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

The scenery on the north bank of the Yarmouk River is a completely different world from that of Daraa.

At least you can tell what the city center looks like in Daraa.

Over here... that's where Uncle Ge bowed—it's all empty.

The pickup truck bumped along the dirt road upstream of the valley. Chen Zheng sat in the passenger seat, gripping the handrail, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

The road was riddled with potholes, some from rainwater runoff, others from artillery shells, some large enough to swallow half a tire.

"That's the Golan Heights over there," Khalid gestured towards the opposite bank of the river, "the land occupied by the Israelis."

Chen Zheng squinted at the outposts; they weren't far away, and their outlines were clearly visible to the naked eye.

He could even see the blue and white national flag atop the outpost, fluttering in the wind.

"How far is this place from the Israeli border?" he asked.

"The straight-line distance? Less than three kilometers," Khalid said. "If you drive west, it's only fifteen minutes to the border."

The range of a mortar.

He looked up at the sky, which was gray and hazy, with a few birds flying overhead, though he couldn't tell what kind they were.

The terrain on both sides of the valley was more complex than he had imagined. It was not a flat plain, but rather undulating hills with crisscrossing ravines, and in some places, exposed rocks—grayish-black basalt with sharp edges, as if it had been cleaved by a knife or axe.

"Over there—" Khalid pointed to a high ground to the left, "That's the upper reaches of the Wadi Raqqad River valley. A few kilometers further north is the UN's buffer zone."

"Are there still UN personnel here?"

Khalid said, "There are several observation posts, a dozen or so peacekeepers, from Sweden, India, and the Philippines. They don't do anything, they just watch, record who crosses the line, who fires, and then write reports."

"Of course, the report isn't really useful; it's mainly for those idiots at the UN to brag about."

The pickup truck continued driving forward, and tents began to appear on both sides of the road.

They weren't military tents, but small civilian tents, gray, blue, and white, some with several holes patched up with scraps of cloth, all brightly colored.

Ropes were strung between the tents, and clothes hung on them to dry, colorful and fluttering in the wind.

"Refugees?" Chen Zheng asked.

Khalid nodded.

Chen Zheng frowned as he looked at the tents.

Seeing the pickup truck approaching, the children stopped chasing and playing and turned to look.

Then they started running.

Run towards the pickup truck.

"Damn it," Khalid cursed, slamming on the brakes.

Before the pickup truck had even come to a complete stop, the children had already surrounded it.

They were banging on the car door and windows, shouting something. Chen Zheng couldn't hear them clearly, but he could roughly guess what they were saying—

"Sir, could you please give me something to eat?"

"Please, I haven't eaten for two days."

"Sir, sir—"

Khalid rolled down the car window a crack and shouted in Arabic, "Make way! Make way! We're not distributing food!"

The children ignored it and continued to hit the objects.

A woman pushed her way to the front, holding a baby in her arms.

The baby was as thin as a cat, its face was dirty, and its eyes were closed; it was unclear whether it was asleep or unconscious.

The woman lifted the baby up and held it in front of the car window, calling out something in a hoarse voice that was almost inaudible.

But it was vaguely clear that the other party wanted to exchange the baby for food!

Khalid stepped on the gas, and the pickup truck squeezed through the crowd and continued driving forward.

"You can't give this to me. If you do, you won't be able to leave."

Chen Zheng looked at the increasingly smaller tents in the rearview mirror and lit a cigarette.

"How many refugees are there in this area?" he asked.

"I don't know," Khalid said. "Several thousand? Tens of thousands? There are quite a few anyway. Both sides of the Yarmouk River are covered with tents, stretching for dozens of kilometers from Sheikh Maskin in the north to Dera in the south."

What do they eat?

Khalid gave a bitter laugh: "What do we eat? Grass. Tree bark. The little bit of food the UN occasionally sends. Sometimes the milk tea shop brings some food, but it's far from enough. The people here have survived until now entirely thanks to God's blessing."

Chen Zheng glanced at it.

In this place, some extreme opinions suggest that if you can offer someone a bite to eat, people will flock to you and believe in the "Divine Fire Meow Meow Cult!"

The car rounded a bend, and suddenly the view opened up before us.

The valley widens here, and the terrain on both banks flattens out. The Yamuk River flows on the right, its rushing water much louder than upstream. Olive trees grow along both banks, crooked but still alive, their leaves rustling in the wind.

To the left was a large flat area, densely covered with tents, several times larger than the previous area.

People were moving between the tents; some were starting fires to cook, some were chopping wood, and some were washing clothes. The air was filled with a mixture of the smell of smoke and the smell of rancid food.

"This is it," Khalid said, pulling the car over to the side of the road. "I know the chief of this tribe; his name is Sheikh Abdullah. He's a good man, and his word is law here."

