Chapter 157
“Hehe!” Xie Wendong was pleased; it seemed his guess was quite accurate. Smiling, he said, “Actually, I didn’t say the general had to sell it to me at this price. Adding a little profit per kilogram would benefit both of us.” “Mm!” Sanqiu nodded, stroking his chin. “I can indeed give a discount, but you should also let me know the price of your arms.”
Xie Wendong thought for a moment and decided to buy time instead. “I’ll give you a detailed report tomorrow. After all, there are some things I can’t decide on my own.” “Okay,” said Sanqiu. “It’s best not to keep me waiting too long.” With that, he yawned and smiled apologetically. “I was busy all last night. As I get older, I can’t compare to my younger days. I suppose Mr. Xie hasn’t had much rest either. It’s better if we go to rest early.”
“The general is too kind. You’re still in your prime,” Xie Wendong said politely as he stood up. “In that case, I’ll take my leave first.” Sanqiu said, “Colonel He, please see to sending our guest off.” Xie Wendong and He Qiang left the room, deep in thought. It seemed he needed to contact Hei Dai as soon as possible—getting accurate information from them would be far better than guessing randomly. After some thought, he said to He Qiang, “Colonel He, do you have a phone? There are some specific matters I need to discuss with my brothers back home.”
He Qiang handed his phone to Xie Wendong. As the two passed by over a hundred captives, they saw Wa Gang soldiers beating them. Xie Wendong asked, “What plans do you have for these people?”
He Qiang sneered. “The general wants the Shan Dong side to pay to ransom them back. But I don’t think Shan Dong will spend a lot of money on these captives. With the same amount of money, they can hire more young soldiers.” Xie Wendong asked doubtfully, “Then what about them…?” He Qiang smiled darkly. “Three hundred of our brothers lie buried underground. This debt will naturally be settled on them. There will be a grand banquet tonight to celebrate our successful repulsion of the Shan Dong allied forces’ ambush. That will also be the time when these people’s lives end.”
Xie Wendong expressed regret for the fate of these people. To be born in such a country, even just surviving was a luxury. Instead of returning to his room, he went alone to a secluded area in the countryside after parting with He Qiang, and called Sanyan. Sanyan was excited to hear from him. After giving a brief overview of the situation in Province H, he began to detail his plans to expand into neighboring provinces. The Wendong Gang already had influence in all three eastern provinces. Although its presence in the other two provinces wasn’t as dominant as in Province H, the gang had a solid foundation—money, people, and weapons at their disposal, making it invincible to any ordinary gang. When the topic turned to weapons, Xie Wendong asked, “Have we had any dealings with the Black Belt recently?”
Sanyan replied, “Of course. We just sold them a batch of powder and bought thirty crates of ammunition. Brother Dong, as the gang’s influence grows and more people join, there are always brothers asking me for weapons. I plan to buy another large batch soon.” Xie Wendong nodded inwardly. Sanyan was a talented leader, indeed capable. Perhaps the Wendong Gang would grow even faster under his leadership than under his own. With this thought, he smiled proudly and said, “Brother Zhang, contact the Black Belt right away. I want a detailed list of their ammunition—rocket launchers, landmines, rifles—anything that can be used in war. Also, include the prices.”
After hearing this, Sanyan was initially stunned, then his blood boiled with excitement. Trembling, he said, “Brother Dong, what do you need weapons for in war? Are you planning to fight against the government? Anyway, no matter what, if you become the head of the country, I’ll be the first to support you!” Xie Wendong smiled upward and said, “It seems you’re even bolder than me. What war with the government? Aren’t we living comfortably now? I have no complaints about the current situation. I need weapons to deal with the Golden Triangle.”
“What? Dongge, you’re in the Golden Triangle?” Sanyan slapped his head and sighed. “Look at me, I got so excited that I even forgot to ask where Dongge was. By the way, are you safe in the Golden Triangle? They haven’t done anything to you, have they?” “No!” Xie Wendong laughed. “The scenery here is beautiful, and the people are friendly. It’s a relatively peaceful country.” Not wanting his brothers to worry, he made things up on the spot. Hearing this, Sanyan was relieved and muttered, “Dongge is really fast. A few days ago when I called, you were still in the Hongmen, and now you’re already in the Golden Triangle—always disappearing without a trace.” Xie Wendong chuckled. “Alright, I need to go take care of what I mentioned earlier. It’s urgent here.” Sanyan asked, “I’ll figure out how to give you the documents later. Do you have a fax machine or computer or something like that?” Xie Wendong looked around—the area didn’t even have power poles, let alone fax machines or computers. He shook his head helplessly and sighed, “It seems I’ll have to read them to you later.”
