Volume One, Chapter 15: Is Max Dead?

“Dongzi, I want you to still see me as your big brother. If there’s something on your mind, just say it outright!”

“We’re brothers, when did we start being so distant?”

“It’s obvious you have something going on; when I ask, you say nothing’s wrong. Do you know how upsetting that is for me?”

“You’re someone I personally called over—I don’t want you harboring any hidden thoughts.”

From the way A-Long stared at me, I knew he wouldn’t let it go unless I was clear. I looked at Shanji, who was walking away in the distance, and said, “Nothing much, I just don’t like dealing with someone like Shanji who stabs you in the back.”

Talking about this, and thinking about what might come later, I continued, “From now on, if he’s around, don’t call me over. I can’t guarantee when I might suddenly feel like giving him a beating.”

A-Long even brought Shanji along to meals, clearly indicating Shanji’s role as his subordinate.

Here in northern Myanmar, A-Long is only close with the boss of the group, Tiger, and then there’s me.

I don’t want Shanji tagging along every time A-Long comes to see me.

Because whenever I see that guy, I can’t help but think of how miserable Max looked last night.

My grudge against Shanji isn’t just because he stabbed me in the back, but also because I feel he cut off my financial lifeline.

Although A-Long said I’d get an eight percent commission as a supervisor, after carefully reviewing the company’s performance over the past few months, I realized making over a hundred thousand a month isn’t as easy as he made it sound.

In the last four months, the best month’s performance was just over sixty thousand, and the worst barely over thirty. Other operations were pulling in hundreds of thousands.

If this were any other operation, with such high monthly figures, I wouldn’t hesitate—I’d be working my hardest.

But A-Long’s operation is struggling, and it’s hard not to overthink.

This situation made me wonder: if Max managed to escape to his friend’s place and the money was really that easy to make, then if I didn’t want to stay with A-Long, I could just go there.

But now, that path is blocked because of Shanji.

At present, I have no choice but to stay with A-Long, whether the performance here is good or bad, I have to obey.

Earning only twenty or thirty thousand a month is not what I hoped for.

A-Long is a smart man; he quickly understood what I meant.

He smiled, put his arm around my shoulder, and shook me a little. “Dongzi, is it really necessary?”

“I’m a boss too, after all. I need someone trusted around me to run errands, don’t I?”

“I…” I started.

“That’s your problem!” A-Long cut me off sharply.

“I don’t like him, so don’t bring him around me,” I said gruffly.

Thinking about Max being taken away last night, and not wanting to get into a tug-of-war with A-Long over this, I asked, “What’s going on with Max?”

A-Long seemed surprised I changed the subject so quickly. After a moment, he said, “His injuries look bad, but it’s just superficial wounds. He won’t die!”

“What will the higher-ups do with him in the end?”

I had seen how ruthless the group leaders were. I wanted to know how they’d handle Max once he recovered.

“He’s been beaten as much as needed. If he wants to leave, he can—but he has to pay back the costs.”

“Leave it be. You don’t need to worry about these things. Focus on your own work and make money first.”

Despite our open conversation, the rift between A-Long and me didn’t fully heal; if anything, it added a subtle layer of unfamiliarity.

The following week passed much like any other.

Since I was about to take over as supervisor, I avoided chatting with others and instead focused on learning how to handle and manipulate the different stages of the captives.

During this time, owners from other operations gradually came to me for help.

The people they recruited were mostly uneducated and clueless about computers. When problems arose, they’d just stop working or toss things aside, not knowing how to fix anything.

I was more familiar with computers and could solve basic issues, so I naturally became the junior brother whom all the bosses treated politely.

At first, I enjoyed dealing with these easy problems, thinking it was good to become acquainted with all the bosses.

But day after day, with each operation calling me to fix their issues, the frequency grew until I found it increasingly annoying.

Helping other operations wasn’t a big deal—I figured they were all part of the same group, and doing favors would earn me goodwill.

However, the more involved I got, the more I realized they treated me like a low-level worker they could summon anytime without a shred of courtesy, as if I had to help them.

Originally, I could just sit idle and do nothing, but now I was running around. I couldn’t help but think: why should I?

Did they pay me a salary?

A-Long pays me. In truth, I’m his employee, not a free laborer for the other operations.

One morning at work, just as I sat down in the office, Archie, the supervisor of the War God operation, swaggered over and said, “A-Dong, one of our computers is acting up again. Come fix it.”

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I told myself I wouldn’t be so obedient from now on.

If there’s nothing to do, I’d rather stay idle than be bossed around.

So I ignored Archie and stayed put.

After a few seconds of no response, Archie’s expression soured and he shouted, “A-Dong, didn’t you hear me?”

I looked up and replied, “I heard you. I’m busy right now. I’ll get to it when I’m free.”

Archie stared at me for a few seconds, said nothing, and walked away.

Soon after, another operation’s supervisor came over and asked, “A-Dong, can you find some tracking software online? The one we’re using just crashed.”

Everyone came to me for everything, as if I knew it all.

Annoyed and restless, I snapped, “I don’t know. Google it yourself.”

He was taken aback, then left.

Having decided not to help anyone anymore, from then on, whenever someone came to me, I flatly refused.

“Brother Dong, what’s wrong? You look pretty grumpy today!”

Shanji approached with a fake smile, pretending to care.

“Auntie’s uncle is here, I’m in a bad mood. You’d better not provoke me!”

I said coldly.

Shanji slunk back to his seat, tail between his legs.

By afternoon, feeling stifled, I went out to the smoking room for a cigarette. While smoking, a guy asked to borrow a light.

After handing it back, he suddenly asked, “Brother, I heard that the guy who ran from your operation and was caught again died. Is that true?”

What?

Max died?