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

When Chen Zheng heard the words "two thousand US dollars a day", his eyes lit up instantly.

It was the light of a stray dog ​​that hadn't eaten for three days seeing a bone.

It's as if Rinko Kinoshita, Ryo Ayumi, Aki Sasaki, Marina Shiraishi, and Maki Hojo are all waiting for you by your side.

Khalid frowned. "That's in Gaza, Chen. Don't do anything reckless."

"What's wrong with Gaza?" Chen Zheng's eyes were still shining. "Isn't Gaza also a place on Earth? If others can go, why can't I?"

"If penguins could fucking pull the trigger, I'd do business with them!"

Khalid's heart skipped a beat when he saw his expression.

"Chen, listen to me." Khalid pressed him back down on the stool, his tone becoming serious. "Gaza is a completely different place from Delaware, where you are now. Even if Delaware is chaotic, at least the government army is in charge and there are people maintaining order."

"In Gaza, the Israelis can come in at any time. They don't care who you are—Chinese, Americans, Russians—they all treat you the same. If you get caught, severe torture is the least of your worries. I know someone from Turkey who does hardware business in Gaza. The Israelis suspected him of supplying milk tea shops, so they arrested him and locked him up for three months. When he was released, all ten of his fingernails were gone."

"You sons of bitches, Israelis!"

Khalid continued, lowering his voice even further, "And let me tell you, the gun market in Gaza is 100 times more brutal than here. At least here there are some rules: the buyer pays, the seller delivers the goods, and there's a middleman to guarantee it. In Gaza? Double-crossing is commonplace. If you bring a shipment in, they'll swallow you whole, leaving you with nothing but bones. Without some power or connections, you're just easy prey."

He looked at Chen Zheng and asked, "Did you understand?"

"You fucking give me an answer."

Chen Zheng said helplessly, "You believe in the true Z, so stop swearing."

"Fuck you..." Khalid's voice trailed off, and he almost cursed the old man. He took a deep breath, "I'm not kidding you, I don't want to sing you a funeral song."

Chen Zheng nodded perfunctorily.

Khalid breathed a sigh of relief, but then added, "There's one more thing. If your production increases any further, it won't be a small-scale operation anymore. The workshop owners in Garbage Street will take notice of you, and then they'll start to have ulterior motives."

Chen Zheng narrowed his eyes: "You mean they'll cause trouble?"

"It's not just that it will, it's that it definitely will."

Khalid was very certain, "You don't understand how the people here do things. They won't compete with you openly; they'll play dirty tricks. Throwing dead cats and dogs into your factory is the least of their worries. They'll hire people to set fire to your door, smash your machines at night, and use all sorts of despicable methods. Your father suffered a lot of bullying from them when he came here."

Chen Zheng's face darkened.

He knew Khalid was telling the truth.

In Syria, doing business isn't about skill, it's about power. There's not much civilization in the Middle East!

Khalid said, "Find a few trustworthy people. You can't run a big business by yourself, but if you have a large volume of shipments and no one is watching over you, others will resort to underhanded tactics."

Chen Zheng squinted and nodded vigorously.

That's true. A qualified factory needs many departments, and large manufacturers often have hundreds of thousands of employees worldwide!

The two chatted for a few minutes and finalized some details of the transaction. Khalid said that if Abu Ali needed more goods in the future, he would notify him in advance so that he could prepare the goods, and the payment would be made upon delivery, as usual.

Chen Zheng wrote them down one by one.

Then the two of them came out of the hotel.

It was almost midnight outside. The streets were pitch black, with the occasional bark of a dog in the distance. There was a smell of burning garbage in the air, coming in waves that made one's throat tighten.

Khalid stood at the hotel entrance, lit a cigarette, took a drag, and exhaled a cloud of white smoke.

Chen Zheng opened the pickup truck door and glanced back at Khalid.

"Thanks for today," he said.

Khalid waved his hand: "In business, if you make money, I make money, and everyone's happy."

Just as Chen Zheng was about to get into the car, Khalid suddenly called out to him.

"List."

"Um?"

Khalid hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. He took a drag of his cigarette, threw the butt on the ground, and stomped it out.

"Aren't you curious about who those people are?" he asked.

"Abu Ali, and his accomplice," Khalid said. "Aren't you curious about who they are? What are they going to do with these gun barrels and guns?"

Chen Zheng turned around and looked at him.

"What are you trying to say?"

Khalid took a step forward, the streetlights casting a dim, half-bright light on his face.

His expression was serious, even a little solemn.

"I mean, the things you sell will be used by people. They might be used for robbery, murder, or all sorts of other things. How do you feel about that?"

Chen Zheng stood beside the car, looked at Khalid, and then spread his hands.

"Khalid," he said, "I never started the violence."

"I'm not qualified to start anything right now, at least not right now."

He looked up at the sky. The night sky over Della City was mostly gray, with few stars, as if covered with a layer of dirty cotton.

"From the first life emerging underwater, to the giant beasts of the Stone Age, and then to the first time humans walked upright, violence has existed since we were still climbing trees naked. Spearheads, knifeheads, gunheads—for tens of thousands of years, it has never changed. Every year, far more people die from smoking than from weapons, yet those tobacco companies still sell their products. At least what I sell has a safety lock."

He patted the spot on his waist where the APS was.