Understanding Yi Zhuang’s concerns, Xie Wendong felt more relaxed. He first went to check on the injured Lao Gui, who was fast asleep on the bed, his buttocks raised high, covered in bandages. Xie Wendong shook his head and didn’t disturb him. Seeing Lao Gui sleep soundly, he felt a bit tired too. Yawning, he returned to his room to rest. He had intended to get a good night’s sleep, but Sanyan was too quick—less than five minutes after lying down, the phone rang again. Suppressing his fatigue, Xie Wendong wrote down everything Sanyan mentioned—types, prices, specifications—and added 50% to each item’s price. Finally done, he let out a long sigh and collapsed on the bed.
As He Qiang had said, the evening banquet was indeed grand. A square was packed tightly with people in four rows; there were no fewer than a thousand people in sight. Everywhere in the area were piles of bonfires, with whole sheep roasted until red, their rich aroma filling the air. Women kept moving through the crowd, pouring drinks, creating a lively atmosphere. When He Qiang pulled Xie Wendong out of his room and onto the square, he was greeted by this bustling scene. The lively atmosphere lifted his spirits, and he sat among the crowd with a smile. General Sang sat behind a large table, flanked by his personal guards. When he saw Xie Wendong arrive, the general stood up and greeted him, “Mr. Xie is a distinguished guest of mine. Please come and sit here!”
He Qiang chuckled and pulled Xie Wendong over. Lao Gui had also arrived at some point, sitting next to the general—more precisely, kneeling there, as his buttocks were injured and forced him to adopt that position. At the general’s signal, Xie Wendong went to his right side and sat on the ground. General Sang glanced around, stood up, and waved his hand; immediately, the noise around them faded, leaving only the sizzling sound of roasted mutton. General Sang shouted in Burmese, “Yesterday, the enemy launched a surprise attack on us, outnumbering us by many times. But you, my soldiers, withstood the ferocious attacks of the Shan Dong Alliance forces and forced them to flee in disarray, bringing honor to our Wa tribe. Though over three hundred of our brothers lie buried here, let us pay tribute to their bravery.” After saying this, he raised his wine cup and poured it on the ground; the other soldiers followed suit, pouring the wine from their cups at their feet. Although Xie Wendong didn’t understand what he was saying, he could tell from his expression that it was a memorial for the dead soldiers. He smiled inwardly—it seemed General Sang had not only learned Chinese language and military tactics but also replicated Chinese customs quite well. With that thought, Xie Wendong also put on a solemn expression, drank half of the wine in his cup, and poured the rest on the ground.
After a brief moment of silence, General Sang clapped his hands. A few soldiers brought three naked captives into the arena. He Qiang stood up and shouted, “Before we eat, let’s play a game. Three of us will fight each of these Shan Dong dogs. Whoever kills their opponent in the shortest time wins, and the general will reward them generously!”
Upon hearing this, the Wa tribe soldiers rubbed their fists and prepared to show off their skills. At that moment, three young and spirited soldiers stepped forward from the crowd, drawing cheers and applause. Each of the three soldiers was given a gleaming machete. After loosening the ropes binding the captives, they chose their opponents.
Looking at the captives’ desperate eyes and already foreseeing the outcome, Xie Wendong said to Lao Gui beside him, “Brother Gui, I think the general wants the soldiers to start the massacre!”
The old man watched the scene excitedly and said with a smile, “Of course. None of these captives will survive. Shooting them wastes bullets; it’s better to hand them over to the soldiers as practice targets.” He spoke casually, but Xie Wendong was deeply alarmed. It seemed his views were fundamentally different from theirs—he utterly despised the primitive methods used by the Wa gang. As Xie Wendong had imagined, what was going on there wasn’t a fight at all but a one-sided massacre. The soldiers, wielding machetes, chased the defenseless captives. In just a short while, the three men were covered in blood and collapsed on the ground. The soldiers who lagged behind, unwilling to give up, slashed the captives’ bodies several more times. The victorious soldiers were excited, having received rewards from the general—about 100 yuan, a considerable sum in Myanmar.
