A Temporary Journey to Hong Kong

"What should I do? Am I really supposed to take Cheng Lin to meet Shanshan the day after tomorrow? That can't be a good idea! What if the two of them start a scene right then and there?" Hou Rui muttered to himself, already able to picture his fate once the two girls finally came face to face.

"This is such a headache, but maybe Cheng Lin won't lose her mind with me when the time comes," he thought, out of options and starting to pin his hopes on Cheng Lin, praying she wouldn’t show up in the end. If he only had to deal with Jin Shanshan, he might just be able to manage.

At that moment, his cell phone rang again from the glove compartment. Including this one, Jin Shanshan had already called sixty-seven times in a row. Hou Rui was about to continue pretending not to hear when, this time, the phone stopped after a single ring. Something didn’t feel right. He grabbed the phone and saw that it wasn’t Jin Shanshan calling, but a task notification from the Organization.

Within twelve hours, arrive at Liu’s Tea Restaurant on Puren Street. Mission codename: Nemesis. Payment: $50,000 to $300,000.

“Twelve hours? With no prep at all? That’s way too harsh!” Hou Rui glanced at his watch. He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning—now it was already past one in the morning. According to the Organization’s orders, he had to reach the meeting point by one in the afternoon.

His life was in the Organization’s hands; there was simply no room for negotiation. He had no choice but to set out at once.

Hou Rui made a snap decision, spun the car around, and drove straight toward the airport. Thankfully, domestic flights didn’t require much in the way of identification. Using just an ID card, he bought a ticket to Peng City North. After waiting a few hours, he boarded the plane.

Early the next morning, Hou Rui landed at Peng City North Airport. He jogged out and hopped into a taxi straight to the Luohu border crossing.

In the blink of an eye, Hou Rui was standing before the main gate of the Luohu checkpoint. Behind him, crowds of people lined up in long columns to cross, but all he could do was wait anxiously. It was 7:20 a.m.—not much time left before the Organization’s deadline.

About twenty minutes later, a plain-looking man appeared. At the sight of him, Hou Rui’s tense expression finally relaxed.

The man glanced at Hou Rui discreetly, then placed a large envelope among the shrubs of a nearby flowerbed before quickly turning away. Hou Rui watched him from a distance—the man was a forger he’d dealt with several times before. This mission was so urgent that Hou Rui had been forced to arrange the handoff here.

After surveying his surroundings one last time, Hou Rui strode to the flowerbed. Sitting down to mask his movements, he slipped the envelope into his jacket.

A minute later, he stood up and joined the nearest line, waiting with everyone else for his turn to cross the border.

The long line shuffled forward. After more than twenty minutes, it was finally Hou Rui’s turn.

“Hello, ID card and permit,” said the border officer with a blank expression. Hou Rui quickly handed over the Hong Kong-Macau travel permit and the matching ID from the envelope.

“Alright, please keep your documents safe. Next!” The officer barely glanced at them before waving Hou Rui through. He hurried up the stairs and onto the subway.

Less than an hour later, Hou Rui stood on Hong Kong soil. The sight of red taxis and double-decker tour buses brought him a measure of relief. It was now exactly ten a.m.—he had nearly three hours to spare, more than enough to reach Central.

To play it safe and avoid traffic or other delays, Hou Rui chose the subway. After two transfers, he arrived at Central Station. With the crowd, he left the station and, relying on his memory, caught a minibus to his destination. At precisely noon, he stood beneath the sign for Liu’s Tea Restaurant on Puren Street.

At first glance, it was just another unremarkable Hong Kong-style diner, the kind frequented by working-class locals. Even at lunchtime, the place wasn’t busy—barely thirty-two tables were occupied.

Hou Rui discreetly checked the corners of the ceiling for surveillance cameras. Finding none, he sat in a booth with his back to the wall and his face toward the door.

“What’ll you have, mate?” A waiter in a filthy white uniform, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, came over to take his order.

