Chapter 841: Exaggerated Acting

Zhenxing Village!

Zhou Andong arrived home; everyone was waiting for him to eat.

He washed his face, leaned over the kang edge to check on Su Su, bent down and kissed her, then sat at the table. Chen Yuan poured him wine, and Yuan Yuan Hongbiao rushed in right behind him.

Everyone was startled to see Yuan Yuan Hongbiao—Dongzi had just returned from town, so how had he caught up so fast?

And he was drenched in sweat, as if he hadn't driven here but run all the way from town.

"Dongzi!" Yuan Yuan Hongbiao sounded genuinely exhausted, gasping deeply. "I floored the accelerator all the way and still couldn't catch you."

Seeing his act, Zhou Andong's lips twitched—this performance was ridiculously over-the-top, even worse than Old Zhao, the gatekeeper at our distillery.

"Uncle, did something happen?" Zhou Andong promptly pulled over a stool and placed it behind Yuan Yuan Hongbiao. "Sit down, catch your breath, then talk."

"Catch my breath?" Yuan Yuan Hongbiao feigned urgency: "Didn't you guys detain Da Di Zhu's men?"

Zhou Andong nodded: "Yes, one named Dashan, another called Er Ping—over thirty in total."

"I knew it!" Yuan Yuan Hongbiao slapped his thigh with a sharp crack. "After you left, Da Di Zhu's man Liu Ku—everyone calls him Daya—came to town looking me up to ask about our village."

"At first I didn't know why he was asking, but later he said his men had been detained by our village. By then, I'd already said everything I could—no taking it back."

"After they left, I drove straight after you to warn you: stay inside the village, don't go out. Also, alert Old Secretary to prepare. Da Di Zhu is ruthless and arrogant."

"If we're holding his men here, he'll send people to rescue them—and retaliate against the villagers."

Zhou Andong frowned slightly. Though Yuan Yuan Hongbiao's acting was exaggerated, almost as if he was trying to curry favor, the information was genuinely important.

"Uncle, when do you think they'll come?"

Yuan Yuan Hongbiao thought for a moment: "If it were me, I wouldn't wait until tomorrow."

Zhou Andong nodded: "I understand."

Yuan Yuan Hongbiao stood up: "I'll go find Old Secretary."

"I'll go," Yuan Yuan Hongzhan pushed his brother back onto the stool. "You two eat first."

"I'm coming too!" Zhou Andong rose and followed Yuan Yuan Hongzhan out the door, then suddenly stopped. "Wu Chao, hurry up and eat. This time, they won't just send a few men—they'll need your cooperation."

"Got it!" Wu Chao didn't hesitate, calling out to Zhao Hong and the others: "Let's eat first."

"I'm coming too!" Yuan Yuan Hongbiao chased after them.

At that moment, Old Secretary and Bian Bian Zhenghe squatted under the old locust tree in the brigade compound, smoking and discussing how to build a house for the Bai family.

Zhou Andong and Yuan Yuan Hongzhan, followed by Yuan Yuan Hongbiao, first went to Old Secretary's house but didn't find him, then came to the brigade compound.

Seeing Yuan Yuan Hongzhan, Zhou Andong, and Yuan Yuan Hongbiao arrive together, Old Secretary and Bian Bian Zhenghe knew something was up.

"Old Secretary, something big has happened."

Before Zhou Andong or Yuan Yuan Hongzhan could speak, Yuan Yuan Hongbiao blurted out the whole story.

"This time, they're not just here to snatch their men back—they'll also retaliate against the villagers."

Old Secretary took a long drag from his pipe: "They're coming today?"

Yuan Yuan Hongbiao shook his head: "Not certain, but highly likely."

"Bian Zhenghe!"

Old Secretary smoked two more puffs, then lifted his foot and tapped the pipe's bowl sharply against his sole.

"Mobilize the militia—load every bullet. Bring out the machine guns and both mortars."

"Understood!" Bian Bian Zhenghe turned and left.

Old Secretary smiled at Zhou Andong: "Don't worry. As long as you're in Zhenxing Village, not even heaven's emperor can touch you."

Zhou Andong hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the mortars: "Uncle Reporter Guan, we have machine guns and mortars?"

"Of course!" Old Secretary clasped his hands behind his back. "After the War of Resistance, banditry here was rampant, and enemy agents kept sabotaging us—the situation was tense."

"Our village sits right at the mountain pass. When bandits came out, we were the first target. So the higher-ups formed a militia company here and issued us weapons."

He sneered: "Back then, we wiped out bandits who killed without blinking. Now a bunch of thugs dare come here to retaliate? I'd like to see if their heads are made of iron—immune to machine guns and shells."

"Uncle Reporter Guan!" Zhou Andong gave a thumbs-up, delivering a well-placed compliment: "I've met people I love, people I like, people I respect—but you're the first I truly admire."

Old Secretary walked off with his hands behind his back, saying nothing—but the smile on his face showed Zhou Andong's flattery had hit its mark.

"Uncle Reporter Guan!" Zhou Andong called out: "You can use my men—they're all veterans."

Old Secretary waved without turning back: "Understood."

………………

Just after four in the afternoon, a convoy of over twenty vans and sedans entered Arong Banner, joined up with Daya and the others, and headed straight for Zhenxing Village.

Because the road was rough, the half-hour drive took over an hour.

The convoy stopped at the village entrance; everyone got out—about a hundred and seventy men.

All carried cleavers and steel pipes; thirty or forty held guns.

Pistols, hunting rifles, homemade short guns—and two men even carried Type 81 assault rifles.

Scarface sized up the village: "Daya, this is it?"

"Yes!" Daya nodded. "This is Zhenxing Village—no mistake."

"First find Zhou Andong. Capture him, and we can trade for Er Ping and Dashan."

Xiao Liu's eyes glinted with malice—he'd been knocked down by Zhou Andong's men that morning; this debt had to be paid.

Scarface raised his hand: "Xiong Laohei, Sanmao—you two go into the village, find someone, and ask where Zhou Andong lives."

"Got it!"

Xiong Laohei was short but fat, his skin pitch-black and glossy—if you put him in Africa, no one would question his race.

Sanmao was handsome—over 1.8 meters tall, fair-skinned, short-haired. Anyone meeting him wouldn't guess he was a thug.

Both tucked their short guns into their waistbands, covered them with their shirts, then strode boldly into the village.

Scarface and Daya didn't notice—the thick old locust tree at the village entrance held two men crouched on its branches, watching them with amused smiles.