Note: This section of the story deals with a dream flashback from Chun-Li's childhood. I had originally planned to get it all done in one section, but the chapter was growing way too long, and it was taking way too long, so I figured I might as well just split it into two sections and get the first part out first. Thanks again to everyone who left a review. Part two should be coming out shortly. A lot shorter than it took to get part one out, anyways.
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Chapter 5
A thick darkness enshrouded the surrounding scene, blanketing the small, rather cramped interior of the apartment chamber in a veil of shadow, enveloping anything and everything with a covering of black fog far too dense to see through with even the most sensitive of eyes. It collected on the window panes, dashed upon the ancient, feet-worn wood of the apartment floorboards, swirled around the rotted walls and peeling paint in a slow, rhythmic dance of darkness and shadow graceful enough to rival the patterns of even the most talented of artists. And along the breath of the atmosphere it now drifted, coasted, floated… spiraling ever upwards and outwards… expanding and swelling and bulging until it loomed like some twisted monstrosity out of this deepest of nights— a stark and terrible contrast to the grace and elegance of its otherwise almost serene movements. A contradicting picture, indeed.
And yet even here… even in this portrait of the darkest of nights… even among this congregation of shadow and blackness there still managed to glimmer a sparkle of something from among the blanket of shadow all around. A hint… a shine… a halo… a ring of light expanding outwards from a central source, rising and budding and growing until it barely managed to brush against the surface of the near wall with the very tips of its brilliant fingers. And in the dominating swirl of the darkness all around it now made its stand… hesitating, looking, waiting… wavering uncertainly through the atmosphere of the apartment chamber as if expecting to be swallowed up by the encroaching violence of the black at any moment.
And in the center of it all, seated at a small wooden desk with her hair tucked neatly backwards by the flowing strands of two golden ribbons, sat perhaps the brightest picture in the room of all. A young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen at the most, with her hand resting against her chin and a pencil tucked firmly between the slender lengths of her tiny fingers. She was a child of that particular age when, not yet quite on the boundaries of full adulthood, a young girl's features were just beginning to blossom from that cute innocence of childish sweetness into the full splendor of womanly beauty. And all around her the light now seemed to flow, like fireflies around a central source, slowly revolving in a defensive shield against the darkness of the night all around.
Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg.
And there came a sudden ringing.
Loudly.
Abruptly.
Noisily screeching forwards from the darkness of the shadows beyond.
And she turned her head.
Flashed her eyes.
Started as if caught by surprise.
Was… was it him?
And she couldn't help but let out a sigh— a strained, tired breath of air which slowly spiraled upwards to mix once again with the heaviness of the atmosphere. Silly! Of… of course it was him. It always was him… it always was him at this time of night. And she bit her lips and creased her brows, unable to restrain a frown at the steadily ringing figure of the telephone in the apartment background.
Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg…BRRRIIINNNGGG…
And it came again— this time louder, faster, as if in the second ring the tone was somehow more urgent than that of the first. She clenched her fists shut in sudden aggravation, now debating… arguing within herself at whether or not to make the effort to walk the few meters separating herself from the telephone. And why should she?! Why should she bother to even get up?! Didn't she already know who it was; didn't she already know EXACTLY what he was going to say and tell her from his receiver at the other end?
"It's always the same thing, Baba…"
The faded breath of another lonesome sigh escaped from the threshold of her lips, accompanied by the almost reluctant noise of a soft moan as she forced herself slowly upwards. Yes. The same thing. It was always the same thing. Every night… every night for the past two weeks he had done this— staying up late at his office at Interpol, calling in to break her heart with the news that once AGAIN he wouldn't be able to make it home on time. And every night she would beg him… plead with him to make a promise to arrive home early the next day, and just like a fool she would believe him, only to have her hopes crushed once again the very next night. Stupid! She was so stupid! Hadn't she smarted up by now? Hadn't she learned not to trust a single word which came out of his mouth?!
Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg…BRRRIIINNNGGG…
The ringing of the telephone called out for a third time, shrieking in a loud, tinny voice which was deafening to the ears. Outside she could still hear the noises of the storm continue to rage onwards in a chaotic spiral of beats and echoes— the lashing of the wind against the windowsill, the heavy thumping of the rain against the glass, the booming explosion of the thunder in the dark night sky. All of it seemed to mix and blend into one gigantic tumult of sound, and along with the screaming of the telephone in the apartment background merged together into a discordant trumpeting which was almost unbearable to the ears. Chun-Li found herself walking forwards through the darkness of the interior… groping, stumbling… drawn towards the screeching voice by some invisible force which she could neither see nor feel; but knowing full well that she was going to answer the summons of that telephone whether she liked it or not.
"Why… why do you always have to do this, Baba…?"
And with one final sigh of discontentment she felt her hands close upon the cold plastic mold of the receiver; with one final surge of resistance she was able to momentarily hold back. It was almost strange… how she held such a close connection with her father, despite the fact that she rarely ever was able to spend any time with him anymore. For three months out of the year he was gone, gone to some forsaken land on one of those goose-brained chases thought up by those monkeys over at Interpol; and for the remainder of the time when he was actually here— for the remaining nine months when he would actually stay with her at their old apartment home in downtown Beijing— every day he would work late into the wee hours of the early morning, returning only after the heavy hands of the sandman had already closed her eyes in the bitterness of unwanted sleep. It was so unfair.
And yet… and yet she could remember a time…
A time long past… a time so long ago that the recollections of it was all but enshrouded in a thick haze of broken memories, fading in and out of the corners of her mind like some distant dream to be remembered only in the deep slumber of sleep. There used to be a time when she had a father… a mother… and all together under the shelter of one roof, linked together in that sacred relationship between husband, wife, and daughter which should and ought to be the basis and foundation of every family. She could remember her father—her always strong-willed father— carrying her on his shoulders or walking with her under the warm breath of a stiff summer's breeze. And right beside him, her mother— walking in stride— with her arm linked through her father's or with her finger's delicately intertwined with the tiny digits of her own.
Her mother…
All that remained of her were fragments of memories, pieced together from the inner regions of her mind to produce at least a sketchy picture of who she had been. These were clouded images of a woman… tall… pretty… with brilliant black eyes and hair even darker than her own, holding a child in her arms and humming the sweet tunes of some forgotten lullaby to the stillness of the surrounding air. And the milky words would wash over the ears of the little babe, comforting her, soothing her, serenading her until the lids of her eyes would finally droop downwards into a peaceful state of sleep. It was almost saddening how these were all that she had of her mother; but there were always the figures of those two mementos— those two golden ribbons which flowed in her hair— to remind her of just how much she used to care for her.
Perhaps that was why she felt so attached to her father. He was the only person she had left…
Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg…BRRRIIINNNGGG…
The obnoxious ringing of the telephone once again sounded out of the darkness in front of her, immediately startling her out of the semi-conscious state of reverie in which she had settled. And Chun-Li bit her lips, blinked her eyes, flashed a violent glare at the figure of the receiver, feeling at the same time a sudden rush of anger surge immediately through her. He was all that she had left! All that she had left! Yet still he couldn't find some time to spend with her; still he would rather spend all his days cooped up in that damned office of his at Interpol!
Well, no more!
No more! Enough was enough! She wasn't going to just stand by this time; this time she was going to make sure that her voice was heard! If he thought that she was still just some little child who could be pushed around as he pleased, then he was dead wrong! With one vicious motion she pulled at the receiver, and promptly pressed the plastic of the mouth-piece hard against the surface of her lips.
"Yes, Baba?!" she heard herself hiss, the words surging forward in a tone even harder than she had originally intended, "What do you want?!"
"Interesting… I wonder if Inspector Xiang always allows his daughter to speak to him like this…"
And she froze.
"But of course I suppose it is to be expected. A man as weak as he cannot possibly have hoped of ever raising a disciplined daughter."
W… what? It… it wasn't the voice of her father who had just answered from the other end. Instead it was someone else… a cold, hard voice which chilled her to the very soul.
"H… hello…?" she ventured uncertainly, feeling all her determination immediately ebb away with the sudden realization, "Who is this?"
It laughed.
"It doesn't matter who I am, child. Although I'm sure you're father knows well enough by now."
"My father…?"
"Yes, child. You're father. He stuck his hand where it didn't belong, and it got burned."
