We both remained silent in the car, each aware of the other's thoughts. We felt a profound sorrow for Zhou Yingying, lamenting that she was so completely controlled by the man named Sun, treated like a puppet on strings, a soulless automaton.
Wen Siqiang, in particular, was deeply affected. Zhou Yingying had been his first benefactor after his return to society, providing him with food and shelter, and entrusting him with significant responsibilities. To see her now manipulated, having lost herself, was truly heartbreaking.
I said, "You've known her the longest. I believe that deep down, you don't want her to continue like this. Think of a way to help her completely escape this devil's control."
Wen Siqiang replied, "Boss, to be honest, seeing her like this truly pains me. After leaving prison, I was neither human nor ghost in society. She gave me a bowl of rice, allowing me to live with dignity for the first time. Without her shelter, I probably would have ended up back inside. I'm not afraid of you blaming me. If I could, I would brave any danger for her to rescue her from his clutches."
I understood he was referring to Zhou Yingying's role in my father's troubles and feared I would hold it against him for defending her.
I explained, "Actually, once I learned that Sun was controlling her, my resentment towards her lessened. While I can't treat her the same way I do Lan Ya or you all, I can distinguish right from wrong. I won't lump her in with Sun. If for no other reason than to bring Sun down, we need to win Zhou Yingying back first, to prevent him from ruining her like this."
Wen Siqiang said, "Knowing you think this way puts me at ease. After all, I've been with her for a long time, and she listens to me. I will do everything in my power to handle this properly."
The car arrived at the base as dusk began to fall. The base was brightly lit, and many gamblers were still in the courtyard. Nighttime was the prime time for stone gambling; without the glare of sunlight, it was easier to discern the jade's texture, clarity, and color.
Only genuine stone gamblers remained; the curious onlookers had already gone home.
I didn't linger in the courtyard and instructed Wen Siqiang to drive directly to the office building.
On the first floor, I checked on the two assassins. Their arms were unbound, but their legs were tied with ropes, and they were sitting on the ground eating.
I glanced at the dinner prepared for them: braised pork, seafood that was usually hard to come by, and alcohol. It truly resembled a last meal before execution.
It was no wonder these two men stared at the food with chopsticks in hand, unable to eat.
What would it feel like to know you would leave this world soon?
Despair, dejection, or emptiness?
My first close encounter with death was my maternal grandmother. Towards the end, she fell into a coma, sleeping for many days. No matter how much her family called out to her, she wouldn't wake. She eventually passed away in her sleep. My paternal grandmother, in her final years, could no longer recognize people. My father would visit her, and she wouldn't recognize her own son, sometimes calling him a brother, sometimes an elder brother, leaving my father in tears and laughter. My grandmother also passed away in a state of clouded consciousness.
The departure of these two elders, in such a manner, did not instill fear in my heart. They had already journeyed to a realm of chaos, where fear of death no longer existed. In fact, I felt that departing this way might not be a bad kind of happiness.
However, these two men were different. They were young and strong, their minds clear. They harbored immense fear of death. At this moment, the delicacies placed before them held no allure. The only thing occupying their minds was their final breath.
I crouched down, poured them each a bowl of wine, and handed it to them. I said, "I still don't know your names. State them, so I can have someone recite them when burning spirit money for you, to ensure no wandering spirits try to snatch it. Remember to hold onto the money tightly, don't let anyone take it. Money is useful everywhere."
They looked at me with tear-filled eyes and told me their names. I had a security guard write them down on a piece of paper, telling them the names would be burned along with the spirit money, and instructed them to remember their names so they wouldn't become wandering spirits.
They listened, their hearts pounding. I gestured for them to drink, and they finally reacted, their hands trembling as they held the wine bowls. I said, "Drink it. After drinking, you'll be braver. You won't feel the pain when a knife is at your neck."
Upon hearing my words, they tilted their heads back and drained the wine, then handed the bowls over for refills, wanting more.
I stopped them. "There's plenty of wine, you'll have enough to drink later. But for now, I have a few questions for you. It's not too late to drink more after I've asked."
They nodded, their eyes devoid of the ferocity they had shown earlier. They lowered their gaze meekly. If one didn't know they were assassins, no one would associate them with murder and arson.
I continued, "Tell me about your boss. What kind of person is he? I'm quite interested in him."
They exchanged glances. The one closest to me said, "General Wu Guodong's ancestral home is in Sichuan province on the mainland. His parents immigrated to Burma. In his early years, he fought alongside the mainland army that remained there. Later, the army split into several factions, and he was squeezed out. Unable to bear being caught in the middle, he gathered his own troops. Initially, he operated in the Golden Triangle with drug trafficking groups. However, as countries cracked down, the drug trade plummeted, making it impossible to maintain his army. The General then turned his attention to the mainland, subsequently dealing with several mainland drug lords."
I asked, "Have you met the bosses from the mainland?"
They both shook their heads in unison and said, "How could we possibly see them? He has a secret chamber. Whenever distinguished guests arrive, they are received by his trusted confidants. People like us never even catch a glimpse of the guests' backs."
Wu Guodong, having survived in the crucible of gunfire, was indeed cautious and meticulous, leaving no room for error.
This was perhaps the secret to his survival and his enduring influence in the harsh political environment of Myanmar.
The conception of this book took a considerable amount of time. I spent several months in Tengchong in 2010, and my understanding of jade began then.
Jade is incredibly beautiful, to an extreme degree. The Xiangxie Hotel where we stayed had a ton-sized jade carving in its lobby, which was both awe-inspiring and magnificent.
The jade ornaments in the exhibition hall were even more captivating, leaving visitors lingering, lost in their beauty.
It was around that time that I suddenly developed a fondness for jade. Whenever I had free time, I would visit the jade market, though most of the time I would just browse and admire.
Occasionally, I would buy a small piece, just to satisfy my craving.
Jade can be addictive, especially stone gambling. It truly is a gamble of "one cut to poverty, one cut to wealth, one cut to rags." Such stories unfold daily in the stone gambling city.
As depicted in the book, most stones do not yield significant surprises; finding even a hint of color is considered good. Yet, people, driven by dreams of riches, constantly seek the next opportunity.
I have written about one person's struggle in this industry. I hope readers will simply take it as a story, and if it offers any insight or help, I will be content.
The book has now been released. I began uploading chapters sequentially at the end of last month, meeting the requirements for release. From now on, chapters will be locked. If you feel the book is still worth reading, I hope you will spend a few thousand coins to support the author. Writing a book is not easy; it's a arduous task that consumes one's mind and involves the pressure of daily updates.
At one point, writing caused me to miss the last high-speed train of the day, forcing me to discard my ticket and rebook for the next day. This led to considerable criticism, with people saying I had become a bookworm.
Sitting in the waiting room, I didn't hear the boarding announcements, and by the time I realized, the train was long gone.
There are many other interesting anecdotes from the writing process, which I will share with you gradually. In short, I earnestly hope for your support. Please leave more reviews, as your encouragement is the driving force behind my writing.