Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Lifeline

The private kitchen's main dining hall was in utter chaos! Those so-called "bodyguards" in black suits and sunglasses, who had been posturing and acting cool just moments ago, now lay sprawled across the floor in every possible awkward position, limbs twisted or broken. The elegant southern waterfront restaurant had been reduced to ruins, more like the shattered remains of the Old Summer Palace. Even the waterfall-like humidifier now held a faint ripple of blood.

The scene was so ridiculous, I couldn't help but laugh. No need to ask—clearly, Wang Hou had gone all out. This time, our comrade from the laundry unit had finally acted like a man and restored some dignity to the reconnaissance squad!

Surveying the battlefield littered with the defeated, I immediately searched for any sign of Boss Bai and Wang Hou. My first scan found nothing.

But just as I was puzzling over their absence, Wang Hou slowly backed out of a private dining room on the side of the hall.

Seeing Wang Hou unharmed, I felt a weight lift from my chest. I called out to him, "Wang Hou, where's Boss Bai?"

Wang Hou's expression was grave and composed, his gaze fixed on the room he'd just exited, as if something remarkable was inside.

He didn't turn when he heard me but simply pointed back through the door.

What was he looking at? My nerves taut, I moved toward him.

Once I reached his side, I followed his gesture and peeked inside.

The sight that greeted me made me burst out laughing.

Boss Bai's "pose" inside was simply too absurd, too "seductive" in its way.

There he was, stark naked, his pale, fleshy body exposed, a look of deep melancholy on his face—utterly dejected, like a little girl who'd just been bullied.

Of course, to say he was completely naked isn't quite accurate; at least he was still wearing a pair of... SpongeBob boxers!

Standing there in nothing but his boxers, Boss Bai clutched... an orange water pistol?

The sight of that "toy" in his hand made me laugh out loud.

What was he thinking? Was he planning to scare us with a water gun? There wasn't anything sinister in it—no dog blood, no exorcist's urine—nothing that would scare off even a ghost. What a weak attempt at self-comfort.

But Boss Bai was clearly not pleased to see me laughing. He muttered something I couldn't understand, then shouted, "You—show some respect! Or we'll all go down together!"

I kept laughing and pointed at his gun. "Who are you trying to scare? What are you going to do with that toy? I'm telling you, honesty gets you a lighter sentence..."

Before I could finish, Wang Hou cut me off in a low, serious voice, "Stop. That's not a toy..."

"What?" His words jolted me. I snapped around and took a closer look at the exaggerated, brightly colored "water pistol" in Boss Bai's hand.

Only then did I realize what it was—something far more serious.

It was a signal flare gun.

This type was clearly civilian, painted a bright orange-red, unlike the military versions I'd seen, which were olive drab and kept locked in cases. I remembered our company commander had one, and the medics had another, but I'd never seen them used, so I hadn't paid much attention.

Still, I knew the basics of how these things worked. Typically, they loaded a phosphorus smoke round, sort of like a big firecracker. They were slow to reload and often single-use—the whole gun would be discarded after firing.

Wang Hou, with his reconnaissance background, recognized it immediately. His grave expression said all you needed to know about just how dangerous it was.

Don't be fooled by its appearance. In our army division, we had a nickname for it: "The Human Cannon."

Now I was genuinely scared. I couldn't afford to act tough. I waved my hands at Boss Bai. "Boss Bai, calm down! There's no need to make things worse. You've still got the rest of your life ahead!"

As soon as the words left my lips, I realized my blunder. "The rest of his life"—as if he wouldn't be spending it in prison.

While I was berating myself, Boss Bai let out a deranged laugh. "You De You people! Let me go right now! Or we all die together!"

He was shouting, hands trembling as he pressed the gun to Wang Hou's forehead, finger tight on the trigger.

His words startled both me and Wang Hou.

He'd used the word "De You."

We both understood it immediately. It wasn't any Chinese dialect, but a foreign language—Burmese.

"De You" was a derogatory Burmese term for Chinese people, especially Han, meaning "cunning" or "treacherous."

At that moment, I realized Boss Bai's true identity.