Chun-Li forced a swallow. The voice was like a dagger in the surrounding silence… cruelly… violently piercing at her heart-strings with the enunciation of each and every syllable that came. It was a hiss, at once altogether soft and hard, but at the same time conveying an overbearing sense of coldness which was almost unbearable. What… what was he talking about? How did he know her father?
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't, child." The voice answered in a droning hiss, "I wouldn't expect you to. You're father, after all, was only all too eager to protect his little girl."
She couldn't help but shiver.
"Who is this?" she repeated again, unable to restrain a frown at the cryptic words, "I'm going to hang up if you don't tell me."
Another laugh.
"Tsk. Tsk. Such a persistent girl… stubborn… exactly like her father. Very well then, tell me… has he ever said much about the specifics of his job?"
"N… no." She tried to hold her voice steady.
"Well then allow me clue you in." The droning picked up into an almost jovial chuckle, as if it drew some measure of satisfaction from the apparent apprehension in her voice, "You're father, as an officer at Interpol, spends much of his time chasing after various drug rings around the world. Truly it is a terrible pity that one of those drug rings just so happens to have been one by the name of 'Shadowloo.'"
"Shadowloo?"
"Yes child. Shadowloo. My Shadowloo. And to tell the truth, I don't particularly like it when someone tries to threaten what's mine.
Chun-Li immediately felt her blood run cold. Shadowloo… she had heard her father make mention of it before… and always with a hidden stutter, as if it was the only thing in the world which could visibly shake him. And all at once she could feel the rhythm of her breathing began to spiral and accelerate; the rapid beatings of her heart immediately made a quick leap and jump into the very base of her throat.
"Just what are you saying?!" she heard herself burst out, the rhythm and volume of her voice immediately accelerating with the sharp rise of her panic, "Just what are you talking about?!"
"My dear child," the voice continued in that self-same chuckle, "Allow me to make myself completely clear. If only your father had understood clearly… if only he had known when to press and when to stop… if only he had remained ignorant of the true consequences of his actions… then perhaps he could have continued to live onwards with you— just as content as he was blind."
She felt her tongue stick at once to the back of her throat.
"But he was a fool. He pressed onwards when he wasn't supposed to; he tried too hard to look into matters which were never meant for him to know in the first place. He delved too deeply, too intensely, and in time began to understand… began to understand things which I, as a fair and respected business man, couldn't possibly allow to get out. So you do understand, don't you?" he finished with a hearty laugh, "You're father had to be… silenced."
And the color rapidly drained from the sides of her face. This… this couldn't be for real. Could… could it?!
"Why… why have you called me?" She stuttered, trying her very best to control the rhythm of her voice, but failing miserably, "What do you want?!"
"What do I want?" he laughed again, silently mocking her with that same hissing tone of voice, "What do I want? Indeed, what do I want? Quite simply, I want nothing more than to reunite a daughter with her father, who at this very moment desires only to stare upon the sparkling face of his daughter for one last time."
She bit down hard on her tongue. This… this couldn't be for real. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be…
"But unfortunately, I'm afraid that he might not last long enough to see her, for he is in quite a bad state, you see. But who knows? Perhaps if she's fast enough she might just arrive in time to stop the bleeding, and possibly drag him to some hospital to save his life."
"You're lying!" she heard herself suddenly burst out, feeling at the same time the fast beatings of her heart make a quick skip in agitation, "My father is fine! You… you're just…"
"Am I? Am I, little girl? Or do you simply not wish accept it? I have told you of your father's state, and it is up to you to believe or disbelieve me as you wish. But you do see it, don't you? Your father is going to die without your help."
No.
The full reality of the words hit her like ice water on a cold winter day, simultaneously stunning and chilling her to the very core. And she found suddenly that she couldn't speak. She couldn't. All the words bottled up like the waters of a dam on the edge of her tongue, passionately, desperately calling for a release which she couldn't handle. She struggled for something… anything… to free herself from the barrage of inner emotions which exploded within her, but all that managed to come out was a single word— a single sound to express all the fright, anger, and bewilderment which surged through her soul:
"W… where?"
