SDT 40

Chapter 40: Going to Life (Infiltration Arc)

Huang Mao and Shouzi¹ had been crouching in the woods all along. As dusk approached, they finally saw a figure nearing the hunter’s cabin in the forest clearing.

The man stood at the door for a while with a hunched back, touched his nose, rubbed the side of his pants, touched the tattered banana leaf raincoat in front of the door, and then looked around.

Huang Mao subconsciously lowered his body, while the thin man carefully observed the man.

The man had gray hair, a hunched body and was thin. He was dressed in ordinary clothes, but the eyes on his dirty face were very lively. He looked around and pushed the door open and walked into the cabin.

The cabin was the appointed rendezvous point; this person should be the organization’s dispatched contact. But having suffered a great loss from a spy, now reduced to fleeing, they must exercise double caution. So, they did not reveal themselves but continued observing.

Huang Mao found it hard to endure the humid heat of this southern mountain forest. Seeing the man enter the wooden cabin, he frowned, scratched his ear stud, and whispered to Shouzi: “Shall we go in?”

Shouzi shook his head: “Wait a bit more.”

After a while, the cabin’s window was propped open. After another interval, the man leaned on the window sill looking out. One hand dangled outside the window, the other deftly twirled a military knife between his fingers. The blade’s gleam flashed in the sunset filtering through the woods. His expression was calm, appearing merely to wait leisurely for someone.

Shouzi said: “You go in and check; I will provide support here.”

Huang Mao stood and walked toward the cabin.

He pushed open the door with his gun in hand; the man turned his head. He sized him up for two seconds, then reached into his pocket.

Huang Mao immediately raised his gun at him: “Do not move!”

The man’s action paused, then continued. The military knife in his hand became a cigarette case and lighter. He tapped out a cigarette and lit it. Soon, a wisp of blue smoke drifted out the window, dispersing in the fading sunset glow.

He propped his elbow on the windowsill again, furrowed his brows, and with a sullen expression, lightly coughed and hummed: “This is how you treat the benefactor who holds your fate?”

Huang Mao did not lower his gun but slightly lowered the muzzle: “You arrived a bit early.”

“Right on time,” the man said nonchalantly, passing by Huang Mao. He reached the door and stepped out: “After finishing the land route, switching to water route just as night falls; the boat will pick up on schedule.”

He stretched his hunched waist and looked once more toward where Shouzi hid. Then he said loudly: “Seen enough? Come out.”

After he spoke, a while passed, and Shouzi also stood, emerging from the woods.

Shouzi walked right up to him, his gaze appraising. The man extended his hand: “Pleased to meet you.”

There was no trust in Shouzi’s eyes, but he said nothing. He merely tilted his head slightly, indicating for him to follow.

As the sun slanted toward the horizon, the mountain forest also produced a kind of returning light in the sunset’s rosy glow. Cuckoos called, with some responding insect chirps. The three walked a while in the mountains when the contact suddenly halted, gasping, rustled in his pocket for a foil-wrapped pill, squeezed out one, and swallowed it.

Shouzi discerned it was a painkiller and asked: “You are ill?”

“Mm.”

“Ill and still doing this?” Huang Mao sized up this man again and said: “You do not look like a local either. Are you from S Country?”

The man’s sickly complexion was poor. He revealed a contemptuous smile, knowing the other’s probing intent: “I have been in this line for over a decade; if you do not trust, find your own way out.”

Huang Mao raised his gun; Shouzi pressed down his hand.

Shouzi said: “Since you are leading us out, dispelling our doubts benefits you as much as us. It is best if you cooperate.”

The man drew his military knife, slashed several times, neatly severing a vine before him, and parted it. Then he said: “The middleman, called Brother Bao, had us pick up several people for transit.”

“‘Us’ is who,” Huang Mao asked.

“That you need not know,” the man said. “In any case, all water routes from here pass through our hands. This trip’s deposit is not much; payment settles in L Country, because verification there requires ‘Ex’ present. If he is there, ten thousand; if ‘Ex’ not delivered, one head counts only two thousand.”

Huang Mao cursed inwardly. The order’s meaning was clear: if something went wrong, sacrifice pawns to save the carriage; otherwise, it was a loss-making deal. He felt very displeased; even as fugitives on the run, lives were still stratified in value. But this was reality. If not for “Ex,” he, a small fry, would not even get to contact for smuggling out of country. Perhaps he would receive a bullet to eliminate future troubles instead.

