Chapter 7 Chapter Six

The problem with keeping money in the bank is that some tiger will notice you in the blink of an eye: it's your money, and then it's theirs; man's hand.The question—about saving money—has been gnawing at Fusheng's nerves like a genetically modified weevil, but he can't help but crush it into pus and carapace. If measured by time, a person uses his time to earn a salary, and the salary is deposited in a certain bank, then more than half of this person belongs to this bank.Well, even if you're a lazy Thai, at least a third.And losing one-third is actually tantamount to losing all.

Which "third" of a person can be discarded?From his chest to the top of his head where he's starting to go bald?Or from his waist to his yellowing toenails?Two legs and one hand?Two arms and a head?If a person loses a quarter of his limbs, he is not certain to die, but one third is really beyond the acceptable limit. That's the problem with banks.As long as you put your money into its huge mouth, it means that the tiger has bit your head with its teeth.A third, or a half, or a head covered in age spots—it means losing the whole. But if banks cannot be trusted, what can be trusted?A bad lock on the door?Or put money in a mattress with the padding removed?Hide under roof tiles and cover them with banana leaves for cover?Or cutting open bamboo beams in a slum hut, carefully hollowing out the interior, and stuffing them with the rolls of banknotes he brought back?

Fusheng chose the solution of stuffing bamboo. The person who rented the room to him claimed it was an "apartment suite," and in a way, it was.The room had walls on all sides, not a rain tent or something made out of coconut husk.There is also a small courtyard behind the house. There is a toilet in the courtyard, but like the wall, it is shared by him and six neighbors.For a yellow card refugee, this is not only an apartment, but also a mansion.Even so, he still hears everyone around him complaining - it's human nature. The wooden walls of the room are undoubtedly a luxury, although the lower edge of the wall is still some distance from the ground, and you can even see the sandals on the feet of the neighbors.And the walls were oiled to keep the wood from rotting in the hot and humid climate.But the walls are necessary, and they provide him with a place to store cash that he would otherwise have to wrap in three layers of dog skin, put in the bottom of a rain barrel, and pray for the money that has been soaked in water for six months Dog skins are still waterproof.

Fusheng stopped what he was doing and listened carefully. There were rustling noises from the next room, but there was no sign of anyone overhearing him as he crept through the walls like a mouse.He is loosening a bamboo board and collecting the sawdust for later use.Take nothing for granted - that's the first lesson.The foreign devils learned this lesson in the age of shrinkage.Without oil, they can only return to their own country in disgrace; he himself learned this lesson in Malacca.Nothing is taken for granted and nothing is completely reliable.It is entirely possible for a rich man to become poor.A Chinese family full of laughter, everyone smooth and carefree, eating pork and Hainanese chicken rice to celebrate the Spring Festival, in the end only one emaciated yellow card refugee survived.Nothing lasts forever.At least from a Buddhist point of view, he can understand this.

Fusheng smiled wryly, and continued to work quietly.He dug along a line at the top of the bamboo boards, collecting any falling debris.He now lives in luxury: mosquito nets and a small biogas stove that he can use twice a day—if he pays the local gang boss to have a connection to a city lamppost. trachea.Of course, this is illegal.He also has his own set of earthen pots for rainwater, which are placed in the narrow courtyard.The yard was a veritable luxury, protected by the honor and integrity of his desperately poor neighbors.Of course, everything has a limit, so he keeps these rainwater tanks filled with green slime and mosquito eggs to make sure they don't get stolen.Here, he may be killed outside, and the neighbor's wife may be raped by gangsters.Despite the bad law and order, his set of earthen jars has been safe and sound.

Fu Sheng pried open the small bamboo boards on the bamboo beams, held his breath, and tried not to make any scratching noises.The reason he chose this location is that the bamboo beams here are a little exposed, and the tiles above the low ceiling make this corner very dark.Hidden and dark places represent opportunities.The surrounding occupants are all awake, some are moaning, some are complaining, some are smoking, and he is sweating nervously, exploiting this hideaway.It is stupid to hide such a large sum of money here.What if a fire breaks out in a slum?What if some fool's candle tipped over and set fire to the wood in the wall?What if the mob came here and cornered him in the house?

