novelinnhs Chapter 109 Gunshots
Chapter 109 Gunshots
Chapter 109 Gunshots
As the Boeing 747 landed smoothly, the deep blue sea outside the window was replaced by a pristine white sand beach.
The air in Hawaii is unusually humid, with a slightly salty smell, which contrasts sharply with the dryness of Los Angeles.
The moment Qin Han stepped out of the cabin, he even had a strange feeling, as if all the endless scheming and deceit had vanished along with the clouds over the transoceanic route.
"Welcome to Honolulu, Qin." Rona took Qin Han's arm, took a deep breath, and her eyes showed a long-lost sense of relaxation: "Here, at least you don't have to think about those damn Japanese."
Qin Han stretched and chuckled, "If our 'King' hadn't been forgotten by his fans after disappearing for so long, this vacation would have been even more perfect."
The two crossed a private passage, rented a car, and headed to their hotel, the Hilton Hawaiian Village.
This building, standing on Waikiki Beach, was Elvis Presley's haven in this pearl of the Pacific.
As soon as I entered the lobby, I heard the melodious sound of a ukulele. The waiters were dressed in flashy Aloha shirts, and every step they took seemed extremely languid.
"He lives in the executive suite on the top floor," Lorna whispered as she walked toward the front desk. "After Colonel Parker's downfall, his daily affairs were taken over by his old cronies, the so-called Memphis Mafia."
"Although they are extremely wary of strangers, it's a different story for us who saved Elvis."
After a quick check-up and freshening up, Qin Han changed into a soft linen floral shirt, perfectly blending into the Hawaiian atmosphere.
I checked my watch; it was four in the afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly.
The two walked through the corridor together, pushed open the door to the penthouse suite, and a slightly hoarse singing voice accompanied by the sound of guitar strumming drifted into their ears.
It's Elvis Presley's classic "Are You Lonesome Tonight".
"Oh, look who's here! My two angels whom I miss the most!" A somewhat bloated figure swayed as he stood up from the deck chair on the terrace.
Qin and Han's journey came to a halt.
Even though he had seen countless photos of Elvis in his previous life, the visual impact at this moment still left him stunned.
The man before me was wearing a large bathrobe, and his face, which had once driven women around the world crazy, was now covered by a layer of swelling.
His jawline was incredibly rounded, and his double chin was particularly noticeable when he looked down.
But his smile was radiant, devoid of the blankness he had when Colonel Parker forced him to take the medication; instead, it was replaced by an almost childlike ease.
"My God, Qin, you look even more energetic than on TV!" Elvis put down his guitar, spread his arms, and with each step he took, the fat on his face jiggled.
The two hugged each other tightly, and Qin Han could even feel the thick layer of fat on his belly.
"Elvis, you've changed." Rona walked forward with a smile, her eyes revealing a woman's unique heartache.
Instead of directly saying "fat," she subtly remarked, "It seems that Hawaiian burgers and sunshine are much more effective than Hollywood tonics."
"Hahaha, Lorna, stop making fun of me." Elvis pulled the two of them down to sit. On the table was a half-eaten peanut butter banana sandwich—his greatest hobby.
"Priscilla is in the back room, we're back together." He lowered his voice, as if sharing a huge secret, his eyes sparkling with a long-lost light: "Without that greedy vampire pointing fingers around, without those damn tour contracts weighing me down, for the first time I feel that breathing can be so free."
He pointed to a newspaper nearby, which carried news about Colonel Parker's trial in Las Vegas.
"I owe it all to you, Qin, and Lorna." Elvis looked at them eagerly. "If you hadn't uncovered the truth, I would still be singing like a puppet on some casino stage."
"I have finally found my wife, my children, and everything about me as a human being."
This sense of happiness was so real that it made the rhetoric that Qin Han had prepared seem somewhat out of place.
"Seeing you doing so well makes me very happy." Qin Han picked up his cup of red tea, his gaze falling on the gilded guitar that had been tossed aside. "However, as your old friend, I have to ask—Elvis, are you really planning to spend the rest of your life eating sandwiches and sunbathing here?"
Elvis's smile suddenly seemed a little stiff, and he reached out and rubbed his swollen face.
He certainly knew what Qin and Han referred to, and he also knew what his current state meant.
"Oh, Qin, you've come to persuade me to go back, haven't you?" Elvis leaned back heavily in his recliner, gazing at the vast Pacific Ocean in the distance. "But what will my fans think if they see their king transformed into a chubby middle-aged man? They'll laugh at me, saying I look like an inflatable doll."
"I miss the stage, but I'm—afraid." He spread his hands: "When I stand in front of the microphone, I can't imagine the screams I used to hear, I can only imagine the whispers. I'm not ready, maybe—maybe I never will be."
Clearly, this stage fright is not due to a decline in skill, but rather a consequence of suddenly losing a sense of purpose.
Qin Han stood up, walked to the edge of the terrace, and looked down at the bustling Waikiki Beach.
