Passing through the security gate, Lữ saw smoke rising from the spot where his Jaguar had been parked; debris from the car's chassis was scattered everywhere. The assistant guard ran up to him, on the verge of tears:

"John is dead! He was killed when he drove your car—it exploded!"

Lữ said nothing; his lips were pressed into a tight line. John had died in his place. Had the Jaguar’s brakes not failed, Lữ would have been the one blown to bits the moment he started the engine. He knew instantly who was behind the plot to kill him: Vấn.
 
Vấn had collaborated with the Chinese Triads to plant a bomb in the car—retaliation for Lữ hiring Montello to take a shot at him on the San Diego Freeway. He could not underestimate this man. Vấn had survived a Mafia hit attempt, deduced the connection between Triệu Tôn and the Triads, and knew how to leverage that criminal organization to strike back at Lữ. Vấn was far more cunning and resourceful than Lữ had imagined.

Lữ dialed Uyên’s number on his cell phone. He realized immediately that the story about her being in the hospital had been a ruse to lure him into driving the booby-trapped car. Her voice on the other end sounded normal:

"What is it, Lữ?"

Lữ replied:

"My car was blown up by a bomb. I’m fine, but the guard who drove it for me was killed."

Uyên sounded panicked:

"What are you saying? Who planted a bomb in your car? Are you really unhurt?"

Lữ reassured her:

"I was lucky enough to switch to the Mercedes instead of the Jaguar, so I’m safe. It’s just a tragedy that John died in my place. Stay inside and don't open the door for anyone. I’m coming over right now."

He hung up, thinking about how Uyên was facing the same threats he was. He had to find a way to deal with the situation and protect her immediately.

Lữ got into his car and drove out of the condo complex. He began to hear the wail of police sirens. He needed to get Uyên out of the house and to a secure, discreet location as a precaution; he couldn't afford to linger. The police would soon be questioning everyone and investigating the car bombing. He would deal with the official statement later, alongside Kim.

As Lữ drove toward Uyên’s house, his mind raced over the car bombing orchestrated by Vấn and the Triad. Given the power wielded by this Chinese mafia group, Vấn had transformed into a dangerous enemy and a formidable adversary. His immediate priority was for him and Uyên to go underground, denying the Triad another opportunity like the recent bombing.
 
It wouldn't take long for them to realize he hadn't been inside the Jaguar—that the assassination attempt had failed. He needed to move Uyên somewhere they couldn't be tracked down. Furthermore, he needed Montello’s help now more than ever to counter this threat.

Lữ pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He hadn't smoked in a long time, as both Kim and Uyên disapproved, but in these perilous, trying moments, he felt he needed the smoke to help him think and formulate a plan. Vấn had undoubtedly briefed the Triad on Triệu Tôn’s death and the partnership agreement regarding the inheritance of a partner's share upon their demise.
 
The plot to kill him was about more than just revenge; it was a scheme to seize the assets of the VietCal Partnership. Lữ saw Vấn’s calculations clearly: once he and Uyên were eliminated, Vấn would inherit everything, as he remained Uyên’s legal husband on paper.

Vấn had surely promised the Triad a cut of the profits, motivating them to assist in taking him out. Lữ regretted having been so overconfident and having underestimated Vấn so badly. The cuckolded husband—vile and despicable though he was—possessed far more ingenuity and cunning than Lữ had imagined. The tide had turned; the man was gaining the upper hand, aided by the Triad in his plot to bring Lữ down.
 
Lữ realized he needed to be even more cautious and shrewd in this life-or-death struggle. It was a hard-learned lesson—the price he paid for underestimating his foe and for the arrogance that had grown alongside his unbroken string of successes in recent years.

Lữ gave a grim, sardonic laugh. He would be more careful, certainly, but his enemies would not escape. They would taste the vengeance he was preparing to unleash—a retribution that was fully deserved, and a punishment magnified tenfold, a hundredfold, beyond the harm they had inflicted upon him.

 
Chapter 47
 
Lữ pulled up in front of Uyên’s house. She rushed out, threw her arms around him, and asked anxiously:

"Are you okay? What happened with the car explosion, Lữ?"

Lữ guided her into the house and urged:

"I’m fine! Go change and pack a bag—we need to leave right away. You shouldn't stay here; it’s too dangerous."

Uyên pulled away slightly:

"Why am I in danger? Why do I have to leave my home?"

Lữ replied:

"I’m certain that Vấn and the Triads were behind the car bomb meant to kill me. They could come here to harm you at any moment."
 
Uyên asked fearfully:

"Do you really think Vấn would do something like that?"

Lữ nodded:

"I’m sure he’s lost his mind. It’s one thing for him to want me dead, but I’m worried that because of the Triads' involvement, you’re at risk too—especially regarding the partnership's assets."

Uyên stammered:

"You mean Vấn is using the Triads to kill you—and then me—so he can seize all the assets from our partnership?"

Lữ kissed her gently on the lips:

"That’s just my guess. But as long as I’m with you, no one can hurt you. Still, hurry up and get ready! We need to find somewhere else to stay."

Uyên stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips firmly against his:

"As long as I’m close to you, I’m not afraid of anything! I’ll go pack right now."

Lữ sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and waited for her. He felt his hunch was right. Vấn was a despicable man; he wouldn't forgive Uyên for her betrayal, especially with such a huge fortune at stake. People have killed—even their own wives and children—for just a few tens of thousands of dollars, let alone the nearly ten-million-dollar fortune Lữ and Uyên currently held.
 
Lữ put himself in Vấn’s shoes and imagined what the other man might do. He wanted to anticipate Vấn’s next moves and counter the schemes Vấn was devising. Lữ had underestimated his adversary in the past; now, he realized he needed to be more cautious and treat the situation as a contest between equals in terms of cunning and strategy.

Uyên appeared at the foot of the stairs, carrying a small suitcase. The look of fear was gone from her face. The prospect of staying with Lữ—walking by his side and relying on him for protection—made her eyes sparkle. She seemed as excited and intrigued as a young girl running away from home with a lover. She smiled:

"I'm all set! Where are we going to hide?"

Lữ took the suitcase from her:

"We’ll stay at the Hilton for a few days, then move to another hotel. I don't want them to know where we're permanently based."
 
Lữ walked her out to the car. He needed to check into the hotel and contact Montello immediately—there was no time to lose. The dynamic had shifted; Lữ and Uyên had gone from hunters to prey on the run. He had to turn the tables and hunt Vấn down. To deal with the Triad, he would need to leverage the influence of Al Montello and the Los Angeles Mafia family.

° ° °

Lữ called Sơn from the hotel. He told him about the bomb planted in the Jaguar and how he had narrowly escaped death by switching cars just in time. Lữ instructed him:

"Go to my office and handle all the partnership matters for me. Uyên and I will only stay at this hotel for a night or two before moving elsewhere until things cool down. I don't want them tracking us. The Triad is powerful here and might have wiretaps in place, so I won't be calling you often. If anything comes up, call me on my cell phone."
 
Sơn asked Lữ:

"How do you want me to explain your absence? I can handle the tasks that don't require your personal touch, but there are some groups that will only deal with you. What should I tell them?"

Lữ thought for a moment:

"Just tell them I’ve gone to Europe on business and won't be back for another two or three weeks. As for the ones who refuse to deal with you—forget them; tell them to come back later!"

Sơn warned:

"You have to be careful. The Triads are ruthless. They have henchmen everywhere, even in the hotels. You’ve got your gun with you, right? Call me immediately if you need anything. I’m sick of the gun life, but I can't seem to shake it. That Beretta you bought me back then is still right here, in perfect condition!"

Lữ smiled and hung up. Sơn was like a saint, yet he was still ready to charge into the line of fire just as they had done together back in the Trường Sơn mountains. He had bought Sơn that Beretta two years ago as a mere trinket, never imagining they would ever need to touch a weapon again. But circumstances forced him to revert to his old self—a man who treated life and death like a joke and for whom gunfire was a daily staple.

Uyên stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped loosely around her. Her eyes sparkled in her radiant face, and her body seemed to radiate a scorching heat. She let the towel drop and moved toward him. The danger of the chase thrilled her even more than the prospect of getting rich had two years ago.
 
Uyên was grateful to Vấn and the Triads; without them, Lữ would never be with her day and night like this, allowing her insatiable desires to be fulfilled so completely and exquisitely—just as they were in this very moment.

 
Chapter 48
 
Lữ strode up the steps of Al Montello’s villa—only the second time he had ever visited the place. The previous occasion had involved the Triads and Triệu Tôn; this time, Triệu Tôn had been replaced by Vấn, yet the situation had become infinitely more complicated. Back then, Triệu Tôn had harbored no suspicions, and the hit had been child's play; the Triads hadn't even realized they were walking into a trap.

This time, however, they knew everything, and Lữ had become the hunted.

Lữ felt a twinge of concern regarding Montello’s attitude. The man might find it too troublesome to tangle with the Triads and simply leave Lữ to fend for himself. On the other hand, Lữ understood the Italian temperament and the competitive pride of the Cosa Nostra. Montello had already lost face over the botched attempt on Vấn’s life on the San Diego Freeway; he would be even more furious to see the Triads threatening one of his clients.

Lữ followed a butler clad in a stark white tuxedo into the house. He had insisted on this meeting—despite knowing Montello rarely received guests at his villa—because only a face-to-face encounter would reveal the man's true intentions.

Montello stepped out of the living room to greet him. He walked with a long, solid stride; the early morning sunlight bathed his square, rugged face, highlighting the long scar that ran from his chin down to his neck. Montello embraced him warmly.

"It’s been a long time, Lữ! What’s so important that it couldn't be discussed over the phone?"

Lữ nodded.

"It’s pretty important, Al. You know how I am—if it were a routine matter, I’d just have your men handle it."

Montello nodded in agreement.

"True. Let’s have a drink first, then you can tell me all about it."

He snapped his fingers sharply. The butler in the white tuxedo respectfully brought out a tray of drinks. Montello tilted his head back and downed his drink in one gulp, then urged:

"Drink up, Lữ! Is this about the botched hit on that guy Vấn?"

Lữ took a small sip to humor Montello; he wasn't in the habit of drinking in the morning like a true alcoholic.