Then, the soldiers guarding the captives came to drag the bodies away and brought in three more captives. Their fate was the same as the previous three—they soon lay dead on the ground. The lamb had been cooked and placed in front of Xie Wendong. Seeing General Sang and the old man among them eating while eagerly watching the massacre, he lost all appetite. In fact, whether it was the Wa gang in the Golden Triangle or the wild Shan Dong United Army, they were all the same—humanity was often absent from them.
This meal was the most nauseating one Xie Wendong had ever eaten, even though the aroma from the scene tried desperately to reach his nose.
The next day, General Sang held a meeting in the Golden Triangle, attended by major drug lords from various regions of Southeast Asia to discuss how to distribute this year’s meager drug harvest. Early in the morning, the Golden Triangle became busy as bosses from different areas arrived one after another. In General Sang’s hall, several people were already sitting around the central table, discussing how much they might get this time. No one recognized Xie Wendong, and because he was young, no one paid him any attention, so naturally, no one spoke to him. Xie Wendong was content to rest alone with his eyes closed. Listening to the various foreign accents around him was indeed an interesting experience.
Only after all the invited guests had arrived did General Sang come out of the inner room. Drug lords from various regions stood up to greet him. Though they were rulers in their own areas, in the Golden Triangle they had to restrain their domineering attitudes and treat General Sang with great courtesy, as it was from here that their supply came from. General Sang waved his hand to tell everyone to sit down and said, “As you all know, this year’s harvest in the Golden Triangle isn’t ideal. The supply is right in front of you. I can’t decide how to divide it up. What do you think should be done?”
The people exchanged glances. A middle-aged man with a round face and a buzz cut said, “I have hundreds of brothers waiting for me to feed them. This year, I plan to take two shares of the goods.”
As soon as he finished speaking, someone protested, “It’s not just you who has brothers waiting to eat! Who here doesn’t? You think you can just take two shares? Are we all supposed to go hungry?” “Hmph!” the man with the round face sneered. “Taking two shares is already being polite. Our Vietnamese gang has such high demands. You Hong Kong guys mean nothing here—do you really think you have a say?”
A middle-aged man in his thirties with blond dyed hair laughed and said, “I don’t care how you divide it among yourselves. This year, as usual, I’ll take 500 kilograms.”
“500 kilograms? You’re asking for way too much! That’s three shares this year!” Protests arose immediately, and everyone started shouting their desired amounts, leading to fierce arguments. Only three people in the hall remained silent. One was Xie Wendong, smiling broadly; another was General Sang, calm as a mountain; and the third was a young man under thirty with a scar on his face. The young man hadn’t said a word since entering the hall, staring instead at his own fingers—pale, thin, and long, even more beautiful than a woman’s. Even Xie Wendong couldn’t help but take a second look and silently admire him. He felt he recognized the young man from somewhere but couldn’t recall where.
The arguing grew louder and louder. The young man sighed and said, “What a bunch of annoying guys!” Before anyone knew it, a gun appeared in his hand, and he shot the middle-aged man beside him right in the head. With a gunshot, the middle-aged man fell backward without saying a word. The room fell dead silent as everyone stared at the young man in shock. Xie Wendong was also surprised—not because of the gun, but because the young man had spoken standard Chinese with a distinct Northeastern accent. He was puzzled; he didn’t know there was such a person in the Northeast, someone who could be invited by the Golden Triangle. Outside the room, the men brought by the bosses heard the gunshot and realized something serious must have happened. There was initial chaos, followed by a rush toward the room, but they were immediately stopped by dozens of armed soldiers guarding the door.
In the hall, the young man continued to stare at his fingers, not lifting his eyes, and said calmly, “Once someone is dead, there’s no need to fight over profits. That’s much better.”
The middle-aged man with the round face who had spoken first asked tremblingly, “What do you mean by that?”
The young man raised his gun again—without any warning, and no one could have anticipated it. The middle-aged man’s eyes widened in disbelief as he fell. The young man said, “Don’t speak to me in languages I don’t understand. So, those who can’t speak Chinese here had better shut up right now, if they don’t want to die.”
Everyone glanced at the general, who remained silent, his expression saying, “It’s none of my business. Solve it yourselves.” Three bosses almost simultaneously pulled out their guns, but they never managed to do so—and would never be able to. Small, bloody holes appeared right between their brows. The hall was so quiet that even heartbeat sounds could be heard. The speed at which the young man fired was unprecedented; his shots were precise and merciless, leaving no room for error. He continued as if nothing had happened, “Many people used to try to outspeed me in drawing guns. At first, I always lost, but later, no one could beat me.”