Fu Sheng stopped and raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.I'm so crazy.No one will come to me.The green headbands are far away in Malaya, and the kingdom's armies will keep them out of the country.Even if they did come, they would still have to cross a sea with many islands, which gave me enough time to prepare.They'd have to ride the kink-spring train, which would take days, and the railroad would surely be blown up by Her Majesty's generals.Even if their attack can use coal, it will take at least twenty-four hours.What if we don't use coal?You have to walk on both feet for weeks.enough time.I am safe.

With trembling hands, he completely pried the small bamboo board open, revealing the hollow structure of the bamboo.Bamboo tubes are completely waterproof and a perfect gift from nature.He stuck his skinny arms through the hole, getting a feel for what was inside. For a moment it seemed to him that someone had taken it, stolen its contents in his absence.But just then, his fingers touched the paper.He gradually took out the rolls of banknotes. In the next room Sunan and Mali are talking about her uncle who wants them to ship a shipment of smuggled 11.s.8 model 11.s. Pineapple.Shipping embargoed foods produced by calorie oligarchs is a big risk, and if they're willing to take the risk, it's a quick buck.

Fusheng listened to their whispers as he stuffed the money into an envelope, which he hid inside his shirt.There are a lot of diamonds, cash and emeralds hidden in the walls of his room, but even so, it still hurts him to take out this sum of money.It didn't suit his saving nature. He put the small bamboo board back in place and sealed the bamboo tube.He spat out a mouthful, mixed it with the crumbs, and spread the mixture into the crevices.He took a step back and inspected, and there were almost no traces.If he didn't know to count up to the fourth quarter, he really didn't know where to look or what to look at.

The problem with banks is that they cannot be trusted.The problem with secret repositories is that they are difficult to protect.The problem with the ghetto room was that anyone could come in and take the money while he was away.He needs to find another secret cache, a safe place to store his hard-earned opium, jewels and cash.It was for the safety of his property as well as his own, so it was worth whatever it cost. All premeditated dharmas are like dream bubbles.Buddha said so.When Fu Sheng was young, he neither believed in nor cared about things like karma, Zen mysteries, etc., but at this age, he has understood his grandmother's religious beliefs, as well as those painful truths.It was his destiny to suffer.Everything outside of him is the source of his suffering.But even so, he couldn't stop himself, he just kept saving, preparing, trying to preserve himself, and maintain the life that suddenly became so poor.

What kind of sin did I commit to get this bitter fate?I have seen my family chopped up by the red scimitar, my business burned and my fleet sunk.He closed his eyes, pushing those memories away.Regret is also a kind of suffering. He took a deep breath, got up stiffly, inspected the things in the room, and made sure that all the objects were in their original places, then turned around and opened the door.There was a scratching sound between the wooden door and the mud floor, and he got out. The alley that only allows one person to pass is the main street of this slum.He locked the door with a leather cord, tied in a knot, and nothing else.Someone broke into the house before, and it will happen again in the future.A big lock will attract unwanted attention, but a poor man's leather cord will not. Shadows and crouching bodies line the way out of Yaowarat slums.Even though the area is cast in the shadow of the Chao Phraya River embankment, he is still oppressed by the hot, sticky air of the dry season that feels suffocating.No one can escape the hot air.If the sea wall fell, the entire slum would be submerged in cool sea water; but until then, Fusheng could only sweat and stumble through the labyrinth of alleys, scraping against the tattered tin walls from time to time. He jumped over unsheltered gutters, balancing on slippery planks.Women are sweating and boiling Udex vermicelli, and drying stinky dried fish by the side of the road.There are also a few food carts here, no doubt bribed by white shirts or ghetto bosses.They ignited the feces in a grand manner, and the alley was filled with the smoke of burning feces and the smell of