"I don't care how the world is doing," Chen Zheng said calmly. "World peace is something Superman should talk about, something Batman should worry about. What does it have to do with a science guy like me who operates a CNC machine tool?"

He walked up to Khalid and patted him on the shoulder.

"I just want to make lots and lots of money. Once I've made enough, I'll stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Empire State Building and sleep with the most beautiful actress in Hollywood."

When he said this, that light shone in his eyes again.

Khalid was stunned.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but found himself at a loss for words.

This Chinese man's mind is unlike anyone else's.

"You..." Khalid managed to squeeze out a sentence after a long pause, "Your idea..."

"Is he a jerk?" Chen Zheng said for him.

Khalid did not respond.

Chen Zheng smiled and suddenly reached out his hand.

"Buddy, once I make some money, I'll donate schools to the slums, but for now, I need to fill my stomach."

He said, his tone becoming serious, "Would you like to join my team? I'll give you 10% of the payment each time, just like this time."

Khalid was stunned.

He looked at Chen Zheng's outstretched hand, and then at Chen Zheng's face.

That hand was steady; it didn't shake.

"I..." Khalid stammered, his mind a jumbled mess.

With a 10% commission, this single order today is worth $736.

If Chen Zheng's shipment volume increases further, one order a day, one order every two days... then over a month...

But on the other hand, he also knew how dangerous this business was.

Arms trading is a gray area in Syria, and it could easily be targeted by security forces at any time.

"I'll think about it," Khalid said.

Chen Zheng nodded, without pressuring him.

"Okay, take your time to think it over." He patted Khalid on the shoulder, "But I have something to say to you—"

"What?"

"You have to rely on yourself. Your true self has to listen to billions of pieces of nonsense every day. He doesn't have time to listen to your prayers."

As he spoke, he pulled out a US dollar bill, kissed Franklin's ugly face, and said with a smile, "US dollars will make people listen to your nonsense~"

After saying that, he turned around, opened the car door, got into the driver's seat, and rolled the window down halfway.

As he started the engine, he suddenly remembered something and reached behind his waist to pull out the Stechkin APS.

He handed the gun out the car window, the butt pointing at Khalid.

"Take it."

"For self-defense," Chen Zheng said. "These days, Delaware isn't safe at night. I'm worried about you walking back alone."

Khalid hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took the gun.

It was heavy, heavier than he had expected.

"Are there bullets in the magazine?" he asked.

"Fully loaded, 20 rounds," Chen Zheng said. "Keep the safety on, just don't pull the trigger randomly."

Khalid looked down at the gun in his hand, then looked up at Chen Zheng.

"you……"

"Let's go." Before he could finish speaking, Chen Zheng released the clutch, and the Pikachu sped off with a whoosh.

A plume of black smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe, and the taillights receded further and further into the night, finally disappearing at the end of the street.

Khalid stood at the hotel entrance, clutching the gun in his hand, stunned for a long while.

A night breeze blew by, and he shivered, stuffing the gun into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Then he pulled off the headscarf and scratched his head.

"Damn it...this lunatic!"

……

The pickup truck bumped along the dark streets of Delaware, its headlights cutting through the night and illuminating the potholed road ahead.

Chen Zheng held the steering wheel with one hand and took out a wad of US dollars from his pocket with the other.

A thick stack of brand-new Franklin watches, gleaming green in the dim light of the dial.

He grinned, brought the banknote to his lips, and kissed it hard.

"Fuck your poor life." He held the money up to his eyes, examining each bill one by one. "Starting today, I'm going to make money!!!"

Before he could finish speaking, the pickup truck ran over a pothole, the vehicle jolted violently, and the banknotes flew out of his hand, scattering onto the passenger seat.

"Hold!"

He grumbled as he bent down to pick it up, and just as his fingers touched the banknotes, a shadow flashed past the car window.

The figure of a woman.

He suddenly jumped out from the roadside, spread his arms, and blocked the pickup truck.

Her clothes were tattered, revealing one shoulder with bruises. Her hair was disheveled, obscuring half her face.

Her mouth was wide open. "Help!!!"

Chen Zheng instinctively moved his right foot half an inch toward the brake pedal.

The muscles were already tense, ready to stomp down hard—

Then his brain was 0.3 seconds faster than his feet.

Syria.

Della City.

Midnight.

A woman suddenly jumped out from the roadside and stopped the car.

He took his foot off the brake pedal and slammed it on the accelerator.

The 2.5-liter turbocharged diesel engine let out a deep roar, and the car lurched forward.

boom--

A muffled thud.

The woman was thrown into the air by the impact.

Her body tumbled through the air like a sack of potatoes before slamming onto the hood of the car.

Then she rolled down.

The pickup truck's left front wheel ran over something, causing the vehicle to lurch slightly, as if it had run over a thick tree branch.

The right front wheel bounced again.

Chen Zheng gripped the steering wheel, his palms sweaty.

He licked his lips and found them terribly dry.

He muttered to himself, "Damn, why are the speed bumps in Syria so high?"

He then turned on the stereo and started playing music.

Chen Zheng is no good. According to his grandfather, if the CCP hadn't come to power, this kid would have been a bandit in the mountains long ago.

After the pickup truck drove away, more than a dozen men and women ran out from both sides of the road, armed with various weapons. When one of the men saw the woman's corpse on the ground, he cried out in a hoarse wail!

……