"Now there's an obedient girl." The voice chortled derisively in approval, "Obedient enough to make old daddy proud, I bet. Very well… he is being held here in Longlanhu park, at the very edges of the little pond which runs through the center. I'm sure you know of the place. However…" his voice suddenly dropped into a dangerous hiss, "I'd suggest that you come alone. I'm afraid that any extra attention might just be… hazardous… to his health."
She forced a swallow. Longlanhu park? Yes, she was familiar with the place. Her father had taken many walks with her there as a child.
"I sincerely do hope to see you there, child. And for your father's sake, I hope you don't do anything stupid. That is all."
And just as suddenly as it had started, the line went abruptly dead.
**********
So she ran.
She ran fast and hard, as quickly as her two legs would carry her.
Quicker…
Faster…
Harder…
More passionately… more obsessively than she had ever ran before…
And down the paved streets of old Beijing her feet pounded, splashing in the puddles of the avenue lanes, drumming against the crackled stone of the concrete in a frenzied, chaotic rhythm of beats and taps so fast as to be indistinguishable to all but the most practiced of ears. Up. Down. Up. Down. Faster. Faster. Even faster! All around her the cold voice of the wind screamed and howled— lashing against her face, biting into the warmth of her flesh with such ferocity that her cheeks glowed bright with the merciless pain of their winter sting. And the rain poured down in a torrent from the heights of the sky above… falling, plummeting in a flood so fast that all of the heavens seemed to be ripping open in a confused portent of the end of the world, and all the world was bathed in the eternal pour of the angel's tears. It was unending.
But she ignored it.
She ignored it all, ignored the unyielding coldness of the winter night, ignored the flood of droplets which beat down relentlessly upon her head. And the throbbing burn which coursed all through her legs; and the surging pain which accompanied the arrival of each and every step… these she ignored too, gritting down hard upon her teeth to restrain the deluge of tears which welled up in her eyes. She couldn't stop. She couldn't. Even though all of her lungs felt like they were aflame; even though all of her lower body was on the brink of collapse; even though every single muscle in her entire body screamed aloud for the intake of more oxygen than she was physically capable of… still... still she must go on. This wasn't a game anymore.
This was life or death…
So she ran ever onwards, telling her legs to churn for a little more… just a little more until the park. To the left and right the scenery of old Beijing flashed by in a heartbeat— the portrait of a city and country finally turning the corner into the modern age. All around the signs of construction loomed— the tearing down of a building here, the expansion of the schoolhouse there— and would have seemed to any discerning tourist to foreshadow the growth of a city fast on the rise. But of course these she ignored too as she thundered down the streets and alleyways of China's capital, fixing her eyes sternly upon the path in front of her, focusing all of her mind solely on the task at hand.
"Ba… baba…"
Baba. Her Baba. Her father. It was only half an hour ago that she had been ready to curse him, ready to shout at him with all her heart and soul about the uncaring nature of his job. But now look at her, running through the deserted streets on a night like this, when not even the stray dogs dared challenge the violence of the winter storm. It was almost strange. Never in her life had she understood just how much she really valued and cared for him as when she was about to lose him.
"Hang on, Baba… I'm coming…"
And her legs churned even harder, the mere thought of it driving her onwards until all the pain and aches of her body seemed a mere afterthought to the importance of what she was about to lose. Soon the familiar gates of Longlanhu park loomed upwards before her, and she exploded right through, not bothering to flash a single glance backwards towards the swinging figures of the park gates in the winter wind. And now she was sprinting along the path… that same dirt path that she had trod so often as a little girl…
And there came back memories of that day…
That day so many years ago…
When her father had strode along that path beside her, and she had picked flowers at his side…
When the bright rays of the sun had beat down so softly upon the dirt path in front of her, enshrouding the earth in a halo of warm light…
And she had marveled…
Wondered…
At the figures of the two golden ribbons lying in her hands…
She quickly shook the thought away. Don't. Don't think of it, Chun-Li. Don't even think of it. Already the tears were beginning to form at the edge of her eyelids; already she could feel the swell of her emotions building up fast within her. Stop. Stop it! Don't even think of it! He was going to be fine; he wasn't just going to die! Through all these years they had already endured so much together— endured everything from the death of her mother to his promotion as a top officer at Interpol— and to think… to think that this was how it was all going to end… with him dying… slowly bleeding to death in this very place… it… it wasn't going to happen! She wasn't going to let it happen! She was going to make SURE that he walked down that same path with her again!
