Director Gao was generous—he'd already booked our rooms in advance. Sun Fatty and I shared a suite, while Xiao Jintong from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Miss Meng each had their own single rooms. Because of that earlier encounter with the two agents from Homeland Security, Sun Fatty dragged me along to sweep the entire suite thoroughly. After confirming there were no surveillance devices, he sat on the edge of the bed and dialed the seller's number again and again. Just like back at the airport, the call went through—but no one picked up.
Frowning, Sun Fatty stared blankly at the number on the screen. Just then, Meng Qiqi and Xiao Jintong showed up, having finished unpacking their luggage. Seeing them arrive, Sun Fatty put on a cheerful smile and said, "Aren't you two going to try your luck out there? Not to be blunt, but you might just win enough to retire. If that happens, don't forget to share the wealth with us."
"Who has time to gamble?" Meng Qiqi shot him a glare. "You two better get moving—I'm flying back to Paris first thing tomorrow. Don't think for a second you're going to delay my schedule."
Sun Fatty hesitated for a moment, then pulled out the note Director Gao had given us yesterday and asked, "Miss Meng, do you recognize the address on this?"
Meng Qiqi glanced at the address, thought for a moment, and said, "Yeah, I know that place. But are you sure you want to go right now?"
Sun Fatty blinked and replied, "Come on, what—do we need to check the lunar calendar before heading out?"
Meng Qiqi rolled her eyes at him. "Didn't anyone tell you before you came to the States that there are certain neighborhoods you should think twice about entering?"
That stumped Sun Fatty for a second. We'd left in such a rush that we only looked into the seller, Li Qimu's background, and hadn't done a proper check on the address he gave us. Now, judging from Meng Qiqi's tone, it sounded like something might be off with the location. But what puzzled me was—Meng Qiqi was based in Paris, so how did she know Las Vegas so well?
"This isn't some gang territory, is it?" Sun Fatty asked, staring at the note. "Doesn't seem likely. I checked this guy out—he's just a rich screw-up. No record of anything shady. Miss Meng, come on, just give it to me straight—what kind of place is it?"
Before Meng Qiqi could respond, Xiao Jintong jumped in. "Section Chief Sun, please be mindful of diplomatic protocol. To avoid unnecessary complications, it's best not to visit certain sensitive areas."
Before Sun Fatty could reply, Meng Qiqi gave a dismissive snort. "Relax. There aren't that many actual gang neighborhoods. That address is in a local low-income area, and yeah, the crime rate's higher than average, but it's still a ways off from being a gang zone. It's lunchtime now—your guy is probably at some charity foundation's soup kitchen trying to score a free meal. If you want to find him, you'll need to wait until after the lunch hour."
Hearing that, I couldn't help but jump in. "Miss Meng, I thought you lived in Paris? How come you're so familiar with Vegas?"
"If I didn't know the area, do you think your great Director Gao would've asked me to come help you?" Meng Qiqi shut me down with a single sentence. "I lived here until I was twenty. I only immigrated to France in the last few years. And even after moving to Paris, I still come back from time to time. So if you want a local guide in Vegas, choosing me was definitely the right move."
I wanted to ask her why she kept coming back, but figured she'd just deflect again—and honestly, it was probably private, so I let it go.
Since it seemed unlikely we'd find the guy right away, Sun Fatty didn't insist on going to look around. Instead, he let out a breath and said, "You're right, it's lunchtime. No rush. Let's eat first and deal with the rest afterward. Miss Meng, since you know the area, mind recommending a good place to eat?"
To save time, Meng Qiqi took us to a buffet that served American-style seafood. Like most American food, the offerings were plentiful and the ingredients fresh, but the cooking was a bit crude. Sun Fatty and I, recently spoiled by gourmet meals, found it hard to enjoy.
Sun Fatty's sudden change in demeanor puzzled me. He had been so eager to contact Li Qimu right after getting off the plane, yet a few words from Meng Qiqi and he'd slowed things down without complaint. That wasn't like him at all. I couldn't be sure if Deputy Director Sun had some other plan in mind. Ever since his promotion, I felt I understood him less and less.
It wasn't until after 2:00 p.m. local time that Sun Fatty finally sought out Meng Qiqi again. This time, she didn't object. She drove us directly to the address on the note. I originally thought Sun Fatty would find an excuse to ditch Xiao Jintong, but to my surprise, he didn't even mention it—Xiao Jintong just tagged along with us all the way to the location Li Qimu had given.
Just as Meng Qiqi had said, this neighborhood and the one around Caesars Palace felt like two completely different worlds. Here, groups of African-American and Latino teenagers loitered on the streets. The way they stared at Meng Qiqi's car was full of hostility—it felt like we had stepped into forbidden territory.
Meng Qiqi had said that having her as a guide was a wise choice—and now it seemed she had a point. After navigating through several blocks, the car finally pulled up in front of an old, worn-down apartment building. "Here we are. Fifth floor, unit B. I'll wait downstairs. Be quick about it."
