Chapter Thirteen: Reunion Beneath the Pagoda (3)
In the VIP lounge on the upper deck of the plane, Nan Bei spoke quietly with Bodongha. She needed to quickly gather as much information as possible and figure out exactly what Cheng Muyang was trying to do. Of course, this was difficult, but even getting one or two things right would be a great help.
That day, when she saw Xiao Feng, he had briefly written to her in Chinese that he had been in Belgium for a year and had finally found Nan Bei a month ago. Unfortunately, Nan Huai had been extremely cautious. After Nan Bei appeared in Brussels, he arranged for her and Baobao to move to another city. Xiao Feng had brought several people with him and, after much effort, finally managed to track them down here, only to have their whereabouts exposed and be placed under guard.
Nan Huai had not made things difficult for them.
In a certain sense, no matter how much Nan Huai hated Cheng Muyang, he still had to treat him as “family” and make special allowances for him. Naturally, he would not kill Cheng Muyang’s people to silence them, but imprisoning them was unavoidable.
Xiao Feng had finally told her that Cheng Muyang was in Saudi Arabia.
He had already been there for a full month, and because the two of them had been imprisoned, they had also been out of contact for more than ten days.
“Do you know what he went to Saudi Arabia for?”
Xiao Feng held the pen and shook his head before writing: It isn’t clear exactly. I only know that it was for the CIA.
More than ten days was enough time to accomplish many things, but in reality, nothing noteworthy had happened. Over the past two days, every possible means of contacting him had been tried, but no one could be reached. None of the thirteen people in his group had any news. As someone who had been charged with “war crimes,” there had to be an extremely important reason for him to be allowed to leave Moscow and go to an unfamiliar country.
That very day, Nan Bei decided to go to Saudi Arabia with Xiao Feng.
The closer she was to him, the greater the chance she would have of finding him.
Nan Huai seemed to know exactly what she would do, so he had Bodongha, who was very familiar with business in the Middle East, accompany her.
“That man is Osama, the personal assistant to Walid bin Alal,” Bodongha said softly after taking a sip of his drink. “His master is the richest prince in Saudi Arabia.”
Nan Bei nodded. “I heard Saudi Arabia has several thousand princes?”
Bodongha laughed. “Indeed. There are a great many members of their royal family, which is why their names are so long. They include their father’s and grandfather’s names to avoid close intermarriage. For example, with Prince Walid, his father’s and grandfather’s names are respectively the ‘bin’ and ‘Al’ in his name.”
She gave an “oh.”
When Osama saw Bodongha, he suddenly stopped talking to the people beside him and walked up in front of the two of them. “Look who it is. An old friend of ours? I really should have checked the passenger list before boarding. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have only spotted you when we were about to land.”
Bodongha stood up. “Old friend, no need to be so formal. This is just a private trip.”
Nan Bei also stood up.
Because of Saudi Arabia’s laws, and also so as not to attract too much attention, she had changed clothes in the private suite on the plane earlier. She was wearing a black robe, headscarf, and veil, not missing a single one, with only her eyes showing.
Apart from nodding in greeting, Osama did not look at Nan Bei any further.
This custom of the Muslim faith was very much to Nan Bei’s advantage. Their men would not spare women so much as a second glance, and naturally would not remember any of her features beneath the uniform clothing and veils.
Osama and Bodongha seemed to have plenty to talk about.
The two of them talked about last year’s pilgrimage to Mecca, when some foreign pilgrims had held an anti-American demonstration. It was not a taboo subject. A Western-looking man standing nearby spoke righteously: “The war in Iraq opened a Pandora’s box. It is a disaster for the world, not merely for one people.”
Everyone fell silent.
Nan Bei exchanged a glance with Bodongha.
It seemed that, to some extent, this war had opened a Pandora’s box not only for the Middle East. How could it not have done the same for America itself? The American troops stationed in Iraq were attracting various organizations every single day to wage “jihad” in the name of defending the holy sites. The deaths and injuries had never ceased, and a country had gone from a completely closed-off regime to a place where bloody conflict was constant.
This was America’s so-called “freedom.”
As the plane neared its landing, many women dressed in fashionable clothes hurried back to their private suites to change into black robes and headscarves.
Nan Bei walked to the outside of Xiao Feng’s private suite and lightly knocked on the partition. He quickly opened it from inside.
When she saw him, Xiao Feng had just closed the computer provided in the suite. He shook his head.
It meant that there was still no news of Cheng Muyang.
According to Xiao Feng, the last message he had received was that Cheng Muyang was going to Al-Ahsa in eastern Saudi Arabia. So Bodongha had already arranged their itinerary before they boarded the plane. Who could have expected that the moment they got off the plane, they would be informed that an entire truckload of surface-to-air missiles had just been intercepted near the airport, and the entire airport was under Level One alert, with extremely strict inspections.
Fortunately, they had run into Osama on the plane.
When Nan Bei handed over her passport in the VIP lounge, the police officer checking it suddenly looked at her a second time. Osama immediately stopped him in a low voice. “Sorry, ma’am.” The middle-aged police officer looked away and examined her passport. “According to regulations, all travelers will reside in the capital for three days. They will be allowed to proceed only after their identities have been verified.”
“Sorry,” Bodongha said before Nan Bei could speak. “I am this lady’s guardian. Please deal with me.”
The middle-aged police officer nodded and was just about to speak again when Osama had already frowned and said, “This gentleman and the lady accompanying him are old acquaintances of mine. I can vouch for them. They would never be enemies of Saudi Arabia.”
