Chapter Sixty-Four: Negotiation at the Mass Grave

Steel Wire Factory, Cotton Mill, Tire Plant, Fisheries Factory, Hardware Plant, and so on.

In this way, Hao Jianguo made his rounds through the entire northern district’s factory residential compounds, squeezing into every place where people gathered to claim money. Of course, there were group leaders who exposed him as an outsider, but Hao Jianguo brushed them off with explanations, relying on the presence of locals nearby. He also noticed that only factories with poor business performance were distributing money; at places like the Salt Company’s compound or the Hydropower Staff Housing, there were no crowds at all. By the afternoon, he even tried other districts of Nanming City, but found no gatherings anywhere else. It was clear that this business of hiring people to bulk up the numbers was limited to the depressed factory compounds of the northern district.

“Why are you only just getting back? Did the factory pay the wages?”

When Hao Jianguo returned home, he saw his wife, Cuiling, sitting in the main room. Upon hearing the door open, she looked at him with hopeful eyes and asked.

Hao Jianguo was filled with guilt; he hurriedly took off his shoes and went over to her.

“The factory isn’t doing well—”

Before he could finish, the hope on Cuiling’s face froze, her eyes turning dim with disappointment.

Hao Jianguo dared not delay; he quickly took the money out from his coat.

“They could only pay two months’ wages for now. The rest, they said, will come after more production—when business improves, they’ll pay more.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this. Only a few of us got paid, and if word gets out, others will feel it’s unfair.”

He spoke hurriedly, instructing his wife to keep quiet about it.

“I understand.”

The sadness on Cuiling’s face melted away the instant she saw the money, replaced by a bright smile.

This made Hao Jianguo feel that all he had done today was worthwhile—even if he’d lost some dignity, even if he’d gone against his own principles—at least life could go on for now.

“How come some of this money is new, some old?” Cuiling asked curiously.

“The factory’s business is bad. Wang from the accounts office probably didn’t bother to exchange the old notes for new ones,” Hao Jianguo replied, making up an excuse.

Cuiling nodded; she didn’t care whether the money was new or old, as long as there was money at all.

“I’ll hurry and buy some groceries, add a dish to dinner tonight. I’ll also get some radishes and beans to pickle; we’re down to half a jar of pickled radish left at home.”

Cuiling got up and walked out as she spoke.

After his wife left, Hao Jianguo finally breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up a piece of dried radish from a plate on the table and put it in his mouth.

He had spent the entire day riding his bike all over Nanming City and hadn’t eaten yet. The radish was salty, but somehow, in Hao Jianguo’s mouth, it tasted faintly sweet.

Evening, Longshou Mountain.

This was the outskirts of Nanming City, sparsely populated, with only a small village called Wuxing Zhuang nearby, home to a few dozen families. In ancient times, this area was one of the city’s mass graves; the bodies of executed prisoners were buried at the foot of Longshou Mountain, adding an eerie, haunted reputation to the already desolate place.

Superstitions still had a following in these times, and the old folk in town would often talk about ghosts haunting Longshou Mountain.

Chen Huajiang, Black Tiger, Er Mao, and their crew stood at the foot of the mountain with their underlings, waiting for Wolfdog and his gang to appear.

“Huajiang, have you been here before?”

“I used to pick this place for negotiations—a mass grave. They say it’s haunted at midnight.”

“I got drunk last year and came here just to see what ghosts looked like—didn’t see a thing.”

Black Tiger, seeing Chen Huajiang scanning the surroundings, assumed it was his first time here and began boasting about his own bravado.

Chen Huajiang smiled, nodding and shaking his head at once.

This left Black Tiger confused, unsure if he’d been here or not.

In his previous life, Chen Huajiang actually owned a house here. Around the year 2000, Nanming City’s high-speed rail station was built right in this area. The so-called mass grave was nothing compared to the bullet train; property prices soared, and on opening day the crowds were immense—houses sold out instantly.

“They’re here! Wolfdog and his crew are here!”

“Tiger, Wolfdog’s people are coming!”

Suddenly, one of the younger guys spotted a group of bikes in the distance and shouted out.

There were more than a dozen bikes in total; all but the lead carried two or three riders. On the doubles, one sat on the back rack; on the triples, another perched on the crossbar.

As they drew closer, Wolfdog jumped off his bike when they were ten meters away. He tossed the bike into the weeds and strode over.

His underlings did the same, dumping their bikes and marching forward, exuding a fierce energy.

“That’s him, bro! That’s the bastard who hit me.”

Damn it, today I’m going to break both his hands!

Laizi stuck closely to Wolfdog, scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on Chen Huajiang, whom he pointed at with bitter hatred.

Chen Huajiang ignored him, his attention fixed with interest on Wolfdog.

Wolfdog was neither tall nor burly, but rather thin as a reed. A scar ran down his face from his brow to his chin, twitching with every facial movement like a live centipede—menacing and grotesque.

Chen Huajiang knew that in his past life, this man was a ruthless figure: four lives on his hands, expert at robbery, extortion, and collecting protection money.

Of course, his days were numbered. In two years’ time, a major crackdown would sweep him away.

But for now, Chen Huajiang had to deal with him—at the very least, make him wary.

“Black Tiger, are you trying to start something with me today?”

“My brother here—look at his hand, broken like this! If I don’t avenge him today, how am I supposed to survive in this business?”

“I’ll be straight with you: both his hands, that’s the price for settling this. Otherwise, we fight!”

Wolfdog glanced at Chen Huajiang, then fixed his gaze on Black Tiger, pointing at Laizi’s cast and speaking with murderous intent.

Clearly, he saw Black Tiger as his opponent, the one in charge of Chen Huajiang’s side.

“Fight!”

“Let’s do it!”

“Damn, who do they think they’re messing with?”

At Wolfdog’s words, his men erupted in shouts, pulling out weapons—pipes, steel knives, and three-edged daggers.

They numbered over twenty, outmatching Chen Huajiang’s dozen or so, and their momentum was twice as fierce.

“Wolfdog, I’m just here to back someone up today.”

“The real boss here is my friend, Boss Chen. You’ve got the wrong target.”

Black Tiger smiled slightly, stepped back, and pointed at Chen Huajiang.

He wanted to see where Chen Huajiang’s confidence from that morning came from. He also hoped to push Chen Huajiang into a tight spot so that coming to his rescue would make his help more valuable and earn greater favor in the future.

After all, a timely rescue means more than simply adding to someone’s success.

“Tiger is just here to back me up. Wolfdog, you’ve got the wrong man.”

“With that kind of perception, you still think you’re a player? Let me tell you, it was your cousin who came to smash up my shop. Why wouldn’t I hit him?”

“If it were your shop being wrecked, would you just stand there? I’ll say this now—my way is simple: I don’t start trouble, but if trouble comes to me, I’ll return it in full.”

Chen Huajiang stepped forward, pointing at Wolfdog with pride, his gaze icy and unyielding.

At his words, a vicious glint flashed in Wolfdog’s eyes. He kicked at Chen Huajiang, shouting, “Let’s see if you can take it!”