Tokyo Mystery Writers

Chapter 100 Trading

Maijo Kyosuke slightly opened his eyes, and the real world vaguely returned to his sight.

In the dim light, Maijo Kyosuke felt his nose filled with the damp smell of the cement floor.

Not only did Maishiro Kyosuke feel waves of pain, but he also felt ice-cold all over his body. His body felt like cotton, soft and lifeless.

"Hey, Lao Wu, the great writer seems to have woken up!"

"Didn't that bastard president of the Social Thought Club say he was going to chop off his hand while he was still alive and record it?"

"Should we make our move now?"

Familiar language, which he hadn't heard in a long time, reached Maijo Kyosuke's ears.

At the same time, a harsh sound of metal scraping against stone could be heard!

Jingsuke Maishiro desperately wanted to speak, but the intense pain prevented him from opening his mouth!

The sound of metal scraping against stone finally stopped, and a middle-aged man with long hair, wearing a dark green cotton coat, slowly walked towards Maishiro Kyosuke.

"Jian, turn on the video recorder and let's get started."

"You hold the great writer's shoulder, and I'll be quick so that blood doesn't get everywhere, otherwise it'll be hard to clean up later."

Maijo Kyosuke felt himself being dragged off the ground and placed on an iron frame that looked like an old-fashioned shoe repair shop.

As soon as he got close to the shelf, Maijo Kyosuke smelled the nauseating stench of blood and money!

"Old Wu, what on earth is that bastard president of the Social Thought Society up to?"

"What era are we living in? Why resort to such outdated methods as chopping off someone's hands? It would be better to just stuff them into oil drums, fill them with cement, and dump them into Tokyo Bay!"

Old Wu used a rubber tube to tightly bind Maijo Kyosuke's upper arm, and sneered, "Those damn Japanese like to play these roundabout games."

"He's clearly a beast who hired someone to commit murder, but he insists on pretending to be virtuous, saying he'll break both of his hands to teach him a lesson."

"Hey! Ken, have you read any mystery novels by this famous author, Kyosuke Maijo?"

"This is fucking beautifully written! I'm not very cultured and don't know how to compliment people, but I can tell this guy is genuinely talented!"

"If nothing unexpected happens, even if he doesn't become a great writer like Seicho Matsumoto, he will definitely be one of the top mystery writers."

"Otherwise, why would the people from the Social Thought Society spend ten million to break his hand?"

After finishing speaking, Old Wu pinched Maijo Kyosuke's arm hard with his fingernail, then switched to Japanese and said to Maijo Kyosuke, "Great writer, how are you? Can you feel anything?"

"Let me tell you, I personally really admire you; you're very talented!"

"However, your talent is so enviable that someone wants me to remove both your forearms so you can never write anything again!"

"This tourniquet is a token of my respect for you. Most people would just cut you open, but with this, at least you won't be in so much pain!"

After Old Wu finished speaking, he picked up a red wooden stick from the ground. When the red wooden stick was fully revealed to Mai Shiro Kyosuke, Mai Shiro Kyosuke realized that the other party was not joking with him.

Because at the end of that red wooden stick was an axe that gleamed with a cold light!

Seeing that Old Wu had measured the axe against his own arm joint, he snatched the axe.

Kyosuke Maijo could only grit his teeth and speak in Mandarin, "Don't cut off my hand—I can negotiate with you!"

"Whatever amount the president of the Social Thought Club offers, I'll pay double!"

Maijo Kyosuke's fluent Mandarin made Old Wu hesitate to bring down his axe.

Why do you speak our dialect?

"How can you speak so fluently?"

When Maijo Kyosuke saw that Old Wu had put down his axe, he made up a mixed-race identity on the spot.

Since Maijo Kyosuke could speak fluent dialect, Old Wu seemed a little unsure of what to do. He immediately gave A-Jian a wink: "A-Jian, keep an eye on the great writer. I'll go ask the boss."

After saying that, Old Wu turned and walked out of the room.

Ken released his grip on Maishiro Kyosuke's hand.

Despite the pain, Maijo Kyosuke tore off the rubber tube that had bruised his arm and sat down on the ground, panting heavily.

At this moment, Maishiro Kyosuke finally got a clear look at Ken's face; the guy looked to be about the same age as him.

His face carried a unique mix of caution and ferocity, as if he would immediately pull out a weapon and stab himself in the neck if he made any improper move!

Maijo Kyosuke ignored Ken's wolf-like gaze.

He reached out and ripped open his shirt, pressing hard on his ribs, which were already black and purple from being kicked. Although it was still incredibly painful when he pressed on them, thankfully they weren't broken.

With a fierce expression, Old Wu suddenly pushed open the door, and Ah Jian, looking nervous, immediately pulled out a dagger from behind his back.

Old Wu shook his head helplessly at A-Jian, then beckoned to Mai Cheng Jingjie with his finger and tilted his head towards the door: "Great writer, our boss wants to see you."

Maishiro Kyosuke straightened his disheveled clothes and followed Old Wu outside.

After passing through several stark white corridors, Maijo Kyosuke followed Old Wu into an office.

A middle-aged man wearing a leather jacket and with short black hair sat in the office, staring intently at Maishiro Kyosuke with eyes as fierce as a tiger's.

Those were eyes filled with complex emotions. Just one glance from them was enough for Maijo Kyosuke to realize that this was a formidable and troublesome character.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Cheng Yi. I heard you're of mixed race?"

Maishiro Kyosuke nodded at Cheng Yi and replied in the same Mandarin, "Yes, I came here to live with my parents when I was a child."

Upon hearing Wu Chengjingjie's words, Cheng Yi raised an eyebrow: "So you're one of us. Since you're one of us, then I'll be all family and won't stand on ceremony."

Cheng Yi lit a cigarette, gestured for Mai Shiro to sit down, and said to Mai Shiro with a smile while twirling the lighter in his hand, "We members of the Northeast Gang in Shinjuku dare to do anything. To outsiders, we are the most unruly."

"But Cheng Yi cares most about his compatriots and would never harm his own people."

"Although we are not related by blood, we eat the same food, speak the same language, come from the same hometown, and share some of the same blood."

"So, we can be considered compatriots in a foreign land."

Cheng Yi quickly finished his cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and a sinister smile appeared on his face: "Since Teacher Wucheng is one of us, I can't lay a hand on you for any reason, but you can also see what our purpose is in kidnapping you."

"So, great writer, how much are you willing to pay for these hands of yours?"

Cheng Yi's words made Maishiro Kyosuke somewhat panicked.

But clearly, he couldn't afford to show weakness now, or he would be completely at the mercy of the other party: "I can have the money, but Mr. Cheng, you have to agree to one condition."

As soon as Maijo Kyosuke finished speaking, a sword gleaming with white light appeared in Cheng Yi's hand: "Negotiate terms? Great writer, I think you still don't understand the current situation."

"You're in my hands now. Who gave you the audacity to try and negotiate with me?"