"You have a really wide network of connections."

Khalid laughed and said, "I know someone in Israel who circumcises the Hadrians. I'll introduce you to him sometime; the second one is half price."

Fuck you!

The people in those tents saw them.

A tall, thin young man squeezed to the front, wearing a dirty T-shirt with the words "My dad is Li Gang" printed on it, the original color of which was no longer visible.

He stood in front of Khalid, looked him up and down, and then glanced at Chen Zheng.

"Who are you looking for?" he asked in Arabic, his tone less than friendly.

"Sheikh Abdullah," Khalid said, "I am his friend."

The young man glanced at him again, then turned and shouted into the tribe.

An old man emerged from a gray tent, wearing a long robe, a white turban, a white beard, and wrinkles etched on his face.

He squinted at Khalid, then suddenly laughed.

"Khalid!" He walked over with open arms. "My child! What brings you here?"

Khalid went up to him, hugged him, and pressed his cheek against his: "Sheikh Abdullah, long time no see. This is my friend, Bruce."

Chen Zheng walked over and extended his hand: "Hello, Xie He."

Abdullah grasped his hand, not firmly, but firmly. He looked Chen Zheng up and down, a shrewdness typical of an old man in his eyes: "Japanese?"

"No, no, no, Chinese and Japanese people aren't as tall as me," Chen Zheng said with a smile.

Abdullah nodded, asked no further questions, and turned to walk towards the tent: "Come in and sit down. Have some tea. You must be tired from your journey from Dera City."

The tent wasn't large; several old carpets were laid on the floor, and a low table was placed in the middle, with several glasses and a teapot on it.

In the corner were piles of bedding and miscellaneous items, as well as an old AKM leaning against the wall with the muzzle pointing upwards.

Chen Zheng and Khalid sat down on the carpet, while Abdullah sat cross-legged opposite them, took a pinch of tea leaves from an iron box, threw them into the teapot, and poured in hot water.

"Speak," he said, placing the teapot on the table. "You didn't come to see me just to look after this old man, did you?"

Khalid picked up his teacup, took a sip, wiped his mouth, and said with a smile, "Sheikh, you still have such sharp eyes."

"I've lived for sixty-seven years, what kind of people haven't I seen?" Abdullah leaned back on the cushions, his hands crossed over his stomach. "The last time you came to see me, it was to help your father-in-law buy sheep. The time before that, it was to help a friend of yours find a horse. And this time?"

Khalid put down his teacup, leaned forward, and lowered his voice: "Sheikh, things aren't peaceful in Delaware, you know that."

Abdullah nodded without saying anything.

"Chen and I run a small factory over there, making agricultural machinery parts," Khalid continued. "Now that the situation is getting more and more tense, we want to move the factory here, to your place."

Abdullah narrowed his eyes, looked at Khalid, and then at Chen Zheng.

"Move in?"

He asked, "Move in here? My place is dirt poor, what would you do here?"

Chen Zheng spoke up, "Sheikh, we need a place, a safe place. The gunfire in Delaware is getting more and more frequent, and our equipment is very expensive; we can't afford to risk it."

Which part of my place do you fancy?

"We need a secluded place. Ideally, a natural cave, the more secluded the better."

Abdullah's eyebrows twitched.

"A cave?" he asked. "What do you need a cave for?"

"A factory building," Chen Zheng said. "Our equipment can't be left in the open; it'll be easy for it to be stolen. A cave would be safer."

Abdullah stared at him for a long time, as if trying to determine whether he was telling the truth or lying.

Then he stood up, walked to the tent entrance, and peeked out from behind the curtain. It was the same as always: women cooking, children running around, and elderly people sunbathing. He lowered the curtain, turned around, and spoke in a very low voice.

"Come with me."

He stepped out of the tent, with Chen Zheng and Khalid following behind him.

The three of them walked through the tent area and headed upstream into the valley. The path narrowed, and the stones on both sides increased, turning from gravel into large rocks, gray-black basalt with rough surfaces and sharp edges.

After walking for about ten minutes, Abdullah stopped.

He pointed to a rock wall.

The rock face wasn't high, maybe three or four stories high. Its surface was covered with moss and dried vines, a grayish-green color that blended in with the surrounding rocks and was almost invisible unless you looked closely.

But at the bottom of the rock face, there is a crack.

The crack wasn't large, about a meter wide and two meters high, mostly hidden by vines, revealing only a dark opening. A cool breeze blew out of the hole, carrying the scent of damp earth.

"This is where our tribe used to hide sheep. When it got too cold in winter, we would drive the sheep inside to avoid the wind. It's very big; it can hold hundreds of sheep."

