Chapter 29: The Disappearance of Director Wen
"My head..." Xiao Zishan groaned as consciousness dragged him unwillingly from sleep. His skull felt packed with wet sand, and a nauseating heaviness pressed behind his eyes. Strange—these past few days he'd been sleeping better than he had in years. Ming-era Guangzhou offered clean air and blissful silence, unmarred by the early-morning roar of traffic. Sleep here came deep and sweet.
In the early days of their crossing trades, everyone had been too anxious to spend nights in the Ming dynasty. They would conclude their business before nightfall and return, preferring the familiarity of the modern world. But as their operations expanded and their connections with local merchants solidified, the work on this side of the wormhole demanded longer stays. To preserve the passage's lifespan, lingering for a few days after each crossing had become routine. Besides, there was something dangerously seductive about living like lords with servants attending their every need. Sometimes Xiao Zishan caught himself never wanting to leave.
But this morning was different. He forced his eyes open. Beyond the gauze window, post-rain sunlight flooded the room with a brilliance that suggested mid-morning—close to ten o'clock, he guessed. That made no sense. In this era without television or internet, even their longest evening discussions wound down early, and everyone naturally rose around seven. Why had he slept so late?
He pushed himself upright—and froze. The room had been ransacked. Every drawer gaped open, every cabinet door flung wide. His belongings lay scattered across the floor in chaotic heaps.
Robbed.
The word struck like ice water. Panic surged through him—the cash and merchandise from this trade were still stored in the compound. If those were gone... He scrambled to dress, reaching for his shoes—and found them missing. His socks and hiking boots had vanished. They'd actually been robbed. He spotted a pair of woven straw slippers in the corner, jammed his feet into them, threw on his clothes, and rushed outside.
He nearly collided with Beiwei in the courtyard. One glance at Beiwei's feet confirmed his fears—straw slippers. The combat boots were gone.
"Something happened," Beiwei said flatly.
"What?"
"Director Wen is missing."
The words turned Xiao Zishan's blood to ice. Director Wen—missing. This wasn't twenty-first-century Guangzhou, where Director Wen knew half the city and could summon the police with a phone call. This was seventeenth-century Guangzhou. Beyond these walls, they knew no one. They didn't even know which direction to run.
The two men tore through the compound, checking room after room. Engineer Wang lay in deep, unnatural slumber. In the servants' quarters of the third courtyard, they found Gao Qing's family and Sun Chang equally comatose. They roused everyone they could—all complained of dizziness and nausea. Gao Lujie and Gao Di wouldn't wake no matter how much they were shaken or called.
"Master Xiao," Sun Chang said as they fumbled about in confusion, "try cold water on the face."
Gao Qing's family scrambled to fetch basins. Only after splashing their faces did anyone's head begin to clear.
"This is very wrong," Sun Chang said, studying their symptoms with grim recognition.
"What is it?"
"Knockout incense poisoning. Without question."
The words conjured an immediate image in Xiao Zishan's mind: Sun Erniang from the Water Margin, drugging travelers at her roadside inn.
Sun Chang had wandered far from his famine-stricken hometown, begging his way to Guangzhou. He had seen much of the jianghu underworld along the road. "Are the masters missing anything of value?"
The question sent Xiao Zishan and Beiwei sprinting to the west chamber of the middle courtyard. This room served as their primary warehouse and crossing point. The Executive Committee had made certain non-period modifications here: windows and extra doors bricked shut, and the interior fortified with a cage of barbed-wire-wrapped steel fencing and a modern security door. As they approached, Xiao Zishan's heart sank—the padlock on the outer wooden door was gone. He shoved the door open and exhaled with relief. The steel grating stood intact, the security door undisturbed. A full cartload of goods remained neatly stacked inside.
The thieves had failed to breach their twenty-first-century defenses. But the relief was hollow. They had lost Director Wen—and that was infinitely worse than losing merchandise or money. Money could be earned back. A living person, lost somewhere in the Ming Dynasty? That was another matter entirely.
"Who could have taken him?" Xiao Zishan's mind churned through possibilities. Random crime or premeditated attack? Impossible to say. If premeditated, only the Gao household knew they were staying here—they had no other contacts in the entire city. But what would Gao Ju's people gain from kidnapping Director Wen? If random, perhaps some master thief had broken in seeking valuables, failed to crack the security measures, and snatched Director Wen as a consolation prize. That seemed plausible enough.
They searched Director Wen's room again and again but found nothing conclusive. His clothes, shoes, and hat were all gone—along with the stab-resistant vest he always wore on crossings, his pepper spray, and his stun gun.
After another fruitless sweep, Xiao Zishan turned to Beiwei. "See anything useful? Aren't you supposed to be a recon soldier?"
Beiwei spread his hands. "Recon soldier, not detective. We need someone from criminal investigation."
"Then let's get one. Ran Yao used to be a police officer."
"Get him here fast," Engineer Wang agreed. "And those mystery buffs who haunt the detective-novel forums—bring a few of them too." He spotted Gao Xian approaching with cleaning supplies and shouted: "Don't move anything! We need to preserve the scene!" Gao Xian fled in alarm.
After quick deliberation, they formed a plan: Engineer Wang would take the goods and cash back through the crossing, report to the Executive Committee, and summon professionals to examine the evidence. Xiao Zishan and Beiwei would remain to investigate.