"That's the one. Vấn is causing me a lot of trouble lately. He’s made contact with the Triads and teamed up with them. I suspect he got wind that Triệu Tôn’s death wasn't a car accident and traced the connection back to the Triads. They planted a bomb in my car yesterday!"

Montello’s eyes widened:

"A car bomb? They’ve got some nerve! I’ve been a bit lax with them lately, thinking they wouldn't dare do much outside Chinatown. But bombing your car means they’ve stepped way beyond their usual territory!"

Lữ let out a breath. At least Montello was angry about the Triads' brazen behavior. He was still wondering which group held more power in the region. He knew the Mafia family was currently struggling due to the FBI's crackdown on organized crime, whereas the Triads were new enough to have largely escaped the agency's notice.

He decided to goad him a little:

"I hear the Triads have expanded into Orange County and even San Diego. Their turf isn't limited to just the Los Angeles area anymore!"

Montello slammed his fist onto the table in anger. The drink tray flew up, sending two glasses crashing to the floor. He growled:

"They dare cross me? Trying to kill you means they’re messing directly with us. I’m going to wipe them out—every last one of them—and send them running back to Hong Kong!"

Lữ added fuel to the fire:

"I hear the Triads are claiming to be the new kings of California. People must have forgotten all about you guys!"

Montello’s eyes turned red. Bloodshot veins bulged on his face, looking as if they might burst at any moment. Lữ mused that the rumors about the local Mafia’s decline and their humiliation at the hands of the Triads were no exaggeration; the fact that Montello was so easily provoked by the subject was proof enough.
 
Montello seemed to be choking on his own rage, breathing heavily like a cornered bull in the arena:

"Just you wait and see. I have a plan to wipe them out."

Lữ smiled. That was exactly what he had been hoping for. He needed Montello to mobilize his full force against the Triads, thereby relieving the pressure they were exerting on him. As for the matter regarding Vấn, he would handle that himself. A clash between the Italian Mafia and the Chinese Triads was inevitable regardless of his involvement; the city couldn't accommodate two criminal organizations vying for supremacy—a showdown was simply a matter of time.
 
Lữ asked:

"Do you know where their headquarters are?"

Montello had regained his composure. He curled his lips into a grim, menacing smile:

"Of course! I know everything! Rest assured—within a week, there won't be a single Triad member left on this turf!"

Lữ stood up and shook Montello’s hand before taking his leave. He felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders. Despite the heat they were facing from the FBI, the Mafia remained the most powerful criminal organization in the area. While the Triads could operate among the Asian minority communities without issue, the moment they infringed upon *Cosa Nostra* interests, top bosses from across the United States would immediately coordinate forces to shut them down.
 
Montello might be struggling locally, but he would soon have reinforcements flying in from other families to aid in the war against the Triads. For now, the priority for Lữ and Uyên was to lay low and avoid detection by the Triads; only after Montello had eliminated the gang could Lữ safely step back into the open. 
 
° ° °

Kim paced restlessly, unable to sit still, after receiving a call from Lữ. His voice had been calm, yet Kim—with a woman’s keen intuition—sensed the gravity of the trouble he was facing. He had briefed her briefly:

"A bomb was planted in my car, but I’m unharmed. I have to go off the grid for a while so they don't track me down. Please handle the police reports for me. If you need to reach me, call Sơn."

Lữ didn't mention his new whereabouts, and Kim didn't ask. She knew his nature well enough to realize that asking would yield no answers. A pang of hurt washed over her. Lữ trusted only Sơn, keeping secrets even from her. Could his love for her really be so superficial? Were those moments of passionate, ecstatic intimacy—which left her trembling and spellbound for days—nothing more than fleeting breezes?

Kim wondered if Lữ viewed her merely as a lawyer needed to resolve his legal troubles. Was love, to him, nothing more than a conquest—nothing more, nothing less? She surmised that the car bombing was linked to Uyên and Vấn, even though he hadn't explained the details. That woman was the source of his misfortune; Kim was certain of this, despite having only glimpsed Uyên for a split second as they passed each other—Kim arriving at Lữ’s office just as Uyên was leaving.

Kim never brought up the matter of Lữ and Uyên. She didn't pry or question whether their relationship had ended before she entered his life. She respected Lữ’s freedom. She felt no need to possess him completely or harbor jealousy toward Uyên, even though she suspected the affair between Lữ and Uyên was ongoing.

Everyone has a private corner of their life that belongs only to themselves. She and Lữ had no formal commitment; why, then, did she need to concern herself with Uyên? Kim knew she was free to see other men and that Lữ would respect her autonomy—that was the unspoken understanding between them. Yet, how could she possibly go out with anyone else when she already had Lữ? The disadvantage always fell to the woman, Kim concluded bitterly. True equality between the sexes simply didn't exist, and perhaps she just had to accept it.

Kim couldn't stop thinking about the woman who had brought such calamity upon Lữ. She had often heard heated discussions in her law firm’s conference room about the kind of woman who wreaks havoc on men—leaving them divorced, cuckolded, or jilted by mistresses. Her male colleagues would eagerly chime in, even with her present, as if she were one of the guys and they didn't need to watch their tongues.

Every male colleague had a story about a woman who had ruined his life, sowing disaster and tormenting him in every conceivable way. Successful men—men who had excelled in every aspect of life—would find themselves entangled with a "calamity woman" whom fate had seemingly destined for them, embarking on a disastrous downward spiral. Lost fortunes, ruined reputations, heart disease, strokes, or cancer—these were often the final rewards awaiting such unfortunate men.

Kim rarely paid attention to what she considered mere gossip from her male colleagues, but the news that a car bomb had been planted for Lữ immediately made her think of Uyên—and of that archetype of the destructive woman she had heard so much about.

Disaster after disaster had struck Lữ, and the cause always seemed to revolve around Uyên. She was like a magnet for misfortune and hostility, drawing down calamities upon Lữ like a raging torrent. Yet, Uyên herself was blameless. Kim understood this, and she felt a sense of pity for the role fate had assigned to Uyên in her romance with Lữ.

Kim sensed something ominous. She seemed to foresee their destiny and visualize the terrible events about to unfold. She shuddered; her intuition filled her with dread. Into what abyss was Uyên leading Lữ? Kim felt as though she were standing on high, watching the two of them fleeing together through a thick fog, unaware of the precipice awaiting them at the end of the path. What could she do? What could she possibly do for the man she loved—a man ensnared in the web of that woman who embodied both calamity and the abyss?

Kim let out a long breath. She had made her decision, and a fierce resolve ignited within her like a spark. She would do everything in her power—and even the impossible—to save her lover; she would banish the shadow of that calamitous woman from Lữ’s life with the radiance of her own light, and reclaim him for herself.
 

 
Chapter 49
 
Kim picked up the phone and called Sơn. Her voice was calm and firm—possessing that professional authority characteristic of a lawyer—leaving the listener with no room to refuse:

"Sơn! I need to know everything about the car bombing involving Lữ. I have to give a statement to the police on his behalf."

Sơn hesitated. He wasn't sure how much Lữ wanted Kim to know about the Triad's failed assassination attempt. But Kim’s tone made it impossible for him to hold back; after all, she was Lữ’s lawyer.

"Lữ told me not to tell the police about the mastermind; he said he’d handle it himself. But I’ll tell you privately, Kim. It was the Chinese Triad and a guy named Vấn who pulled this off."

Even though she had partially suspected it, Kim was still shocked:

"You’re saying Vấn made contact with the Triad to plant the bomb and kill Lữ? Does he know about Lữ and Uyên?"

Kim immediately reproached herself. She had blurted out a question she shouldn't have—especially to Sơn. Why was she so preoccupied with the woman who had brought about this disaster?

Sơn cleared his throat a few times. He also found it awkward to discuss the situation between Lữ and Uyên. He steered the conversation elsewhere:

"Lữ and I discussed the motive behind the bombing. He suspects Vấn intended to kill both of them to seize all the assets of the partnership."

Kim agreed:

"That’s very likely! Vấn and Uyên haven't finalized their divorce yet; if he managed to kill both of them, he could easily take over the partnership's assets. Without evidence to the contrary, the court would be forced to award ownership to him. I’m sure he promised the Triad a huge cut to get them involved."

Sơn remained silent. He didn't want Kim to know that Lữ had eliminated Triệu Tôn, the Triad member. Even this was merely a guess on Sơn’s part; Lữ hadn’t breathed a word about it to him. He asked Kim:

"Is there any way you could help Lữ with this?"

Kim thought for a moment:

"I know an FBI agent from the Los Angeles office—we’ve worked together before—and I could speak to him about getting them to investigate. Are you in daily contact with Lữ?"

Sơn felt flustered. He understood that Kim wanted to know Lữ’s whereabouts. But Lữ had strictly instructed him not to let a second person know—not even Kim. Sơn deflected the question:

"Yes, Lữ calls every day. Let me ask Lữ first if he wants the FBI involved in this."

Kim urged him:

"Tell Lữ this: the agent is a close contact of mine and could be a huge help, especially since a criminal organization like the Triad is behind it. I know Lữ has his own ways of handling things, but it would be best to let the FBI investigate and provide protection."

Sơn remained silent. He knew Lữ would never want the FBI or the police investigating the matter, but he couldn't say that outright to Kim. Her tone worried him. The situation was already complicated enough; if she insisted on helping by bringing in the FBI, things could get infinitely more complex. He pleaded with her:

"Please don't say anything to the FBI yet! Let me ask Lữ first."

Kim agreed:

"All right. But tell Lữ to call me. I want to discuss this further with him."

Kim hung up. Her anxiety had deepened significantly. Had Lữ become so deeply entangled in shady dealings that he wanted to keep the authorities out of it? There was a side to Lữ that she had never known. It was unacceptable for her lover to be entangled in the illicit dealings of criminal organizations. Was it all because of that calamitous woman?

Kim resolved to get to the bottom of Lữ’s situation and help him. She wanted to be his guardian angel, steering him away from the abyss of darkness and evil, and helping him through this crisis—a time when his life was in danger and he was bewitched in the arms of that woman who brought nothing but trouble.
 
She muttered Uyên’s name and cursed under her breath. A torrent of emotions surged forth—anger, hatred, and jealousy. She realized that a dark impulse was taking hold of her, sweeping in like a tsunami and washing away all reason and judgment.

