He moved along the shadows as the drains spewed out thick clouds of steam, the distant police sirens wailing in the night. Wrapping his trench coat around him he tried to dodge the large raindrops that dripped from the tarnished drain pipes running along the roofs of the battered shops. He knew his way around Chinatown well and flittered between alleyways, moving past men wheeling crates of goods and bustling kitchen staff smoking at the back of restaurants. He found the door he was looking for and silently slipped into the brick facade out of the rain. The noises from the busy street were instantly muted with the thump of the door behind him. The smell of perfume instantly hit his nose and the aura of the place flooded back like a nostalgic dream. He felt his way along the darkened corridor flanked with maroon velvet curtains. He reached the door and knocked timidly. He heard a shuffle and soft movements and the door clicked ajar.