Chapter Four: Sichuan’s Mineral Deposit (1)
Nan Bei did not respond.
Not until the music neared its end did the two of them finally leave the dance floor.
Her feet were almost swollen; she slipped off her shoes directly, carrying them in her hand, and went up to the deck with him.
“I want to ask you a question.”
He did not take it seriously. “Alright.”
“What is the purpose of the Shen family trip?”
“To do business.”
She lifted her chin slightly, signaling for him to continue.
“Decades ago, someone discovered an independent primary tellurium deposit in Mianyang, Sichuan. It is the only one of its kind in the world, located solely in China,” he explained the background. “At the time, due to certain reasons, no one was able to intervene. The deposit was purchased by a foreign-funded company at a low price, along with exclusive mining rights. This year, it will be transferred again to another country.”
She listened, absorbed. “And then?”
“China’s resources should naturally remain in Chinese hands,” he said with a faint smile, his tone calm and without ripple. “But there are too many people who want it, and only one mining right. So the Zhousheng family gave up on taking the deal themselves, gathered all the families, and decided who would ultimately take the mining rights.”
She was not familiar with geology or mineral deposits, but she could still grasp the true weight of “the only one in the world located in China.” This was not like those Hainan rosewoods, where one could say to wait two or three hundred years; as long as the land did not sink, perhaps there would still be a chance.
A mineral deposit?
Perhaps only after humanity went extinct once over would there be a new one.
At a moment like this, if someone were to say that a diamond deposit existed and that this was the only one left in the world, then bloodshed would be inevitable.
“The temptation is really great,” she sighed.
“The danger is just as great. Tellurium is a primary material for aerospace propulsion. You should be able to guess who has their eyes on it, right?”
Among the major powers involved in aerospace projects, it was probably only the United States.
She looked at him, and he returned her gaze with a smile.
“In 1976, the United States began prohibiting the CIA from conducting assassinations abroad,” Nan Bei suddenly said. “And after the ‘September 11 attacks,’ the CIA suddenly obtained a list. On that list are twenty terrorist leaders. Their objective is to gather evidence and arrest them worldwide. If accidents occur, in order to reduce civilian casualties, they are also permitted to carry out assassinations.”
Cheng Muyang did not speak.
“This is the world-renowned assassination program, long-term in effect,” she continued, resting her arm on his shoulder, slowly piecing things together. “The CIA’s focus is Central Europe, Southeast Asia, and North Africa. And the Cheng family has spent years supplying weapons to wars in every corner of the world. You must be on that list. And now you, Cheng Muyang, definitely can’t escape it either. They’ve already been watching you closely, and you still want to fight over the mineral deposit?”
Cheng Muyang still did not speak, only shielding her from the sea wind.
The two of them walked to the corridor on the fifth floor. Nan Bei squeezed his hand lightly and said softly, “I’m going.”
After speaking, she ran back to her room barefoot.
It was around 6:30. After closing the door, she happened to catch the sunrise.
She lowered her head, looked at her chafed toes, and smiled soundlessly…
At 6:50, the room’s telephone rang ahead of time.
She paused for a moment, then picked up the receiver.
“Not asleep yet?” Cheng Muyang’s voice carried a faint weariness, deep and magnetic beyond reason.
“Mm,” she was truly tired as well. “I’m waiting for a call.”
He laughed. “Is it about me?”
“It seems so,” Nan Bei said, smiling too. “I want to see whether you told me the truth.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Cheng Muyang’s voice softened, coaxing. “Once that call comes, go get some sleep.”
She murmured an “mm” and hung up.
Bodongha’s call came right on time.
She knew Cheng Muyang would not lie to her; it was just that from Bodongha, she would hear a different angle of judgment. Before this mineral deal, there had actually been many things she had never considered.
“Cheng Muyang is extremely forceful. Three years ago, he already secured Qiandao Lake, which everyone wanted,” Bodongha seemed to show considerable interest in him. “According to the rules, business should rotate. Since he took Qiandao Lake three years ago, he should give up the tellurium deposit now. Unfortunately, his appetite is still very large.”
“I understand.” She leaned back against the sofa, gently rubbing her foot.
For the next question, Bodongha also provided a satisfactory answer.
It was only that matters before the age of ten were too early; Cheng Muyang had also been living in Shanghai at the time, so there were not many records.
Bodongha deliberately paused on the period in Belgium. “He also lived in Belgium for a time.”
“I know what you want to say.” After more than twenty minutes on the phone, she was exhausted; she simply lay down on the sofa, closing her eyes as she spoke to the person on the other end. “We’ve known each other for a long time.”
But she did not know that before he went to Belgium, he had already begun his full-scale operations in Eastern Europe.
All the information that came afterward was no different from a legend.
Cheng Muyang.
To the Russian mafia, this name had already become synonymous with “China.” He never initiated any wars, yet could easily drive Eastern European politicians and underworld forces into internal strife, reaping the benefits without lifting a hand. In Moscow, he had even obtained a “code of silence”: any matter related to the Cheng family, whether smuggling or casualties, would leave no official record and provoke no manhunt.
This was unprecedented.
It was a compromise and a form of respect shown by the blood-soaked, violence-hardened people of Eastern Europe toward Cheng Muyang.
