I manufacture weapons in the Middle East and am wanted globally?

Chen Zheng pushed open the car door, his feet stepping onto the gravel ground of the garbage street, his right hand already drawing the APS from behind his waist.

The gun barrel was still hot; the residual heat from the factory hadn't dissipated yet.

He pulled out the magazine with his left hand and glanced at it. The golden bullets were packed full, 20 rounds, not a single one missing.

He slapped the magazine back, clicked it open, and put his index finger on the outside of the trigger guard.

"How many people?" he asked, his voice not loud, but each word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

Khalid was panting heavily, his face pale and his forehead covered in sweat. "Three... no, four... damn, I didn't see clearly, but there were at least three. One of them had a knife, and the other had a gun, an old Tokarev, Soviet-made."

Where are they?

"They've caught up!"

Chen Zheng squinted and glanced into the garbage street.

The main street of Garbage Street is not long, about 300 meters long, with tin sheds and dilapidated brick houses on both sides. Now, the morning sun shines straight in, making the whole street bright and shiny, and dust flies in the beams of light.

Three figures were running towards us from the other end of the street.

Leading the pack was a tall man wearing a dirty white vest, with tattoos on his arms, and clutching a machete whose blade gleamed white in the sunlight.

Two men followed behind him, one short and stout, the other tall and thin. The short, stout man held an iron pipe, while the tall, thin man gripped an old-fashioned pistol. The black barrel of the gun was clearly that of a Tokarev TT-33, a Soviet weapon from World War II. The safety was still on, and the man was panting heavily from running, so he hadn't bothered to turn it off.

"Just these three?" Chen Zheng asked.

"Just these three," Khalid said, his voice still trembling. "There's another one who might be keeping watch outside."

Chen Zheng nodded, raised the APS, pointed the muzzle at the sky, took a deep breath, and then—

boom!

Gunshots rang out in the garbage street like muffled thunder, bouncing back and forth between the tin sheds on both sides, creating a buzzing sound.

The three people stopped at the same time.

The tall machete-wielding man running in the lead was less than forty meters away from Chen Zheng.

He saw the gun in Chen Zheng's hand, saw the wisp of smoke coming out of the muzzle, and the expression on his face changed from fierce to terrified.

Oh shit!!!

Where did the pear blossoms go in the downpour?

Don't talk about martial arts!

"Retreat!" he roared.

Chen Zheng didn't give him a chance to turn around and run away.

He took two steps forward, leveled the gun, aimed it at the tall man's chest, and pulled the trigger.

boom!

The bullet traveled forty meters and struck the tall man squarely in the left chest. He glanced down at the small, bleeding hole in his chest, opened his mouth as if to say something, but didn't. The machete slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed forward like a wall, face down, crashing to the ground and raising a cloud of dust.

Chen Zheng did not stop.

He turned his gun towards the short, stout man, who turned to run, throwing the iron pipe to the ground where it rolled away with a clatter. Chen Zheng took two steps, closing the distance to about twenty-five meters, steadied his breathing, and aimed at the man's back.

Rat-a-tat-tat!!

His short, stout body shuddered violently, as if pushed by an invisible giant hand. He staggered forward two steps, then collapsed to the ground, his limbs still twitching like a beetle whose shell had been stepped on. After a few seconds of twitching, he became still.

The tall, thin one has already run almost fifty meters.

He ran very fast, but his running form was awkward; his arms swung like windmills, and he had long since thrown away his Tokarev, focusing only on running. He lost one shoe, and with one bare foot on the gravel, he stumbled along.

Chen Zheng took a deep breath, raised the muzzle of his gun slightly, and aimed it at his back.

Forty-five meters.

Fifty meters.

Fifty-five meters.

boom!

The third shot.

The tall, thin body paused in mid-air, as if pulled by something, then fell forward, his face hitting the ground. He rolled over, lying on his back, with a small hole in his chest from which blood was gushing.

His eyes were still open, staring at the gray sky above him. His lips moved, and he let out a muffled groan.

As Chen Zheng walked over, he stuffed a cigarette into his mouth and fired a final shot into the heads of the three men lying in pools of blood on the ground!

"Damn it, ugh!" He spat a mouthful of phlegm in one of their faces and said to Khalid, "Look, do they even have any men left in their house?"

Khalid rushed over, glanced at the woman, and shook his head. "No, there should still be two women left."

Chen's face turned fierce!

"Walk!"

"Women..." Khalid hesitated.

Chen Zheng grabbed his collar, "I said I'd kill the whole family, and I mean the whole family. Not a single one missing means it's not a complete family!"

"And a bullet fired by a woman or child is no different from one fired by an adult!"

With a gloomy face, he ordered Khalid to lead the way, and the other man gritted his teeth and led the way.

Then several gunshots were heard.

Chen Zheng came out, patted him on the shoulder and said, "See? That little tiger is baring its teeth at you."

"Kill him before he grows up!"

He saw people watching them from the house next door, so he yelled at both sides of the garbage street.

