Chapter 452: Getting Ready to Go

That evening at dinner, Xiuxiu asked me what we should do. I thought to myself that it wasn't really my plan; Panzi had already figured it out for me. Now I only gave a signal, and Pibao started preparing with full force—Panzi must have made arrangements beforehand.

Even though I was Third Master, I was still far from the point where Panzi and the others would be comfortable letting me make decisions on my own.

That evening, Fatty was already able to walk. I went to the tent to check on him again—he was staring at his own belly and cursing. I said to him, "If we succeed this time, your belly deserves the most credit. I'll give your belly a banner that says 'Number One Belly Under Heaven.'"

Fatty said, "Third Master, don't give me that sarcastic talk. With all these scars on my belly, I'll have trouble picking up chicks in the future. When a girl lies on my belly, it'll be too bumpy for her. I'll have to go to a tattoo shop to fix it. What do you think of getting a chessboard tattooed on it? Then when I'm with two girls, they can play chess on my belly."

"I think you should just paint it black, then put a few diamond belly studs and say it's a starry night sky—that's more poetic," I said.

"Good idea. You're so cultured, Third Master. I read too little, so I'm at a disadvantage," Fatty said, then glanced outside the tent. "No one told that girl about my situation, right?"

"They didn't say you were going back down. But she knows you're back and is very happy. But what if we did tell her? She doesn't know what we're doing, so stop flattering yourself. You're not much younger than me; an old cow eating tender grass should have its limits."

Yuncai's voice came from outside. Fatty rubbed the stubble on his face, peeked, and said, "I dare to dig up other people's ancestral graves, but I can't pick up a girl? Let me tell you, this time I'm going for true love. Nobody stop me. No one can make her as happy as I can."

"What happiness can you give her?" I laughed. "Will you have to go to the market for lard from now on?"

"I've got my arms," Fatty said. "I can support a family."

His words made me feel depressed. He seemed to completely not recognize me, and I hadn't decided whether to reveal my identity now, because deep down I was uncertain about the whole situation—I didn't know if revealing myself would cause unexpected complications.

So I stopped joking with him and asked, "Has your body recovered?"

"Isn't it just not sleeping for ten-odd days?" Fatty said. "After a nap, I'm fine. I'm in my prime and have been through hardship, just like you. A little exhaustion is nothing." Then he added, "And you can't do it without me, so if you're thinking of persuading me to stay, save it. I'll die of boredom here. You know my temper."

I nodded, and he said, "The thing inside isn't that scary, but that building is damn eerie. It's not the slowness I'm afraid of, but rushing in recklessly. Bring as much gear as we can. Last time we suffered because we traveled light."

He'd already said that once. I nodded, and he pointed towards Jude Kao's camp, asking me to come closer. When I did, he whispered, "Third Master, call that kid Pibao over. We need to get some guns from the foreigners. I need your help."

I said, "I think we should avoid dealing with them as much as possible. They're all desperados."

"Can they be more desperate than us?" Fatty spat. "That must have come from Xiao Hua. Third Master, don't listen to him. He's a cultured opera singer, so of course he doesn't like fighting and killing. Your traditional family has skills and courage, but I'm not like that. Let me tell you, if there were no guns, fine. But if there are guns, I'd sell my ass to get a few. That's called full confidence."

I knew that most of Fatty's ideas were correct, so I asked him, "What are you planning to do?"

Fatty put on his clothes, wiped his face, and said, "Don't worry about it. Just call that guy over and put him under my command."

When I saw Fatty again, he was already cleaning a gun. Pibao, with a bruised face, was counting bullets, sniffling a bit as he counted. I thought, damn, what did Fatty do? But I didn't dare ask. I guessed Pibao had been tricked by one of Fatty's dirty tricks.

The gun they got was one I'd seen but couldn't name. Fatty said its nickname was "Little Doraemon."

I picked it up to feel its weight—very heavy. I'd seen this gun before; it was the one Schwarzenegger's wife used in *True Lies*. I asked, "Why is it called Little Doraemon?" "Because when you fire it, the muzzle jumps a lot, just like Doraemon."

I thought, since when does Doraemon jump a lot? Then I realized that Fatty and I grew up in different eras. In my memory, there was a domestic puppet show called *Little Doraemon* where the puppet really did jump around a lot. So the nickname was probably Fatty's own invention.

After cleaning the gun, Fatty loaded the bullets into the magazine and said, "I never thought they could get this thing. The black market these days is damn reliable. This thing is best for close quarters, especially in tight spaces—huge stopping power. Too bad we didn't get much ammo."