The man used his lively eyes to look between them: “Ex is your boss, right? If he is already gone, should I still take this job?”

Huang Mao could not help but say: “Our boss is of course alive and well!”

The man glanced at him, then laughed.

The group descended a mountain corner, boarded an oxcart carrying several villagers. At a town-like market avenue, they got off and boarded a dilapidated shuttle minibus with an engine sounding like machine-gun fire.

By dusk, the minibus traveled to a mountain road. Huang Mao signaled the driver and got off midway temporarily. The three walked a stretch; the terrain began to grow rugged and narrow. Shouzi looked ahead, then said to the man: “Apologies for the offense; before seeing our boss, we need to search you.”

He gave Huang Mao a look and said to the man: “My brother is a Beta; let him do it, alright?”

The man did not object and raised both arms.

Huang Mao patted him all over, retrieved his phone, dismantled it in three moves, checked carefully, and pocketed the parts. He thoroughly felt from the ankle upward, even the hair, took out the military knife, cigarettes, lighter, and painkillers, and put them in his pocket. He exchanged a look with Shouzi, then led the man onward. After half an hour more of walking, in a mountain hollow, constantly descending and turning, it suddenly opened up to a cluster of houses. Stones and materials were chaotically piled everywhere, like some black factory.

Entering the gate, at a rusted iron-sheet door, Huang Mao knocked with rhythmic pattern. The door opened.

Night had fully fallen. The room was very dim; a low-wattage yellowish bulb hung from the high ceiling. Barrels and greasy, dirty machinery scattered about emitted chemical odors. Inside the house stood four people; upon closer look, there was another sitting in the corner. Adding Huang Mao and Shouzi, there were seven in total.

Shouzi called “Boss”; that person stood and walked over, his black silhouette continually appearing in the faint light.

His face emerged directly under the bulb’s light source. A middle-aged man, with no remarkable features, even somewhat benevolent in brows and eyes.

He held a string of sandalwood prayer beads in his hand, the beads emitting a moist sheen.

Shouzi walked over and whispered in the middle-aged man’s ear. The middle-aged man tilted to listen. After a while, the middle-aged man nodded, found a chair behind, sat down, and said to the contact: “Sit.”

The contact thought for a moment, raked his gray hair with his hunched body, and sat on a broken wooden stool nearby. He crossed his legs, his eyes first patrolling the room, then settling on the black leather case in the corner. Then back to the boss: “You are Ex?”

The middle-aged man did not answer him, merely tacitly acknowledging with body language. He leaned back and said: “We must wait here a bit. I have brothers who have not arrived.”

The contact was stunned: “Wait? How long?”

Ex answered: “Unknown. Possibly a while.”

“That will not do,” the contact said decisively. “The time is set; I cannot wait here. Smuggling is not calling a taxi; can it meter-wait for passengers? Every extra minute is extra risk; in the end, perhaps no one escapes.”

The words “no one escapes” seemed to introduce a subtle tension in the air. A fat man nearby shifted his foot upon hearing this, his face showing some anxiety.

The contact glanced at him, thought, then said: “Moreover, what need is there to wait for others? As long as you, Ex, are here, this business…”

“Our boss will not abandon any brother,” Shouzi coldly interrupted him. “Wait.”

The middle-aged man set down the beads and instead asked: “How long have you known Brother Bao?”

The contact was silent for a while and answered: “I do not know him.”

Immediately, all eyes gathered on him, tightening the air.

The contact wiped his nose again.

“I am just a small role picking up people; how would I get to know him? I do not know you all either, yet we still must deal. If you had choices, you would not seek me.” This man laughed. His laugh was insincere, even more grating in this environment. “No choice, yet always asking this and that; truly stupid.”

A square-faced brute stepped forward two paces, pressing a gun to his head: “Hey, who are you talking to?”

The contact looked at the brute.

“You fire, and you blow up your last boat out of S Country.”

The brute bared his teeth.

The contact said very relaxedly: “Spare me this routine. I have seen plenty.”

“Enough.”

Ex gave the brute a look to step back. Then he slightly closed his eyes. The speed of his fingers rolling the beads seemed faster, but his person remained still.

“Wait a bit more. If not, we leave.”

The fat man and brute, along with the four underlings, having nothing to do, sat around a table playing a boring game of guessing wood strips. At first, the sounds were not loud, but after a while, they guessed and cursed louder, bringing a bit of life to the stifling air.

