Chapter 429: The Mailed Guns

On the night of July 16th, a small truck loaded with goods traveled along a suburban road. Inside, two men smoked nervously, their eyes fixed on the road illuminated by the headlights, breaking the silence only occasionally with brief conversations.

“Are the guys at the dock there yet? Call them again.”

“How many times have you asked? Relax, there won’t be any problems. Once this delivery is done, we’ll be rolling in money.”

“I’m still a bit worried.”

“Worried? We’ve passed several toll stations without issue. If the cops were onto us, they’d have made a move by now.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Can you stop jinxing us with your bad vibes? It’s annoying… ptooey, ptooey!”

The driver’s phone rang. As he answered, the truck suddenly jolted violently. They heard a loud bang, like the tires had blown out—all four tires at once. Then, a bright light from the side of the road lit up the area. The two men screamed—there was an ambush.

With the tires blown, the truck couldn’t move. An off-road vehicle charged at them from behind, ramming the small truck and flipping it into the field. The truck rolled over several times before coming to a stop, severely deformed. The two men inside were knocked unconscious, their heads covered in blood.

Two men jumped out of the off-road vehicle. One, a tall guy, approached the truck and reached through the window, swiftly slitting the throats of the two occupants. They let out a muffled groan before dying.

The other man, wearing gloves, began searching through the scattered cargo—boxes of oranges. Hidden at the bottom of each box was a handgun wrapped in oil paper, totaling sixteen guns.

These smuggled guns, worth millions, were carelessly tossed into a large black bag. The man searching the cargo whistled, signaling his partner to get back in the vehicle.

After getting in, the throat-slasher asked, “I still don’t get why we’re doing this.”

“Just doing the job and getting paid. Isn’t that enough?”

“Are you even going to spend it? The cops are onto you.” The partner sneered, “You’ve gotten soft, only taking safe jobs now. When are we going to settle things with that cop?”

“Haha, you’re still hung up on that?” He patted his partner’s shoulder. “Games are boring without a worthy opponent. We’ve made it this far by being careful.”

“I want to kill! I want to make a name for myself and not hide behind the alias ‘Zhou Xiao’.” The partner ran his fingers along the knife blade.

“Don’t rush. When the time is right, I’ll let you cause chaos… Besides, this experiment is something I’ve wanted to try for a long time. Imagine what happens when an ordinary person with a grudge gets a gun.”

The partner smiled with interest. “The cops will have their hands full.”

“And we’ll watch from the sidelines. Isn’t that fun?” He started the car. “Time to deliver these.”

The partner suddenly said, “Looks like it’s going to rain… my shoulder’s acting up again.”

On the morning of July 17th, Wang Xu was woken by his alarm. He got dressed and saw the raindrops on the window from the previous night. Stepping out of his room, he found his mother asleep on the couch, reeking of alcohol, the TV still on with static. The ashtray on the coffee table was full of cigarette butts, and the room reeked of smoke.

His mother was still in her garish dance hall outfit: a tacky red dress, torn black stockings, and makeup that made her look like a ghost, unable to hide the growing wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

Disgusted, Wang Xu wrinkled his nose, grabbed his mother’s wallet, and took his allowance for the day. The wallet had a few hundred-yuan bills, but he only took a twenty.

Thinking about going to school made him feel heavy, but skipping wasn’t an option. If he ditched school, the teacher would call home, and his mother would start her sob story about working hard in the dance hall for him, providing for him while he couldn’t even do well in school. She’d then cry about her miserable life: getting pregnant before marriage, dropping out of school, giving birth to him, and then having his father arrested. She’d go on about how tough it was to raise a child alone, blaming her entire miserable life on Wang Xu.

During arguments, Wang Xu had shouted more than once that if she didn’t want him, she shouldn’t have had him. Her responses were either more tears or a slap, depending on her mood.

In biology class, Wang Xu learned about the birds and the bees, growing even more disdainful of his irresponsible mother. He realized she had him just for the fleeting pleasure of the act. To him, she lived like an animal that could talk.

Wang Xu slung his backpack over his shoulder, ready to leave, when he noticed a shoebox by the door with a note on it: “To Wang Xu.” The note was wet and crumpled, as if it had been rained on.

Puzzled, he wondered which deliveryman was so skilled as to place it inside the house.

Then he thought, wait, there was no delivery slip on the box. Besides, he didn’t have any friends from out of town, and his father in prison couldn’t send anything. In fact, he rarely even sent letters.

Opening the box, he found it filled with shredded newspaper. In the middle was a black object.

Wang Xu’s eyes widened in shock—it was a gun!

The cold metal felt real in his hand, and it was heavy, as if it was the real deal. The engravings were all in English, and he couldn’t identify the model.

Besides the gun, there was a box of bullets.

He poured the bullets into his palm, feeling their weight. They seemed very real. He tried loading the magazine, then inserted it back into the gun. There was a lever on the side, likely the safety.

Though he had never handled a real gun, he had seen enough in video games and movies to know how to load, aim, and fire.

Switching off the safety, Wang Xu held the gun, aimed with one eye closed, and felt the slight resistance of the trigger. With a bit of force, the bullet would fire.

He didn’t dare pull the trigger. The gunshot would be loud, waking the entire building, including his mother.

Wait, could this gun be from his mother?

But the handwriting on the note didn’t match hers. Besides, how could a nightclub dancer get a gun? It looked real!

After some thought, Wang Xu loaded the gun, hid it in his backpack, and threw the box away downstairs.

With this dangerous item in his bag, he felt uneasy yet strangely secure. If Da Hu bullied him today, he would scare him with the gun.

Feeling resolved, Wang Xu smiled as he left for school.