fried chili oil. He walked around the bicycle with three locks, carefully looking for a foothold.Clothes, cooking pots and rubbish are piled haphazardly at the foot of the tarpaulin walls, occupying the common space.The oilcloth walls vibrate with the movements of the people inside: a man coughing in the advanced stages of pleural effusion; a woman complaining about her son's habit of drinking Lao rice wine; a little girl threatening to beat her infant brother. he.No one cared about privacy in these tarpaulin slums, but at least the tarpaulin walls gave the appearance of politeness.It's clearly a better place than the Expansion-era buildings where yellow card refugees were kept under house arrest.The tarpaulin ghetto was luxury enough for him.Besides, it's all Thai here, which gives him a good disguise.It was much safer here than when he was in Malaya.Here he might even be mistaken for a native, as long as he doesn't speak and reveal a foreign accent. Nevertheless, he still misses Malaya.There, although he and his family were aliens, they created a brilliant family business.He missed the marble-paved halls and red-lacquered columns of his ancestral mansion, the sound of bells when his children and grandchildren and servants came to visit.He misses Hainanese chicken rice, assam laksa, sweet and strong coffee and naan pancakes. He misses his fleet and his crew (he used to hire brown men as crews, didn't he? They could even be captains, couldn't they?) His crew had sailed to the other side of the world, even as far as A fleet of three mechanized clippers reaching Europe, going with tea varieties resistant to genetically modified weevils and returning with expensive cognacs that no one has seen since the end of the era of expansion s things.In the evening, he would return home to eat with his wives and concubines, and the only thing that could worry him was a son who was not very promising, or a daughter who could not find a good husband. How stupid and naive he was then!He thought he was a sea merchant, but he didn't understand the horror of the ebb and flow of the tide. A little girl came out from the door of a tarpaulin tent.She smiled at him—she was too young to know that he was a stranger and not to be afraid of strangers.She was so full of life that it was as bright as a burning log.He has become an old man with sore bones all over his body, he can only be jealous and envious.She smiled at him. He thought of his granddaughter. The night in Malaya is dark and sticky, like a jungle, filled with the hoarse calls of night owls and the monotonous low hum of insects.The sea water in the harbor spread out like a black carpet in front of them.He and his fourth granddaughter — the bereft child was the only one he saved — hid among the docks and rocking boats.When the night fell completely, he led her running towards the sea, to the place where the waves washed the sand repeatedly.The stars above their heads were like little holes of golden light in the black satin. "Look, Grandpa. Gold," she whispered. Once, he told her that every star is gold waiting for her to pick it up, because she is Chinese, as long as she works hard and respects her ancestors and traditions, she will be rich.And now, above their heads was a carpet of golden sand; the Milky Way drifted slowly above them, and the stars were so dense that he felt that if he was high enough, he could reach out and grab them and let them go along. Sliding down with his arms. Gold, gold all around them, was out of reach. Among the tiers of fishing boats and small clockwork boats, he found a rowboat.He rowed into the deep water and followed the current toward the bay.The undulating surface of the sea reflected the light of the stars in the sky, and their ship was a small black spot in it. It would have been better if there had been clouds that night, but at least the moon wasn't out.He paddled, paddled, and from time to time beside him, a perch jumped out of the water and rolled in the air, revealing its fat and white belly—this was modified by his compatriots to feed the hungry tribe.He paddled hard, and the perch surrounded them, their distended bellies filled with the blood and cartilage of their creators. At last his boat came close to its target, a speedboat anchored in deep water.Hafiz's sailors were sleeping.He climbed into the boat and passed quietly among them.Everyone is fast asleep, their gods are watching over them.They were safe and sound, and he had nothing. His arms, shoulders and back were all sore from the long