But to the Chinese who struggled to make a living in Moscow, he was, in every sense, a “savior.”
And in the eyes of those families who jointly controlled China’s long borderlines, this man was the greatest ethnic Chinese “arms dealer.”
Treacherous and cunning, ruthless and devoid of mercy.
This was the evaluation Bodongha gave.
Nan Bei let out a soft breath when she heard this. “Do the Russians hate him to death?”
“They love him to death. He has received public praise many times. He’s considered a friend of the Russian people, a philanthropist,” Bodongha’s voice carried obvious pleasure and admiration. “The biggest arms dealer is also the greatest financial backer. Regardless of his nationality or skin color, he is the most honored guest in Moscow.”
“The most honored guest?” Nan Bei could not stop laughing. Those Eastern Europeans were really something.
After ending the call, she fell asleep right there on the sofa.
That sleep carried her past dinner.
They had been idle for two days. Tonight, however, there was a proper event. Master Shen was hosting everyone to watch Taiwanese opera. There were two performances tonight: one was Xue Pinggui and Wang Baochuan, the other Huangfu Shaohua and Meng Lijun.
Because she was a little late, the performance had already begun by the time she arrived at the theater.
On the first floor, the hall was arranged with tables of three, scattered into thirty or forty tables. It was truly a full house of well-dressed guests. The second floor had open-style private boxes; looking up from the first floor, one could see indistinct silhouettes behind bead curtains. The third floor consisted of closed private rooms.
She walked up the stairs to the third floor, inwardly sighing that the old families truly had deep foundations, managing to turn a twenty-first century society into something resembling the old Republic era. Those underworld bosses, young or old, all wore traditional Chinese attire without exception, while the women dressed in various qipao, striving to appear as refined ladies and noble matrons.
These two old plays not only set rules for the younger generation, but also, invisibly, established the authority of the Shen family of Taizhou.
Below, it was lively and bustling. The third floor, however, was sparsely occupied. Of the six rooms, only three were lit.
Above each light was a surname brushed in calligraphy. After recognizing the character “Shen,” she went straight into that private room.
The young girl beside Master Shen was meticulously brewing tea. Seeing her, she inclined her body slightly with a smile.
The room was large, yet there were very few people.
Only four or five in total.
Master Shen sat cross-legged by the go table, holding a white stone in his fingers without moving. Yet there was no one sitting opposite him. What surprised her was that Cheng Muyang and his cousin were both there, though they were watching the stage below. Tonight he wore a fitted silver-gray velvet suit, a pure white shirt, and a white diamond-patterned bow tie.
He looked exactly like a Westernized banker from old Shanghai.
She studied his back. After only a few seconds, he sensed it. He turned to look at her, gentle and indifferent, like a stranger.
Nan Bei only curved her lips slightly and gave a faint nod.
“Beibei, come, sit here.” Master Shen said with a genial smile, pointing to the empty seat on the other side of the go table.
She sat down as told.
She was very familiar with the arrangement of black and white stones on the board. She easily took up the black stones and played along with Master Shen.
Occasionally distracted, her peripheral vision would meet Cheng Muyang’s gaze, and she would quickly look away again.
After Xue Pinggui and Wang Baochuan ended, it was Master Shen’s preferred Huangfu Shaohua and Meng Lijun. He left her alone at the board and moved to sit before the bead curtain to watch the play.
Nan Bei rested her chin on her hand and continued the game by herself.
Until Cheng Muyang sat down on the rattan chair beside her, quietly watching her play against herself.
“Why aren’t you listening anymore?” she asked softly.
Cheng Muyang replied in a low voice, “I can’t understand it.”
Nan Bei could not help laughing. “You looked quite convincing. I thought you really liked Taiwanese opera. When I used to accompany Master Shen to listen, I often fell asleep too.”
He smiled without a trace, paired with that suit and bow tie, carrying a hint of old-world charm.
“Taiwanese opera, also called Xiang Opera,” she explained softly to him, “isn’t only popular in Taiwan. Many older people love it.”
He gave a faint “mm.” “All opera sounds the same to me.”
Nan Bei held a white stone between two fingers, her gaze returning to the board. “That’s normal. Your world is in Eastern Europe.”
Their voices were always nearly whispers.
Everyone else in the room was focused on the stage, yet the two of them seemed detached from it all.
Cheng Muyang quietly reached out and tapped the spot where she should place her next move.
Nan Bei was surprised. She turned her head to look at him. “You know go too?”
“Playing go is called ‘close combat’. It’s well suited to cultivating one’s overall control and patience,” Cheng Muyang continued in a low, steady voice. “This is the ‘Ten Games of Danghu.’ The only recorded matches between the two great masters of the Qing dynasty, Fan Xiping and Shi Xiangxia. Only ten games, yet their brilliance is unmatched through the ages. Anyone who has studied go should have memorized these game records.”
His answers always managed to surprise her.
Nan Bei lightly tapped his leg with the heel of her high-heeled shoe. “Boss Cheng, have I really known you before?”
He picked up a black stone, rolling it between his fingers. “You still have plenty of time to slowly get to know me.”
Such a simple sentence, yet it carried an irresistible, dangerous undertone.
No comments:
Post a Comment