Wen Siqiang forced himself to drink a bottle of beer, took a couple of bites of food, then hurriedly returned to his seat, fired up the machine, and continued peeling the stone.
These machines were all imported from Germany, with incredibly sharp blades and high hardness. Though they were much more expensive, the cuts they made were smooth and efficient, saving a lot of manual labor.
If business was good and customers were queuing up to cut stones, a high-quality cutting machine would prove its worth—no one would be left waiting impatiently.
The quality of the cut was also crucial. Even with the same type of jade, if the surface was as rough as a damaged concrete road, its value would plummet.
At that moment, Master Zhang brought over a stone weighing over ten pounds and said to me, "Boss Li, I think this stone’s skin is so beautiful that it’s better left as a ‘blind’ rough. Cutting a window into it would ruin its gambling appeal. Place it somewhere prominent, mark it with a high price, and if no one takes the gamble, we can always cut it open later."
I examined the stone—it was a fully unopened rough from Damakan.
Damakan stones are water-worn, smooth, and have a glossy, oily skin, often with thick waxy layers. Yellow and white sand skins are common, though black and grayish-green skins also exist—but those two are best avoided. One wrong move, and you could lose everything.
Damakan produces high-quality jade, but not every Damakan stone yields a treasure.
Water-worn stones are usually small, mostly sold by the kilo. A piece this large with such a beautiful skin was truly rare.
The skin was yellow sand, and even from the surface, patches of vibrant green were visible.
I flipped the mango-sized stone over and saw snowflake-like patterns on the other side—a sign of color. Just as Master Zhang had said, leaving it uncut made it more enticing, stoking the gambler’s dream of striking it rich with a single cut.
I took an oil-based marker and wrote "300" on it, then told him to store it in the safe.
Starting price: three million. Five kilos of material, at 600,000 per kilo.
Of course, that was just the base price. The final bid would depend on the gambler’s interest.
Even at this base price, it was already ten times the cost price.
By then, Wen Siqiang had finished cutting one side of the large winter melon-like stone, and a worker called me over to take a look.
I examined the freshly rinsed cut surface—it had indeed changed. The bluish-green I’d seen earlier transitioned into lighter green and violet toward the center. If yellow and red appeared too, all five colors would be present.
Technically, bluish-green and light green counted as the same color, just different shades. So, one more color was needed—a white, glutinous-ice base. This could serve as the backdrop for carvings, accentuating the vibrancy of the other colors.
I told Wen Siqiang to cut the same thickness from the other side. "I want to see if another color emerges. It’s up to you now."
Wen Siqiang didn’t reply. He flipped the stone and kept cutting.
We arrived at the Sino-Myanmar Street at half past five in the afternoon.
I told Wen Siqiang to wait in the car. If anything unusual happened, I’d call him.
I really needed to buy him a phone—it would make things much easier.
When I entered the room, Bogang was still sitting in the same spot, dressed in traditional Burmese attire with a headband. His bulky frame filled the rattan chair to the brim.
At first glance, he didn’t look like a murderous warlord—just an elderly foreigner.
But unfortunately, he wasn’t just any foreigner. His mind was full of schemes—killing, plundering, money, and profit.
He glanced up at me and said, "That damned Kang Gong has eyes and ears everywhere. We’ve all been played. He donated so much that he’s now a national hero, while we’re left looking like incompetent villains. Now they’ve stripped me of my military authority—just a government advisor. Damn it! I’ll go back to guerrilla warfare, tear the sky open, and see if they still dare ignore me!"
Bogang was truly a reckless brute, solving problems with impulse rather than brains. Even though we had used him this time, if he’d played his cards right, the benefits could’ve lasted him a lifetime. How did he mess it up so badly?
I looked at him and asked, "What’s your plan now?"
Bogang: "What plan? I need to kickstart our business ASAP! I’m rebuilding my army, and that requires a shitload of money. You’re gonna solve it for me!"
What kind of logic was that? He rebuilds his army, and I foot the bill? That was straight-up bandit reasoning.
I said, "Now that Kang Gong’s back, do you think he’ll let me off? He’s watching my every move. If we touch this now, it’s a death sentence!"
Bogang: "This is all I’ve got left. You expect me to just let it rot? I don’t care—figure something out and move it, or your life, and the lives of your wives, are forfeit."
He had me cornered, always using them as leverage—my weakness, my pressure point.
