Volume One, Chapter Seven: Gentle Persuasion

Every evening, Yan Nuo’s home was filled with distinguished guests. Leaders of every rank from the region gathered there—those at the top of the prefecture, down to minor department heads whose positions were useful to his enterprises—all mingling as if they were brothers. Yet, in truth, the high-ranking officials issued direct orders to the smaller leaders, demanding unconditional fulfillment of Yan Nuo’s every wish, and their word was final.

The most important guests were the officers of the military. At these banquets, the soldiers wore impeccable suits, blending in among the local officials, but their upright posture set them apart from the slouching, pot-bellied bureaucrats. No insignia were visible; to discern their rank, one could only judge by their age and the tone of their conversations.

The extravagance and refinement of these dinners was unrivaled, not just in the province but across the country. They feasted together on pangolins, bear paws, monkey brains, lizards, and all manner of wild birds and snakes smuggled in from across the Myanmar border.

Yan Nuo had hired a five-star Cantonese chef from Guangdong, who used these exotic birds, snakes, and pangolins, together with cordyceps procured from the Tibetan region of Litang, to simmer a stew for eight hours. The Cantonese called this method “Dragon, Tiger, and Phoenix.” The chef remarked, enviously, that this version was far superior to the traditional one made with chicken, snake, and cat.

It was said that such a stew was a potent tonic, revitalizing the body and spirit.

The side dishes featured an abundance of fresh matsutake mushrooms and other fungi from Saro, rich in nutrients and prized for their health benefits. Each year, when Shangri-La’s matsutake mushrooms were harvested, local friends would select the finest specimens and ship them in by regional flights; the health-conscious Japanese might savor only a single slice per meal, but here they were eaten by the bowlful, sashimi-style. There was also black truffle, the European delicacy, which was a staple year-round.

The air was thick with the aroma of Cuban Cohiba cigars and various high-end cigarettes, even hookah smoke, mingling with the scent of Louis XIII cognac, red wine, beer, and local rice spirits. Men and women sometimes played a drinking game called “Deepwater Bomb,” where a shot glass of whisky or vodka was placed inside a large glass of red wine, and then the mixed cup was submerged in a pitcher of beer. Whoever lost the challenge—often the lowest-ranking or least fortunate—had to gulp down the entire pitcher in one go. Regardless of one’s tolerance, a single draught would leave them utterly unconscious.

Yan Nuo also regularly sent Dao Lao Bo to Ukraine and Russia, ostensibly to hire workers, who were then flown back by chartered plane—fair-skinned, delicate young women brought to sing, dance, and most importantly, accompany guests in his luxury chambers. His grand estate boasted more than twenty lavish, South Asian-style guestrooms.

Sometimes, officials or officers would bring their mistresses to join the revelry. The women, seemingly casually, all wore vibrant jade jewelry from Myanmar. There was a saying: “Gold reigns in troubled times, jade in prosperous ones.” No matter how garishly worn, these rare gems made the mysterious estate in the southwest seem ever more like a place of endless celebration.

Outside, the rainforest heat pressed in, but inside, the air conditioning was kept icy cold. The men, emboldened by food and drink, were unfazed; the elegant ladies, eager to impress, often wrapped their necks in scarves woven from Tibetan antelope wool, sourced from the remote wilderness of Kekexili.

In the past, mid-level officers would always wear grim expressions, complaining about being posted to this border town, especially to Saro with its meager pay. Their families lived apart, the town lacked the red-light districts of inland cities, and their desires could only be satisfied in solitude. But since befriending Yan Nuo, their incomes soared, and they often boasted: “Riding foreign mares, tasting foreign pleasures, drinking foreign spirits, sleeping in foreign beds—even if offered the rank of general, I wouldn’t leave.”

There were, of course, a few honest, naïve fools. Some young graduates fresh from police or law school refused to show him respect, driven by idealism and a sense of justice, risking much—even their lives—to investigate Yan Nuo’s crimes. The world-wise would say they were both inexperienced and unworldly. Even though their efforts yielded nothing, their suspicions cast a shadow over Yan Nuo’s reputation. Soon, these individuals would be transferred to irrelevant departments; two particularly zealous ones disappeared entirely.

Yan Nuo needed no one to speak of fairness—he himself was fairness incarnate.

He had spent a considerable sum to build a respectable stable, expressly for his daughter, Yu Wen’er.

Eight years ago, he had sent Yu Wen’er to study in Britain for high school. Though she thrived in that society, he harbored deep contempt for its ugly, backward national character, determined his precious daughter should receive the most civilized education. The only thing he found less than satisfactory was her choice to study psychology—a subject he considered impractical. He believed that the environment shaped the psyche, that experience determined one’s way of thinking, and wondered why a separate discipline was needed for this.

Yu Wen’er chose to return after graduation, stubbornly insisting that big cities were cesspools, far less pure and simple than her homeland. She presented her father with a Chinese translation of Walden, hoping to persuade Yan Nuo to let her pursue a pastoral life.

She had learned to ride in Britain, mastering what looked like dressage, akin to synchronized swimming on horseback—a noble sport Yan Nuo approved of, especially since Yu Wen’er aspired to compete in international equestrian events. Boys should be raised tough, girls gently, he believed. He sent his steward with her to Holland to purchase three thoroughbred horses, and built a stable spanning several dozen acres on his own mountain land.

Now, as the flying squirrel crept in under cover of night, he knew his good days were over, and felt a helplessness, dejection, and despair unlike anything before. He simply could not fathom why the flying squirrel was coming for him, but was certain it had nothing to do with his identity as a drug lord. The squirrel’s past roles were not only unrelated to pursuing traffickers, but often required their assistance, integrating with local forces.

“Boss, let’s think about it—why did he take Yu Han last time? He’s never targeted us directly, has he?” Dao Lao Bo’s thoughts aligned with his own at this moment.

“I’ve pondered that before. Eventually, I figured, as long as they stayed clear of our business, we could turn a blind eye. Their motive for taking Yu Han must be different.”

“But we’ve always known they’re a mysterious unit—what exactly are they? Even our northern informant never says.” Dao Lao Bo exhaled a long plume of hookah smoke, then drew deeply again. “He took Yu Han—not for trafficking, surely?”

Yan Nuo knew what department they belonged to, but preferred not to explain too much to his advisor. He flicked his cigar and said, “Let’s prepare for the worst. Since he’s driving over, call public security and the armed police, have them set up roadblocks immediately, though it’s likely he’ll slip through. From now on, anyone carrying weapons on the street—including knives—must be detained along with their gear. Even hoes and shovels. We can control the locals, but must prevent outsiders from getting anything. I have his portrait; if the police encounter the flying squirrel, they don’t need to detain him, but must notify us at once.”

Dao Lao Bo nodded, about to leave, but suddenly turned and asked, “Should we mobilize the mercenaries?”

Yan Nuo answered resolutely, “Absolutely not—now is especially not the time to show weakness. Besides, if the mercenaries come in, weapons are bound to leak out.”