Xiao Zishan summoned Gao Qing's family and Sun Chang, questioning them about anything unusual that had occurred recently—including events at the Gao mansion. After much probing, Sun Chang offered the only lead worth noting: a "Young Eunuch Yang" from Beijing had been visiting Master Gao lately, and the old merchant seemed to have something weighing on his mind.
This news only deepened Gao Qing's anxiety; he retreated to the front courtyard to sweep and calm his nerves. Sun Chang remained more composed. "There's no need to panic just yet," he counseled. "If the thieves have kidnapped Master Wen, they'll send a ransom letter. When that arrives, the masters can decide whether to pay or involve the authorities."
"Involve the authorities?" Xiao Zishan laughed bitterly. They were all illegal entrants to this era—how could they possibly bring in Ming officials? Besides, he understood ancient law enforcement well enough: unless the crime involved armed murder or arson in broad daylight, officials couldn't be bothered to act without substantial bribes. At that point, they might as well just pay the ransom directly.
"True," Sun Chang said quietly. "The masters are not Ming subjects and shouldn't appear publicly. But you could ask Master Gao to handle the matter—have him deal with the authorities discreetly." He glanced at Xiao Zishan. "Master Gao's word carries considerable weight in the Prefecture and both counties."
Xiao Zishan gave a noncommittal grunt, but suspicion coiled in his chest. Before Sun Chang's arrival, everything had been perfectly normal. The man had been here only a few days, and now Director Wen had vanished...
As he mulled this over, Beiwei strode in. Sun Chang quickly withdrew.
"Found something," Beiwei announced.
Xiao Zishan straightened. "Where?"
"They came in by climbing the wall from the small lane behind the third courtyard. Knocked off a bunch of tiles from the wall coping—scattered all over the ground. There are friction marks on the wall face too."
"And they left the same way?"
"Same route out. I checked other spots around the perimeter—no wall-climbing marks anywhere else."
"I remember Master Gao mentioning that the back lanes are locked at each intersection with wooden gates. Ordinary people can't get in."
"I don't think they came through the lanes," Beiwei said. "The front entrance uses main roads—too conspicuous for this kind of work. If I were running this operation, I'd come over the city wall."
"The city wall?"
"The back courtyards of all these houses butt right up against it." Beiwei nodded. "There are no ramps up or down, but the wall is virtually deserted most of the time. Once you're up there, it's like a highway circling the entire city."
"That makes sense. That makes a lot of sense."
"Remember when someone tried to sneak in and eavesdrop the other day? I threw a rock at them. That person ran off toward the city wall. I think we're dealing with the same group."
"So this was premeditated. But who would do this? And why?"
"No idea. But we need to get Director Wen back first. We'll figure the rest out once the professionals arrive to examine the scene."
"Agreed. We should also notify Gao Ju and ask him to help search. He's the local strongman—he knows people."
"What if Gao Ju is involved?"
"I doubt it. What would he gain from kidnapping Director Wen?"
"Still can't rule it out." Beiwei's expression darkened. "Damn it, my knife is gone too." He'd paid good money for that blade on a sword-collecting website. Now it had vanished along with his 3515-brand military boots.
Alone in the study, Xiao Zishan sat turning the puzzle over in his mind. No matter how he analyzed it, Master Gao remained the prime suspect—he was the only one who knew they lived here. But what was the motive? Xiao Zishan believed firmly that everything in this world had a motive. What could Gao Ju hope to gain? Extortion seemed pointless; the merchant was already profiting handsomely from their trade. Perhaps he wanted to use Director Wen as leverage to guarantee exclusive monopoly on all Australian goods going forward—that was conceivable. But even so, why resort to such elaborate measures? Wall-climbing, knockout incense...
Wall-climbing. Knockout incense.
When you stripped it down, this was the work of jianghu professionals.
Understanding began to crystallize. Xiao Zishan called Sun Chang back.
"Are you familiar with the street gangs and underworld elements in Guangzhou?"
"No," Sun Chang replied. "I'm not a local, and I'm not Cantonese. Besides, I've always worked within the Gao mansion. The family scrutinizes the backgrounds of all household servants very strictly—anyone with connections to unsavory elements is never hired."
Xiao Zishan nodded. That statement went a long way toward clearing Sun Chang of suspicion. The servant hesitated, seeming to have more to say.
"If you have something on your mind, speak freely," Xiao Zishan said. "I believe in trusting those I employ and employing those I trust."
"Yes, Master." Encouraged, Sun Chang spoke. "I have a suggestion."
"Go on."
"In Nanhai County, there's an escort agency called the Qiwei Escort Bureau. It's a small operation—their routes aren't long. But they have a specialty: 'store-sitting.'"
"Store-sitting?"
"Yes. The masters may not know: shopkeepers are often harassed and extorted by street thugs, so they hire escort guards to sit in their shops and keep order."
"Like security guards," Xiao Zishan said, understanding.
Sun Chang didn't recognize the term but agreed anyway and continued: "Escort guards who sit in shops know the local street thugs and lowlifes intimately. If we engage their help, they can certainly gather information for us. And if this was the work of ordinary underworld rats, they might even be able to rescue the hostage."
Note: "Store-sitting" as an escort-bureau service is documented only in Qing-dynasty Beijing; I haven't found records of it elsewhere. Also, the escort-bureau industry generally appears only in the Kangxi period of the Qing. My view is that given the commercial economy of the Song, Yuan, and Ming dynasties, similar trades or organizations must have existed—but since I couldn't find documentation, I've used Qing-era sources.
(End of Chapter)