Chapter 7 - The Shadows of East Wharf Alley
Twenty minutes later, a fleet of three black armored Maybach limousines glided away from the glittering luxury district, heading eastward into the industrial outskirts of the harbor.
Inside the quiet, climate-controlled cabin of the lead vehicle, Meimei was nestled comfortably in the leather seat between Kenneth and Grandma Lin. She had eaten three sweet bean buns and was happily clutching a warm vacuum flask of honey ginger tea, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the fiber-optic starlight headliner embedded in the car’s leather ceiling.
Grandma Lin sat rigidly with her hands clasped in her lap, nervous about the street mud on her worn shoes touching the plush lambswool carpeting.
"Ken... Chairman Shen," Grandma Lin said softly, her voice filled with maternal anxiety. "You shouldn't bring such fine cars down to East Wharf Alley. The roads are rutted with gravel, and the people there... it is no place for an important person like you."
Kenneth turned to her, his large, warm hand covering her arthritic knuckles with quiet firmness. "Auntie Lin, the only reason I am an important person today is because you shared your bread with me when I was a stray dog. In your presence, I will never be Chairman Shen. I am just Little Ken."
The convoy turned off the paved coastal highway, bumping down an unlit, muddy access road lined with crumbling two-story brick tenements built during the post-war industrial boom. Massive container cranes loomed in the distance like iron giants against the dark sky, their warning beacons blinking rhythmic red pulses through the ocean mist.
The limousines pulled up outside Building Seventeen—a dilapidated brick structure with cracked concrete steps and a rusting corrugated metal awning.
Standing on the porch beneath a flickering fluorescent bulb was Landlord Qian.
A short, heavyset man in his early fifties wearing a grease-stained sheepskin vest, Qian had an unlit cigarette dangling from his lip and a heavy iron pry bar tucked beneath his arm. Plastered to the wooden front door was a large, rectangular red paper notice printed with stark black legal characters.
Kenneth stepped out of the car into the freezing drizzle, his eyes narrowing as he read the bold headline across the top of the page.
May you like
"What does that paper say?" Kenneth asked, his voice calm, flat, and dangerous.
Qian turned around, squinting through the headlight glare, annoyed by the interruption. "It's an immediate eviction decree, pal. This entire block was bought out yesterday morning by Wei Maritime Logistics. They’re tearing down the whole row on Monday to expand their container storage depot. Every squatter and tenant has until noon tomorrow to haul their trash to the curb."
