Chapter Three: Half a Key to Tidelistening House

They swept through a predawn produce market, between unloading trucks, then east along a flood-control road. Yanci reported the pursuing vehicles, his voice close behind Jibai's ear, calm as though they were discussing an acquisition instead of fleeing gunmen. Half an hour later, they stopped before a seaside estate sealed for years. Its plaque read TIDELISTENING HOUSE. Yanci pressed the token into a recess in the gatepost. Gears turned deep inside. The gate opened only a hand's width. He squeezed through, then faltered as an old injury seized. Jibai caught him at the waist. The shirt beneath his palm was wet with more than rain. “Were you shot?” “Grazed.” “Do rich people describe blood loss like a rounding error in a financial report?”