He spoke Arabic, his voice booming like a mountain shout, echoing through the empty streets.

"What the hell are you all looking at? Go back! Close the door! Get in bed! Those who want to have sex, do it! Those who want to sleep, go to sleep! Don't come out looking for trouble!"

After the sound subsided, the garbage street became even quieter.

Khalid quickly grabbed him and ran.

The pickup truck drove out of the garbage street, turned onto the main road, and headed out of the city.

In the rearview mirror, the garbage street receded into the distance. The three corpses lay in the middle of the street, like three discarded old rags, growing smaller and smaller in the sunlight until they finally disappeared behind the horizon.

Khalid sat motionless in the passenger seat.

His hands were on his knees, his fingers trembling slightly, like two strings of a musical instrument being plucked by the wind.

His lips were still white, his face was still white, even his neck was white, and the bluish veins were faintly visible under his skin.

Chen Zheng glanced at him, took out a cigarette case from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to him.

"Have a smoke, take a break."

Khalid took the cigarette, his fingers trembling so badly that the cigarette almost fell from his fingers.

He shakily put the cigarette in his mouth, and Chen Zheng lit it for him. He took a puff, choked, and coughed until tears streamed down his face.

"Slow down, are you in such a hurry?"

Khalid coughed for a while before he recovered. He took another small sip and didn't choke again.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the gray road ahead through the windshield, and then he spoke, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.

"Aren't you...aren't you afraid at all?"

"What's there to be afraid of?" Chen Zheng gripped the steering wheel with one hand, took a cigarette from his pocket with the other, put it in his mouth without lighting it, and said, "Afraid of those few good-for-nothings?"

"Murder," Khalid said, his voice so low it was almost a soliloquy. "You killed someone, and you're not afraid at all?"

"I've done business that's got the hell to kill me, and you're asking me if I'm scared?" Chen Zheng burst out laughing, took two deep drags on his cigarette, and said, "When you're in this business, it all comes down to one thing."

"Be ruthless—be ruthless to others, and ruthless to yourself!"

"List."

"Um?"

"What exactly did you do back in the country?"

Chen Zheng chuckled and flicked the cigarette ash out the window. "I told you, I managed the back door."

"The back door?" Khalid opened his eyes and turned to look at him. "What back door?"

"The back gate of the school," Chen Zheng said, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "When I was in high school, there was an alley behind the school. People would often come to collect protection money. A few of my buddies and I would squat by the back gate every day, beating them up one by one, or two by two. After two years, no one dared to come to that alley anymore."

"And then?"

"And then?" Chen Zheng chuckled, his laughter carrying an indescribable meaning. "After graduation, we went our separate ways. Some joined the army, some went to work, some went to jail, and I came out to do business with my dad, which is how I ended up here."

He threw the cigarette butt out the window and glanced in the rearview mirror.

"You..." He shook his head, "You really are a madman."

"Thank you! I'll take that as a compliment."

……

"Here's $20,000. Please take it to the hospital for my mom. Don't say anything else, just tell her that my business is doing well and I've made money, and that they shouldn't worry."

Khalid took the money, weighed it in his hand, stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket, and patted it.

"no problem."

Chen Zheng stood at the door, watching the car disappear around the corner, then turned around and closed the iron gate.

He walked back to the workshop, where the bald man was already waiting for him.

"Goo." The bald man pointed to the two AKMs on the workbench, then to the materials area, and gestured a number.

"Stop working on the AKM for a bit," Chen Zheng said, walking to the computer and sitting down. "I'll take a look at the blueprints first. You guys continue working on the APS barrels. Abu's order isn't finished yet; it's three hundred rifles, and not a single one can be missing."

The bald man nodded, turned around and walked back, gesturing a few times to Niu Yi, Niu Er, and Niu San. The laborers immediately adjusted their work process and got back to work.

Chen Zheng turned on his computer, logged into his email, and tried to find the email that had been sent from Cairo.

The QQ icon in the bottom right corner of the screen started flashing.

He clicked on it and saw an avatar jumping around.

The nickname is simply written as "Dafei".

Dafei, whose real name is Gao Fei, is Chen Zheng's childhood friend.

The two families lived in the same alley, less than fifty meters apart. When they were kids, they climbed trees together to steal birds' nests, went down to the river to catch fish, fought together, and got beaten up together.

Gao Fei's father passed away when Chen Zheng was fifteen years old. He had liver cancer, which was already in its late stage when it was discovered. He died less than two months after being diagnosed. His mother raised him alone, making a living by selling socks, gloves and scarves at a street stall.

Gao Fei dropped out of high school before finishing and stayed at home for two years before joining the army.

Chen Zheng remembered that day, Gao Fei was wearing a training uniform without rank insignia, standing at the entrance of the train station, grinning at him.

"Brother, I'm going to join the army."

"It's good to be a soldier, you'll have a bright future." Chen Zheng patted him on the shoulder.

"Wait for me to come back, then we'll have a drink."

"OK."

