The next day, Cao Yang went downstairs to the convenience shop again to watch them play the slot machines.
He saw the guy who had bet on Double Stars with him yesterday. This time, that guy was chasing Watermelons, starting from ten points all the way to two hundred fifty.
Some machines capped bets at ninety-nine, while others allowed up to two hundred fifty.
But today his luck wasn't good. He had chased for a long time but still got nothing.
This time, he only bet two hundred forty because that was all the points he had left.
Seeing this, Cao Yang inserted a coin, held down the Watermelon button, and topped up his points for him.
Maybe Cao Yang had been so unlucky lately that even the heavens pitied him—he hit the jackpot again!
"Hit!" the man roared, thrilled.
Coins clattered nonstop into the tray. He grabbed a plastic basket and kept scooping coins into it.
"Hey, brother, don't forget my twenty coins."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." The man glanced back and recognized Cao Yang as the kid who had played Double Stars with him yesterday.
"Brother, you're my lucky star! Yesterday you were here, today you're here again!"
He grabbed a handful of coins and stuffed them into Cao Yang's hand without counting.
"That's too much," Cao Yang said, trying to refuse. It was definitely more than twenty.
"No problem—just take it!"
Cao Yang felt the guy was straightforward and cheerful, leaving a good impression.
He didn't get carried away after winning and left after watching a bit more.
He walked around some nearby factories, hoping to find a job.
Li Yan not only refused to lend him money but kept urging him to find work soon, otherwise she wouldn't give him living expenses.
Cao Yang didn't want to argue. After all these days, he had still only used his own 100 yuan—not hers. But she acted like he was spending her money.
Though, to be fair, the place he lived in was provided by her.
After walking around, all he saw were factory jobs—ordinary laborers working twelve-hour shifts for a few hundred a month.
Boring and miserable. He was sweating like a dog and hurried home to sit in front of the fan.
At the stairway, he ran into the slot-machine guy again.
The man carried a bag of vegetables and steamed buns, with two crates of beer at his feet.
He noticed Cao Yang too and smiled. "Brother, you live here too?"
Cao Yang nodded. "And you?"
"Yeah, I'm in 213."
Cao Yang paused—he lived in 208. 213 was diagonal to his. Funny that this was the first time they'd met.
"Where are you from, brother? What's your name?"
"I'm Cao Yang, from Hunan."
The man grinned and extended his hand. "I'm Lei Dian, from Sichuan."
Cao Yang shook his hand. "Is that a nickname?"
"It's my real name." He even pulled out his ID for proof—surname Lei, given name Dian (Thunderbolt).
"Brother, give me a hand with these," he said, pointing to the beer. He picked up one crate and left the other for Cao Yang.
Such a small favor—Cao Yang didn't refuse and helped him carry the beer to room 213.
The room was like Cao Yang's, except this one had two bunk beds.
Inside were two young men, around twenty.
After putting the beer down, Cao Yang was about to leave when Lei Dian stopped him.
"Why leave? Drink with us."
"That's not really appropriate…" Cao Yang hesitated. They weren't familiar yet.
"What's inappropriate? Away from home, brothers look out for each other. And you're lucky for me—I only win when you're around."
The other two guys also invited him to join.
Since they were so welcoming, refusing again would be rude.
The four sat cross-legged on the floor with a small table in the middle.
Lei Dian put out the food and beer—mostly prepared dishes and cold cuts.
When Cao Yang saw the spicy pork head meat piled with chili, he couldn't help swallowing hard. He had been in Guangdong for days—only eating rice noodles or congee. No meat, no chili. He was starving for it.
"Let me introduce them. This is Jiawei, from Henan—full name Zhang Jiawei."
"This is Hu Liang from Anhui. We call him A-Liang."
Cao Yang nodded to them. He was surprised—they weren't from the same hometown after all.
Lei Dian introduced Cao Yang back.
"This is my new brother—Cao Yang, from Hunan."
They nodded and handed him cigarettes.
"Thanks." Cao Yang lit one, and the four began smoking together.
Drinking, eating, and chatting.
Men together talk about two things: women and street stuff.
Since they had no women to talk about, they talked about the streets.
Lei Dian talked about a fight last night where several people got chopped.
Jiawei said the Sichuan gang and Hunan gang fought the day before—someone might have died.
A-Liang joked, "Lei Dian is with the Sichuan gang. Cao Yang, don't tell me you're with the Hunan gang?"
"No, no." Cao Yang waved quickly. "I just got here. Haven't even figured out the place yet."
Lei Dian patted his shoulder. "He's teasing you. And I'm not with that crappy Sichuan gang—they're trash."