° ° °

Vấn paced irritably back and forth in Henry Cheng’s living room. He had been waiting for over half an hour, yet Cheng had not appeared. *That Chinaman is starting to play games,* Vấn thought. He hadn't spoken to Cheng since the car bomb attempt on Lữ’s life, and he was anxious to know what method the Triad would use next to eliminate him. Vấn had wanted to circle the van back after the explosion to see his enemy blown to bits with his own eyes, but the bastard Triad operative from Hong Kong had refused to listen. He had coldly ordered the driver to continue to Chinatown, ignoring Vấn’s furious curses.

It wasn't until he was watching TV that evening that Vấn learned Lữ had survived—the doorman had started the car instead, acting as an unwitting decoy. Vấn sprang up instantly and called Cheng, but try as he might, he couldn't reach him. The secretary replied coolly that he had gone to Singapore on personal business. Three days passed, and finally, Van had an appointment to meet Henry Cheng at a safe house behind an old Triad shop on Hill Street.

Van lit a cigarette, intending to smoke it. He paused when a voice—dry and hard as steel—rang out behind him:

"No smoking in this house!"


Vấn turned back. Cheng looked at him with an expressionless gaze. Pointing to a chair in the corner, he spoke in a commanding tone:

"Sit in that chair! What business do you have with me?"

Vấn’s blood began to boil. Did this bastard Chinese thug take him for a subordinate? He spoke curtly:

"What kind of operation are you running? You couldn't even pull off the bombing to kill Lữ! What do you plan to do now?"

Cheng didn't answer immediately. He stepped closer to the chair where Vấn was sitting, stood tall, and looked down at him with contempt:

"You don't need to know what we're doing! The Triad has never failed at a job. I’ll let you know when Lữ is dead!"

Vấn stood up. He couldn't tolerate the condescending attitude of this Chinese thug. Looking him straight in the eye, Vấn enunciated each word sharply:

"Cheng! Remember this: if you don't kill Lữ, there’s no way you’ll get Triệu Tôn’s share of the money. And I’m the one who inherits that company’s assets, not you. I don't need to know how you plan to kill him, but the longer you wait, the more time he has to counter your moves. Don't underestimate him!"

Henry Cheng pondered for a moment. Tens of millions of US dollars was no small sum. If he succeeded in this, the leadership of the Triad across the entire US would surely be his. And when the old man named Bành died, who else but him would claim the Triad’s supreme position in Hong Kong?
 
Cheng spoke, his tone more subdued than before:

"Fine! I’ll tell you. Lữ is hiding in hotels here in Los Angeles. He changes locations every night. But he can't fool us. The Triad has people in every hotel here. Sooner or later, we’ll catch up with him."

Vấn nodded. He knew Henry Cheng wasn't bluffing. After all, what hotel didn't employ Chinese staff as waiters or cooks? It wouldn't be hard for the Triad to track Lữ down; the only issue was that by the time they located him, he would likely have already moved to another hotel. Vấn extended his hand to Cheng:

"I trust you’ll succeed. But let me reiterate: he’s a dangerous man. If you don't eliminate him soon, he might turn around and finish you off instead."

Cheng laughed loudly. He shook Vấn’s hand perfunctorily, still chuckling:

"Do you have any idea how many Triad members are here? Does this guy Lữ have three heads and six arms, or is he immortal and bulletproof? Is that why he thinks he can take on the Triad? Just go home and sit tight; we’ll handle this. I’ll let you know when it’s done."

Vấn left. He was annoyed at being belittled by Cheng, yet he felt somewhat reassured. No matter how much Lữ skulked from hotel to hotel, the Triad would eventually nab him. And once Lữ was dead, Vấn would become the sole owner of VietCal Partnership—or at least retain half of it after settling up with these Chinese Triad members.
 
Van deliberately avoided thinking about Uyên. He knew full well that she had run off with Lữ and was currently in hiding with him; the Triad had already told him as much. And he understood perfectly that they wouldn't just eliminate Lữ—Uyên would have to die along with her lover. Only then could everything fall into Vấn’s hands.

Vấn searched his own heart. Was he being too ruthless? Did he still harbor any love for Uyên? He felt nothing but icy coldness within. His wife—the only woman in his life—had betrayed him. Worse yet, she had conspired with her lover to kill him on the 405. He had no reason left to pity that wretched woman.

It was only natural that Uyên should die along with Lữ—just another mundane, tedious event in this world. It was as commonplace as the hundreds, the thousands of betrayals and murders that occurred every day in Los Angeles—the City of Angels... and of an earthly hell!

Vấn shook his head bitterly. Why had he come to live here? Why hadn't he settled in some remote, windswept town—in Iowa or Nebraska, perhaps—to lead a truly normal life? A life where love didn't turn into betrayal, and where money wasn't inextricably linked to gunfire and death. But things had gone too far. The machinery was already in motion, and destiny lay in wait. What else could he do?

 
Chapter 50
 
Richard Tsu wheeled the room service cart into Room 645. He knocked lightly and waited. Tsu hoped the person answering the door would be a beautiful woman—ideally, one who had just stepped out of the shower. It was one of his daily pleasures to deliver trays to guests who were too lazy to go out and preferred having their meals brought up.
 
More than once, he had encountered beautiful, amorous women answering the door in states of near-nudity. Of course, he only dared to steal furtive glances; he never dared to entertain any further fantasies.
Jobs were hard to come by these days; he knew that any untoward behavior would lead to guest complaints and his immediate dismissal.
 
Landing a position at the Four Seasons was no easy feat. Yet, while the fear of losing his job was real, how could he help but fantasize—seeing such beautiful women amidst the seductive atmosphere of this luxury hotel—about a day when... Tsu didn't dare let the thought go any further; he hurriedly swallowed the saliva rising in his throat and waited.

The door opened. Just as Tsu had hoped, a beautiful woman let him in. She wasn't wrapped in a skimpy towel as he had imagined, but the sheer nightgown she wore was more than enough to satisfy him. She was stunning—and Asian, too. Tsu wheeled the cart inside and arranged the food on the table, stealing only quick glances at the woman. Suddenly, he froze.

A man stepped out of the bathroom; without a word, he pulled out some loose bills, handed them to Tsu, and waved him out of the room. A jolt of electricity seemed to shoot through Tsu’s brain. He suddenly recognized that face—the very face he had seen in the photograph the Triad had sent to the Four Seasons three days earlier. There was also the promise of a ten-thousand-dollar reward for anyone who spotted him and immediately notified the Triad contact at the Asian Market.

Tsu kept his head down as he hurriedly pushed the cart toward the door. His heart was pounding. There was no doubt about it: the Triad’s hunted couple were right there in the hotel. And this particular pair was staying for only one night. The Triad had informed him that their target changed hotels every night and that he had to contact Paul Huang at the Asian Market immediately. Ten thousand dollars! Tsu sped the cart down the hallway to the corner where a telephone was kept in the hotel’s small utility closet.

Tsu pulled a small notebook from his back pocket and dialed the number for the Asian Market. The phone was picked up after the first ring; the Triad surely kept someone on duty at that number day and night. Tsu spoke:

"Let me speak to Paul Huang."

A curt, dry voice answered:

"Huang speaking."

Tsu spoke rapidly, his breath coming in short gasps:

"This is Richard Tsu at the Four Seasons. The man you’re looking for—Lữ—is here."

Paul Huang’s demeanor changed instantly. He spoke urgently:

"Which room? What’s the number?"

Tsu replied:

"Room 645. But what about my reward?"

He jerked back a few steps. A roar came through the phone, startling him as if the speaker were standing right in front of him:

"Hmph! You’ll get your money! Don't mess around! Now, you have to keep an eye on Lữ. If he does anything—goes out or whatever—call me back immediately!"

"Rest assured! I’ll stand guard right here. He isn't going anywhere."

Tsu hung up the phone. Ten thousand dollars would soon be in his pocket. The Triad had never broken its word. Every Chinese person in Los Angeles knew this well, and Tsu had been schooled on the Triad’s role within the local Chinese community—ever since he first set foot in Southern California after arriving on a tanker that had smuggled migrants halfway around the world from Fujian to Peru, then Mexico, and finally California.

° ° °

Paul Huang hurriedly called Henry Cheng. The Triad had missed Lữ at the Bonneville Hotel the day before. The Chinese bellboy there had only spotted Lữ that morning, shortly before checkout time. The Triad arrived immediately, but it was too late; Lữ had already left the hotel and checked into a different place.
 
Huang did not want to face Henry Cheng’s wrath again. Had Huang not intervened, the bellboy at the Bonneville would likely have taken a bullet to the head. Yet it wasn't the man's fault; he had only started work that morning and had notified the Triad the moment he saw Lữ.

Huang stood up and left the Asian market. Henry Cheng’s orders were clear. Wang Li, Huang, and another gunman were to head straight to the Four Seasons Hotel, while Henry Cheng and three other gunmen would follow later as a precaution against any unforeseen trouble. Huang sneered. He alone was enough to take Lữ out, let alone with Wang Li and another man backing him up. Why was Cheng being so cautious? It was just Lữ and a woman—hardly a situation requiring the Triad to mobilize its full force and risk diminishing the organization's prestige.
 

 
Chapter 51
 
Montello sat in deep thought. He was reviewing, for the final time, the plan to settle the score with the Triads in Los Angeles. Al Montello was no fool; he fully understood that Lữ had come to goad him into using his own muscle to eliminate the Triads—thereby removing a threat to Lữ. In truth, even without Lữ’s involvement, Montello would have had to take action against the Triads anyway. For the past two years, they had become increasingly brazen, showing utter disregard for the power of the Cosa Nostra.

However, Montello had lacked the time to deal with them; he had been under intense pressure from the FBI after a subordinate—acting as an informant—had secretly recorded evidence of his illicit activities. The Los Angeles District Attorney was determined to use the RICO Act to prosecute him. That accursed law had put countless Mafia figures—from the East Coast to the West—behind bars for decades due to its rigorous application against criminal organizations.

At the very least, Montello had managed to have the traitor eliminated before the FBI could place him in the witness protection program and spirit him away. Without a witness, even a hundred district attorneys couldn't make charges stick against Montello.