...

"Are you there, Zheng?"

He replied with two words: "What's wrong, Fei? (smiling face)"

The message was sent, the other party's avatar flashed briefly, and they quickly replied.

"Could you lend me some money? My mom is in the hospital."

Chen Zheng stared at the screen for two seconds, put the cigarette in his mouth, and typed a few words on the keyboard:

"Want to make a video call?"

The other party replied "okay" instantly.

Chen Zheng dialed the number, and it was answered after less than two rings.

A face appeared on the screen.

Thin, dark-skinned, with high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and chapped, peeling lips.

Gao Fei was wearing a gray T-shirt, the collar of which was worn out from washing, and the shoulders were faded and white. He sat on a plastic stool, with a white wall behind him, on which were pasted several A4 sheets of paper with some kind of notice written on them.

"Ah Zheng," Gao Fei called out, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn't slept well for several days.

"Dafei." Chen Zheng looked at the face on the screen and suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

Gao Fei is a year younger than him, and he is twenty-six this year.

But the face on the screen looked like it was thirty-six years old, with wrinkles around its eyes and a few white hairs at its temples, which were dazzlingly white under the light.

"What's wrong with Auntie?" Chen Zheng asked.

Gao Fei lowered his head, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and when he raised his head again, his eyes were red.

"leukemia."

He said in a very soft voice, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him, "The doctor said... M5 type, acute myeloid leukemia, he needs chemotherapy, and may need a bone marrow transplant later."

"How much?"

"Five hundred thousand," Gao Fei said, his lips trembling slightly. "The doctor said... at least five hundred thousand, including chemotherapy, transplant, and subsequent anti-rejection treatment, the total cost might be seven or eight hundred thousand."

He paused, his voice lower, "Ah Zheng, I know it's not easy for you out there, and I'm embarrassed to ask, but I really... have no other choice. My mother's illness can't be delayed any longer. The county hospital said it would be best to transfer her to the provincial capital, but the hospitals there require a 100,000 yuan deposit before they'll admit her, and I can't even scrape together 10,000 yuan right now."

As he spoke, tears began to fall from his eyes.

They either burst into tears or let the tears fall silently, one by one, onto the phone screen.

He wiped and wiped with the back of his hand, but he couldn't get it clean no matter what he did.

"Ah Zheng, don't laugh at me." He sniffed, his voice muffled. "I, Gao Fei, have never asked anyone for help in my life. When I was looking for a job, people looked down on me because of my low education level. I only earned 1800 yuan a month, but I didn't feel wronged. But when my mother got sick, I really... really couldn't take it anymore."

Chen Zheng remained silent.

He sat in the chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, now extinguished, with ash scattered all over his trouser leg.

He looked at his childhood friend on the screen, watched him cry, watched him wipe his tears, watched his lips tremble as he said, "I can't take it anymore."

He wanted to say "Don't cry," but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

He wanted to say, "I'll figure out the money," but he swallowed the words back.

Five hundred thousand, not fifty thousand, not five thousand.

He currently has less than $30,000 in cash, which is a little over 200,000 RMB. This money needs to be used for his father's medical treatment, to pay compensation to the workers, to buy materials, and to keep the factory running.

Once it was given to Gao Fei, his father cut off all contact with him.

If we don't give it to him, Gao Fei's mother will cut off contact.

Chen Zheng took the extinguished cigarette from his mouth, squeezed it between his fingers until it deformed.

"Dafei," he finally spoke.

"Mmm," Gao Fei responded, his voice trembling with tears.

"Give me a bank card number," Chen Zheng said. "I'll transfer it to you as much as I can. It's not much, but I have a few thousand yuan."

Gao Fei paused for a moment, looked up at the screen, and moved his lips as if to say something.

"Ah Zheng, I..." He choked up, "I'm pretty useless myself. I served in the army for eight years and accomplished nothing. When I came back, I couldn't even find a decent job. I only make 1800 yuan a month, which isn't even enough to cover my mother's medical expenses. Sometimes I can't sleep at night and I think, is this all my life is going to be? A complete failure, a pathetic loser."

"Don't say that." Chen Zheng threw his cigarette butt into the ashtray, sat up straight, and said, "Dafei, you're not useless, you just haven't found the right place."

"Why…"

Seeing the other man's dejected appearance, Chen Zheng suddenly asked, "I have a route in Syria. It's risky, but if it's worth 50, it's not difficult. How about... you come and help me?"

Gao Fei was taken aback, then chuckled awkwardly, "I...I don't know CNC machining, I don't speak foreign languages, and I don't have a high level of education."

"A degree isn't very useful here, really. A lot of people who make money don't have much education. It's just a bit dangerous. Do you want to come? I'll transfer you money so you can get a passport and buy a plane ticket."

Gao Fei wasn't one to hesitate. He gritted his teeth and said, "I'll do it!"

Chen Zheng nodded. "Okay, don't worry, I'll arrange it. By the way, may I ask which unit you're serving in?"

"75738!"

……