Sun Fatty looked at her and said, "Not to be blunt, Miss Meng, but it's just upstairs. Aren't you coming with us?" Meng Qiqi curled her lip and replied, "These are your fat Director Gao's conditions, not mine. I was only asked to bring you here. Once you're done, I'll take you back to the hotel, and after you board your flight, I'm done with this whole thing."
Sun Fatty didn't press the issue. This time, though, he stopped Xiao Jintong from following, citing safety concerns in the area and asking him to stay with Meng Qiqi. Then he and I headed into the gloomy, outdated apartment building.
We reached the fifth floor and quickly located Li Qimu's unit. But no one was home. After ringing the doorbell several times and knocking loudly, there was still no answer. While I continued knocking, Sun Fatty tried calling Li Qimu's phone, but neither effort got a response. Eventually, a white woman in her fifties opened the door to the neighboring apartment.
She shouted a string of words at Sun Fatty in a language I couldn't understand—probably complaining that we were disturbing her peace. Sun Fatty smiled at her and responded in the same language. After a few exchanges, he pulled out several fifty-dollar bills and handed them over.
Once she saw the money, her expression softened immediately. She gestured toward Li Qimu's door and explained something with a mix of words and hand motions. Sun Fatty listened, nodded repeatedly, then politely thanked her before leading me out of the building.
Seeing us return so quickly, Meng Qiqi remarked, "You guys sure work fast. All done in a few minutes?"
Sun Fatty shot her a strange look and said, "Nope, couldn't get it done. The guy we're looking for wasn't home. His neighbor said he left early to go gamble."
"Gamble?" Meng Qiqi frowned. "Which casino?"
Sun Fatty broke into a grin. "Caesars Palace…"
After all that, we were circling right back to Caesars. But Sun Fatty didn't seem to mind at all. On the way back, he sat in the backseat playing with his phone, grinning the entire time. Once we returned to Caesars, he sent Xiao Jintong back to the room to wait for updates. Then, while Miss Meng stepped into the restroom, he strolled over to the front desk. When he returned, he was grinning ear to ear like he'd just seen Matsushima Arashi herself.
I couldn't help but ask what was going on. To my surprise, Sun Fatty burst into loud laughter right there in the hotel lobby. For a moment, I wondered if Meng Qiqi had hit him with some kind of mind-altering spell. But then he suddenly stopped laughing, looked at me, and said:
"Didn't think Fat Gao would ever slip up…"
That was all he said. No matter how much I pressed for details, Sun Fatty refused to say another word. Just then, Meng Qiqi came back from the restroom, eager to get going to find Li Qimu. But Sun Fatty waved her off with a grin. "No rush. That guy isn't going anywhere. Actually, Miss Meng, we've had a slight change in schedule. Some friends of mine just arrived in Vegas too—by chance, they're also staying in this hotel. Come with us and say hi. Don't worry, just a quick visit. It won't delay your flight to Paris tomorrow."
Hearing that, Meng Qiqi looked confused. "They're your friends, not mine. Why should I go?"
Still grinning, Sun Fatty replied, "Meet them and they'll become your friends. They're from the same circle. Knowing more people can't hurt."
Unable to fend him off, Meng Qiqi got dragged along, half-reluctantly, as we headed toward the guest room wing. Two or three minutes later, we arrived at a suite at the far end of the fifth floor. The hallway was empty. Sun Fatty started banging on the door and shouted a long string of English. I couldn't make out what he said, but I noticed Meng Qiqi's expression change. She grabbed his sleeve and hissed, "Are you out of your mind? Impersonating a cop in the U.S. is a serious crime, you… son of a—"
She didn't even finish when the door cracked open, revealing a chubby face. The moment Meng Qiqi saw that face, her eyes went wide, and she launched a flying kick. The man inside, though chubby, was surprisingly agile—he dodged the kick with a step back and laughed:
"Qiqi, long time no see. You haven't changed a bit. What brings you to Vegas? Is Ziyan here too? Or is it just you?"
That chubby face belonged to none other than Huang Ran—the man who'd recently been on the brink of death. Now, aside from being slightly thinner, he seemed just fine.
"Not just her," I said, stepping into the room with Sun Fatty. The deputy director grinned at Huang Ran and said, "Not to be blunt, Old Huang, but I heard you were done for just a few days ago. Looks like you bounced back just fine. Weren't we told destroying Buddha statues brings divine retribution? Yet you don't seem to be suffering any."
While Sun Fatty was speaking, I noticed another man sitting in the room—a young guy, probably twenty-four or twenty-five, watching the two fat men with a puzzled expression.
Despite our sudden appearance, Huang Ran showed no embarrassment. He laughed and said to Sun Fatty, "Ha! No wonder my right eyelid kept twitching this morning—you were the cause. Qiqi, hold up. That last incident—we were victims too, alright? We all got played by the Bureau. I was barely hanging on back then—you saw me in Hong Kong, didn't you?"
Just as Huang Ran was mid-sentence, Meng Qiqi grabbed a standing lamp from the side and looked ready to smash it over his head. I quickly wrapped my arms around her waist to hold her back, but she kept struggling and lunging, determined to beat Huang Ran into the ground.