Yet, the two years spent fending off the FBI had left him with neither the time nor the energy to check the Triads' expansion. Now that the heat had died down, he needed to reorganize Mafia operations in Southern California. Naturally, the first order of business was to teach the Triads a lesson. Montello contacted the bosses of Mafia families in New York, Atlantic City, Chicago, Kansas City, and San Francisco. Since every one of them had issues with the Triads—who were expanding their influence within Asian communities across the states—they all pledged their support to Montello.

With all his preparations complete, Montello finalized the plan to wipe out the Triads in Southern California. He knew the location of the Triad’s hideout on Hill Street in Chinatown, the layout of Henry Cheng’s house, and the number of gunmen and their schedules. Every detail had been meticulously studied; the location was carefully chosen, and Montello had mapped out the tasks and timing for each of his men with the precision of a military campaign.

There was only one thing Montello wasn't entirely satisfied with. His men still hadn't located Van—the man he had contracted to eliminate, only to fail on the 405 freeway. Montello wanted to wrap everything up this time. He wanted to settle the matter once and for all so he wouldn't have to deal with these Vietnamese factions killing each other—a conflict that, like it or not, threatened to ignite a war between the Mafia and the Triad.

More than ten gunmen gathered in Montello’s living room. He scanned the group and nodded in satisfaction. Ricky and Johnny were both there; the two of them alone could take down a dozen of those filthy Triad Chinese. And that was not to mention the full force he had mobilized from Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley. Montello pointed at Ricky and said:

"You and four guys from the Valley take the back entrance. Johnny and three guys from Orange County take the front. Shoot any Chinese guy you see. You all know what Henry Cheng looks like, right? Whoever takes him out gets a special bonus."

Ricky, Johnny, and the men from Los Angeles, the Valley, and Orange County all nodded. They knew Montello; he rarely offered bonuses like that. It meant he took this Chinese guy seriously. They would have to be extremely careful. The Triad had grown powerful in just a few years—they certainly weren't incompetent. It promised to be an intense fight.
 
° ° °

Two pitch-black Lincolns turned onto Hill Street in Chinatown. Johnny stepped out, glanced around briefly, and signaled the four henchmen in the lead Lincoln to exit their vehicle. The group walked into a tiny dead-end alley; near the far end stood a shuttered, deserted-looking shop—the front entrance to the Triad headquarters. The second Lincoln drove straight on, then turned onto the cross-street that ran behind Cherry Drive.

Ricky led the second team to infiltrate the rear of Henry Cheng’s compound. He had memorized the layout and every approach to the Triad estate. Beyond the towering fence lay a vast lawn. Electronic sensors linked to cameras and alarm systems lined the fence and were mounted on the tall trees dotting the yard. Breaking in would not be easy.

Ricky smiled. They didn't need to sneak in. No matter how advanced the alarm system was, it was useless; the moment Johnny smashed through the shop’s front entrance, one of Ricky’s men—waiting on a nearby utility pole for a walkie-talkie signal—would cut the power lines. Without electricity, the entire house would plunge into darkness; cameras, monitors, and alarms would all go dead, leaving the Triads with no time to react.

Montello had planned for everything. Only seven or eight Triad members were stationed inside the house. Johnny, Ricky, and Montello’s ten gunmen had more than enough firepower to take them all out. Meanwhile, another team would simultaneously eliminate the remaining Triads at the Asian market. Every move was timed to the second. Montello remained in the lead Lincoln with the driver, waiting for news of victory.

° ° °

Johnny kicked open the door to the dingy little shop that served as a front for Henry Cheng’s mansion. Two old Chinese men, who had been sitting and reading newspapers, started to rise to question the intruder but were too slow. A burst of fire from Johnny’s Uzi slammed them back against the rear wall; they had just enough time to widen their eyes in shock before slumping to the floor.
 
Johnny and his men stormed into the inner hallway. He kicked open the door to Cheng’s living room and unleashed another burst of gunfire. At that exact moment, the house plunged into darkness; Ricardo, stationed at a utility pole outside, had cut the power lines.

As the living room went pitch black, Johnny and his team donned infrared goggles. They could see everything clearly, while the people inside remained blind to the Mafia gunmen. Johnny smiled when he heard gunfire erupting from the back of the house, near the large lawn. Ricky had moved in from the rear; caught in a pincer movement, Henry Cheng and his men had no way out.

° ° °

Cheng hurriedly pushed the woman’s heated body aside and sprang up, cursing under his breath. He should have left immediately after Paul Huang and Wang Li to oversee the hit on Lữ, but his new mistress was insatiable. She hadn't been satisfied with the entire night and had demanded he please her one more time. He hadn't even had a chance to dress and head to the Four Seasons—after dispatching three of the Triad’s top gunmen to execute Lữ and Uyên—when the sound of gunfire rang out inside his own home.

Cheng barely had time to pull on his trousers. Bare-chested, he grabbed the gun from beside the bed and rushed out of the bedroom. Glancing quickly toward the back lawn, he saw a figure darting across. The house lights suddenly died, leaving only a faint glow filtering in from the yard outside. Cheng heard the sharp crack of gunfire, followed by a henchman’s curse and the choking gurgle of another man dying.
 
He swore under his breath. His three best gunmen had already left for the Four Seasons Hotel, leaving him with nothing but dead weight. Cheng aimed at a tall, dark silhouette emerging behind the glass door. He fired, then rolled rapidly across the floor. A hail of bullets chased him, unleashed by another figure who had kicked the door open and stormed in. Cheng spun and fired the instant his roll came to a halt; the gunman shrieked, clutching his chest as he collapsed.

Taking down two of them meant he had at least avenged the two henchmen who had just fallen. Cheng took cover behind a massive, dark bronze antique vase—taller than a man—that he had personally imported from Beijing. Three figures appeared at the main entrance, each wearing bulky night-vision goggles that covered most of their heads.
 
Cheng realized instantly that Montello was pulling out all the stops to wipe out the Triad this time. He was furious with himself for having dispatched his three most capable gunmen to kill Lữ just half an hour before this attack. Was it a coincidence, or had he walked into a trap set by the very Mafia thugs he had always dismissed as brainless fools?

Rage surged through Cheng. He had never needed Wang Li more than at this moment; with his unerring aim, Wang Li would have taken out this riffraff in the blink of an eye. But now, in this vast house, he was alone—save for his mistress, who was cowering in the bedroom. The sudden silence of the gunfire meant that all seven of his guards stationed here had been killed, and Montello’s hit squad was now hunting down the last target: him.

 
Chapter 52
 
Lữ took the Beretta that Sơn had handed him and began to clean it. He felt as though he had been transported back to the old days in the deep forests of the Trường Sơn range. Whenever a mission loomed, he would meticulously clean his weapon, caressing it with the tenderness one might show a lover. He had to treat the gun with care and affection—it was his lifeline, after all—and he certainly didn't want to discover, in a moment of crisis, that it had jammed due to poor maintenance.

Lữ sat waiting, the gun resting in his lap. He hadn't wanted Uyên to witness this, but she had refused to leave. His only option was to tell her to go into the bathroom and lock the door tight should any shooting break out.

Lữ had grown suspicious of the Chinese waiter the moment he noticed the man stealing strange glances at him and hurriedly pushing his food cart away as if fleeing a ghost. Lữ opened his door to watch the waiter; when he saw the man rush into a small room at the end of the hall to make a call, Lữ followed. Pressing his ear against the door, Lữ caught snatches of the conversation—his own name and Á Trung’s mentioned as the waiter spoke to the Triad headquarters. That was enough. Lữ knew instantly that the waiter was tipping off the Triad; within half an hour at most, they would send gunmen to take him out.

Lữ hurried back to his room before the waiter finished the call. He immediately phoned Montello. The plan had been set two days prior, and Montello was simply waiting for Lữ’s call to set things in motion. Montello had warned Lữ that Cheng’s organization was large and staffed by many skilled gunmen. He worried that storming the Triad headquarters while their forces were fully assembled would result in heavy losses for the Mafia. If they could split the Triad’s forces, however, eliminating them would be far easier.
 
Lữ was weary of constantly changing his lodgings every night and being perpetually on the run, fleeing the Triad’s pursuit. He proposed a plan: let the Triad discover his location, and while Cheng sent men to eliminate him, Montello would strike the Triad’s headquarters. Montello assured him that a few of his own men would be stationed at the hotel to ambush Cheng’s henchmen the moment they appeared. Three Mafia gunmen would lie in wait in the hallway; any Triad member who burst into the room would be ambushed and taken out instantly.

After hanging up with Montello, Lữ waited. True to the Mafia boss's promise, just over ten minutes later, the room phone rang. A man named Larry—after reciting the pre-arranged code—informed Lữ that he and two other gunmen were already at the Four Seasons, ready and waiting for Henry Cheng’s men to come to their deaths.

"Just stay put in the room," the man said. "Don't be afraid! Larry here has got it all covered."
 
Lữ smiled. Little did the man know how accustomed Lữ was to gunfire and bloodshed. He wondered about Larry’s marksmanship—and if he had to defend himself, would his own gun hand still be as steady as it had been over a decade ago? Lữ mused silently, caressing the gun resting in his lap with more tenderness than he had ever shown in his past romances with Uyên, Kim, or Miriam—memories that felt like a distant, vanished past, even though they were not long ago.

° ° °

Ricky unleashed a burst of gunfire into the spacious living room. There was no return fire. His team, having breached the back entrance, had already taken down four Triad members. Johnny, who had stormed in through the front door to meet him in the living room, reported that he had eliminated three others. A total of seven filthy Chinese thugs had been sent to meet their ancestors, but his own side had suffered two casualties as well.
 
The remaining expert marksman inside the house had shot the two men storming the living room right in the crown of the head—a display of consummate skill and deadly precision. This meant Henry Cheng was still hiding somewhere within the cavernous living room, and Montello’s gunmen had to tread carefully to flush out the Triad leader.