paddling sessions.Not only because he is old, but also because of the long-term pampered relationship.He walked among the sailors looking for it.He was too old to live, but he couldn't give up yet.He has to live.This granddaughter of his had to live, even if she was just a little girl, even if she couldn't do anything for her ancestors, at least, she was a member of his family, and fragments of family DNA might still survive.Finally, he found the person he was looking for.He bent down, touched the man's body lightly, and covered the man's mouth at the same time. "Old friend." He whispered. The man woke up, and when he saw the figure in front of him, his eyes widened. "Mr. Chen?" He lay half naked on his back on the bed, raising his hand to salute.Then, realizing that their fate had changed, he put down his hands and said with a name he had never dared to use before: "Fusheng? Are you still alive?" Fusheng pursed his lips, "I'm taking a useless girl to the north. I need your help." Hafiz sat up, rubbed his eyes, and glanced furtively at the others who were sleeping.He whispered, "If I inform you, I'll be rich. If you catch the boss of Sanrong Company, it will be a lot of money." "When you worked for me, I didn't treat you badly, and you are not short of money." "The piles of heads on the streets of Penang are worth less than yours. I will never be in any danger again." Fusheng was about to lose his temper, but Hafiz raised a hand to signal him to be quiet.He pulled Fusheng to the edge of the deck, leaning against the railing.He put his mouth on Fusheng's ear, "Don't you know how much danger you have brought me? Some of my family members have green headbands. My sons are! It's not safe here." "Do you think I don't know this?" Hafiz turned away in shame, "I can't help you." Fusheng frowned, "This is the reward for my kindness to you? Haven't I attended your wedding? Haven't I given you and Lana a big gift? Haven't I held a ten-day celebration for you?" Banquet? Didn’t I pay the tuition fees for Muhammad’s school in Kuala Lumpur?” "You've done more for us than that. I owe you a lot." Hafiz bowed his head, "but we are not what we used to be. There are green headbands everywhere among us, people who are kind to the 'yellow plague' People suffer. My family is safe if you offer your head. I'm sorry. That's the reality. I don't even know why I haven't killed you until now." "I have diamonds and emeralds." Hafiz sighed and turned around, showing his broad, strong back. "If I take your jewelry, I will surely take your life with it. If we are talking about money, your The head is the most valuable prize. It is best not to discuss those tempting riches." "So, that's it for us?" Hafiz turned around and pleaded with Fusheng: "Tomorrow I will give them your clipper 'Morning Star' to completely disassociate yourself from you. If I am smart, I will also report you. Anyone who has dealt with yellow people is now the object of suspicion. Those of us who made our fortunes in Chinese factories and prospered because of your generosity are the most hated in today's New Malaya. The country has become Yes. People are starving, they are angry. They call us calorie pirates, speculators, yellow dogs. There is no way to appease their anger. You have shed enough blood, but they have not decided what to do with us. I My family cannot be put in danger for you." "You can go north with us. Sail together." Hafiz sighed, "The green band has already launched a drag net to hunt refugees in the waters near the shore. The net is wide and dense. No matter who they catch, they will kill them immediately. " "But we're smarter than them, and we can slip through." "No, that's impossible." "how do you know?" Hafiz looked away in shame, "My son and I were bragging." Fusheng frowned tightly, holding his granddaughter's hand."I'm sorry. I will carry this shame with me until I die," said Hafiz, turning abruptly and walking quickly to the ship's galley.When he came back, he had intact mangoes, papayas, a bag of Udex rice, and a melon from the pure card company. "Here, take these. I'm sorry, I can only do this for you. I'm sorry. I have to think about my own life." After finishing speaking, he urged Fusheng to get off the boat and return to the waves of the sea. A month later, Fusheng crossed the border alone; after being tricked and abandoned by a snakehead, he made his way through a dangerous, leech-infested jungle. Fusheng later heard that those who had helped the yellow race were massacred in groups.They were pushed