“One iced coffee, two egg tarts.” Hou Rui placed his order in Mandarin. Just then, a pair of Westerners entered. The woman was familiar—she was Lux, who’d worked with him on the Vietnam pirate mission.

“This way, please! Want to try our authentic butter pineapple bun?” The waiter, now ten times more enthusiastic, hurried over to fuss over the foreigners, even pulling out a chair for Lux. Compared to how he’d treated Hou Rui, the difference was night and day.

Feigning ignorance, Lux and her companion sat down, chatting and glancing at the menu before ordering a few snacks. Then, in a casual exchange of glances, Lux gave Hou Rui a slight nod, which he returned with a subtle lift of his coffee cup.

Hou Rui knew that before the mission began, it was safest not to make contact. He quietly enjoyed his egg tarts and waited for the appointed hour.

By one in the afternoon, Hou Rui’s patience was wearing thin. In previous missions, the Organization always had everything arranged—never had he been left to wait like this. He couldn’t help but wonder if something had gone wrong this time.

Suddenly, a man in a cheap suit carrying a battered briefcase rushed into the restaurant, panting as he yelled to the waiter, “Ah Cheng, one beef brisket rice, and make it quick!”

“Got it, Mr. Li! Late lunch today?” The waiter and the office worker seemed well acquainted and started chatting.

“What can I do? The boss had a meeting at noon—who dares leave early? Hurry up, I’m starving!” The man surnamed Li plunked himself down directly across from Hou Rui, not far from Lux’s table.

A few minutes later, a hefty plate of beef brisket rice was set before him, and he dug in like a man possessed, wolfing down the food noisily and with great relish.

After half the dish, the office worker slowed down, and by then, only three tables were occupied: Hou Rui, Lux, and the office worker.

He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, quickly scanned the restaurant staff to make sure the waiter was distracted with his headphones on, probably betting on horse races, then leaned over and spoke in a barely audible voice, “Mission briefing: Nemesis. Saudi Energy Minister Mohammed ibn Shash is on official visit to Hong Kong. The target for this mission is his assassination.”

At last! Hou Rui had barely registered the news when the Western man with Lux asked in a similarly low tone, “When do we move? What kind of security are we looking at?”

“The operation is already underway. The four of us are the backup plan. If everything goes smoothly, we’ll each walk out of here with a guaranteed fifty grand.” The office worker stood, distributing flyers as he went. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m with Hong Kong Insurance. Here are our promotional materials—take a look. When it comes to insurance, I’m the expert.”

Hou Rui glanced at the flyer and spotted a tiny map in the corner. A street had been marked with a pen—presumably the actual site of the operation.

“Ah Cheng, I left the money on the table. Next time, go easy on the salt in that brisket rice, will you? I’m parched!” The office worker called out to the waiter on his way out, but before leaving, he subtly jerked his head—a signal for everyone to meet outside.

Hou Rui and Lux settled their bills in turn, trailing the office worker from a distance as they headed toward the location marked on the flyer.

Meanwhile, several blocks away, in front of the Hong Kong Department of Justice, a convoy of black luxury cars waited for a distinguished guest. At the head of the motorcade, two uniformed traffic officers from the Hong Kong Police idled on their motorcycles.

“Hey, senior, this is quite an operation, isn’t it?”

“Of course! Besides the minister’s own security detail, there are plainclothes officers and a whole team from the Special Duties Unit, standing by at all times,” the older officer replied with an air of mystery.

“Seriously? All this for one guy? Even the SDU?” The young officer’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“I heard the Saudi minister is also a member of the royal family—some distant heir to the throne. The higher-ups want to protect a prince, so the more manpower, the better. If something happens, it’s better to have extra bodies to catch the bullets.”

“Talk about bad luck, getting stuck with such a high-risk assignment. Must be payback for not paying proper respects to Guan Gong last time.”

“Haha, no worries. The prince flies out tonight. After that, we can finally breathe easy.”