Since he had spoken, the police officer did not dare say anything. After asking his superior for instructions, he immediately changed his wording. “Then, please have this guest explain your itinerary for the next three days, so that we can contact you at any time.” The police officer smiled as he explained, “Of course, this is also for your safety while you are in our country. After all, no one knows who this batch of surface-to-air missiles was intended for.”
The request was not unreasonable.
Bodongha quickly said that he would stay in Al-Ahsa that night and, barring any unforeseen circumstances, would spend the next three days in Al-Hofuf, Al-Ahsa. To the north of Hofuf stretched an unbroken expanse of desert, with some of Saudi Arabia’s few natural attractions. The police simply assumed that these people wanted to experience the desert, so they did not consider them worth keeping under much scrutiny. After quickly recording their contact information and hotel, they let them through.
As soon as Nan Bei left Riyadh Airport, she got straight into a private car and headed for Al-Ahsa.
The hotel where they were staying was very close to the desert, already at the edge of the oasis.
Because of the windblown sand, the surrounding hills had strange, distorted shapes, and the sounds at night were somewhat mournful.
Nan Bei listened to the wind and looked into the distance beneath the moonlight. The hills stood there like one stupa after another, towering silently without a sound. When she called Baobao, Baobao had just finished drinking her milk and was getting ready for bed. It was obvious that Baobao was very happy, because Nan Huai had arrived in Belgium that afternoon, the very day she left, intending to stay with Baobao throughout the time she was away.
“Mommy.” Baobao called to her softly.
“Mm.” Nan Bei could not help smiling too. “What did you do today, baby?”
“Played bullets with Daddy.”
Nan Bei was startled. Only after Nan Huai took the phone and briefly explained did she learn that Baobao had missed her that afternoon and could not be consoled no matter how much she cried. So Nan Huai removed the bullets from the two guns he was carrying, wiped them clean with a towel, and gave them to her to play with. Instead, she stopped crying. By “playing,” she simply held them in her hands, counting them over and over, amusing herself.
Before hanging up, Baobao suddenly asked Nan Huai to leave the room, then whispered to Nan Bei, “Is Little Daddy happy now?”
“He’s happy.” Nan Bei coaxed her. “He’s happy when he sees Mommy, and he’ll get better soon.”
If she had not told Baobao that “Little Daddy” was sick and unhappy because he could not see Mommy, Baobao would not have softened and let her leave her side.
“Then, can you come home tomorrow?” Baobao asked softly.
Nan Bei’s heart ached at the question. This was the first time Nan Bei had left Baobao’s side since she was born. Although the child said she understood, she was always missing her. “Not tomorrow,” Nan Bei coaxed softly. “The last time you were sick, it took you ten days to get better. Little Daddy is a grown-up, so he’ll have to be sick a little longer than you were.”
Baobao gave an “oh.”
After the call ended, Nan Bei found it even harder to sleep.
She did not know where Cheng Muyang might be or when she would be able to see him. Why had he come this time? What was he trying to do? She knew nothing at all. Just as her thoughts were becoming muddled, the telephone in the room suddenly rang. She thought it was Baobao again and quickly picked it up, but still cautiously said nothing first. She was afraid this was not a private line. If someone with ulterior motives were on the other end, they might recognize her voice. Here, she had to be extremely careful at every step. She had not even taken off her veil once.
There was likewise no sound from the other end of the phone.
Slowly, however, the chanting of the Heart Sutra began to sound. Nan Bei froze for a moment, then her heart quickly began to race. An ordinary person would have thought it was some kind of lunatic and immediately hung up, but by instinct, she guessed that this call was connected to Cheng Muyang. When the chanting ended, a string of numbers was spoken over the phone.
Nan Bei committed them to memory.
As soon as the line went dead, she dialed the number.
After a brief ringing tone, the call was answered.
“Beibei?” It was Cheng Muyang’s voice, carrying a faint weariness, so deep and magnetic it hardly seemed real.
“Mm.” She answered, yet could not manage to say another word.
“I miss you very much.” His voice was somewhat low.
Nan Bei’s eyes were already burning, and his single sentence made tears spill from them.
“There’s no alcohol here, so right now, I really want you.”
So shameless, so brazen, and so very Cheng Muyang.
He laughed, then finally said, “Open the door. I’ll be right over.”
She could hardly believe it, but the call had already ended.
She ran to the door of the room and opened it. Across the corridor, she saw Cheng Muyang striding quickly toward her, taking long steps. Her eyes widened, and just as she thought this had to be an illusion, Cheng Muyang had already reached her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, walked straight into the room, and slammed hard into the door behind him.
Before Nan Bei could even open her mouth, he pulled down her black veil, pinned her against the wall, and pressed his lips directly against hers.
One of his elbows braced against the door as he used his body to press hers down, giving her no chance to react. The kiss was long and deep. He was unwilling to let her go, and she could not bear to push him away.
Her chest ached from lack of air, and finally, he released her lips.
“What’s our daughter’s name?” Even as Cheng Muyang spoke, he still refused to stop, kissing her intermittently between his words.
Nan Bei wrapped her arms around his neck, panting as she murmured, “Baobao.”
“Good name.” His hands began removing her black robe and headscarf.
Her breathing was unsteady. “You rascal, is that the only question you’re going to ask? Don’t you like our daughter?”
“I like her so much I’m almost crazy.” He smiled, his voice extraordinarily seductive. “I’ll ask you slowly in bed later, ask you properly, ask you every little thing.”
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