Chapter 309: Set Out Again

The mountain villages of Guangxi, the mute in the village — this was getting more and more absurd, damn it. But what that Brother Chu said made me itch with curiosity. What exactly did he see in Poker-face's room? No matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't say. I pressed him repeatedly, but he was stubbornly tight-lipped. I looked at his demeanor and felt something odd and forced, extremely strange. In the end, the guards came in to ask what was happening. At that point, pushing further might cause trouble, so I had to let it go.

Panzi was quite frustrated and said, "How about I get someone to teach him a lesson and make him spill it?" I said there was no need to go that far. I could tell from his manner that he was a bit evasive; it was possible he didn't know himself.

"Why?" Panzi asked.

"This is called bluffing. He might only know that there's a table in the room with photos on it, but he doesn't know exactly what's in the photos. Bluffing — these information brokers and loan sharks all play that game," I said. "Of course, he must have been there to dare say it so confidently."

This was just my speculation. Actually, thinking about it was pointless. No matter what, I still had to go there myself. Then I'd naturally know whether he was exaggerating or not.

After getting the address of Banai from Brother Chu, the plan to go to Guangxi was basically set.

Banai is a Yao village, located deep in the Shiwandashan mountain range of Guangxi. It's called the Siberia of Guangxi and was a very poor place in the early years. Judging from the address, it's probably not even in the village of Banai itself, but somewhere in the mountains around the village.

Chenpi A'si was an old-timer. He might have liked to pick a place like this for his base — a place where even if someone called the police, it would take two days for them to arrive. If something went wrong, he could just disappear into the mountains and be safe. But this made things tough for us.

Fatty and Poker-face first arrived in Hangzhou to rendezvous. Fatty said it was good — they could take this opportunity to visit the branch of the Southern Barbarians and get more supplies. Business had been tough lately; he'd been out of stock for a long time

This wasn't a tomb-robbery trip—we hadn't brought anything with us. Completely at ease, we cracked jokes the whole way. Six of us slept in one train car; two were migrant workers heading back to Shangsi County, and one was a tour guide. The guide taught us how to play Dazi Pai, a game similar to mahjong, and it was a lot of fun.

Once we got close to Shangsi, all we saw were mountains. The train kept passing through tunnels, and in the distance, the peaks were shrouded in mist. The guide said that was the heart of the Hundred Thousand Mountains.

Guangxi's mountains are called the Hundred Thousand Mountains—a stretch of peaks spanning hundreds of kilometers, covering over five million mu of forest. At its center lies hundreds of thousands of mu of uninhabited primeval jungle—layered ridges, dense woods, waterfalls, and streams said to be a paradise for immortals to gather. However, this terrain also made travel extremely inconvenient. That's why we chose the train; people from the plains who take a bus into the heart of Guangxi might get carsick to the point of being a dried-up husk.

Gazing at those mountains, I felt a strange mix of emotions. In the past, a sight like this meant that I would soon be venturing deep into those towering peaks to uncover secrets buried within. But this time, our destination was just a county town in the mountains.

The feeling was odd—I couldn't tell if I was disappointed or relieved. Looking at the distant blue granite peaks and the dense sea of forest, I couldn't help but feel a bit creeped out.

We arrived in Shangsi, then transferred to Nanping Town and finally into Banai—some stretches by bus, others on foot. It was the height of summer, and the scenery along the way was so beautiful it almost melted us. Fatty and I were dazzled, and even Poker-face's eyes seemed to light up.

That leg of the journey took quite a long time, and by the time we got to Banai, it was almost evening. I had gotten some info from a few travel buddies earlier and knew there was lodging at the Yao village. We asked around until we found a man named Agui, and that's where we settled.

Agui was in his forties, with two daughters and a son, all still young. He owned two stilted Yao-style wooden houses—one for his family and one used as a guesthouse. He was considered a capable man in the area; many tourists were brought in by him. When he looked at Poker-face, I thought he might recognize him, but he showed no reaction at all. Fatty explained who we were. Agui was generous with expenses, and we settled in without much haggling. He was quite used to people like us and put on the airs of an agritourism boss, saying that if we stayed with him, he could help us with anything.

After the long, tiring journey, I couldn't think of anything I needed his help with, except that I was starving. So I told him to first take care of dinner. Agui had his two daughters cook, while he led us to get settled. I dropped my luggage on the wooden floor, wiped myself down with spring water, then sat on the plank floor of the stilt house. It was cool and comfortable, and my whole body went limp. Watching the two slender Yao girls prepare the meal, I suddenly felt that this was the kind of life I really wanted.

While we waited for the food, Poker-face eagerly asked Agui where the address Brother Chu had given us was located.

Agui said it was in the stockade, but further up. Fatty told him not to rush: "Even if it's your own house, going there so late with someone else leading the way, without a key, would easily raise suspicion. We're here now—there's plenty of time. It won't hurt to go tomorrow."

I agreed. Poker-face nodded. I believed he definitely had the patience for that.

Dinner was braised meat and sweet wine. The Yao villagers still hunted—apparently we ate squirrel meat, which tasted strange, but the sweet wine was pretty good, sweet on the tongue, and the local water was excellent, crisp and refreshing. Fatty drank too much and got a loose tongue, repeatedly urging Agui to know that he was a big boss and didn't want to leave—he wanted Agui to marry off both his daughters to him, promising to farm well.

Afraid he'd say something offensive, I hurriedly wolfed down my food and helped his daughters clean up, leaving Fatty to sit alone and sober up in the cool breeze.

While washing dishes, I chatted with the two girls about the Yao village. They told me that before, it was so poor here that people couldn't even get enough to eat. It only got better after tourists started coming. Their father brought people to stay at their place, and the money earned was enough for food and drink. He no longer had to go hunting up the mountain and could buy what others caught—this way, their family supported several other families.

I specifically asked about Chenpi A'si, and also whether there were any Vietnamese around here.

They said there were Vietnamese, but not in Banai—deeper in the mountains. With so many visitors now, they couldn't tell if there were people from Changsha among them.

After finishing the cleanup, I shook my hands dry and thought to myself: looks like Chenpi A'si is really cautious, not even daring to stay in the village.

I figured they might have disguised themselves as tourists arriving in Banai, with the Vietnamese coming directly through the forest. They'd meet up in the mountains to trade. If that were the case, the goods being traded here were probably far more valuable than I had imagined—at least Chenpi A'si valued them highly. These connections might have been built up during his time of refuge in Guangxi long ago.

Thinking this, I walked into the dining room to ask Agui for some fruit, when I saw Fatty, reeking of alcohol, staring at something on the wall.

I thought he was just drunk and zoning out, but when he saw me, he grabbed me and said, "Xiao Wu, come here."

I walked over and asked what he wanted. He gestured with his eyes toward a photo frame hanging on the wooden wall of the eating room, which held many photos. He pointed with his chin at one of the photos and said to me, "Come see who this is."