Chapter 16: Now This Is Art

Though everyone was initially awkward and hesitant at first, by the end of the morning training session, they’d loosened up and grown more skilled with their movements. Among the seven kids was a boy named Xue Bin—small, wiry, but surprisingly gifted. He had no real strength in his hands, yet he handled the tools with an ease that left the adults speechless.

Xiao Qiang kept cruising down the streets, searching for the truck he wanted.

Passing by the town hall, he noticed a growing crowd. Curious, he stepped closer and asked a middle-aged man, “Hey brother, what’s going on? Any news?”

The man turned, squinting at Xiao Qiang. Something about him seemed familiar. “Ah… it’s those folks who escaped yesterday. Two of them died this morning—too much radiation exposure. Damn shame.”

Xiao Qiang didn’t flinch. “Guess that’s just how it goes. We’re so close to Dian City—could there be trouble here too?”

The man shook his head. “Who knows? The town hall got a broadcast this morning saying the radiation in Dian City has cleared up. Said we can go back now. But nobody believes it. Just this morning, two people died. Now suddenly it’s safe? You’re kidding me.”

Xiao Qiang chewed on that for a second. “Then let’s wait a little longer. Better safe than sorry. Don’t be the one sticking your neck out.”

The man nodded in agreement. They chatted a bit more—idle talk about the weather, rumors, the usual—but soon Xiao Qiang pulled away, driving on.

As he passed a repair shop on Back Street, a gust of wind lifted the tarp covering a truck. That caught his eye. He stopped, walked over, and pulled back the cloth.

There it was—a white 7.8-meter box truck. The driver’s seat still had plastic wrap on it. Brand new. Xiao Qiang’s pulse jumped. This was exactly what he needed: size, condition, perfect fit.

He circled the vehicle, running his hands over the frame, checking the tires, peering into the cabin. Just as he was getting into the groove, a young guy stepped out from the garage.

“Hey, brother,” he said, sizing up Xiao Qiang. “Need something?”

Xiao Qiang turned around—and blinked.

The kid was sharp-looking. Sharp eyebrows, clear eyes, double eyelids—definitely the kind of face that could launch a thousand fan accounts. But he was shorter than Xiao Qiang, lighter, and wore shoes smaller than his own. Xiao Qiang silently reassured himself: *Not bad. Not bad at all.*

From his pocket, Xiao Qiang pulled out a pack of cigarettes—odd, since he never smoked. He offered one to the guy.

To his surprise, the kid took it, lit up, and exhaled a smooth smoke ring. “Nice smoke,” he said.

Xiao Qiang rolled his eyes. “Of course. Soft Huazi. Premium choice. For people who know quality.” He shoved the rest of the pack into the kid’s hand. “All yours.”

The kid blinked. “Brother… you gotta need something. If you do, just say the word. Feels weird taking this without returning the favor.”

Xiao Qiang waved it off. “I don’t see any hesitation in you. Fine. I’ve got a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Whose truck is this one beside me?” The kid glanced at the white box truck. “A customer left it here a few days ago. Wanted some internal modifications. Then… nothing. No calls. No replies. So it’s just been sitting here.”

“Is the boss around? I’d like to talk to him.”

“Nope. Left for Dian City days ago. Haven’t heard from him since.”

Xiao Qiang frowned. “So… if I want to buy this truck, what do I do?”

The kid shrugged. “Sorry, bro. I can’t help. I’m not the owner. And the guy’s unreachable.”

Xiao Qiang sighed. “Alright. Then keep an eye out. If you hear from him, ask him if he’s willing to sell. I’ll pay top dollar.”

The kid grinned. “No problem. But how do I reach you? Your phone’s dead.”

Xiao Qiang smirked. “I’ll come by every day for the next couple of days. If it works out, you won’t be disappointed.”

“Deal. I’ll hit you up the second I hear anything.”

They chatted a bit more—about family, life, the usual. Xiao Qiang learned the kid’s name was Zhou Dafu. What a name. His dad had died in a car crash years ago; now he was the man of the house, supporting his mom and younger sister.

After a few minutes, Xiao Qiang drove off. By nightfall, he hadn’t found anything suitable. So he headed home.

First thing when he got there? Fuel the truck. The gauge was nearly empty. He pulled out a can of smuggled fuel he’d bought at the gas station, hooked up a siphon hose, and poured it straight into the tank.

Just then, Yingzi burst out of the house like she’d discovered Atlantis. “Qiangge! I found something *so* interesting!”

She launched into a dramatic retelling of Xue Bin’s story—how the boy had handled tools with unnatural skill, how he’d dismantled and reassembled a gun in under twenty seconds, how he’d done it all without flinching.

Xiao Qiang froze. Xue Bin—the quiet kid who never cried. He remembered the orphanage director’s words: *He never screamed as a baby. Never cried. Maybe that’s why they left him behind.* Not all kids get fed because they cry. Some just… don’t.

After refueling, Xiao Qiang went downstairs and called Xue Bin over. He placed his pistol on the table. “Take out the magazine. Remove the bullets. Reinsert them properly.”

Xue Bin looked shy—delicate features, soft eyes, almost like a girl. But when he picked up the gun, his hands moved like water through stone.

Xiao Qiang’s jaw dropped.

He’d never fired a gun before. Hadn’t even held one until today. But he’d seen movies. And this? This wasn’t just skill. It was art. Fluid. Precise. Effortless. Like watching a dancer perform a flawless routine.

*This is talent,* he thought. *I could train for ten years and still be nowhere near this.*

Xue Bin finished in under twenty seconds—disassembled, cleaned, reloaded. Xiao Qiang nearly choked.

He scooped the boy up in a hug. “Tell me, Xue Bin—how do you know how to use a gun?”

Xue Bin blinked, his expression pure innocence. That look melted hearts. Xiao Qiang softened. “Do you like this gun?”

The boy shook his head.

Now Xiao Qiang was confused. *Most people with natural talent love what they’re good at.* Why wouldn’t he?

“Why not?” he pressed.

Xue Bin thought for a second. “It’s not pretty.”

Silence.

Xiao Qiang stared. Then laughed. A real laugh. *Aesthetic sensitivity at age six?*

He set the boy down, gave his butt a quick swat. “Fine. Go play. You’re too fancy for your own good.”

Xue Bin yelped, clutching his rear, then dashed off.

Xiao Qiang stood there, shaking his head. *World’s full of wonders, huh?*

Dinner: steamed wheat buns, spinach meatball soup, stir-fried celery with potatoes, sautéed cabbage slices. Full and satisfied, he turned to Old Wang.

“Pa, we’re heading out tonight.”

Old Wang didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

Xiao Qiang handed out two submachine guns—one to Mom, one to Principal Li. Then he gave Yingzi a handgun. “If I’m not home tonight, and anyone tries to climb the fence and break in—no questions. Shoot.”

And that was that.