° ° °

Crouched behind a massive black bronze vase, Cheng peered out. A group approaching from the front of the living room had linked up with the squad that had stormed in from the rear. Eight gunmen fanned out, covering the vast expanse of the room. They advanced step by step, and Henry Cheng knew he was out of options; in moments, they would reach the far end of the room where he was concealed. He took aim at the tallest man in the group—who appeared to be the leader—and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet struck Ricky square in the forehead, sending him toppling backward. But simultaneously, the seven remaining gunmen unleashed a hail of automatic fire at the black bronze vase. The vase was knocked backward, exposing Henry Cheng, who was now completely defenseless. He raised his gun, intending to take out one last man, but it was too late. Hundreds of rounds from seven Uzi submachine guns tore into his body; in an instant, he was reduced to a shapeless, mangled heap of flesh slumped against the wall, lying beside the precious antique vase—now as twisted and ruined as its owner.

° ° °

Wang Li, Paul Huang, and Frank Teng entered the Four Seasons Hotel. Wang Li had wanted to go alone, but Henry Cheng had insisted the other two accompany him. "This guy Lữ is dangerous," Cheng had said, determined that Lữ would not escape the Triad’s grasp this time. Upon entering the hotel lobby, Wang Li glanced around and jerked his head, signaling Huang and Teng:

"You two take the elevator. I’ll go up the stairs just in case. Wait until I get there before you storm Lữ’s room."


Wang Li had seen plenty of action in hotels across Hong Kong and the U.S. He knew that if an ambush occurred, the threat would likely emerge from the stairwell. Although Lữ had no idea the Triad was coming, Wang Li refused to leave anything to chance; he always secured the stairwell before carrying out a hit in a hotel.

Paul Huang and Frank Teng stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. Compact automatic pistols were tucked discreetly beneath their black leather jackets. Wang Li shook his head as he watched them go. How did the Triad recruit guys like this? Going on a hit dressed in black—it was practically advertising their Triad affiliation and the fact that they were about to kill someone.
 
He bounded up the stairs, taking three or four steps at a time; the stairwell was deserted. In moments, he reached the sixth floor. Wang Li cast a final glance around. The stairs above and below were completely empty. Satisfied, he pushed open the door and stepped out. Just then, he heard a sharp burst of gunfire coming from the direction of the elevator.

° ° °

Larry saw three Chinese men enter the Four Seasons and instantly recognized them as Triad gunmen—especially the two wearing all-black jackets and dark sunglasses. *A bunch of morons! Going to commit murder but acting like they’re putting on a show for everyone!* Larry thought to himself. One of them broke away from the group and vanished down the far end of the hallway. Larry couldn't figure out where he was going—maybe just off to the restroom to take a leak. Those Chinese guys had all sorts of weird habits and rituals.
 
Larry cursed under his breath, damning every filthy Chinese person on the face of the earth. He spoke softly into his walkie-talkie upon seeing the two men in black press the elevator button to go up:

"Two Triad guys are taking the elevator up. You know what to do."

Dick’s voice came back crisp and clear:

"OK! We’re waiting right by the elevator doors. We’ll handle it."

Larry smiled. When the elevator doors opened, those two Chinese guys would be met with a hail of bullets from Dick and Valentino, who were lying in wait. Taking out the Triads would be a piece of cake—there was no need for Montello to be so fussy with his instructions! As for the third guy, Larry would simply step into the restroom and put a bullet in his head; that would settle everything neatly. He walked down the corridor toward the restroom near the emergency exit stairs, only to hear the sharp crack of gunfire ringing out from the floor above.

° ° °

Wang Li glanced toward the elevator and instantly realized they had been ambushed. Two tall Americans were spraying automatic fire into the elevator car. Huang and Teng had just stopped at the sixth floor; the moment the doors cracked open, Montello’s henchmen—who had been lying in wait—unleashed burst after burst of automatic fire. The two Chinese men slumped to the floor, unable to react in time.

Wang Li drew his gun and sneered. One of the Americans spun around, but it was too late; a bullet from Wang Li’s weapon slammed into his left chest. Before the man could even process what was happening, he took another bullet to his right temple. Two hulking bodies slowly collapsed to the ground.
 
Wang Li walked over to the elevator and spat on the floor. He felt no pity for his fallen associates. Gunmen as stupid as the four men lying dead here were bound to die sooner or later; the world simply didn't have room for fools who liked to play with guns the way they did.
 
Wang Li slowly approached Room 645. He fired at the lock and kicked the door open. As it swung wide, he stepped inside, unleashing a long burst of gunfire, but found no one. He was momentarily taken aback but reacted instantly, dropping into a crouch and rolling into the room; a bullet grazed just inches above his head.

Wang Li cursed under his breath. This Lữ wasn't an amateur; he couldn't afford to underestimate him. Wang Li rose and fired toward the far end of the room, where the incoming fire had originated. He heard a faint cry that was instantly stifled. Lữ had been hit but had managed to suppress his scream. Wang Li felt a grudging admiration; it took immense grit to stifle a cry like that while wounded. Yet, it meant Lữ was still alive. Somewhere in the corner of this vast, luxurious Four Seasons penthouse, Lữ lay wounded, waiting for Wang Li to come and finish him off.

° ° °

Lu heard the roar of gunfire near the elevator and tightened his grip on his weapon. The Triads had arrived, and Montello’s men had sprung their ambush. He rose and retreated toward the corner of the room to wait. If things went smoothly, Montello’s henchmen would wipe out the Triads, and he would have nothing to worry about. But what if the Triads prevailed? Lữ told Uyên to lock herself in the bathroom and stay put, then crouched behind the writing desk at the far end of the room.

The gunfire suddenly ceased. Lữ heard footsteps stop outside the door, followed by a shot fired into the lock. He cursed silently; the Triads had taken out Montello’s men. But he had no time to dwell on it—bursts of automatic fire from Wang Li’s weapon were already raking the room. Lữ raised himself slightly and saw the small, wiry figure of a Chinese man standing in the doorway, spraying bullets at the bed where he had been lying.

Lữ fired three shots in rapid succession, but the man nimbly ducked and rolled aside. Suddenly, Lữ felt sharp stabs of pain in his chest and right arm; the gun was knocked from his grasp. He barely managed to stifle the cry rising in his throat before collapsing to the floor. Everything unfolded at breakneck speed, like a film in fast-forward. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that seemed to tear at his chest. When he opened them, he saw the Chinese man slowly approaching, the gun barrel aimed at his head, ready to fire.

 
Chapter 53
 
Lữ woke up. He looked around and realized he was in a hospital. A long tube ran down his throat, connecting him to a ventilator beside the bed. Lữ knew he was just coming out of anesthesia following surgery. A violent wave of pain crashed over him the moment his mind cleared. Yet, as his memory returned, a different kind of agony—far deeper than physical pain—engulfed him, plunging him into bottomless despair. Vivid images flashed through his mind: the Chinese Triad gunman about to put a bullet in his head; Uyên’s piercing scream; and the sight of Uyên bursting from the bathroom to shield him with her own body just as the gunman fired.

Lữ writhed in excruciating pain. He could clearly see Uyên collapsing against him, her blood drenching his body. The gunman, momentarily stunned by the turn of events, was preparing to fire again at the two bodies before him. But Lữ would not let him carry out his mission. He drew the blade strapped to his lower leg and hurled it with all his might. The knife plunged deep into Wang Li’s heart, and blood spurted out in a powerful jet.

The gunman staggered, clutching his chest, his vacant eyes fixed on Lữ in disbelief at what had just happened. He slumped forward and collapsed. Lữ watched him fall but paid no further heed to the dying killer. His entire world was Uyên, lying motionless in his arms. Lữ cried out her name. His anguished shout seemed to rouse her one last time; Uyên opened her eyes and her lips stirred. Lữ leaned close to hear what she had to say. And her final words were the ones she had spoken to him hundreds, thousands of times before: "Lữ! I love you." A faint smile touched her lips, and her eyes closed—forever.

Lữ cried out once more. He shook Uyên vigorously, though he knew it was all in vain. Despair surged in and completely overwhelmed him. Blood continued to pour profusely from the wounds in his chest and right shoulder. His vision blurred; before losing consciousness, the last things he perceived were the room spinning around him and the distant voice of a tall American who had just entered:

"It's Larry! Lữ, where are you?"

° ° °

Kim stood watching Lữ through the glass partition of the post-operative recovery room. She gazed anxiously at her lover as he battled for his life. The surgeon had assured her that the operation was a success and free of complications. A bullet had struck Lữ’s lung but missed his heart and major arteries; another had shattered the bone in his shoulder, though a cast would allow it to heal in time.
 
What baffled the doctor, however, was that after the anesthesia wore off, Lữ seemed to be suffering from severe shock; he remained unable to breathe without the ventilator. During the brief moments he regained consciousness, his pulse and blood pressure fluctuated wildly—as if he were in a state of extreme agitation—before he slipped back into a coma. The surgeon spoke to Kim:

"By now, he should have fully regained consciousness and be breathing on his own. We’ll continue administering medication to stabilize him, but I am quite concerned. We won't know for sure if he’ll pull through until tomorrow—provided everything goes smoothly."

Kim nodded silently. She understood that Lữ was devastated by Uyên’s death, and that his difficult recovery was compounded by the crushing guilt and anguish of blaming himself for the tragedy. But Kim knew Lữ would survive the danger following this surgery—because of her love, and because she stood right there beside him. She would remain by his side forever, sharing in his pain.

° ° °

Lữ remained in the intensive care unit for nearly a week before the surgeon declared him out of critical condition and ready to be moved to a regular room to recover. Kim and Son visited him daily; Lữ never spoke to Kim about the events that had transpired, asking Son only about the sequence of events following his loss of consciousness.

Larry, one of Montello’s henchmen, had arrived just as Lữ threw the knife that killed Wang Li—the Chinese Triad member—but Larry had vanished immediately, unwilling to clash with the police who were swarming the scene. Sơn informed him that Montello’s group had eliminated the entire Triad faction in the Los Angeles area, and the FBI was investigating the purge.

Lữ did not ask about Uyên, yet Sơn told him everything had been taken care of. Only Sơn, Kim, and a cousin of Uyên’s who had traveled from Texas attended her funeral. No, Sơn told Lữ; Vấn had not shown up, and his whereabouts remained unknown. That was all Lữ needed to know; he then retreated into the silence that had enveloped him ever since he woke up from surgery.