off cliffs into the sea, then swam as hard as they could to escape boulders thrown from the shore, or were shot while floating on the surface.He often wondered if Hafiz had been killed too, and whether his offering of the last surviving Sanyoung clippers would have been enough to save him and his family.He wondered if Hafiz's green-headed sons would intercede for him, or just watch their father suffer with indifference, for he bore such a heinous sin. "Grandpa? What's wrong with you?" The little girl gently pulled Fusheng's wrist, her big black eyes looked at him curiously, "Do you want to drink water? My mother can give you some boiled water." Just as Fu Sheng was about to speak, he immediately closed his mouth again, just nodded and turned around.If he spoke, she would know he was a refugee.Better to be invisible; better to hide the fact that he lives among the slums driven by white shirts and manure giants, and a few false stamps on his yellow card; better not trust anyone, Even if the other party seems friendly.A smiling girl might one day pick up a rock and smash a baby's brains out.This is the only truth in the world.You can think of things like loyalty, trust, and kindness in this world, but they're all as elusive as a devil cat.In the end, they all turn into light smoke and can never be held in the hand. After walking through the narrow and winding alleys for another ten minutes, he came to the edge of the sea wall.The majestic fortress was built by His Majesty Rama XII to protect his city, and various humble huts cling to it like barnacles.Fusheng saw Smiling Zhan sitting next to a food truck, chomping down on a bowl of steaming Udex rice porridge. There was some suspicious minced meat in the sticky porridge. Laughing Zhan used to be a plantation supervisor, supervising one hundred and fifty workers under him to harvest the emulsion of rubber trees.Now, his organizational skills have landed him a new job: supervising coolies moving cargo at the docks and landing pads.He comes in handy when Thais are too lazy, too stupid or too slow for their employers to resent.He sometimes bribed those in power to give his yellow card refugees work so they could get food.He sometimes does other jobs, such as delivering opium and amphetamines from upriver to the buildings of the manure magnates, or transporting agro-based companies from the Isle of Angrit in defiance of the Department of the Environment's ban. Enhanced soybeans are smuggled into town. He is missing an ear and four teeth, but still has a smile on his face.He sat there, grinning like a fool, showing the gap between his teeth, and his eyes kept wandering through the pedestrian traffic.Fusheng sat down beside him, and a bowl of steaming porridge was placed in front of him.They ate porridge and drank coffee--as good as they had been in the South.The two kept observing the pedestrians around, the woman who brought them food, the men sitting at other tables in the alley, and the people passing by on bicycles.After all, both of them are yellow card people.This habit is as irreversible as the Cheshire cat searching the sky for birds. "Are you ready?" Smiling Zhan asked. "Wait a little longer. I don't want them to see your people." "Don't worry. We walk exactly like Thai people now." He grinned, showing a black hole. "We're becoming local." "Know that 'dog day'?" Smiling Zhan nodded quickly, the smile on his face disappeared, "Sukri knows me too. I will go to the village below the sea wall to avoid his eyes and ears. I have sent Aping and Peter Xiu to watch him." "Very good." Fu Sheng finished the porridge and paid for the two meals for himself and Smiling Zhan.With Smiley Zhan and his men around, Fusheng felt better.Even so, the stakes are still high.If things went against him, Smiley Jen was too far away to effectively rescue him.In fact, when Fusheng thought about this problem, he was not sure whether the money he paid was enough for Smiley Zhan to make a rescue operation. Smiling Zhan got up and left unsteadily, walked around between the tarpaulin tents, and soon disappeared.Fusheng walked up the steep path in the hot air and walked along the sea wall with difficulty.He walked slowly from slum to slum, his knees aching with every step.Finally, he climbed to the broad top of the tall coastal defense installation. Unlike the dark, fetid slums below, the gentle sea breeze tugged at his clothes and made him feel comfortable.The sea is a brilliant blue, reflecting light like a mirror.Some stood on the sidewalk of the