Shouzi observed the movements outside through a narrow window crack. While Huang Mao sat beside the contact, occasionally paying attention to the game progress of those playing.

Time ticked by second by second.

The contact grew increasingly impatient. He reached into his pocket, but his phone was no longer with him. He asked Huang Mao: “Hey, what time is it?”

Huang Mao glanced at the closed-eyed bead-rolling boss, then at the window, and shrugged at him.

He received no answer.

After another stretch, the game segment ended. The brute stood, took several loose breads from a nearby barrel. He first gave one to Ex, then to Shouzi at the window, and tossed one to each of the rest.

The contact reached for one; the brute did not give it to him. Ex said: “Get one for him too.”

The brute took a bread back; the contact immediately opened and ate it. Ex asked him: “How shall I address you?”

The contact answered: “It’s one-time meeting; what need for address?”

“You already know I am Ex. Don’t you?” the middle-aged man said. His tone was somewhat heavy.

“Then call me ‘Wai’,” the contact said indifferently.

A pair of eyes looked over from nearby, scrutinizing him.

By the time everyone finished their bread, there was still no movement outside. At this point, the contact stood up and said: “Do not say I did not remind you. Our boat will not wait if it sees no one. If we do not leave now, you can only stay in S Country to enjoy the local legal services.”

Shouzi walked over from the window, thought, and volunteered: “Boss, why not take a few and go to the dock first; we stay here to wait a bit more. Half an hour later, whether they arrived or not, we go to the dock to rendezvous. You arrive first and can have the boat wait for us; after all, if the boat leaves, it is disaster.”

“The boat will not wait,” the contact said.

“Then you will not live,” Shouzi patted the contact’s shoulder. “This man stays with me, leaving a backup path.”

The middle-aged man thought and nodded: “Then be careful, you all.”

Once at the dock, they would contact Shouzi, then require the contact to communicate by phone with that side. After instructing properly, the middle-aged man took three underlings and left first. Leaving Shouzi, Huang Mao, the brute, and the contact.

At this moment, the contact’s gaze flicked toward Huang Mao. And Huang Mao sat to the side, fiddling with the confiscated military knife from the contact.

The contact’s complexion seemed gradually paler. But he showed no emotion, remaining calm. He slouched in the stool and spoke to Huang Mao: “You know how to play? Should I teach you?”

Huang Mao stopped his hand and put away the knife: “Why do you always think of taking things? To the dock, all back to you. Settle down a bit.”

He sized up the contact again, from the gray hair to the hunched slender body, curiosity on his face: “Truly never seen such a slovenly Omega. So old, body still so frail; how did you get into this line?”

The contact exhaled a laugh and said: “What is wrong with this line? No one is more suitable than me. You will know.”

Probably after ten or so minutes, still no movement. Shouzi often checked his phone, awaiting messages.

“I need to relieve myself,” the contact suddenly stood again and said.

“Just piss in the room,” Shouzi looked at him and said.

“…Number two,” the contact said. “Is number two alright?”

“Anyway, we leave soon. Do it here,” Shouzi said.

“…You can, I cannot. You two Betas and one Alpha, I am an Omega, different gender from you all. I am not a dog; I can’t manage in front of so many.”

The brute cursed and stepped up again: “I warn you not to cause trouble!”

“Fuck,” the contact cursed too and said: “I am here to earn your money, not fucking be your hostage. If you do not trust me, just go yourselves!”

He pointed at Huang Mao again: “Let this Beta follow me. Does he not have a gun?”

Shouzi thought and told Huang Mao: “Take all his things out and put on the table.”

Huang Mao did so, taking out the contact’s military knife, cigarettes, lighter, and the disassembled phone bits, battery, card, shell, one by one, slapping them on the table.

“Is this necessary?” the contact looked at the pile of parts.

“Not necessary? Having come this far, it is all because we trusted too much,” Huang Mao took the gun and went to the door. “Hurry. Finish and we go.”

The contact followed him out of the house, going around to the back.

Night had fallen, with many tall wild grass clumps, shadowy. The two walked one behind the other.

“Stop, do not go too far!” Huang Mao raised the gun at the contact from behind, designating a slightly shallower grass clump for him: “Right here. Go.”

1. Not their real names Huang Mao= yellow-haired man and Shouzi= thin man ↩︎