Volume One, Chapter Sixteen: Threats Are Also Transactions

After Old Dao Bo left, Yan Nuo sat in his chair for a while before dialing the mobile number of his contact in Beijing. "I want to make a deal with you."

"I know what you want to trade," the voice on the other end inhaled sharply, "but this time, his mission is directly commanded by an even higher official. I don't have the authority. If you want me to give you his location, ever since he entered Mangcheng, his authorization has surpassed mine—he doesn't have to report to any of us."

Yan Nuo fell silent for a moment, tapping a Zippo lighter rhythmically with his fingers. He felt the other man wasn't telling the truth.

"How much would I need to pay him to make him stop?" Yan Nuo knew this question was foolish, as if he were coming in after the fact, but he couldn't resist asking.

The other man snorted, "If you'd wanted to buy him, you should have started years ago, shouldn't you?"

Yan Nuo replied coldly, "Everyone has a price. It's not too late now. I refuse to believe he doesn't love money."

There was a pause on the other end. "Of course he loves money, but Flying Squirrel is odd. He’s too confident in his abilities, only earning the money he wants to earn." Another silence. "This time, he volunteered for the task. Even if you offered him a mountain of gold, no one would dare betray for fear of execution."

"What if he realizes this is an impossible task? Would he stop then?"

No snort this time. The other man was silent for about half a minute. "Right now, I'm on Lingjing Alley, Fuyou Street in Beijing, at his residence, which doubles as a safe house. I'm helping you look for any connections he might have here."

Yan Nuo said nothing. He knew the tricks of the trade: bribery, threatening family, and threatening the person themselves.

The other man was already working on his behalf.

He continued, "The result? Aside from a rented room in a courtyard house, there are just a few professional maps and a pile of books. The guy lives like a damned monk—nothing useful at all. I mean, nothing on his family."

It seemed the man was rummaging through drawers, the sound of boxes being opened and closed coming through.

"Yan Nuo, let me answer your question this way. Those in this business are stubborn, never stopping until their goal is reached. Threats won’t work. And Flying Squirrel, he thinks he's smarter than you—he won't be intimidated." The man paused, then said, "You might have a chance if you outplay him, but don’t expect to outsmart him."

Yan Nuo heard the flipping of pages, then the man cursed, "Damn it, he deliberately marked Mangcheng on the three-dimensional map. What’s he up to?"

Holding the phone, Yan Nuo imagined the man at the other end, searching Flying Squirrel’s residence for any personal clues.

---

He understood that the other man had made up his mind to eliminate Flying Squirrel. Even if he hadn’t made this call, as soon as useful information was found, he would be informed after filtering.

But Yan Nuo didn’t want filtered information. With a formidable enemy approaching, he couldn’t wait.

He decided to voice his suspicion directly, even if he couldn’t get a satisfactory or truthful answer. "Tell me, is there a mole around me?"

The other end was silent for a moment, then replied after thinking, "No one has ever mentioned whether there is or isn’t."

Yan Nuo waited for him to continue.

After some deliberation, the other man said, "You know, in our line, language is meant to deceive. Truth often hides in silence. When no one has ever mentioned it, it very likely means there is one."

Yan Nuo knew this answer was true, but it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Alright, here’s my demand. No matter what, you must find out where he’s staying and tell me immediately. In exchange," Yan Nuo carefully weighed the consequences of saying this, "before I am killed, I will not hand over the detailed list of your arms smuggling to Wa State to anyone."

As Yan Nuo had expected, the other man froze—just for a moment, but enough for Yan Nuo to sense his surprise and fear. Even though people in this business are skilled at hiding their true feelings.

Yan Nuo hoped the man would make the smart choice in that instant.

Unexpectedly, the man, stung, lashed out, "You’re just a drug lord. I’ve dealt with worse. You can’t talk to me like that."

"What I mean is, you know very well we’re in the same boat now. We rise and fall together. Isn’t that true?"

After a brief silence, the other man quickly weighed the pros and cons and replied without circumlocution, "He’s at Mao Han Hotel."

Now it was Yan Nuo’s turn to be stunned. "He actually plans to stay? That means he’s not in a hurry to act!"

The other man was calm. "Boss Yan, that’s because he doesn’t know I’m passing information. Let me remind you: in Flying Squirrel’s eyes, any minor action, or anything you consider a routine precaution, could be your fatal weakness."

Yan Nuo pondered this, saying nothing.

---

The other man complained, "I tipped you off before he entered. That’s your territory, such a small town, and you still couldn’t stop him. Now you’re forcing me to expose him. If you can’t take him down, we’re both on our own."

He hung up before finishing.

Yan Nuo could only mutter to the busy tone, "Buddha will protect me."

He put down the phone and dialed the security captain Ru A Ya’s number.

After learning Flying Squirrel’s whereabouts, Ru A Ya hurried over from another hotel. More than a dozen menacing thugs jumped off the truck, dispersing in tacit coordination around Mao Han Hotel over several hundred meters.

While waiting for more reinforcements, they all concealed their knives, pretending to be casual passersby or idlers, with four standing at nearby night market stalls eating skewers.

Ru A Ya called the paging station, sending a unified message to the others’ pagers to assemble at the entrance of Mao Han Hotel.

Then he called his boss, assuring him everything was under control.

Receiving the update, Yan Nuo wasn’t fully reassured, but at least he could breathe easier. After all, no matter how confident Flying Squirrel might be, this was Yan Nuo’s turf, the place where he built his empire—a remote ethnic village closed off for years. Flying Squirrel was less wise than a lone man walking into a tiger’s den.

The chubby receptionist girl saw them and immediately guessed they were here to cause trouble, and probably for someone specific. The guest did resemble a local—though he was Han, dark and thin, but stood straight, easily over 180 centimeters tall—a rare sight among locals.

Though she didn’t know why Boss Yan wanted this man, she was certain something terrible was about to happen.

She told the two men who came ahead that the person returned around six in the evening, holding a bottle of the cheapest local strong rice wine, swigging it as he drunkenly climbed the stairs, now surely asleep in bed.

After that, the chubby girl ran out and hid far away.