From his tone, he held deep resentment.
"You had a conflict with them?" Cao Yang asked.
Jiawei laughed and explained, "Not a conflict—he joined their gang, stayed three days, and got kicked out."
"Bullshit! I quit myself!"
"Why'd you quit?"
"I thought joining them meant good food and easy money. Turns out those bastards wanted me to be a snatcher—riding a scooter and grabbing women's handbags. I couldn't do it, so I left."
"I'm not a saint, but I have basic decency."
"Those girls are like us—migrant workers. You take their bags, you take their wallets, phones, IDs—how do you expect them to survive?"
"Lei-ge is right. It's already hard being away from home. You need moral boundaries."
"Come on, cheers to Lei-ge!"
They clinked their cold beers together. The refreshing gulp made them all sigh in satisfaction.
At that moment, a middle-aged uncle appeared at the door with a broom. The door wasn't closed, so he peeked in while sweeping.
Cao Yang recognized him—one of the management staff responsible for registration and cleaning.
This small hostel only had two middle-aged men running everything—no young female receptionists.
"Old Xu! Come drink." Lei Dian shouted. He had lived here long and was familiar with the staff.
"Drink what? I still need to sweep."
"Sweep your ass. Come in and drink a bit." Lei Dian dragged him inside.
Unable to refuse, Old Xu sat cross-legged and drank with the four youngsters.
Lei Dian pointed at Old Xu and told Cao Yang, "Don't be fooled by his janitor job. He's the real big boss. The Sichuan gang we talked about—he's one of the founders. The guys now are all juniors."
"Really?" Cao Yang doubted him. Old Xu looked honest and mild—not like a street figure.
"It's fake. Don't listen to his nonsense."
"It's real! He's just low-key!"
Old Xu shook his head helplessly, too lazy to argue.
But after a few drinks, his face flushed and he started talking more.
Under Lei Dian's subtle encouragement, he began telling the four youngsters the stories of the old days.
In the early years of economic reform, many migrant workers came to Guangdong.
Things were more chaotic than today—fights, assaults, factories withholding wages, you name it.
Workers banded together for protection—first as hometown associations.
Later they discovered every province had the same idea, so they formed the "Sichuan Gang."
At first, gang meant helping each other—not criminal activity.
The purpose was simply to prevent Sichuan workers from being bullied. If someone had trouble, everyone would go help. With numbers came strength, and soon no one dared mess with them.
But some influential members had different ideas.
If no one bullied them anymore… why not bully others?
Charging protection fees, opening illegal salons, running small casinos, running shady KTVs… all made more money than working.
That was the first transformation—from mutual aid to a real gang.
Yet it was chaotic—because everywhere someone claimed to be Sichuan Gang.
Any Sichuan native who caused trouble would claim the name.
Any random group of seven or eight called themselves Sichuan Gang. At that time, the number of "Sichuan Gangs" in the city exceeded a hundred.
The largest group realized this was a problem—others were ruining their name. So they started consolidating.
Join or disband. No one could call themselves Sichuan Gang without authorization.
That was the second transformation.
After years, only one Sichuan Gang remained—strong and influential across all districts.
Sichuan Gang was just one example. Henan Gang, Hunan Gang, Guangxi Gang, Jiangxi Gang, Anhui Gang, Hubei Gang, Shaanxi Gang, Guizhou Gang, Yunnan Gang, Gansu Gang, Fujian Gang… all had similar evolution.
They all started as mutual protection groups.
Then became criminal.
At first, they wouldn't bully their own province.
Later, as long as there was profit, even their own villagers became victims.
From righteous alliances, they transformed into organized crime.
…
Old Xu talked endlessly. The four listened, absorbed. Someone called him from outside, so he put down the beer and returned to sweeping.
After he left, the four continued discussing the topic and drinking.
After a few more rounds, Lei Dian asked, "Brother, what are you doing for work now?"
"I just came here. Planning to find a factory job."
Lei Dian looked disgusted. "Brother, what can you earn in a factory? Twelve hours a day, yelled at like a dog, and only a few hundred a month. Worth it?"
Those words hit Cao Yang right in the heart.
His mother always told him: No pain, no gain.
Cao Yang never agreed. It wasn't that he couldn't handle hardship—he just hated suffering with no reward.
"You interested in working with us?" Lei Dian asked.
"What do you guys do?" Cao Yang asked.
Lei Dian grinned. "We do everything. Whatever makes money. When there's business, we take the water route to Hong Kong and bring goods back. When there's no business, we help construction sites move cable for bosses."
Cao Yang instantly understood—smuggling and theft.