Chen Zheng walked to the cave entrance, reached out and pushed aside the vines, and looked inside.

The cave was dark, and he couldn't see how deep it was, but he could sense that it was quite spacious. He bent down, picked up a stone, and threw it inside. The stone bounced a few times on the ground, the sound echoing in the cave, growing farther and farther away, fainter and fainter, until it disappeared completely.

He turned to look at Abdullah: "How big is it inside?"

Abdullah thought for a moment and gestured with his hands: "Go into the cave from the entrance, about fifty meters, then turn right, and there's an even bigger cave. That big cave can fit our entire tribe."

Chen Zheng's eyes lit up.

"Anything else?" he asked. "Are there any similar caves in this area?"

Abdullah nodded: "Yes. Go up the valley, there are two or three more. One of them is particularly large, under a cliff, with the entrance facing north, so it's completely invisible from the outside. That cave was used by our ancestors to hide during battles, and there's even a spring inside."

Chen Zheng and Khalid exchanged a glance.

"Take us to see it," Chen Zheng said.

Abdullah hesitated for a moment and glanced at Khalid.

Khalid took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it over—the same one from inside the tent—containing five hundred dollars.

Abdullah took the envelope, felt its thickness, and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his robe.

In this place, the hard currencies are US dollars, British pounds, euros, and gold! Now, it's said that some people are also involved in Bitcoin, but one US dollar can be exchanged for several thousand Bitcoins.

"Come with me."

The three of them continued walking uphill along the valley.

The road became increasingly difficult to traverse, transforming from a gravel path into a rocky one, requiring one to crawl on both hands and feet in some places.

The Yamuq River narrows and becomes more swift on the right, and the sound of the water crashing against the rocks echoes in the canyon, booming like thunder.

After walking for about twenty minutes, Abdullah stopped and pointed to a cliff in front of him.

That cliff was very high, at least a dozen stories high, standing there vertically, its surface bare and devoid of anything.

But at the bottom of the cliff, there is a hole.

The opening was much larger than the previous one, at least three meters wide and four meters high, and it was an irregular semi-circle, as if it had been dug out of the rock by some enormous force.

The cave entrance faces north, away from the sun, and you can't see what's inside even if you stand ten meters away from the entrance.

Chen Zheng walked over and stood at the entrance of the cave, looking inside.

The cave was very dark, but you could feel that it was extremely spacious.

He stood there for a while, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and gradually he could make out some outlines—the cave ceiling was very high, at least five or six meters, and the cave walls were uneven, naturally formed. The ground was covered with a layer of fine sand, soft and dry to the touch.

He took a few steps inside. The temperature inside the cave was noticeably lower than outside, probably around ten degrees Celsius. It was cool and comfortable. There was a faint mineral smell in the air, but it wasn't unpleasant.

He continued walking in, and after about twenty meters, the cave suddenly turned right.

After turning the corner, the view suddenly opened up before me.

It was a huge cave, at least half the size of a football field, with a ceiling so high it was almost invisible, pitch black like the night sky. From one corner of the cave, the sound of dripping water echoed—drip, drip, drip—like a pendulum in the vast cavern.

Chen Zheng took out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and shone it around.

The cave walls were all made of rock, grayish-black in color, with some areas covered in white crystals that shimmered in the flashlight beam. There was a small puddle of water on the ground, seeping from the cave wall; it was crystal clear.

He squatted down, dipped his hand in water, and smelled it under his nose.

It has no taste.

He licked it.

It has a subtle sweetness.

"Mineral water," he muttered, stood up, and turned to walk back to the cave entrance.

Abdullah and Khalid stood outside the cave entrance and did not come in.

"How is it?" Khalid asked.

Chen Zheng dusted off his hands and grinned, "This place is nice, but it seems there's no road big enough for a car to get in and out?"

"Over there, it's a long detour," Abdullah said, pointing in a circle.

Chen Zheng nodded, feeling much more relieved.

The three people walked back to the tribe.

As we approached the tent area, the sound of car engines came from afar. Not just one, but several, rumbling and getting closer.

Abdullah paused for a moment.

He looked up and gazed in the direction from which the sound came.

A white Toyota pickup truck drove up from the upper reaches of the valley, its body covered in dust, with a piece of paper stuck to the windshield with something written on it.

There were four men sitting in the truck bed, dressed in military uniforms, wearing helmets, and holding rifles.

"Israelis!" Khalid said, frowning.

"Hold!"

Chen Zheng squinted and saw the almost fiery gazes of the group of young men next to him, as well as the hateful eyes of many children.

"Khalid..."

The other party looked over with a puzzled expression.

Chen Zheng grinned and said, "I've found my target customer."

……