Kim understood Lữ’s state of mind. She said little beyond making casual, gentle inquiries about his well-being. Yet she sat there, holding his hand, sharing the pain and torment that besieged him. Kim offered no unsolicited advice; she knew Lữ’s inner strength and understood that he needed time to heal from the grief of Uyên’s death.
Still, she hoped her presence and her love would hasten his recovery. She also needed to assist him in dealing with the police and FBI agents who visited the hospital daily to investigate and take his statement
 
Kim recounted everything to Anthony Tucker, an FBI agent she knew well and who had assisted her with numerous past criminal cases. Tucker was assigned to handle Asian organized crime groups in Southern California. The incident where the Triad was wiped out by Montello’s Mafia faction in Chinatown had naturally stirred up a commotion within the Los Angeles Police Department and the FBI’s Southern California field office.
 
Kim briefed Tucker on the Triad’s attempt to assassinate Lữ and the car bombing at the Palos Verdes condominium complex; however, she remained unaware of the details regarding the destruction of the Triad’s stronghold on Hill Street or the shootout at the Four Seasons Hotel.

Kim instructed Lữ to reveal as little as possible to the LAPD and the FBI regarding his involvement with Montello. He was to portray himself merely as someone targeted by the Triad due to business disputes in Orange County. The two Montello henchmen killed by Wang Li at the hotel were simply security personnel he had hired for protection.
 
His act of throwing a knife to kill Wang Li was framed as self-defense—an action taken after he had been wounded and after Wang Li had murdered Uyên, his business partner. Naturally, the LAPD and Tucker understood that Lữ was withholding information, yet they could do little to compel further disclosure, especially with his sharp-witted female lawyer sitting right beside him.

Although he did not say it explicitly, Tucker let Kim understand that the government had no complaints about two criminal organizations eliminating each other; the fewer of them there were, the better. Moreover, the Mafia was a criminal organization the FBI knew well and found easier to handle. The Triad, conversely, was a Hong Kong-based syndicate that operated aggressively and was far more ruthless in its killings than the Mafia.
 
The FBI had previously struggled to investigate the Triad due to unfamiliarity with its organizational structure; now that the Mafia had done the dirty work for them, they could simply go through the motions of an investigation and close the case once they had taken statements from Lữ and other witnesses. Lữ disclosed only the bare minimum about his ties to the Triads to Kim, so she could advise him on what to tell the authorities; he made no mention of his connection to Montello. Both Kim and Tucker understood perfectly well that the shooting at Lữ’s hotel and the Mafia’s simultaneous hit on the Triads at Hill Street were no coincidence.

The day after the police interrogations and Anthony Tucker’s questioning had officially concluded, Lữ received a visitor one evening, just before hospital visiting hours ended. Kim was still in the room, but Lữ gently hinted for her to leave the moment he spotted the visitor:

"I need to have a private word with this gentleman. Could you bring me some Vietnamese food tomorrow? I’m sick of American food."

Kim understood the hint; she kissed his forehead and left. She glanced at the stranger with concern, but Lữ reassured her:

"Go on home. He’s a friend of mine."

Montello walked her to the door, shook her hand in farewell, and turned back to Lữ with a smile:

"You’re a lucky man. There’s always a beautiful woman looking out for you."

Lữ didn't reply. He looked at Montello, silently questioning the purpose of the visit. Montello spoke:

"First, I want to offer my condolences and an apology regarding Mrs. Uyên. I was careless; I let a bunch of useless idiots fail to protect you both. It’s a mercy you were only wounded. Larry—that incompetent fool—is in the hospital now; I punished him by breaking his jaw. If you want me to deal with him more severely, just let me know."

Lữ shook his head. He knew full well that Montello had only sent small-time thugs to guard him at the hotel; his most lethal gunmen had been deployed to take out the Triad stronghold. Still, he couldn't really blame him. Neither he nor Montello had anticipated just how formidable the Chinese man, Wang Li, would turn out to be. Had he not prudently tucked an extra blade inside his trouser leg, both he and Larry—who had just poked his head into the room—would have been cut down by the man.
 
Fortunately for Montello, this particular individual hadn't been at the Triad hideout when Montello launched his all-out assault on Henry Cheng’s compound. Lữ spoke up:

"It’s all over now; there’s no point dwelling on it. Tell me, what’s the situation between your group and the Hong Kong Triads?"

Montello smiled:

"They’re sensible people—unlike Henry Cheng. I got in touch with the guy named Bành, their supreme leader in Kowloon. I heard he didn't care much for Henry Cheng anyway; he actually seemed pleased that someone took Cheng out for him. In short, I’m letting them send a different Triad faction to replace Cheng, but they’re restricted to operating only within Chinatown. We’ll each mind our own business and stay out of each other’s way. Bành also guaranteed he’d leave you alone. The Triads won’t get involved with you or even acknowledge your existence. That was one of the conditions I set, which is why I wanted to come see you personally today to let you know."

Lữ nodded his thanks to Montello. He knew full well that if the Hong Kong Triads were determined to kill him, Montello couldn't protect him forever. Besides, now that Montello had succeeded in eliminating Henry Cheng’s crew, he had no reason to remain entangled with Lữ. Reaching an amicable understanding with the Hong Kong Triads was the best course of action for Lữ if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in hiding. Lữ asked:

"What about Vấn? Do you know where he is?"
 
Montello frowned:

"I still owe you for this. That guy Vấn vanished without a trace after the Triad was wiped out. No one knows where he’s hiding. I had some Chinese guys at the A-Trung market questioned—and you know full well our methods aren't exactly standard police procedure—but they didn't know a thing about him. The only two who knew Van's whereabouts were Henry Cheng and his lieutenant, Wang Li. But both of them are dead."

Lữ nodded. Vấn would certainly have disappeared the moment he saw his plot to use the Triad to kill Lữ had failed. He had likely fled the country and was no longer on American soil. Montello continued:

"I’ll provide the intelligence to help you track him down. No matter where he hides, he won't escape our notice. But that’s all I’m doing—providing information. You’ll have to handle the rest yourself. I came to say goodbye. After today, we go our separate ways. It’s probably better if we never even met. You know what I mean."

Lữ nodded. He understood that Montello was wary of the FBI investigation and the likelihood that they would monitor any connection between the two of them. Anthony Tucker was a smart man. Despite his fondness for Kim and Lữ, duty was duty; Tucker wouldn't hesitate to use Lự to build a case against Montello if necessary. Montello was fully aware of the police and FBI investigations into Lữ while he was in the hospital. Even the act of coming here was dangerous. Lữ mentioned this to him. Montello smiled:

"I know. But I’ve got tight security in place. The housekeeper who serviced your room this morning is one of my people; he swept the place for hidden bugs for me. The FBI doesn't suspect you anymore, so they’ve called off all surveillance." I came here in person to thank you. Without you, I couldn't have taken out the Triads so cleanly. And I want to apologize to you once more regarding Ms. Uyên.

Lữ remained silent. Agony washed over his soul. Had he not been so overconfident—insisting Uyên leave the hotel for safety—she would never have been struck by that cruel bullet from the Chinese Triad gunman. She had even thrown herself into his arms, ready to die with him, the moment she saw he couldn't escape the assassin's weapon. He had lacked the skill to protect her; he had betrayed the absolute trust she placed in him. Lữ dared not dwell on it any further. These thoughts had haunted him constantly—waking and sleeping—for days on end.

Montello squeezed his hand tightly and turned to leave the room. Lữ pressed the call button to summon a nurse; he needed a sedative to blot everything out. Yet, how could he stop thinking of Uyên? Even in his fitful sleep, he kept seeing her slump dead in his arms—a scene playing over and over in his mind, a relentless loop that never ceased.

 
Chapter 54
 
Lữ sat on the sidewalk of the Champs-Élysées, sipping wine and snacking on cold cuts from an Alsatian deli. Pedestrians bustled back and forth along the broad pavement of Paris’s most famous avenue. He had always enjoyed sitting here whenever he visited Europe. But this time, Lữ had no leisure to watch the passersby; he was anxiously awaiting a call to learn the meeting place where Vấn would connect with a Vietnamese drug-trafficking ring in Paris.

Six months had passed since Lữ left the hospital. Aside from a slight lingering stiffness in his right shoulder, all his wounds had fully healed. On the day of his discharge, he told Sơn, who had come to take him home:

"You just keep handling all the partnership business for me. I can't go back to work yet. There’s something else I have to do."
 
Sơn didn't ask what Lữ planned to do. He simply said:

"How long do you think it will take? There isn't really much partnership work left; the real estate is practically all sold, and I’ve got your investments sorted out. Still, it would be better to have you back overseeing things. Besides, Miriam keeps pushing me to look after the restaurants, too. Vincent can't handle it all on his own."

Lữ gazed out the window. He listened to the talk about business with indifference. What did amassing wealth matter when Uyên was gone? He was consumed by a single obsession now—one he was determined to see through to the end, no matter the cost. He told Sơn:

"I don't know how long. It could be a few weeks, a few months, or even a year or two. I just don't know. You keep looking after everything for me. If it gets to be too much, you can sell everything off and dissolve the partnership."

Sơn shook his head:

"There's no need for that!" I can look after your investments while keeping an eye on Miriam’s restaurants. But I don’t want you to be so obsessed. Let the past go. Stop letting it consume you!

Lữ looked Sơn in the eye:

"You know how I am. Uyên’s death was my fault. I have to handle this myself."

Sơn remained silent. He simply asked:

"What about Kim? Haven't you thought about her?"

Lữ replied:

"Please explain it to Kim for me. I can't bring myself to tell her directly. I can only go back to her once this matter is resolved."

Sơn said nothing. He carried Lữ’s suitcase out to the car. He disagreed with what his friend intended to do, but trying to stop him would be futile. Lữ couldn't return to a normal life without finding Vấn. Then again, had Lữ—or even Sơn himself—ever really had a normal life?

° ° °

Lữ’s hunt began in California. Although he suspected Vấn had fled the moment Henry Cheng was eliminated—and was likely no longer in Los Angeles—Lữ didn't want to overlook a single possibility. He spent money hiring private investigators to monitor the house Uyên and Vấn had shared, watching for anyone coming or going or for signs that the property had been put up for sale. A private investigator also kept a regular watch on Vấn’s former workplace at Bank of America, hoping to spot him returning to claim his final paycheck, collect documents for a new job, or provide a new address to claim his retirement funds.

