Chapter Fourteen: Ants Moving Home, Porters Bringing Up the Rear

Let Wei Dong explain it this way to his parents as well: for now, the smoked meat in the surrounding area has been bought up, and people at the commune are starting to question things. So, he quietly takes a break, but doesn’t idle—he goes to Shangzhou to earn money as a porter and learn new skills.

Watching their son leave before dawn each day, basket in hand and crutch in tow, the old father wishes desperately to recover and carry burdens himself. At least his mother can cook, so he comes home to a hot meal.

Yet, it turns out that the changes brought by Wei Dong do cause ripples in the wings of fate. Even though he didn’t alter You Qili’s arrest, he managed to dispel the shadow behind Shi Linyan. Up to the end of September, nothing happened, and Wei Dong even began to question whether his persistence was wise.

A few days later, when he called the provincial capital’s nonferrous metals processing department, they quoted him seventeen thousand per ton! The profit margin wasn’t as high as smoked meat, but the prices were enticing. Wei Dong was genuinely tempted.

The only thing keeping him from immediately jumping into business was the forty years of resentment sustained by his disability. The hope was faint, and it was uncertain whether his target would ever appear again. If they never showed up, wouldn’t he waste the golden age for making money and changing his fate?

Now, he could only grit his teeth and wait. Wei Dong secretly drew a line for himself: if nothing happened before year’s end, he’d have to start the titanium ingot business, earn money, and prepare to slaughter more pigs and make more smoked meat for the Spring Festival, then buy piglets to raise come the new year.

Having made up his mind, he spotted a graceful figure emerging from the middle school gate. In the night after nine o’clock, she stood out, far more alluring than the inexperienced female students around her. But to Wei Dong, she seemed like a plump, tender young pig—if butchered for pork soup, it would be the finest delicacy.

Today, his mother had sliced half a pound of pork and made garlic pork at home. Father and son nearly bit their tongues off devouring it, and even now, the taste lingered in their mouths. The street food in the provincial capital was nothing compared to his mother’s cooking.

Pretending to be bored, he sat under the shade across the street, waiting until the “young pig” faded into a small white dot before nonchalantly rising with his basket. The area near the school gate was actually very safe; after school, students poured out in droves, some clustering around the female teacher, talking.

But once past the corner by the transport company, the crowd dwindled. By the time he neared the city hospital and tax office compound, only a handful remained.

Across the street, Wei Dong glanced at the transport company gate. They’d set up a TV for the porters to relax and drink tea at night—a semi-public tea house, five cents for a whole evening. Wei Dong had observed here before; though he saw nothing unusual, he heard you could learn to drive here.

If he had a vehicle, collecting smoked meat from the mountains and countryside would be bliss. Wei Dong had fantasized many times about a grand operation—gathering a ton at once. He was eager to learn to drive, and then, when he’d saved up, buy one of those Jiang’an vans made in the provincial capital. The whole family… damn, why did he picture Er Feng and his mother sitting in the back?

Shaking his head hard, he saw the white dot cross the three-way intersection at the city hospital and finally walk alone. The tax office building was being rebuilt, so there were no streetlights or shop lights along the road—just darkness.

Wei Dong had often guessed that this was why criminals chose this spot to target the campus belle teacher. Though the street was only about a hundred meters, it was naturally hard for anyone to notice what happened here.

Wei Dong hid far off under the eaves’ shadow. It was the 29th; this month, he’d seen her walk this stretch over ten times. Once she entered the temporary gate at the end of the compound, his job was done.

The image of the van hadn’t left his mind when he suddenly saw a figure emerge from the dark construction site, sneaking behind Shi Linyan. Wei Dong’s hair stood on end; his whole body trembled, but he controlled himself and didn’t act immediately.

Wait… let the crime unfold. Even in legitimate self-defense, you need the right conditions—a veteran security guard knows this well. Last time, it was after hours of hard physical labor; he was dazed in a corner on the second floor of the site, when he heard muffled struggling and tearing below and jumped to action.

Patience—like waiting for a fish to bite, you must keep your cool. But just as he steadied himself, two or three more figures appeared behind the first!

