Prologue: Tian Yi

December 3. Overcast.

It was already past ten in the morning when I opened my eyes. I didn't need to draw the curtains to know the sky outside was gloomy. The damp had seeped into the room, into the bedding, and into my bones.

I had only two choices: make myself a cup of coffee, or close my eyes and hope it would be December 4 when I opened them again.

Anyway, I got up in the end.

Today, as usual, I sat in the shop, praying no one would come and give this dump of mine any business.

An overcast afternoon is like those few minutes a child spends in line waiting for a shot, or the last few dozen seconds before a monster appears in a horror movie.

You know something bad is bound to happen, but you can never tell when the first drop of rain will fall.

Thanks to the weather, a few hours slipped by, and by four in the afternoon, there really hadn't been a single customer.

For me, those were blissful hours. I could sit behind my desk, quietly reading and drinking coffee, without anyone disturbing me.

At four thirty, someone pushed the door open and came in. Okay, I hate him.

Still, he did bring me a pleasant little surprise, since he hadn't come to buy books, but to rob me.

As the guy pulled out a gun and walked toward me, I really wanted to give him a piece of my mind. Disposing of bodies has been getting harder and harder lately, you know, and people keep forcing my hand like this. It puts me in a very awkward position.

I worked it out. Pulling out his teeth, shaving off all his hair, and sawing him into six pieces would take about half an hour. Driving him to Bob's pig farm would take another hour, and when I got back I'd still have to clean up the blood and mess. By then it would be far too late to start making dinner.

So I raised both hands, put on a frightened expression, and told him in a trembling voice that all the money was in the drawer, then begged him to spare my life.

I thought my acting was very convincing. My eyes, my tone, my body language—all perfectly done. He ought to take the money and leave, and then I could go on enjoying my lovely time alone.

But as he reached for the drawer, I suddenly remembered that I'd long since run out of currency in any form...

So when he opened the drawer, he found half a slice of pizza I'd left uneaten, and half a rat some unidentified creature had left uneaten. Then he got angry. Swearing, he pressed the gun against my head and asked me, his eyes wide, whether I thought it was fun to mess with him.

Afraid he might get too worked up and fire by accident, I was left with no choice but to shove his entire handgun into his esophagus.

While the guy was thrashing around on the floor, I came to a decision—Philadelphia's crime problem was too bad. I was moving.

These days the streets are full of kids like him who think they can make “quick money” with some lousy gun. And after wandering around for ages, he wound up in a bookshop with a storefront this shabby. I seriously question the intelligence of people like that. Common sense says that if you're planning to rob a small or medium-sized shop, your first choices should be places selling food and everyday necessities; next come ticket offices, clothing shops, and appliance shops; the worst choices are places selling furniture, antiques, and books.

Do people these days not even have time to estimate daily takings and weigh the risks? Then why rob shops at all? Just break into someone's home with a weapon and be done with it. There's bound to be some cash in the house.

Oh, of course, there's not much point talking about cash right now. Even robbing homeless people in the subway would be better than coming here.

A few dozen seconds passed. Judging by his symptoms, he seemed to be going into shock, though he was still struggling to crawl toward the door.

I walked ahead of him and shut the door, flipped the sign behind it so “close” faced out instead of “open,” then lowered the shutter over the display window beside it. As I turned, he was crawling up to my feet, so I shattered the bones in both his elbows while I was at it, just in case.

At last I could get back to my comfortable armchair, take a sip of coffee, pick up my book, and carry on enjoying myself.

I reckoned he'd have a hard time getting to his feet in his present condition. Even if he managed to prop himself up, he wouldn't be able to turn such a large doorknob with his mouth. He should stop breathing in about half an hour, and his body would be just right for blocking the door. Perfect.

All in all, though, today was still an unpleasant day. Even at the end, there were things I hadn't quite figured out, such as the relationship between me, the rat, the pizza, and the unidentified creature, and where each of us stood in the food chain.

Hmm... never mind. That doesn't matter either.