Lữ also dispatched people to question Vấn’s acquaintances and relatives living in California about his whereabouts. But more than two months passed, and all of Lữ’s efforts proved fruitless. Vấn had vanished without a trace. No one knew Vấn’s new whereabouts, and he had not been in contact with anyone.

Lữ expanded his investigation across the United States. He sent people to inquire about newly hired Vietnamese employees at banks—places where he suspected Vấn might seek work to return to his old profession. No bank, however small, escaped the scrutiny of the investigators Lữ had hired. Yet, Vấn was shrewd enough to avoid the very places where Lữ’s agents might look.

There was a moment when Lữ thought he had finally caught his quarry. He recalled Uyên mentioning that Vấn had purchased IBM stock, so he set out to trace any stock certificates sold under Vấn’s name. He knew that if Vấn needed money, he would have to sell the shares. While the gold coins Vấn had taken—as Uyên had described—could be sold to illicit gold shops without a paper trail, selling IBM stock required full documentation.

The private detective agency Lữ hired informed him that Vấn had indeed sold the stock and listed an address in Mexico City; Vấn had left the country. Lữ flew to Mexico that very night, only to discover upon reaching the address that Vấn had departed two days earlier.

Lữ was undeterred. He continued to spend money hiring people everywhere to search for Vấn. Beyond areas with large Vietnamese populations in the U.S., he paid for tracing services in major European capitals with Vietnamese communities, as well as in Thailand and Saigon—just in case Vấn had flown back to hide in Vietnam.

Then, exactly six months after Uyên’s death, Lữ received word that Vấn was in Paris, implicated in a Vietnamese drug-trafficking ring operating there.

° ° °

Even though he had been expecting it, Lữ started when his cell phone rang in his jacket pocket. He answered the call. A voice spoke rapidly in French:

- Bois de Boulogne, corner of Vermeuil and Chartreux, 6 p.m.

Lữ nodded. He had already lost twenty thousand US dollars just to hear those words. For drug traffickers—and Vấn was merely a novice runner—let alone twenty thousand, even a few hundred would have been enough for them to sell him out. But money was of no concern to Lữ; he simply wanted it all over with quickly. He hadn't had a full night's sleep in the past six months.

Lữ waved down a taxi. As soon as he got in, he slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the Western driver's hand. Even the notoriously surly Parisian taxi drivers would practically bow low—almost to the point of kissing one's hand—when presented with a crisp greenback. Lữ gave the driver the destination. The man looked at him in surprise but said nothing. Only a madman would head to the Bois de Boulogne—specifically the corner of Rue de Vermeuil and Rue de Chartreux—at this hour. If one wanted women, Montmartre was much closer; why go all the way out there?

Sitting in the back seat, Lữ opened his small clutch bag to prepare. The gun Sơn had given him—the very weapon he had failed to use effectively to protect Uyên—would be put to use again today. It was destined for the mastermind behind Uyên's death. The local drug kingpin had agreed to dispatch Vấn to deliver a shipment to a big-spending client from Belgium. This client, who had readily put up twenty thousand dollars upfront, was coming to meet Vấn in the Bois de Boulogne. The kingpin had been instructed to simply forget whatever transpired there—to act as if the event had never happened—a condition he found incredibly easy to accept and readily agreed to.

Dusk had fallen, and the intersection of Rue de Vermeuil and Rue de Chartreux in the Bois de Boulogne was deserted. Lữ stepped out of the taxi and waited for it to disappear around the bend. He glanced around before heading toward a nearby small park. He turned up the collar of his overcoat and pulled his hat down low, shielding his eyes. Vấn failed to recognize him; he never suspected that Lữ had trailed him all the way here.

Lữ gazed toward the tree line at the edge of the woods. A figure emerged, clutching a small bundle. Lữ stood motionless in the shadows, waiting. The figure approached and uttered a code phrase; Lữ replied exactly as instructed. Reassured, the man stepped closer. Suddenly, Lữ whipped a flashlight from his pocket and shone the beam straight into the man's face.
 
It was indeed Vấn. Panicked, he shielded his eyes with one hand and reached for the gun in his pocket. But Lữ was faster; he leveled his weapon at Vấn’s chest and fired instantly. The man who had orchestrated Uyên’s murder at the Four Seasons Hotel six months earlier collapsed. He opened his eyes one last time to look at Lữ. Lữ nodded and spoke a single word:

"Uyên!"

Vấn closed his eyes and breathed his last. Lữ looked down at the enemy lying dead at his feet and felt a sudden, terrible emptiness. In Vấn’s final gaze, he had read a sense of release—as if the man had been waiting for Lữ to appear and grant him a final mercy. It was as though the burden of six months spent fleeing and the remorse over Uyên’s death had driven him to the very brink of the abyss, and Lữ’s bullet was the very thing the hunted man had prayed for.

He didn't know anymore. Everything seemed meaningless to Lữ—love, life, and death. He stared at the smoking gun in his hand, a fleeting thought crossing his mind: to turn the barrel on himself and pull the trigger. Why not? Uyên was dead. He had killed Vấn. What was left of life? Nothing but a darkness—like a rising mist—swallowing him whole.
 
Lữ gasped and shuddered; his hand seemed no longer his own, tensing as if to aim the gun at his own body. Lữ snapped awake with a loud cry, flung his gun to the ground, and turned to run. He had been down in the deepest abyss, just like Vấn; he had witnessed the blackness of the realm devoid of light—the darkness of an evil that reigned eternal.
 
Was there still a way out? Lữ no longer knew. He ran on like a madman through the thick, misty darkness of the Bois de Boulogne, praying for a glimmer of light in the distance to guide his path. Just one last time. Before he sank forever into the abyss of evil.
 

 
Chapter 55
 
The economic crisis in California heralded a widespread economic downturn. Unemployment soared to levels unseen since the 1930s, and home prices in the state plummeted disastrously. Homes—purchased by couples working four jobs combined in hopes of rising values—were now worth only half as much. When one spouse lost their job and could no longer meet mortgage payments, banks foreclosed on the properties. Californians began leaving the state in greater numbers than those arriving, driving home prices down even further.

Just as Lữ had predicted, commercial real estate values ​​followed residential prices into a rapid decline, losing half their worth in less than six months. The Orange County business community, having once laughed at Lữ when VietCal Partnership sold off all its holdings three months earlier, now nodded in acknowledgment of his foresight.

The shopping center on Bolsa Avenue, which Lữ had bought for $1.2 million a few years prior, fetched $4.6 million when he and Uyên sold it to a San Jose investment firm looking to expand into Orange County; the economic crisis subsequently slashed the property's value to around $1.8 million. The Garden Grove apartment complex, purchased by Lữ for $6.6 million, was sold for $8 million immediately after the renovation of fire-damaged units; three months later, the complex was worth just over $5 million.

A 300-room hotel on the Santa Monica Freeway, bought for $16 million, was sold to a Hong Kong investment group for $20 million; six months later, it was valued at only $14 million. Regarding the Anaheim shopping center, VietCal Partnership had sold early and made a $1.5 million profit; had they waited another four months, they would have lost nearly a million dollars. VietCal Partnership sold off all its real estate holdings at the market's peak, exiting the sector just three months before residential and commercial property prices plummeted. After deducting bank loans and taxes, the partnership netted a profit of over $8 million from these sales.

However, Lữ sold only the real estate; he retained his other investments. During Lữ's absence, Sơn needed to devote only a small amount of time to managing these ventures, allowing him to also diligently oversee the restaurants—assets Don Lavitz had left to Miriam.

The day Sơn decided to call Lữ back to oversee operations coincided with the day Comnet went public on Wall Street.

A year earlier, VietCal Partnership had tasked Sơn with researching venture capital investments in startups. He proposed—and Lữ and Uyên approved—investments in two internet software companies: NetSoft and Comnet. Sơn recommended investing half a million dollars in NetSoft for a 40% stake. Six months later, NetSoft went bankrupt because its software proved unusable, and the investors' capital vanished completely.

VietCal Partnership invested one million dollars in Comnet, acquiring two million shares—equivalent to 20% of the company's total equity. Sơn had been apprehensive about this investment due to the high risk; typically, only major venture capital firms with hundreds of millions in capital could weather such long-term exposure. Having already lost half a million on NetSoft, Sơn feared the million dollars invested in Comnet would also go up in smoke.
 
However, Comnet’s software proved functional and widely popular across the World Wide Web, propelling the company to extraordinary success. A Wall Street investment firm decided to launch Comnet shares to the public via an Initial Public Offering (IPO). On the first day, Comnet shares were priced at $12 each; within just a few hours on Wall Street, the value surged to $21, eventually settling at a closing price of $19.50.

Sơn tracked Comnet’s share price minute-by-minute on his computer screen all day, feeling feverish with excitement. He had never expected Comnet to make it to the Wall Street stock market—let alone see its price skyrocket on IPO day—so he had every reason to watch with such enthusiasm.

He had been awarded a 20% stake in the 2 million Comnet shares held by the partnership in recognition of his investment efforts. This meant Sơn held 400,000 shares. With the closing price at $19.50 on the first day, the value of his stake stood at $7.8 million. Lữ’s share was worth $31.2 million. Sơn was stunned when he ran the numbers. He had become a millionaire with remarkable ease, boasting a net worth of nearly $8 million from his Comnet holdings—rivaling that of Miriam!

° ° °

Sơn realized there was no other option but to call Lữ back to manage the partnership; the massive returns from the Comnet investment had swelled the partnership's assets far beyond Sơn's capacity to manage. Furthermore, Lữ had become the sole owner of all VietCal Partnership assets. Triệu Tôn and Uyên had passed away, and a few months earlier, Sơn had received news of Vấn’s death—his body having been found by Paris police in the Bois de Boulogne.

After a perfunctory investigation, French police—basing their conclusion on a packet of heroin found on the victim—ruled the incident a settling of scores between drug trafficking gangs and closed the case. Sơn searched his notebook for Lữ’s phone number. Lữ would only call back every two or three months; he spoke to no one—not even Sơn—and would only disclose his latest whereabouts to the secretary. Sơn examined the number closely: it was from Sorrento, in southern Italy. He dialed the number to call Lữ.