The densely packed tourists, like ants, frolicked in the seawater and chased each other in the sunlight.
"Elvis, do you remember that concert in January?" Qin Han turned around, looking directly into his eyes. "Hello Hawaii, over a billion viewers around the world were watching you via satellite."
"Back then, you were wearing a white jumpsuit, and you were the center of the world."
Elvis's eyes flickered; it was one of the two peaks of his career—the other being the one he created with the man in front of him.
"You lost dozens of pounds for that performance, desperately trying to prove you weren't old yet," Qin Han said with a smile. "But that was because Colonel Parker was behind you, whipping you into action."
"Now that the whip is gone, are you going to lock yourself in this exquisite cage and slowly wait to die?"
"Stop talking, Qin." Elvis waved his hand in pain. "I can't do it, I really can't."
"You can do it." Qin Han took a step forward, with an undeniable determination: "Because the current Elvis is no longer Colonel Parker's cash cow, but Elvis Presley."
“Listen, we don’t need a crazy tour in a stadium with tens of thousands of seats. Right here, right here in Hawaii.” He pointed to the huge beach below: “Find a secluded little chapel, or right on the beach of this hotel.”
"No public screenings, no tickets, just some of the island's natives and your old friends. No need for sequined clothes, no need for a symphony orchestra, just a guitar and a microphone."
Qin Han looked at Elvis and said, word by word, "Even if you just sit on a high stool and sing those old love songs again, if there's no applause, I promise I'll never bother you on your vacation again."
"But if you find that feeling of your heart beating again, Elvis—you should let the world hear your voice once more."
Lorna watched all this quietly without saying a word. She knew that Qin Han was performing a kind of psychological surgery, clearing away the dark clouds that had been hanging over Elvis's heart.
Elvis was silent for a long time, then suddenly laughed.
"A guitar and a microphone? Qin, you're even more seductive than that old fox Parker." He picked up the guitar again and gently strummed a chord: "Alright, I agree."
"I can try tomorrow night on the hotel beach. If it doesn't work out, you'll have to pay me a hundred double cheeseburgers."
"Deal." Qin Han extended his hand, and the two clasped hands tightly.
When I came out of Elvis's suite, the sky was already tinged with a rich orange-red, like a splash of rosy light.
Luo Na breathed a sigh of relief and leaned on Qin Han's shoulder: "Qin, you're amazing. I really thought he was going to get angry and kick you out."
"He's an artist, and artists can never resist the allure of shining again." Qin Han felt the sea breeze, and his mood improved. "Let's go find a spot on the beach. I've heard the poke bowls here are famous, and I'm hungry after a long day."
The two strolled along the coastline, the sand beneath their feet still warm from the daytime.
Not far away, an open-air restaurant had a palm leaf canopy that rustled in the wind, and a few dim oil lamps were lit, casting a hazy glow.
They sat down at a table near the beach, and Lorna was looking down at the menu, her profile appearing particularly soft in the light.
However, a strange chill suddenly ran down Qin Han's spine.
His martial arts instincts seemed to be warning him: something was wrong!
He didn't turn around, but his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the shadows at the restaurant entrance.
There stood a man in a dark short-sleeved shirt. He wasn't tall, but his steps were very steady. His demeanor was definitely not that of a tourist on vacation.
He was pulling open his collar.
"Be careful!"
Qin Han let out a low roar, and before Luo Na could react, his left hand had already violently lifted the heavy acacia wood table.
"Bang!" A crisp gunshot pierced the peaceful night sky.
The bullet grazed the edge of the wooden plank, kicking up a trail of fine wood chips, and embedded itself precisely in the stone pillar behind Rona amidst her scream.
The restaurant fell into a deathly silence, followed by the sound of breaking dishes and terrified screams.
With the heavy tabletop on his back, Qin Han used the impact to roll backward and to the side, while simultaneously kicking off with his right foot, overturning two wooden chairs and creating more blind spots.
In the brief moment between rolls, he managed to see the attacker's face through the gap in the table.
It was a typical Eastern face, with narrow eyes and a cold gaze.
He's Japanese!
Damn it, the retaliation came faster than I expected, and it was direct too!
Qin Han's heart was pounding like a drum, and his mind was racing, searching for ways to retaliate.
The handgun stolen from a Los Angeles biker gang could not pass through airport security and was left in the villa's safe.
Right now, he has no means of retaliating except for his fists.
The attacker did not panic when his first shot missed. He calmly took a step to the side, his arm as steady as a rock, and aimed again at Qin Han, who was hidden by the table.
"Hey! Over there! Someone's firing!"
The hotel security patrol in the distance heard the commotion and sounded a sharp whistle.
The attacker narrowed his eyes and coldly glanced at the place where Qin Han was hiding.
He was clearly an extremely experienced professional assassin, knowing that once you got entangled in a place like this, it would be difficult to escape unscathed.
He holstered his gun, his movements so swift they were like a blur, and vaulted over the restaurant's low fence, disappearing quickly into the shadows behind a large palm grove.