The Death Stalker

As the bell on top of the front door rang when it was opened, a friendly voice called out loudly, "Huānyíng guānglín (Welcome)."

The voice greeted Lily warmly, "Ah, Yáo Tàitài, nǐ huílái le (Ah, Mrs. Yao, you're back)."

"Wǎnshàng hǎo, Lù Xiānshēng... (Good evening, Mr. Lu...) Qiǎo, wǒ de zhàngfū wǒ zhǎodào le! (Look, I found my husband!)," Lily replied excitedly. She then dragged Deathstalker closer to Mr. Lu.

"Ah, nǐ shì Míng xiānshēng yīdìng! (Ah, you must be Mr. Ming!) Wǒ jiǎnlòu de jiǔdiàn huānyíng nín láidào (Welcome to my humble hotel)," Mr. Lu said, shaking Deathstalker's hand with both of his own.

"Xièxiè (Thank you)," Deathstalker replied, placing his other hand on top of Mr. Lu's. "Lù xiānshēng, duì bù duì? (Mr. Lu, right?)"

"Duì... duì... (Right... right...)."

"Wǒ de núlì, nǐ néng ràng tā yǒu dìfāng zhù ma? (Do you have a place for my slave to stay?)" Deathstalker asked.

At this, Mr. Lu's expression changed noticeably.

"Méi yǒu (I don't have any)," Mr. Lu said, leering at Bruno with disgust.

Deathstalker shrugged. "Nà... Wǒ xiǎng zū yīgè fángjiān (Then... I want to rent a room for him)."

"Bù kěyǐ! (Cannot!)" Mr. Lu rejected the idea firmly. "Zài wàimiàn núlì zhù (Slaves stay outside)," he added.

Deathstalker glared at Mr. Lu, his contempt evident. "Wǒ de núlì, wǒ de guīzé (My slave, my rules). Wǒ bù huì ràng wǒ de núlì zài wàimiàn shēngbìng ránhòu sǐqù (I won't let my slave fall sick and die outside)."

"Gěi núlì dìfāng wǒ méiyǒu (I don't have a place for slaves)," Mr. Lu insisted.

"Nà wǒ gěi tā zū gè fángjiān! (Then I'll rent him a room!)" Deathstalker rebuked.

"Bù kěyǐ! (Cannot!) Zhèlǐ yǒu yīgè núlì, zhīdào liú zài zhèlǐ méiyǒu kèrén yuànyì (No guest will stay here knowing a slave is here)," Mr. Lu hissed. His eyes darted around, ensuring no one overheard the exchange.

Deathstalker exhaled in frustration. "Wǒ qīzi fù nǐ xīnshuǐ duōshǎo tiān le? (How many days has my wife paid you?)" he asked.

"Sānshí tiān le (Thirty days)," both Mr. Lu and Lily answered in unison.

"Wǒ zū zhěng jiān fàndiàn sānshí tiān yào huā duōshǎo qián? (What will it cost to rent the entire hotel for thirty days?)" Deathstalker asked.

Instead of answering, Mr. Lu's jaw dropped in shock. Deathstalker snapped his fingers, signaling Bruno to bring over a large suitcase. He opened it to reveal its contents—gold bars gleaming under the light.

"Zhè kěndìng chuòchuòyǒuyúle, duì ba? (This should be more than enough, right?)" Deathstalker confirmed.

"D… Duì... duì... (Right... right...)," Mr. Lu stammered. In all his years, he had never seen so much gold.

"Nà... Wǒ xiǎng zū zhěng jiān lǚguǎn sānshí tiān. (Then I'll rent the entire hotel for thirty days). Qítā kèrén bùdé jìnrù. (No other guests can enter). Zhèyàng dehuà, wǒ de núlì jiù kěyǐ zhù nǐmen de lǚguǎn le ba? (This way, my slave can stay in your hotel, right?)" Deathstalker proposed.

"Dāngrán... dāngrán... (Of course... of course...)," Mr. Lu said, finally regaining his composure.

With a thin smile, Deathstalker closed the suitcase and handed it to Mr. Lu. "Nà... zhǔnbèi hǎo liǎng gè nǐ zuì hǎo de fángjiān (Then... prepare two of your best rooms). Rúguǒ méiyǒu yāoqiú, wǒ bù xīwàng nǐ de rènhé rén bèi kànjiàn. (I don't want to see any of your staff unless requested). Nǐ míngbái ma? (Do you understand?)"

"Dāngrán, Dàshī (Of course, Master)," Mr. Lu said, bowing deeply. "Nín kěyǐ quèdìng, zhǐyào nín zhù zài zhèlǐ, jiù bù huì yǒurén dǎrǎo nínmen (You can be sure no one will disturb you during your stay)."