 
Chapter 56
 
Lữ endured the darkest days of his life after killing Vấn. For the six months following Uyên’s death, he had lived solely with the obsession of tracking Vấn down and killing him to avenge her. Lữ had believed he would find peace of mind once he located Vấn and exacted retribution upon his enemy; instead, he was driven to the brink of madness after the night he shot Vấn in the Bois de Boulogne.

He had run through the woods all night like a madman; towards dawn, he checked into a small hotel on the outskirts of Paris and slept for two full days and nights. He had no fear of the police finding him, for he had left no trace behind. He had worn gloves while shooting Vấn and had tossed them into the fireplace upon arriving at the hotel. Yet, a strange sensation took hold of his soul in the days after he awoke and regained his senses: a morbid melancholy, a weariness with life, and a tormenting remorse over Uyên’s death—compounded by the haunting memory of the look in Vấn’s eyes as he recognized Lữ and stared into the barrel of the gun.

Lữ wanted to stop thinking; he did not want to return to California. He boarded a train for the south of France and began an aimless journey. He passed through small towns, stopping for a few days in each and walking long distances to ensure he was exhausted enough to sleep when night fell. He sought to cast aside all images of his previous, turbulent life, to set his mind at ease and find peace. He traveled without a fixed destination, and after three months of wandering through France, he crossed into Italy. One day, he arrived in Sorrento, a small town in southern Italy; he fell in love with the place instantly and decided to stay.

Everyone has a setting, a dwelling, or a city that suits them—a place where the inner self and the external world harmonize to nurture the life of the spirit. Lữ felt as though Sorrento was a city destined for him; the longer he stayed there, the more he felt a sense of ease returning and found sleep coming more readily than before. He would sit for hours on the nearby beach, reflecting on his life and the upheavals that had swept through it—and thinking of the women who had loved him.

He did not dwell much on Miriam, for she had ultimately found happiness with his close friend. But Uyên—though the memory of her no longer tormented him as it once had—continued to occupy his thoughts. He had believed that what existed between them was merely sex and a shared ambition for wealth. Yet, her death had completely altered his perspective. Uyên had saved his life, shielding him from the gunfire of the Chinese Triad member. Was the ultimate expression of love not the sacrifice of one’s own life for the beloved? And what had he done to deserve such love?

Lữ reflected on his own nature. Caught in the gray area between good and evil, he saw that he had plunged into the abyss of criminality; why, then, had he been graced with Uyên’s sublime love and Miriam’s goodness? And now, when everything seemed to have fallen apart, he still had Kim. He had coolly orchestrated Triệu Tôn’s death at Montello’s hands, ignited a horrific, bloody conflict between two criminal syndicates, and ultimately killed Vấn himself to avenge Uyên. Yet, had Vấn committed those monstrous acts solely because of Lữ’s original transgression? Darkness had enveloped him, acting like a magnet that drew further malevolence into his life and the lives of those closest to him.

Lữ was surprised to find himself pondering the nature of good and evil. Looking back, he realized he had never before questioned the concepts of virtue and vice in his own life. His actions and behavior were driven entirely by instinct. He had relied on survival instincts to endure the brutal war in South Vietnam years ago—instincts that dominated and propelled his every thought and deed.
 
Was the obsession with wealth that had consumed him all these years merely a manifestation of the survival-of-the-fittest instinct inherent in American capitalist society—a drive that had honed his competitive edge to the utmost, ultimately bringing him the prosperity he enjoyed today?

Lữ realized that he had stopped at nothing to secure victory for himself. He could have handled the Triệu Tôn situation differently, without resorting to taking the man's life. Ordinary people would surely have sought more flexible, amicable ways to resolve such difficulties. Why couldn't he do the same? Why did he always choose the darkest path to achieve his ends?

Lữ did not consider himself a good person, nor did he view the other man as inherently evil. Yet, he wondered: how many truly wicked, wretched individuals—even monsters like Hitler or Pol Pot, capable of slaughtering millions—ever actually admitted to being bad? While anyone might possess an innate sense of right and wrong, the act of sitting down to engage in genuine self-examination and questioning one’s own nature was something else entirely. The more he reflected, the more he saw that the tumultuous events of his life were self-inflicted consequences of his own instinctive, amoral actions.

Lữ began to play out "what-if" scenarios for the pivotal moments of his life. Had he remained faithful to Miriam and never entertained thoughts of Uyên as a lover, his life—and the lives of Miriam and Uyên—would not have taken such a turbulent turn.
 
How would he have reacted had he been in Vấn’s shoes—betrayed by someone close? Lữ recalled the look in Vấn’s eyes. Could the consequences of a single person's actions truly be so devastating? Vấn could have acted and reacted differently—changing the entire course of events. It might have been a standard divorce, or a bitter acceptance of the situation. Instead, the path he chose intersected with another’s, setting off a chain of consequences that spiraled endlessly out of control.
 
What if Lữ had never considered eliminating Triệu Tôn? How would his life have unfolded? Lữ realized his mistake the moment he entangled himself with a criminal organization to deal with Triệu Tôn. Instinct had drawn him to Montello—a place where the evils of the world converged, amplifying one another a hundred-thousand-fold compared to the good. He had drifted into that criminal underworld with casual ease, never pausing to reflect, treating it as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.
 
Is that simply the nature of life? That goodness is arduous, while evil comes easily? Vấn had acted just as he did, succumbing to the path of least resistance and allowing himself to be swept up in the quest for revenge—letting evil snowball into an unstoppable force.

Lữ sat for hours, watching the waves crash against the rocky shores of Capri, near Sorrento, and contemplated his life. What good had he actually done for the world around him, or for others? What was the true value of his accumulated wealth when it had been nothing more than a game of amassing riches—a pursuit of power that was both absurd and laughable, the folly of a man with too much money?

Fortune had smiled upon him so often—until the day Uyên died in his arms. Was it destiny? A way for him to understand life, to grasp the nature of good and evil, and to discover the true meaning of love? For the first time in his life, Lữ believed in destiny—and accepted his own. Fate had orchestrated the upheavals in his life, plunging him into the abyss of evil and forcing him to confront its true nature. Had destiny led him to Sorrento so he could grasp the meaning of good and evil—and, in doing so, find meaning in his own life?

Lữ let out a long breath. The sea breeze blowing in from the open water seemed to dissipate the fog that had shrouded his existence. He saw his destiny and the path he had to take—a path toward redemption and peace of soul.

Lữ returned to Sorrento from Capri that afternoon; as he stepped into his room, the phone was ringing. It was Sơn on the line, his voice brimming with excitement. He told Lữ that Comnet had just gone public and its stock price had skyrocketed; did Lữ realize how much his net worth had grown? Nearly fifty million US dollars, Sơn said, unable to hide his agitation—he could scarcely fathom the magnitude of the sum.

Lữ listened with indifference, surprised at his own reaction. He hadn't realized such a profound shift had taken place within him. That vast fortune was merely a number, Lữ mused; did he really need it? Once again, he was struck by the thought. Was fate knocking at his door with a sign?
 
Lữ spoke to Sơn:

"You once told me about your dream—to build an orphanage and open a free school for underprivileged children in Vietnam, right? I want you to set up a trust fund and put my entire fortune into it. I want you to make that dream a reality."

Sơn was stunned into silence for several minutes before he could finally speak:

"Your entire fortune? Fifty million US dollars? Then what will you live on? When are you coming back to the States?"
 
Sơn kept asking questions, as if unable to believe what Lữ was saying. He heard Lữ laughing on the other end of the line—a laugh so pure and childlike, a sound Sơn had never heard before. Lữ reassured him:

"No! I’m not crazy. Just do what I told you. I’m staying in Sorrento for a while longer; I can’t come back just yet."

Sơn asked again:

"And Kim? What do you want me to tell her?"

Lữ replied:

"I need a little more time before seeing Kim. If you tell her that, I’m sure she’ll understand."

He hung up the phone. A sense of peace washed over his soul, bringing with it strange, new feelings he had never known before. He thanked destiny for leading him here, for granting him the sweet, gentle comfort of wholesome emotions that were healing his spirit. Perhaps everyone needs a "city for the soul"—like Sorrento—to return to after falling into the abyss; a place to realize that a new, pure, and peaceful life awaits, ready to forgive all past mistakes, wanderings, and follies.

° ° °

Sơn sat with his arms around Miriam in a small Venetian boat; the gondolier, his back bent as he worked the oar, smiled at the couple—two lovers sharing an affectionate moment, just like thousands of newlyweds who had sat in this very gondola before them. They had held a private wedding ceremony in Venice, fulfilling Miriam’s wish—a place of true peace and happiness. Miriam was surprised to find that the image of Lữ had completely vanished from her mind, leaving only Sơn. She felt she could meet Lữ again with perfect composure—simply as a friend of Sơn’s, nothing more, nothing less.

Miriam fed Sơn a ripe, juicy grape and gazed out at the horizon. How could Venice be so beautiful? And how could her happiness be so complete—so utterly perfect? Sơn reclined in the small boat, and Miriam embraced and kissed him. His goodness enveloped her, overflowing. His loving eyes seemed to promise a future—pure, gentle, and serene—much like the music he played every night. Miriam whispered:
 
"I am so happy! I hope Lữ and Kim are just as happy as we are."

Sơn kissed her back and smiled:

"I’m sure they are."

Miriam asked:

"What is Lữ doing these days, Sơn?"

Sơn looked at her. Miriam spoke of Lữ casually, as one might of an acquaintance not seen in a long time. He replied:

"Lữ is still in Sorrento, though Kim has flown over there and travels back and forth. I don’t know when Lữ will return to the States, but I’ve urged him not to let his talent go to waste. I want him to continue helping me manage the trust fund for my social work. He promised to think it over and let me know later."

Miriam stopped listening. She embraced him passionately. Let us speak only of the present, Sơn. Let us savor the happiness right before us. She heard the boatman singing ahead—a song celebrating love and life itself, amidst the blue sky and warm sunshine of Venice. Miriam gave thanks to God, to life, and to that distant land across the Pacific for gifting her such a wonderful lover—for granting her this happiness, a happiness that was ultimate and would last forever.
 
Nguyễn Đình Phùng