embankment, breathing in the fresh air.In the distance, a coal-burning water pump designed by His Majesty Rama XII looks like a huge toad, squatting on the edge of the embankment, and the giant crab logo on the metal skin is clearly visible.Its several chimneys spew steam and smoke regularly. In the depths below, the water pumps designed by the genius of His Majesty the King, and the suction pipes extending in all directions, pump water up from below, so that the city will not be flooded.Even in the dry season, there are still seven water pumps working to prevent Bangkok from being swallowed by the sea.And in the rainy season, twelve water pumps marked by the twelve constellations of the zodiac are running at full capacity against the torrential rain falling from the sky; at that time, people travel by punting on the street, thanking the timely arrival of the monsoon and the still firm sea. wall. He walked down the steps on the other side of the sea wall and came to the edge of a pier.A farmer with a boatload of coconuts sold him one with the green skin peeled off for drinking.In the waves in the distance, the submerged buildings of Thonburi City appear and disappear.Skiffs, tugboats and clippers ply the sea.Fusheng took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of salt, sea fish and seaweed deep into his chest.The flavor of the living ocean. A Japanese clipper sailed past him, with a palm-oiled composite plastic hull and tall, white sails that looked like seagull wings.The hydrofoil at the bottom of the hull has not yet been deployed. Once this part is deployed underwater, the sailboat will be accelerated with clockwork engines, and the whole ship will jump out of the water like a fish. Memories emerged in Fusheng's mind: he stood on the deck of the first clipper he owned, the tall sails on the ship were flying, and the sailboat was jumping on the waves of the sea like stone flakes thrown by a child; Then he laughed loudly, and the splashing waves washed over his whole body.That's when he turned to his first wife and told her that anything was possible and the future was in their hands. He took a seat on the shore and drank what was left of the green coconut.A little beggar watched him.Fusheng beckoned him to come over.The little boy seemed to be quite clever, and he liked to reward the clever ones who patiently watched what he was going to do with the coconut husks.He gave the coconut shell to the boy.The other party gave a deep salute, took the coconut shell, and broke it on the smooth stone.Then he squatted down, scraped the coconut meat out with a piece of oyster shell, and devoured it.He seemed to be famished. After waiting for a long time, "Dog Ri's" finally came.His real name is Sukri Kamxing, but Fusheng rarely hears people from the Yellow Card call him that.They have too much hatred for him.The yellow card people would only call him "God's Day", a word full of hatred and fear.He's a chunky guy with a body full of calories and muscle.He is as well suited to his work as a colossus is to converting calories into mechanical energy.He has pale scars on his hands and arms.Instead of a nose, there are only two small black holes, which makes his image more like a pig. Yellow Card people sometimes argue among themselves about where the person's nose went.Some said the cyanosis was so severe that the tentacles had grown into the flesh and the doctors had to cut off his nose completely; "Gou Ri De" squatted down next to Fu Sheng.He had a pair of cold black eyes, "Your Dr. Zhan came to see me with a letter." Fusheng nodded, "I want to see your master." "Goofy" let out a sneer, "How dare you interrupt my nap. I broke her finger and then fucked her to death." The expression on Fu Sheng's face did not change at all. "Dog Ri's" may be lying, or he may be telling the truth, but the truth cannot be known now.In any case, this is a trial.He wanted to see if Fusheng would be afraid and if he would bargain.Maybe Dr. Zhan is really dead, and that is just another name added to his account book in the afterlife."I think your master will be delighted to see this offer," Fusheng said. "Goofy" scratched casually beside his nostrils, "Then why don't you come to my office to talk?" "I love the outdoors." "You sent people to watch around here? Yellow card people? You think this will make you safer?" Fusheng shrugged.He looked at the ships and sails in the distance, and the vast world seemed to call him, "I want to make a deal with you and your master, so that you can earn a mountain