Chapter 104: Arrival in Cloud City

Even if Long Er said nothing, Mo Fei would not move on his own just because someone could have sent for him.

The smoke alarm on the train was hypersensitive, set off by the faintest trace of smoke. Train staff were hypersensitive to this, too, and the transit police always tracked down the culprit immediately. A fine was certain, and he might even be taken back to be detained for a few days after arriving.

Once they confirmed the smoker was just an ordinary man who couldn’t resist his nicotine craving, Long Er returned to his seat and sat down again. In this age, few people still smoke on trains, and each one of them could end up in the news. Yet such a small chance had collided with them.

Long Er’s life-and-death instincts told him this situation was probably wrong, but he couldn’t sense exactly where the flaw lay.

Not long after he sat down, four or five railway police in uniform hurried through the aisle, as if something had happened again. About half an hour later the same officers came back, escorting a plainly dressed, harmless-looking man. By the collar Long Er saw at once that he was a pickpocket—the collar showed signs of where a blade had been concealed. His brow tightened, and the unease in him grew heavier.

A few hours later, the train’s loudspeaker suddenly crackled: the attendant was announcing a request for a doctor. It was just a train bound for the Yun-Myanmar border. Just that.

Long Er never believed the world could offer so many coincidences. Perhaps it was a sign, an omen. He turned to Mo Fei, who sat beside him eating snacks, and asked in a steady voice, “Aren’t you curious?”

Mo Fei looked up, eyes clear as glass. “Curious about what?”

Long Er now began to doubt whether this man could truly project that hidden, effortless composure Director Wang had described. He had dealt with more than a few gang bosses—some feral, some kindly—but none of them like this, none so penetrating and yet so difficult to read.

“Those incidents,” Long Er said calmly. “A smoking smoker made the train slow, the person pulled off by the police was a pickpocket, and then there was a call over the loudspeaker for a doctor.”

“So that’s how harmonious?” Mo Fei raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “No armed robbery, no explosives, no fugitive discovered?”

“Only smoking, theft, and someone looking for a doctor?”

Mo Fei’s face lit up with an oddly satisfied smile. “How nice.”

Long Er couldn’t follow Mo Fei’s train of thought, and couldn’t tell what that little “how nice” meant. Still, he also saw the event had never been beyond Mo Fei’s anticipation. So this was a real misfortune magnet instinct?

Long Er didn’t understand, and he felt astonished and pressured. If so, he might not be able to keep Mo Fei fully covered once they entered the Myanmar side. He would probably need a changeover partner.

He pulled out his phone and sent his sister another message: things have changed, bring people right away.

Mo Fei didn’t yet realize how much pressure he had put on a seasoned retired mercenary. On the train there was nothing to occupy time except eating or sleeping; everyone’s body felt stiff and dull.

After the train arrived, Mo Fei stepped onto the platform and stretched wide. “At last, it’s over.”

Long Er’s expression stayed grave. “No. It’s only just begun.”

At the station they took a taxi. At a bend, Officer Xiao Xu found the police officer sent to meet him.

This time the police were cooperating with Myanmar authorities to arrest Aunt Mei. Myanmar had agreed, but the domestic police had little confidence in the mission. At home, the crackdown on traffickers was intense, but on the Myanmar side, human trafficking could almost be counted as an industry pillar. Officials, merchants, and civilians were all in on it—everyone a money-driven scoundrel. The Cloud City officers could already imagine how many obstacles they would face investigating there.

Even though he had private misgivings about the operation, the Cloud City officers still welcomed Officer Xiao Xu warmly. The senior officer who had come to receive him shook his hand. “My surname is Zhao—call me Old Zhao.”

“You’ve come a long way; rest with us first,” Zhao said.

Officer Xiao Xu, of course, followed the host’s lead. One follows the one who knows the place best; doing so is rarely a mistake.

“If this is your first time here, you probably don’t know much yet.”

In the car, Zhao gave a brief briefing. “The situation in the city is much like back home, but the closer you get to the border, the more cautious you must be. People from Myanmar and ours can look quite alike. Besides smuggling, there’s illegal crossing; a few years ago there was meth, and these last years the crackdowns have reduced it a lot, but no one can guarantee such people won’t reappear.”

“Here we don’t have the kind of security you see in central hubs. In some city hotels there’s still under-the-counter trade in contraband, flourishing like bamboo shoots after rain—too many to catch all. As long as they don’t make a scene, we just leave them alone.”

“So as long as you stay inland there’s no major issue, but near the border it’s wise to stay alert.”

As Zhao drove through the streets, Xiao Xu watched the somewhat familiar scenery and silently memorized what he heard.

With the country’s rapid development, the differences between cities had narrowed. Cloud City stood on the border geographically, yet its development had not lagged at all. The climate seemed almost spring-like year-round, and tourism was thriving.

The streets were busy with traffic. Even the older quarters and the neighborhoods nearer the border were not much different from ordinary countryside—far from the backwardness of mountain towns.

Long Er zigzagged with Mo Fei through the streets and found a hotel. The landlady sat behind the front desk, absorbed in her phone, not looking up. “Single room, one hundred. Double, one hundred thirty. Hourly room, twenty-one an hour, no meals.”

Long Er tapped the counter. “I’m looking for someone.”

The landlady finally looked up. When she saw Long Er, a smile appeared. “Who are you looking for, handsome?”

“Is the owner here?” Long Er ignored her flirtatious gaze and asked seriously.

“Looking for the owner? Isn’t asking me the same thing?” She stood, flicked back her hair. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

That was open, unabashed flirting.

Mo Fei gave a face hard to describe. “Sister, you can do this so easily? Your bite is too sharp,” he said.

“What do you know?” She shot him a hard look. “You pretty-faced boys are only good for looking good. If you want someone practical, it should be someone like this—”

As she spoke, she let her body soften, and her arm moved toward Long Er.

Long Er kept a stiff face and stepped back. “I need to get a consignment from the owner.”

“Goods?” Her expression shifted. She measured him and then tossed him another coquettish glance. “Fine. Go ahead and take the goods first. Come back to me when you’re done.”

She picked up her phone and began sending messages.

Mo Fei nudged Long Er. “What a stroke of luck, huh?”

Long Er looked at him, expression blank. “Did you see the scar on her shoulder? From a fight with a wild boar.”