Mr. Lu then called a few of his men and ordered them to prepare two rooms and bring Deathstalker and Bruno's belongings to the rooms. He also instructed one of his maids to prepare the best meal.

"Wǒmen bù chī ròu (We don't eat meat)," Lily quickly said to Mr. Lu.

"Oh... dāng rán... dāng rán... Méiyǒu ròushí (Oh... of course... of course... No meat)," he said, giving the order to his maid.

Mr. Lu then escorted his guests of honor to his dining room. There were many tables, but one—the largest—stood prominently at the center of the room.

"Qǐng nǐmen zuò. (Please, sit.) Zuì hǎo de zhuōzǐ wǒmen zhè jiā fàndiàn zhè shì (This is the best table we have in this hotel). Nín de xǐhào tā zúgòu shìhé wǒ xīwàng (I hope it is suitable to your preference)," Mr. Lu said humbly.

Deathstalker didn't say a word. He simply tossed his cloak aside and sat at the head of the table. Lily sat to his right, while Bruno positioned himself to sit on the floor to Deathstalker's left.

"Bù! Nǐ zuò zài yǐzǐ shàng! (No! You sit on the chair!)" Deathstalker commanded. Then he glared at Mr. Lu. "Nǐ zuò zèlǐ (You sit here)," he said, pointing to the floor next to him.

"Wǒ... (I...)"

Mr. Lu started to protest, but the intensity of Deathstalker's glare silenced him. Reluctantly, he obeyed and lowered himself to the floor.

"Lǎogōng... (My husband...)" Lily hissed at Deathstalker.

Deathstalker suddenly burst into laughter. "Hahaha... Wǒ zài kāiwánxiào (I'm kidding). Qǐng hé wǒmen yīqǐ zuò (Please sit with us)," he said, pulling Mr. Lu to his feet.

"Xièxiè, Dàshī (T-thank you, Master)," Mr. Lu stammered, his voice trembling as he sat on a chair next to Bruno.

Not long after, several maids entered the dining room, carrying dishes that looked... less than appetizing. The green vegetables appeared unnaturally bright, almost plastic, while the supposed tofu and mushrooms resembled rubber. Nevertheless, Deathstalker acted as though the food was a feast.

"Lái ba, wǒmen jiù chī fàn (Come on, let's eat!)," he said, spooning large portions of green vegetables and tofu onto his plate. He deliberately ignored Bruno's pleading glances.

"Qīn'ài... Zhèxiē shì nǐ zuì xǐhuān de cài (My dear, these are your favorite dishes)," Deathstalker said lovingly to Lily, piling vegetables, mushrooms, and tofu onto her plate. "Nǐ yīdìng yào chī hěnduō. (You must eat a lot). Wǒ shīzōng de shíhòu nǐ yīdìng chī bùliǎo hěnduō dōngxī (You definitely couldn't eat much when I was missing)."

"Wǒ..."

"Chī ba," Deathstalker said, cutting off her protest. Lily nodded, looking sullen.

"Pūyī a... Nǐ bìxū chī wǒ liǎng bèi de liàng (Servant, you must eat twice as much as I)," Deathstalker said lightly but with a commanding tone.

"Dāng... dāng rán, Dàshī (Of... of course, Master)," Bruno stammered, swallowing his frustration as he spooned two large portions of vegetables and another spoon of mushrooms and tofu.

"Lù Xiānshēng... qǐng chī... qǐng chī (Mr. Lu... Please eat... please eat). Bùyào yóuyù (Don't hesitate)," Deathstalker said, gesturing toward him.

"Duì... duì... (Right... right...)" Lily added. She stood from her chair, approached Mr. Lu, and piled the remaining dishes onto his plate.

"Nǐn... nǐn shì rènzhēn de ma, nǚshì? (Are... are you serious, Madam?)" Mr. Lu asked in disbelief. "Xièxiè... xièxiè, Nǚshì (Thank you... thank you, Madam)," he added, failing to hide his excitement. The dishes were luxurious and expensive, far beyond what he could usually afford. Yet here he was, being served so generously by these strange guests.

As he enjoyed the lavish meal, Mr. Lu observed his guests closely. They were clearly from far away. Their language was peculiar, and their treatment of their servant was unusually kind—too kind for the norms of this land. What could they possibly be planning to do here for thirty days?

Whatever it was, Mr. Lu resolved to assist them however he could. Master Ming was undoubtedly a nobleman, generous to a fault. The amount of gold he carried seemed inconsequential to him. Surely, he had much more. Mr. Lu's thoughts turned to greed. Subconsciously, a sly sneer spread across his lips.