Captain Xu left with the two junior constables, and as he passed, I briefly locked eyes with the young man walking on his left.
That little constable had pale, tender skin, and in a place like the Southwest—where most folks barely hit one-sixty, one-seventy centimeters—he stood at least one-eighty. His eyes were sharp, and his dark-green uniform was pressed stiff and straight.
Ever since I started running with Chen Qiang, I'd somehow developed this fear of constables. But since our eyes had already met, I had no choice but to force an awkward smile—one that practically screamed "don't make trouble."
He just snorted coldly, full of disdain, turned his head away, and ignored me completely.
That constable's surname was Niu. He's long retired now, living abroad.
Many years later, whenever people in the Southwest underworld talked about me—Chu Shanhe—they always brought up a few certain names.
Some said the only reason I got out of that "Ninety-Nine Shot Case" in Liuxiang Town alive was because Brother Xu Muye stepped in for me. If it weren't for him, I would've been paraded at a public sentencing rally and shot dead.
Others said that without that woman surnamed Gu, I would've been taken down in Qianyang at least ten times—so many times that even my bones could be used as drumsticks by now.
Some said it was my sworn brother Xu Rang, who fought his way through Yangcheng in the Two-Guang region with two blades in his hands, carving out a bloody escape route for me. If not, Yangcheng would've been my burial ground.
And there were those who said Lin Changzai was the first stepping stone I used—one he paid for with his life.
I never bothered to deny or clarify any of these stories. Because none of them were complete nonsense.
There's always a reason behind every rumor.
It's true: I wouldn't have become a well-known boss in the Southwest without any of those people. Remove even one of them, and I'd be just a pile of bones now.
But the one who truly allowed me to become who I am—the one who sheltered me for twenty years—was that same young constable who had looked at me with disgust just now.
Niu-sir. I won't give his full name. Back in the era when Young and Dangerous movies were all the rage, those were also the years when he and I were closest. That's why I always called him Niu-sir.
He walked out of Liuxiang Town, served all over the country, and never once left the political-legal system.
In the end, he became the number one figure in the entire Guizhou Prefecture's law enforcement—basically the Provincial Department Chief.
But that's all in the future.
Once Captain Xu took his men away, Chen Qiang waved us into the house.
Only after entering did I finally feel warmer. I rubbed my ears and asked, "Big Brother, what do we do next?"
For once, Chen Qiang glared at me—gone was his usual calmness. He barked, "What're you panicking for? You rushing to reincarnate or what?"
Then he walked to the wooden bed, gestured for me to come help him.
The four of us—me, Chen Qiang, Xu Rang, and Old Goat-Beard—pushed the bed aside. Beneath it was a tightly wrapped waterproof bundle.
Chen Qiang dragged it out and peeled back the rainproof tarp.
When I saw what was inside, my scalp tingled.
Guns. Five-shot short scatterguns.
This kind wasn't like the hunting shotguns American rednecks use. These were homemade. Not semi-auto. Not pump-action.
They were called "five-shot" because that's exactly what they held—five rounds shoved straight into the body of a crude workshop-made shotgun. No magazine, no reload. Once the five rounds were gone, the thing was nothing but a firewood stick.
It was about the length of an adult's forearm. You could tuck it under your armpit or at your waist. Convenient as hell.
Take one blast from it—even if you didn't die, you'd shed half your skin.
There were seven of them. Chen Qiang handed one each to Old Goat-Beard and Xu Rang, then turned to stare at me.
He hesitated. It looked like he was fighting himself inside—torn between two choices. After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"Old Second… things between you and Tumor have reached a life-and-death point. If we don't put him down hard this time, you'll spend the rest of your life afraid to even take a piss outside."
"Chu Lao'er, tell me the truth—are you someone who can hold a gun?"
Are you someone who can hold a gun?
His words hit me so hard my scalp went numb. My breath grew heavy. I wanted to say:
"Yes. I am."
I am someone who can hold a gun.
But Chen Qiang spoke again—cutting me off.
"If you hold a gun, you'd better have the guts to kill. Tell me honestly—are you that kind of man?"
"If you're not, then go stand outside with the others. I won't blame you. You can still call me Big Brother."
If you hold a gun, you have to dare to kill.Chu Shanhe—are you that kind of man?
In other words: Chu Shanhe, do you have the guts to kill someone?
Kill…? I'd never truly thought about it. My heart pounded wildly. I stared at the gun he was offering me, my mind going blank.
I was young, but I knew what accepting that gun meant.
It meant I wasn't just some street kid anymore—I would become part of Chen Qiang's core circle.
Maybe most folks have lived straight lives and don't understand how these underworld crews work.
Every boss has layers. There are outer-circle small fry, and a tight inner circle—trusted lieutenants.
A real boss can summon dozens, even hundreds, of outer-circle boys with one phone call. They'll fight for you, maybe hack at enemies with machetes. But they can't carry out real missions. They can't "take care of" real problems.
Only core members do that.
Take those dozens outside right now: sure, they'd slash it out with Tumor's men without any hesitation.
But tell them to personally cripple Tumor? No way. And Chen Qiang wouldn't even ask them.
They would never touch the real inner workings. They would never become the boss's trusted men.
But if I took this gun—if I told Chen Qiang I had the guts to pull the trigger—then from tonight onward, I'd be part of that core.
He held the gun out to me, waiting for my answer.
I opened my mouth, swallowed a few times, but still couldn't decide.
At that moment, Xu Rang stepped forward, placed a hand on my shoulder. "Brother, if you really can't… forget it. I'll take care of Tumor for you. I'll make sure he never troubles you again."
His words made my scalp explode.
No matter whether Chen Qiang's fight with Tumor was for the bus-station turf…
I did have a personal feud with Tumor.
Xu Rang had already helped me take care of Wang Hai. And now we were going after Tumor—a man who had ruled Liuxiang Town for over ten years. A boss on the same level as Chen Qiang.
How could I let Xu Rang risk his life for me again?
I snatched the gun from Chen Qiang's hand.
I said firmly, "Big Brother, I am. I do."
I, Chu Shanhe, am someone who can hold a gun. I, Chu Shanhe, have the guts to kill.
Chen Qiang smiled with satisfaction, patted my shoulder. "Good. Damn good. Old Second, you really are something. I knew I was right about you."
Then he started laying out the plan for the night—how we'd hit Tumor, and how we had to make sure he stayed down.
…
Under a cloudless night sky, I sat upright on the back of Xu Rang's motorcycle.
At my waist, tucked behind me, was a five-shot scattergun.
Tumor… tonight you better pray you meet a ghost instead of me. Otherwise the gun at my waist is gonna be your daddy.
You pushed me step by step to where I am today. If luck is against you and you die by my hand tonight… once you drink Lady Meng's soup in the underworld, don't hold a grudge against me, Chu Lao'er.
The motorcycle roared to life. Xu Rang and I rode out of Zhoujia Village toward another village ten kilometers away.
We were going there… to kidnap a man.