And she gritted her teeth and ran ever onwards, keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the path in front of her. A little further. Just a little further. On both sides the familiar figures of trees and bushes rushed by in an indistinct blur of gray and white— the mighty trunks, the strength and majesty of the once powerful branches already having been sapped away by the coldness of the winter air. And she puffed her chest and squeezed her hands, forcing her legs to move just a little bit faster, just a little bit further until her father.
And she saw it.
In the distance, in a small clearing surrounded by trees, stood the recognizable setting, the familiar waters of Longlanhu pond.
It was an almost deceptively peaceful scene. Chun-Li burst upon it in a flurry of speed, almost immediately collapsing to the ground in a violent fit of panting and rasping. And as the sharp gasps of her own voice quickly spiraled upwards to mix with the darkness of the atmosphere, she couldn't help but notice the tremendous aura of silence which hang thick about the place. Quiet. It was so quiet. So quiet that not even the splattering of the rain could be heard to make any noticeable thud against the grass of the background; so quiet that the only noise was the sharp rasping of her own breath, rushing forward in a fit so fast that the entirety of her lungs felt like they were going to explode from the pressure.
It was as if all the world was waiting for something…
But what?
"Baba!" she heard herself cry out, feeling all the emotion of her soul once again threaten to burst upon her eyes in a fast deluge of tears, "Baba! Where… where are you?!"
There came nothing. The silence spread infinitely in all directions— an ominous, terrible plain of quiet which froze her blood and chilled her very heart. All around the rain came down in sheets upon the waters of Longlanhu pond, splashing against her face, soaking her in a coldness so heavy that it pasted against her skin in a frigid taste of the winter air, stealing the very warmth of her breath away with the unrelenting grip of its coldness. She told herself to keep calm, tried with all her desperation to keep her breaths steady with the rhythmic beating of her heart. But it was so hard. What if she was already too late?
"Baba!" she called out again, frantically screaming out all of her frustration into the darkness of the Beijing night, "Baba please… please answer me!"
"… li-li…?"
And she froze. There, out of the silence directly in front of her there had sounded a voice— a soft whisper of words so weak as to be barely audible to all but the most sensitive of ears. But she had heard it, and at its sound she felt her heart immediately make a leap.
"Baba?" she scarcely dared to breath, "Baba? Is… is that you?"
"… l… li-li… d… don't…"
Her eyes followed the sound. And on the near bank she spotted a barely visible patch of black— a shadowy figure even darker than the color of the night all around. Chun-Li swallowed.
"Baba!"
All at once she could feel her emotions once again swelling upwards, this time building and building until it exploded in a fair eruption of tears down the front of her face. She couldn't hold it back anymore. She couldn't. With a whimper of simultaneous hope and fear she scrambled to her feet, wanting with all her heart to cry out all the bottled up feelings of anger, panic, and frustration which surged within her soul. But the scream couldn't seem to find a voice through the already tired maze of her airways— it caught in the middle of her throat— and all that managed to cough up was a single squeal, a single high-pitched squeak of emotion to mirror the tempest raging fast within her. With the tears gushing down her face she ran towards him, hoping, praying with all her heart that he wasn't hurt too badly.
But at the sight of it she abruptly stopped.
Her heart seemed to halt.
Her tears froze in place.
Her mouth ran dry.
Every single muscle in her entire body seemed to simultaneously tighten its grip.
And her skin began to crawl.
And her soul seemed to die.
And she screamed.
A terrible, soundless scream to the darkness of the atmosphere.
Echoing out horribly against the silence of the night, framing that picture forever in the depths of her mind.