"Just one?" I asked. He immediately tossed me something. I caught it and saw it was a strange-looking pistol that seemed modified.

"Italian gun," Fatty said. "But it looks like they modified it to be lighter. How about it, Third Master? If you don't mind, take one for self-defense?"

I saw Fatty's expression was somewhat knowing, as if he was hiding something. I felt a bit suspicious, but I was Third Master, not Wu Xie, so I couldn't directly press him to spill it. I had to let it go. I weighed the gun—it was indeed very light. Fatty tossed me a towel and told me to wrap it up. "Put it away. Don't let anyone see it. They're looking for it."

I wrapped the gun in a towel. A few years ago, I would have been amazed at the sight of a gun, but now it felt like an old friend. I tucked it away. Fatty racked the slide with a *click*, then unloaded it and stuffed it into his bag, saying, "Now I can sleep soundly tonight." Then he hugged the bag and kissed it.

I looked at Fatty's eyes and noticed they were very serious when he said that. My heart sank. His attitude of "hiding something" and his resolute gaze made me uneasy. I hoped that whatever he was hiding was as unreliable and harmless as before.

I wanted to chat about other things, especially about the details of his experience in the tunnel, but suddenly I heard a loud bang from outside the tent, like an explosion.

Fatty reacted faster than I did and was about to go out. Everyone around heard it and looked toward the sound. Then a series of gunshots came from the direction of Jude Kao's camp.

I looked at Fatty. "Did you do that?"

"Of course not. Fatty steals guns, not launches sneak attacks."

"Let's go! Check it out." Pibao, always restless, had already rushed out.

Seeing that something was wrong over there, I ran out of the tent and gestured for the others to pack up and move all the necessary gear into the jungle. Then I crouched and, together with Fatty, sneaked over there.

Before we even got close, it was like a battle zone. Gunshots were everywhere, and the tracer rounds in the night lit up the sky like a battlefield.

"What's going on?"

Pibao said, "Fatty, look, the shots aren't exchanging. It's just shooting, no return fire. They're all aimlessly—"

"Not aimlessly," Fatty said. "I've been handling guns since I was ten. These are all close-range shots. Something is attacking them over there."

"What kind of thing?"

"I don't know, but it came from the river," I said, pointing at a tree. There was a sniper in that tree, and now all the bullets were aimed at the river, one shot per second.

Fatty pulled back the bolt and moved towards the lake. I followed him. He peered into the distance, but it was pitch black—nothing could be seen. Just as we were about to move forward, suddenly screams came from our own camp behind us.

We immediately turned back, taking three steps in one. We saw several lynxes floating up from the lake water by our camp, then lunging suddenly towards the shore.

Fatty raised his gun and fired a burst, directly knocking one lynx back into the lake.

I rushed over, pulled a burning log from the campfire, and threw it towards the spot where Sister Ya and Xiuxiu were screaming.

A lynx was driven back by the burning log. I moved closer to protect them. Both of them immediately grabbed my hands, so I couldn't use my gun. I had to break free and let them lean against each other.

Fatty obviously handled the little Ding Dang very smoothly; he knocked two flying away with two shots. This kind of gun was truly a killer weapon in this kind of fight.

Xiuxiu and Sister Ya were terrified. They clung to each other. I shielded them behind me. Fatty and Pibao also gathered around. In an instant, two or three more rushed out of the water. Fatty shouted, "Triangular defense!"

I didn't know what that meant. I just held Sister Ya down and fired three shots backhand at one. I had already experienced its agility. All three shots missed during its dodging, and after three shots it was almost upon me. At that moment, I wasn't really afraid. Years of training hadn't improved my marksmanship, but had numbed my nerves, so I just used my hand to block.

In that instant, the space behind me suddenly emptied. I saw Sister Ya had already stepped in front of me. My heart jolted—I thought, no need for such proletarian fearlessness. Fortunately, Fatty beside me grabbed my hand and swung it upward, shouting, "Fire!"

My bullet shot out from under Sister Ya's armpit, almost a moment before the lynx would have bitten her neck. The lynx flipped back and landed, then ran into the forest.

I raised my hand to shoot again, but Fatty pressed down on my trigger: "Third Master, Amitabha."

Just as he finished speaking, suddenly from the direction of the foreigners' camp, there was a loud explosion, flames shooting into the sky. Something had exploded.