More than ten kilometers west of Lincang, several wooden shacks lay hidden deep within the old forest.
This was the stronghold of the Vietnamese gang Liang Chuang had mentioned.
I didn't know their trade or how they made a living, nor did I need to.
All I knew was that they were true desperadoes. This wasn't domestic soil; if I got shot dead here, no one would know, and I'd die for nothing.
To rescue Jiang Qingbo from their hands alone, there was only one way: gamble with my life.
I walked the mountain path for seven or eight hours, my body scraped with countless cuts, before finally arriving here.
I had never been a soldier, nor did I know any professional jungle warfare techniques. I certainly didn't expect to take them all down and swagger out with Jiang Qingbo.
So, when those wooden shacks appeared at the edge of my vision, I put down the two shoulder bags I was carrying.
One bag contained a "sprayer"—a shotgun. I loaded the shells one by one, then chambered a round directly. I did the same with the pistol.
I placed both guns on the ground in front of me. Then, taking a deep breath and trying my best to relax, I opened the other bag Sir Niu had brought me.
Inside were blocks of yellow explosives—high explosives used for blasting mountains and rocks, confiscated by the yamen.
I taped the explosives to my cotton jacket and carefully connected the detonator. At that moment, my heart was trembling.
Explosives are different from bombs. A bomb might not have much explosive charge, relying on shrapnel and steel balls inside to cause damage.
But explosives rely purely on the shockwave from the explosion to push the air and create massive force.
Water and air cannot be compressed. When explosives detonate, the air at the center can only be pushed outward.
For friends who drive big trucks, veteran drivers know that if a tire has a bulge, you can't poke it directly, because the air inside that bulge exploding can kill a person.
Explosives work on pretty much the same principle.
I had a full thirteen kilograms of explosives strapped to my body. If I detonated it, let alone a corpse, not even bone ash would remain.
My palms were slick with sweat. With one hand gripping the detonator and the other holding the shotgun, I walked slowly toward the wooden shacks.
The sky was fully bright. As soon as I appeared in the center of the clearing, someone spotted me.
They were shouting words I couldn't understand, holding Type 56 automatic rifles, or AKs and M16s. These weapons were aid from our country and the Soviet Union when the Americans fought Vietnam, or captured from the American devils.
Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. These weren't underworld hooligans, or even bandits.
What kind of hooligans hustle with military-standard weapons, and automatic rifles at that?
Panting heavily and suppressing a heart beating like a drum, I raised the shotgun and fired a shot into the sky.
Then, using the barrel, I lifted my jacket, revealing the explosives strapped to my body, and turned in a circle to show them.
"Fuck your mothers! Nobody move! Get someone who understands me out here!"
I screamed the words until my voice was hoarse, terrified they wouldn't understand and would just shoot me, or that I'd get too nervous and detonate the blasting cap in my hand.
Fortunately, while they didn't understand my words, they at least recognized the explosives strapped to me.
After they jabbered a bunch of stuff, someone ran into a wooden shack. A moment later, a dark, thin man looking like a monkey walked out.
His Chinese was very stiff, but at least understandable. "Friend, what are you doing?"
My back was drenched in cold sweat. I waved the hand holding the detonator. "I'm here to pick up my Big Brother, Jiang Qingbo. The one you guys snatched."
The dark, thin man frowned and stared at me for a few seconds. "Friend, we're all out here playing with our lives. You think this will scare anyone?"
I let out a cold laugh and took a few steps toward him. The sound of bolts being racked rang out around me.
To be honest, I almost pissed myself right there.
Both my legs were trembling. Anyone who isn't scared at a time like this isn't a tough guy or a fierce man; they're a reckless idiot.
But some things must be done, even if you're scared.
I roared, "I told you all not to move! Tell them not to fucking raise their guns! I'm easily scared. If you scare me, I really will detonate it!"
The black monkey said a few sentences in Vietnamese, and the people around us lowered their gun muzzles slightly. I breathed a small sigh of relief.
If these thirteen kilograms of explosives on me really went off, it would be enough to kill everyone here eight times over.
Since he told his men to lower their guns, it proved there was room for negotiation.
We were all out here hustling with our lives, but no one really wanted to lose their life.
"Friend, doing this... aren't you afraid you won't walk out of here?"
The black monkey's face was ugly, his gaze fixed on me like a venomous snake.
I touched the explosives on my body and pretended to be calm. "You said it yourself just now: we're all out here hustling with our lives. Give me back my Big Brother and my brothers. As for whether we can make it back, that's up to our own fate."
The black monkey's gaze was dark and sinister. He said coldly, "What if I say no?"
I held the detonator high. "Strapping these explosives to myself means I didn't plan on living. You bastard, want to test if I'm bluffing?"
The black monkey's face turned red, and he shouted something in Vietnamese. The gun muzzles that had just been lowered were raised again immediately.
My mind went blank, and my heart jumped into my throat.
In that instant, I had only one thought: It's over. I couldn't bluff these Vietnamese monkeys. I'm really done for today.
Just as I steeled my heart, ready to detonate the explosives and take everyone down with me, a hurried voice rang out.
"Wait!"
Several people walked out of the wooden shack. The one leading them was short and sturdy, with a square face and thick eyebrows, but a pair of triangular eyes ruined the dignity of his face.
Behind him were Jiang Qingbo and three others I recognized—men who followed Jiang Qingbo—covered in wounds.
They were tied up securely, mouths gagged, unable to speak.
This square-faced man was the real leader of this group. Once he came out, the black monkey immediately stepped aside.
"My surname is Hu. What is your name, friend?"
My mind was in chaos. I was holding on by sheer willpower, terrified that if my resolve broke, I wouldn't dare to detonate the explosives.
"My name is Chen Qiang. East end of Liu Xiang Town, Qianyang City, Guizhou Province. The grandest courtyard is my home. Let the people go first. If you're not satisfied, send someone to kill me, Chen Qiang, anytime. If I run, I'll write my name upside down."
The man named Hu narrowed his triangular eyes, examining me carefully, as if trying to memorize my face.
I thrust the detonator forward again.
His face fell, and he said coldly, "Fine. I'll remember you. If one day you can't hustle in your parts anymore, you can come find me."
"Chen Qiang, was it? I respect you. I'll remember you."
I cursed inwardly. What's the use of remembering? You have to send someone to the location I gave in Liu Xiang Town and kill Chen Qiang to live up to your status as a desperado.