No wonder his curses and shouts earlier had included unfamiliar but oddly familiar words. He wasn't Chinese at all—he was a bona fide Burmese, what those on the China-Myanmar border would call a "black Burmese gangster."

Funny enough, years ago, our division had conducted live-fire drills in the Gaoligong Mountains near the China-Myanmar border, and I'd had brief contact with local Burmese militias. I picked up a few basic words—hello, food, Han Chinese—but that was about it.

Never did I imagine that years later, I'd hear Burmese spoken again, and in my own hometown, no less. It was infuriating.

This man had been preying on our Chinese compatriots, and if he hadn't been armed, I'd have torn him apart right then and there.

Now, believing himself in control, Boss Bai grinned, reining in his earlier hysteria. Clutching the flare gun as if it were a lifeline, he shouted, "Let me and Xiao Jiu go! I'll give you all my money!"

The fact that he was bargaining struck me as an opportunity. As the saying goes, "Where there's negotiation, there's a chance." As long as he kept talking, there might be an opening to disarm him and end this monster's reign.

But as I was racking my brain for what to say, Wang Hou, who'd been silent all this time, suddenly spoke.

What he said was so out of place, so reckless, I nearly choked.

"You have no leverage to negotiate with us! Surrender now and hope for leniency!"

What the hell? I stared at Wang Hou.

He was taking this too seriously—did he really think he was a cop? Even real cops wouldn't mess around when someone had a "human cannon" in hand. That thing could easily kill someone.

I tugged at Wang Hou's sleeve, hoping he'd shut up.

Even if Wang Hou was ready to die, I sure wasn't. Besides, outside there was Xian Hongye and all those women waiting for us to save them.

Unfortunately, Wang Hou didn't get my drift.

Suddenly, he shook off my hand and, without looking back, said, "Old Tian, don't worry! Wait till I'm done, then you can make your move. Boss Bai..."

His words left me dumbfounded. Was he out of his mind?

But Wang Hou didn't give me another chance to speak. Spreading his hands, he taunted Boss Bai, "Hey, Bai, stop trying to scare me! If you had the guts to pull the trigger, you would've done it already! If you're too scared, put that thing down—you're just wearing yourself out holding it!"

Now I got it—Wang Hou was dead set on going head-to-head with this black Burmese gangster.

His words clearly struck a nerve with the already tense Boss Bai.

The fat man, face quivering with anger, snarled, "Kid, are you tired of living? What I've got here is—"

Before he could finish, Wang Hou cut him off impatiently, "You know exactly what it is! We're indoors—one shot from that thing and all three of us will suffocate! I don't believe a black Burmese like you's got the balls..."

Suddenly, it all clicked for me!

That's right—a flare gun is powerful, and in the military, it's even allowed for close-quarters defense in a crisis.

But its fatal flaw is that it can't be used indoors—especially not in a half-basement like this.

It's simple physics: a flare consumes huge amounts of oxygen and releases thick, noxious smoke and blinding light.

In plain terms, it's basically a small incendiary bomb. Firing it indoors is suicide.

Even so, I couldn't relax.

As the saying goes, "A cornered dog will jump over a wall, a desperate pig will climb a tree." Boss Bai was trapped, and I was terrified he'd do something rash.

Especially since Wang Hou kept provoking him!

Now Wang Hou pushed it further, shouting, "You want to die? Then show us you have the guts! Pull that trigger! Let's see who dies first—you or me!"

Boss Bai, goaded beyond reason, hissed, "Don't force me!"

"Heh!" Wang Hou spread his arms like a great bird, taunting, "Come on, you black Burmese! Shoot your grandpa if you dare!"

"You think I won't?"

"Do it!"

"I'll do it right now!"

The scene was so nerve-wracking I nearly pissed my pants.

And sure enough, just as I tried to pull Wang Hou back—hoping we could retreat and rethink—Boss Bai lost control.

He actually fired.

A thunderous bang! A blazing orange fireball shot out like a rocket, screaming toward Wang Hou's chest.

In that blinding flash, I couldn't keep my eyes open.

In the last instant before I lost sight, I saw a strange smile flicker across Wang Hou's face.

What on earth was that guy planning?!