The next day.
Gao Mo and I had arranged to meet Xiao Buquan.
Xiao Buquan was fully equipped—like a cunning rabbit with multiple burrows. He carried a case containing powder puffs, a few thin masks, two small brushes, and some clay paste. With a few swift strokes of his hands, he dabbed the cool paste onto our faces.
After his handiwork, Gao Mo and I looked completely different—unrecognizable even to ourselves. When I glanced in the mirror, I was startled. *Isn’t this Abe Lips?*
Gao Mo had changed hairstyles, transforming into a Japanese woman, her eyes elongated, exuding an eerie allure.
Xiao Buquan checked his old-fashioned watch. “We’ll arrive an hour early. We’re meeting the puppet of the Nine-Headed Bird at the Weiyang Hotel.”
With Xiao Buquan in tow, Gao Mo and I drove to the hotel. Before entering, Xiao Buquan handed us earpieces. We took the elevator to the fifth floor and knocked. A burly man answered the door.
“I’m the Nine-Headed Bird. Are you Mr. Abe Lips?”
The man flipped through his phone, comparing the photo to my face, then glanced at Gao Mo before nodding in satisfaction. Inside, the room was chaotic—seven or eight young models sprawled on the bed and floor, half-covered in sheets.
Xiao Buquan cut to the chase. “Thirty million.”
I smiled. “For my partnership with your company. Is thirty million enough?”
The burly man frowned, tilting his head slightly before his expression shifted. “A bit low.”
*Damn it,* I cursed inwardly. *The real Nine-Headed Bird is pulling strings remotely. These two—master and apprentice—are playing mind games.*
After some haggling, we settled on a mutually acceptable price.
The burly man said, “The contract isn’t here. Delivery happens elsewhere.”
Xiao Buquan replied, “I’ll handle the delivery. Time to catch the Nine-Headed Bird.”
The man grinned, summoning a few models to entertain me. Meanwhile, I noticed several bodyguards lurking—likely there to confirm the deal’s success.
About an hour later, Xiao Buquan called. The burly man received a call too. The deal was done.
Smiling, the man stood and shook my hand. “Mr. Abe, if you’re expanding to Xi’an, do you need our help?”
I chuckled. “Of course. Here’s to a fruitful partnership.”
As I rose to leave, Gao Mo stood too. Suddenly, the door swung open—Xiao Buquan stormed in, shouting, “These two are fakes! They’re cops!”
His face was grim. Behind him stood a bespectacled man—gaunt, balding, dressed in cheap streetwear, mismatched socks (one Adivon, one Anta), and dusty leather shoes.
*Who’d guess this guy’s a conman?*
The man smirked. “Master. Still not behind bars, eh?”
*The Nine-Headed Bird.* Xiao Buquan’s trick had been exposed.
*Of course. This plan was too simple. Unless the Nine-Headed Bird was an idiot, he’d see through it with one eye.*
Xiao Buquan, ever composed, took a seat and eyed the models. “In our line of work, women are poison. They drain our energy and dull our craft. Right, *Master Xiao*?” He gestured to the man. “Meet my disciple—the Nine-Headed Bird.”
I spat, “You old bastard. You set me up. What’s your game?”
Without warning, the Nine-Headed Bird slapped Xiao Buquan twice. “Master, did you really think you could fool me? This little act won’t work.”
Knives pressed against my back; Gao Mo was restrained too.
Xiao Buquan shrugged. “He wanted to swindle the contract from you, hand it to the Japanese, then go after Meng Xiaoyu.”
The Nine-Headed Bird sat, sipping from a bottle of Nongfu Spring. He smacked a model’s rear—*crack*—before waving dismissively.
“Take them out back and deal with them.” He sighed. “Master, it’s nothing personal. But in our trade, a master’s downfall is his student’s rise. With you gone, the title of ‘Deity of Deception’ is mine.”
Xiao Buquan’s face darkened. “You’d really kill your own master?”
I interjected, “Nine-Headed Bird. Killing us is easy. But only I know the full extent of your master’s scheme against you.”
He scoffed. “I control everything about him. *I* fooled *him*. He can’t trick me anymore. I’ve learned all his tricks. With nine heads, I saw through him long ago.”
Restless, he glanced around, still sipping his water.
Xiao Buquan chuckled bitterly. “Fine. Even the cat kept one trick from the tiger. If this is my fate, so be it. Master Xiao, at least we’ll have company on the road to hell.”
I spat in his face. He didn’t wipe it off—just let it dry.
As burlap sacks were pulled over our heads, Xiao Buquan shouted, “Nine-Headed Bird! Our creed is deception, not murder. To betray your master is to invite damnation!”
Packed into suitcases, we were loaded onto a cart and driven to the riverbank.
Xiao Buquan knocked on the vehicle. “Old Dog, Dumb Rabbit. It’s done. Your men are gone.”
At the shore, two men unzipped the suitcases. Xiao Buquan handed them bundles of cash. “Fifty grand each. Start fresh. Leave the Nine-Headed Bird—he’s insane. I’m cleaning house.”
They nodded. “The rivers are wide. We won’t meet again.”
A speedboat waited. The two men boarded and vanished into the fog.
Freeing Gao Mo and me, Xiao Buquan sighed. “My apologies.”
I grinned. “Not even flinching when I spat on you—impressive.”
He shrugged. “If the Nine-Headed Bird were that easy to fool, he wouldn’t be a problem. That man with the water? Just another decoy.”
Gao Mo cursed. “Damn con artists. Layers upon layers. How many stand-ins do you *have*?”
Xiao Buquan smirked. “Next act.”
A car awaited. After another round of disguises, I became the fake Nine-Headed Bird—dusty shoes, mismatched socks.
Back at the Weiyang Hotel, we met Abe Lips. Xiao Buquan had transformed into an elderly woman—red lipstick, padded chest and hips, a gaudy robe, and thick gloves. Drenched in cheap floral perfume, he was nauseating to be near.
*Who’d believe this is the Deity of Deception?*
A perfect “Granny Inferno.”
Xiao Buquan whispered, “Don’t speak. No matter what, stay silent.”
Before entering, I made Gao Mo and Xiao Buquan each carry a talisman—insurance against Abe Lips’ dark tricks.
In his garish disguise, Xiao Buquan oozed aristocratic charm.
Abe Lips, clad in a kimono, eyed us—lingering on Xiao Buquan with unsettling interest.
I smacked Xiao Buquan’s padded rear. “Quit dawdling!” He stumbled—Abe Lips caught him.
Xiao Buquan simpered, “So *mean*.”
Abe Lips bowed. “My apologies.”
Inside, a doppelgänger of me sat across the table—same mismatched socks, same water bottle.
Abe Lips grinned. “Two Nine-Headed Birds. How amusing.”
*He’d never guess both were fakes.*
With a flick of his fingers, two grotesque spirits crawled from under the sofa—one at my feet, the other on my double.
The creature before me peered into my eyes, its blackened teeth writhing with unseen vermin. Its hand slithered under my belt—
*This is why con artists earn their keep. Stay calm. No matter what.*
Abe Lips smirked. “So, gentlemen—which one’s real?”
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