A hellish image to haunt her…
A demonic portrait to trouble her for the rest of her life…
A snapshot of her father, slumped down upon the chill of the winter ground, shivering and gasping unlike she had ever seen him before. And there was blood… so much blood… so much blood everywhere. Blood gathered in a pool around his figure; blood soaked into the very fabric of his clothes; blood seeping out of various cuts and gashes along the length of his body to spill downwards into tiny rivulets of red along the waters of the pond. And where one of his arms had been, there was only a stump— a single blotch of red to glow almost unnaturally in the darkness of the late night. And where his other arm had been, there only remained a mangled piece of flesh, singed to a blackened perfection and dangling by the precarious strand of a single sinew to the exposed bone of his shoulder-blade. And downwards, ever downwards from the bloody mess of his chin, downwards to the region of his stomach where all the blood seemed to at once gather and corrugate— down there lay exposed a gaping wound across the length of his abdomen, glaring forth like some twisted smile out of the darkness to reveal a portion of his small intestines. It… it was too much. Chun-Li felt herself go weak, felt all the visions of her head swoon to the dizzying array of blood and gore littered disgustingly before her, felt her legs fall and give way to the frozen coldness of the winter ground.
She retched.
She retched hard, feeling all the vomit come in droves up the sides of her throat, bathing all of her mouth in the sour stench of it's odor. But this… at least this… even this was preferable to the nauseating smell of rotting meat which assaulted her senses, filling her nostrils until all her head swam with the putrid stink of its breath. She tried to push herself upwards, attempted with all her remaining strength to force herself up into a standing position, but the mere thought of it was enough to drain away all the lasting vigor and resolve from her limbs. Her lips quivered, her arms gave way, and she once again fell to the coldness of the ground below, hysterically sobbing out all the anguish and bewilderment of her heart to the darkness of the Beijing night. How… how could this… how could this be…?
"Ba… baba… I'm sorry baba… I'm so sorry… I… I couldn't…"
"Li-Li…"
The voice of her father interrupted out of the surrounding silence, harsh, dry, choked as if all the words caught immediately in the middle of his throat. And at its touch she felt her heart crack, sensed at once all the fear and pain which coursed throughout his tone. It… it was almost unbearable. She raised her eyes upwards to look at him, wanting to say something— anything— to relieve this suffering which was so painfully enunciated with each and every word. But she couldn't. She couldn't do it. It was so hard.
"Li-Li…" She could hear him once again, rasping forwards in a tone so weak that it seemed to take all of his strength to pronounce each syllable, "Li-Li… you… you shouldn't have come here. I didn't… want you to see this…"
She bit down hard on her lips. "Baba…"
"You shouldn't be here. Please… leave…"
"Baba …" it took all she had just to get the words out, "… I … I've come to help you."
Help me?" he couldn't help but gasp out, as if each breath took with it a little bit more of the life from his rapidly weakening body, "Do you really think you can help me, Li-Li? Do you?!"
Silence. A thick aura of quiet descended upon the surrounding scene, spreading and extending until it bathed all of the environment in the stifling grip of its hush. Chun-Li looked upon her father's battered body, saw the rips, the cuts, the slashes, and could feel everything rush upon her tongue in a frenzied shriek of her inner voice. But she swallowed it down, stifled the cry at its root and forced it back to swell within her throat, so that the only thing which came to her mouth was a silent whimper to mix with the deepness of the night around her. No. He was right. She couldn't help him. She couldn't help him at all. But she had to try. At the very least…. she had to try…
"I'm sorry." She choked out, the warmth of her eyes once again spilling down her cheeks in a fast flood of tears, "I'm so sorry, baba."
And she started moving. With a final spluttering in her throat she forcibly restrained the violent churning of her stomach, and slowly inch by inch began to crawl towards the prostrate figure of her father upon the ground. And now she could see it all— could see the gaping wounds, the tattered flesh, the blood-drained skin up close in all its horrific glory, drenched in a thin film of the darkest red and glittering like some demonic jewel out of the black of the night. She felt her head spin, felt all her lasting resolve waver at the sensations which swelled through her, felt her entire body tremble at the nauseating sight littered upon the ground.
"Baba…" was all she managed to choke out, a single tear-strained word to mirror the surge of emotion deep within her, "Baba…"
"Li-Li?" her father looked upwards at her, "What are you doing? Didn't you hear what I just said?"
"I… I…"
"Leave." He repeated, unable to restrain a wince at the pain of it all, "Please… leave."
"I… I can't…"
"You can't?" he flashed a frown at her, "What do you mean you can't? Of course you can. Now leave!"