I said, "It’s not easy. Here’s an idea: the rough stone trade is booming here, and demand for finished products in China is huge. If you can get rough stones, I’ll sell every last one for you—no commission, not a single cent."
Bogang: "Rough stones? Where the hell am I supposed to get rough stones? Unless I rob someone!"
Rough stones were a legitimate business, requiring investment. But of course, his solution was to steal.
I smiled bitterly. There was no reasoning with a man like this.
Bogang: "I’ve got to head back. Get moving on what I said—someone will contact you in the next couple of days."
I said, "Think about what I suggested. You’re over there—you must have connections to source stones. If the quality’s good, money won’t be an issue. Why take the risk of losing your head when there’s a straight path?"
He said, "I’ll think about it. Just get me money, fast!"
With that, he stood up. I quickly excused myself. Dealing with him was like dancing on knife blades—the sooner I left, the better.
I got back in the car and told Wen Siqiang, "Back to the Grand World."
Wen Siqiang didn’t say a word, just drove off.
Sitting in the car, I felt uneasy. The young master’s situation wasn’t resolved, and now his father was back. That should’ve eased Bogang’s pressure, but instead, it just piled on more, suffocating me.
I needed to find a way to break this chain of schemes. Otherwise, the three of them would tighten around me like a winch, crushing me alive.
When I returned to the office, Lanya asked, "Not good? You look tense."
I said, "Yeah. Bogang has drugs, and he wants us to turn them into cash—or he’ll come after my family. I suggested he supply us with rough stones instead—win-win, and legal. Guess what he said? ‘I don’t have stones unless I rob someone!’ Rough stones are a business, traded fairly. But he’d rather get them at gunpoint!"
Lanya: "Bogang is nothing but trouble. We should talk to Brother Leopard. Best to eliminate him, or he’ll push us to the brink."
I said, "Yeah, I was thinking the same on the way back. We’ve got to find a way to take him out."
Lanya picked up the phone and called Brother Leopard, asking him to come over and discuss how to deal with Bogang.
Just then, Wen Siqiang came in and said the trainees we’d gathered were all here. Did I want to start?
I told Lanya I’d head to the training session first and to let me know when Brother Leopard arrived.
We’d selected thirty people in total, mainly for security and service, divided into two teams. Two private rooms were set aside for separate training sessions.
They were all waiting for me in one room, ready to split up later.
I went over and briefed them on the dos and don’ts for the new company’s opening, as well as etiquette for dealing with guests. I noticed Xiaohong was also in the service team—she was leading that group.
The security team had also chosen a leader—an old hand from the Grand World called Sanzi, a burly, dark-skinned man who knew a bit of martial arts.
I had them split into two groups, with one moving to another room.
The security team’s training was simpler: a mat was placed in the center of the room, and they sparred in pairs. The losers would stand by, while the winners advanced to the next round.
Those eliminated in the first round would undergo intensive training under the team leader for ten days before a second round. The bottom five would be cut.
Being cut didn’t mean firing—just reassignment to regular duties. Key positions would go to the winners.
The girls’ training focused on etiquette and Mandarin. I’d hired a professional etiquette instructor for them.
Then my phone rang—Lanya said Brother Leopard had arrived at the office.
I hurried over to see him.
Brother Leopard had probably heard the situation from Lanya. His expression was as grim as mine—he understood the severity of the problem. Bogang was putting immense pressure on us.
Brother Leopard: "Tomorrow, we’ll meet with Brother Qing and discuss Bogang in detail. If we’re going to take him out, we need to locate his hideout first. From what Brother Qing said, ever since we hit him last time, he hasn’t returned to that waterfront villa in Yangon. He’s probably set up a base near the border. Brother Qing has already sent scouts to track his movements there. Once we’ve pinpointed his location, we need to wipe him out for good. We can’t repeat the Kang Gong situation—leave him alive, and we gain another enemy. If Bogang survives an attempt on his life, we’re the ones who’ll die."
I nodded. If we didn’t kill him in one strike, our lives would be on a countdown.
Bogang was a guerrilla fighter, experienced in jungle warfare. Myanmar’s mountainous terrain was complex, treacherous, and hard to navigate. He could retreat to defend or advance to attack—either way, it put us at a severe disadvantage. To take him down, we’d need to give it everything. Victory was the only option—no room for failure!