of Tank’s neck and slowly injected the fluid, taking nearly thirty seconds to finish. By then Tank had no awareness.

Kangning untied every rope and packed them neatly into his large shoulder bag. He checked every inch of the van twice, making sure no obvious trace remained. Then he opened the door and hauled the limp Tank over to the passenger seat of the cab. He switched on the parking lamps, walked once around the vehicle, then drove it out and backed it until it sat in front of the Jeep.

He transferred all the carried items into the Jeep. After a careful glance about in all directions, he drove the van down the slope at around forty-five kilometers an hour. About fifteen meters from the fish pond, he jerked the wheel hard, jumped out of the cab in one fluid motion, and rolled across the highway for several turns before coming to a stop. By the time he rose, the white van had already tipped over and was slowly sinking into the cloudy water; in seconds, it was half submerged.

Under starlight, Tank lay face down as the water rose around him, only half his body still visible through the cab windshield.

Kangning brushed dust from his clothes as he walked back, slipped off his gloves, packed them with two chunks of stone into a bag, and threw it far into the thicket across the road. He returned to the Jeep, checked the width of the road on both sides, climbed onto the hood, and, with two reverse-and-forward maneuvers, turned the vehicle around in the narrow stretch. He drove back along the same way, not too fast. On the way, he met only one diesel farm truck billowing smoke; no other vehicles appeared.

When he reached the city, he checked the quartz clock mounted on the front of the Jeep: 2:35 a.m. He drove into the garage, parked, and leaned against the car in thought.

A first kill always stirred something sour in the chest, but tonight Kangning felt little panic, little psychological burden. In its place, a muted, almost fierce exhilaration stirred. After Tank’s last cruel words, he had known he could not let the man live—if he did, he and his family would be the ones to suffer.

As for Ni San, Kangning was not ready to move so quickly. He had not yet seen Ni San in person and did not know his defenses. And Tank’s death might alert Ni San, even draw police suspicion. So he decided to wait, observe quietly, and then plan the next step.

He packed everything into two separate plastic bags. Carrying them, he stepped out of the garage, locked it, and walked through the broken gate of the yard that never seemed to close. As he walked, he took the syringes from one bag and disassembled them, tossing out each piece every fifty meters. At last he left the bag containing the liquor by a rubbish bin, knowing scavengers would take it once dawn came. The other bag, containing the rope, he tore open and dumped the cord in a messy heap beneath a broken wall.

When all that was done, Kangning slipped behind the estate’s rear wall, climbed over it quietly, looked out once more, and crossed back in as easily as before. He followed the darkness and returned home safely. Fifteen minutes later, naked and at ease, Kangning sank into hot water and fell asleep.