"N… no… I… I can't…"
She steadied herself. And with one swift motion she forced off her sweater, pulling off the coarsely knit wool over her head so that all that was left was a thin gray undershirt to weather the furies of the nightly storm. Extending one hand to slowly tilt his head forwards, she rolled the cloth underneath— a crude, make-shift pillow to support his weight.
"Hold still." She could hear herself saying, her whole voice shaking at the enormous effort it was taking just to get it out, "Please hold still."
"Child…" A slow, exasperated sigh escaped from the surface of his lips, "You can't save me."
"Don't say that."
"You can't save me." He repeated, his whole body quivering at the speech, "You know you can't save me… so why… must you persist?"
She forced a dry swallow. "I guess I'm just stubborn."
"Stubborn?" he closed his eyes in pain, "Yes child, I'll give you that. You've always been a stubborn one. Stubborn… exactly like your mother."
He opened them. And the usually clear surface of his eyes seemed suddenly clouded, milky, the silent eyes of a man fast nearing death. With a harsh cough he tried to open them even wider, as if trying desperately to hang onto the last vestiges of life.
"Listen, Li-Li…" he gave another hacking cough— a hard, callous, heaving of the chest which forced a splutter of crimson upwards from the red of his lips, "…I… I really didn't want you to see this. But since you're here I want to tell you something. I want to tell you something… important."
He stopped to catch his breath. And at once the already white surface of his skin seemed to grow even paler, as if the mere thought of it was enough to inspire some kind of deep-seated anguish within him.
"Baba?" she stared at him with tear-filled eyes, "What… what is it?"
He let out another sigh.
"I've been blind. I've been blind for far too long. I've been blind for all
my life…"
"Blind?"
"Yes, Li-Li. Blind." He forced a dry swallow, "Blind in all that I've done. Blind in all I have accomplished. All these years I've been living a lie— a blind, sightless game of cat and mouse in which there is no winner and no loser. Blind… ignorant… completely oblivious to everything which was so plain, everything which should have been so clear and easy to see."
He paused. For a moment he seemed to check himself, frozen, as if he wasn't sure of the wisdom to continue onwards. But a second later and he had overcome it, and quickly continued in that same rasping tone of voice.
"Listen, Li-Li." His voice shook visibly at the effort, "Listen to me carefully. What I'm about to tell you is very important. It's not… something to be taken lightly. I need you to get the word out, to tell as many people as you possibly can. Li-Li… can… can… you do this for me?"
"What do you mean?" She stared perplexedly at him, crying, feeling everything rush upwards in a violent surge of her inner emotions. "I… I don't understand…"
"Can you do this for me?!" He repeated, his whole tone suddenly gripped with a tremendous sense of urgency, "Answer me that first… can you do it?!"
"Y… yes. Of course"
"Good…" He slowly leaned his head backwards, squeezing his eyes shut once more at the enormous pain which coursed all through his body, "I'm glad, Li-Li. I've always been able to count on you. But you must understand… you must understand there are some things in this world which can never be anticipated. Shadowloo… for all my life I've been chasing after it, like some obsessed, hunger-driven dog chasing after his bone. But now I understand… I understand everything."
"Baba?"
"Yes, Li-Li." For a moment his voice seemed to steady; his whole tone seemed to momentarily grow stronger, "I do understand it now. All these past years have been wasted, but now... but now I will make up for it. Shadowloo and Interpol… there is so much more then I ever dared to know. There is…"
"That's quite enough, Inspector."
He froze. And all of a sudden all the remaining blood seemed to drain from his cheeks, as if with the utterance of that phrase his heart had immediately stopped beating. There, out of the silence directly behind them there had interrupted a voice— a cold, hard voice which sounded only all too familiar to the recent memory of her inner ear.
"You would really dare to heap all this sensitive information on your own daughter's head? Really, inspector, it would be a terrible shame if we were forced to cut it off. "
Chun-Li felt her blood freeze cold. That voice… that very same voice who had answered over the telephone at the other end, gripping… freezing her soul and forcing all of her heart under the frightening chill of it's grasp. At it's touch she could feel all the muscles of her body began to immediately tighten, could sense every sinew and tendon cringe backwards in an enormous fit of fear. With a furtive glance she peeked backwards over her shoulder, anticipating, fearing what she would see framed there against the blackness of the Beijing night.
It was him.