Wei Dong, having lived through such a scene, felt his blood freeze—could he take them? Had his changes turned it into a group assault?

He took a deep breath, but felt no fear. If he couldn’t win, he’d shout for help, but he was determined to leave a permanent mark on his assailants. He gripped his crutch tightly, staring at the indistinct shadows trailing the white dot, watching them pass the construction site… and keep going.

Shi Linyan, seemingly oblivious, walked to the end and turned into the compound. The figures behind her continued onward.

Wei Dong exhaled in relief, finally letting go of the breath he’d held. He placed his crutch under his basket and sat back, drained. The revenge scenario he’d imagined for forty years left him drenched in sweat.

No, this wouldn’t do. Wei Dong, who’d been training hard, questioned whether he could handle himself in a real crisis. He’d always prided himself on his strength, but this was too nerve-wracking, too exhausting.

While he quietly breathed in the shadows, another suspicious figure crossed the street in front of him—he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was “Eight-Brow Guy”!

From the local gossip, You Qili and his crew had all been locked up. Everyone mocked the idea that such nouveau riche could exist; You Qili’s trading company had made over a hundred thousand in less than a year—serves them right!

Street vendors had quietly packed up, some returning their licenses, others fleeing with their cash. At the transport company’s tea table, people loudly proclaimed this was a major move by ZY—letting all the capitalist roaders surface, then catching them in one sweep.

If Eight-Brow Guy wasn’t an undercover informant, he should still be locked up. Only a female shop assistant had been released to nurse her child; someone saw her return home.

Now, Eight-Brow Guy was sneaking toward where the group had disappeared—the trade company street leading to the wharf.

Wei Dong, who was about to clock out for the night, was now intrigued. He quietly followed from a distance, taking deep breaths.

He’d grown adept at this job, keeping far back and only moving up when he glimpsed Eight-Brow Guy under a streetlamp or through a window. He had a rough idea of the area, so wasn’t worried about losing him.

Sure enough, near the trading company, he saw several shadowy figures illuminated by occasional flashlights. Wei Dong, who’d staked out here daily, knew the area intimately. He stashed his basket in a corner, took only his crutch, and hugged the wall, creeping closer.

It was an old stone street, perhaps a century old, with dilapidated buildings on either side and virtually no lights. The area was Shangzhou’s traditional commercial street, deserted at night.

Dressed in grey work shirts for stealth, Wei Dong edged closer to observe. He saw the group shine their flashlights through windows covered in seals, then link arms and climb onto each other’s shoulders to scale the roof!

It was a tiled house. Wei Dong watched in disbelief as they hauled themselves up, using ropes, stepping on the wall, and stealthily moved roof tiles aside.

No matter how quietly they worked, Wei Dong caught the occasional scrape or bump. He silently watched as they lifted televisions, refrigerators, radios—any appliance—onto the roof, then down to the ground, where a partner repeatedly carried them away.

Wei Dong almost wanted to ask if they needed a porter—cheap, all-inclusive service. Wait, the guy who carried a TV was back quickly. Their stash must be close!

Next time, Wei Dong silently followed as he saw the man take a radio to a corner of the tax office construction site—a dead spot under the stairs in a brick-and-concrete building, covered with asbestos tiles and bamboo mats outside.

Unless there was a full-scale search, no one would find this hidden cache. No one would touch it for days. Plus, with National Day coming, the site would be empty for the holiday.

Wei Dong waited until the diligent thieves returned, then peeked inside. The floor was covered with bedding—they cared for their loot.

As a veteran security guard who knew every inch of this place, Wei Dong chuckled, grabbed his basket, and hid upstairs, peering through cracks in the concrete to observe.

He watched the “ant colony” move all the valuables from the trading company, overhearing their giddy plan to return during the National Day holiday, when everyone was off, to move the goods by day and avoid night patrols.

Then, they all left! No one wanted to stay and risk being discovered; hiding the loot was enough.

Wei Dong ended up moving goods all night long.

“Black eating black” was exhausting.