of gold." "Then tell me." Fusheng shook his head, "No. I have to talk to him face to face, only him." "He doesn't talk to the Yellow Cards. Maybe I should just cut it short and throw you in the ocean to feed the redfins. Like the greenheads down south did to your people." "You know who I am." "All I know is what you said in your letter." "Goofy" rubbed the edge of his nose stump, his eyes fixed on Fusheng, "Here, you are just a yellow card person." Fu Sheng did not speak.He handed the bulging money bag to "Dog Ri's".The other party looked at the bag suspiciously, but did not take it. "what is this?" "A present. Open it and see." "Gou Ri De" is curious and cautious at the same time.This information has value.He wasn't the type to stick his hand in a bag and get stung by the scorpion inside.He unties the bag and dumps its contents on the ground.Bundles of cash fell out and tumbled with shells and dust on the ebbing ground. "Dog Ri's" eyes widened.Fu Sheng suppressed a smile. "Tell the manure giant that I, Chen Fusheng, the boss of Sanrong Trading Company, have a proposal for cooperation. Give him my letter, and you will get a lot of benefits." "Goofy" smiled, "I think maybe I should take the money, and then let my people take care of you until you, the yellow card man, can tell where the rest of the money is hidden." Fu Sheng did not speak, and the expression on his face did not change at all. "Goofy" said: "I know all the smiling Zhan people around here. If he disrespects me like this, I will punish him." Fusheng was surprised to find that he was not afraid.He lives in fear, but in his nightmares at night, it's not gangsters like "Dog Day" that he fears.After all, "Gou Ri De" is a businessman.Unlike White Shirt, who put national glory and his own social status above all else. Everything "Dog Ri's" does is for money.He and Fusheng are different parts of the organic economy, but stripped of a layer of skin, they are like brothers.With the growing self-confidence in his heart, Fusheng laughed. "This is just a small gift to make up for the trouble I caused you. My proposal will benefit everyone more. It is for all of us." He took out two more items, one of which was a "Give this letter to your master, and do not open it." He handed him another item, a small box with the familiar torsion shaft and crank, painted brown as a whole. Oily composite plastic, covered with a layer of dark yellow shell. "Goofy" took the thing and turned it over. "Kink spring?" He frowned. "What does that mean?" Fusheng smiled, "He will naturally understand after reading the letter." After he finished speaking, he stood up, turned and left without waiting for "Dog Ri's" to reply.He felt stronger and more confident.He hadn't felt like this since Greenhead burned his warehouse and scuttled his clipper.At this moment, Fusheng felt that he was alone again.He straightened up as he walked, even forgetting the soreness in his body. Now it is impossible to know whether "Dog Ri's" men will follow him, but he knows that Smiling Zhan's people are around him, protecting him like a lifebuoy, so he walks slowly.He walked through the alleys, into the depths of the slums, until the smiling face of Jen the Laughing appeared before him.He is waiting for him. "They let you go," he said. Fusheng took out another wad of money, "You did a good job. But, he knows it's yours." He gave Smiling Zhan an extra sum of money, "Use this money to send him off." Smiling Zhan saw the pile of money, and smiled even more happily, "This money is enough to send him twice. When the 'dog day' is unwilling to take risks, he is more willing to let us go to Anglet Island to steal Ship enhanced soybeans." "Anyway, you take it." Smiling Zhan shrugged and pocketed the money, "Thank you then. We really need the money after the landing pad is closed." Fu Sheng had already turned around to leave, but when he heard this, he turned back. "You said what happened to the landing field?" "Closed. White Shirts raided over there last night. Everything is under their control." "What happened?" Smiling Zhan shrugged, "I heard they burned all the cargo, and it all turned into smoke that rose into the sky." Fu Sheng did not continue to ask.He turned and started to run, as fast as his old bones could manage.他不断地咒骂自己；咒骂自己的愚蠢，竟然没有听到一丝风声；咒骂自己没有在“活下去”这个基本目标上投入更多的精力，反而急切地想去做无关生存的事。 他每一次为未来做打算的时候，似乎都会遭遇失败。他每一次向上努力的时候，整个世界都会向他压下来。 他被太阳晒得汗流浃背。在素坤逸路上，他终于找到了一家报摊。他翻看着报纸和手写的传单，在六合彩的幸运号码和预测泰拳比赛冠军的内容之间寻找他需要的信息。 他不停地翻阅着，一张又一张，每翻开一张，他的动作都愈加狂乱。 所有报纸和传单上都是斋迪·罗亚纳素可猜——曼谷之虎——微笑的脸。