Chapter 23: Pay It Forward

Alright, I’ve been talking nonstop—my mouth is dry as dust. I’ll take the hit, but you better deliver a good chicken. No two-year-old birds, got it? Not interested.

“No problem at all. We eat the ones that’re too old ourselves. When do you need ‘em?”

“If you can get ‘em together right now, I’ll take ‘em outta here tonight. If not, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

The woman thinks it over—what if he leaves and goes somewhere else? She’d be left high and dry. “Wait a sec, okay? I’ll have ‘em for you in an hour.”

“Fine. I’ll nap in the truck. Wake me when they’re ready.”

“Got it. Just wait there.” With that, she bolts home. A few seconds later, a man comes out of the house, eyes on Xiaoqiang’s parked truck, then hops on his bike and rides off toward another village.

Xiaoqiang doesn’t care how they’re doing it. He just lies down in the cab and passes out. These days, life’s packed with stuff—he needs every bit of rest he can get. But one thing the woman said was true: diamonds aren’t worth squat. On Blue Star, carbon’s everywhere. With the right process, turn it into diamonds. The reason they cost so much? Pure marketing. Remember that ad? *A diamond is forever.* That’s just a slogan. Most of us are just riding the wave, thinking we’re smarter than we really are.

How long passed? Don’t know. Then someone starts slapping on the door—*thump-thump-thump*. Xiaoqiang jolts awake, licks his lips, cracks open the window.

There’s the couple, standing outside, a bundle of chickens tied up on the ground. He pops the back door open. They start shoving the birds inside.

“Hold up! Hold up! This is a brand-new truck. If those chickens crap all over the floor, it’ll be a mess. Go grab some plastic sheeting to lay down.”

She nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” She yells at her husband to go fetch it. After a round of chaos—running, arguing, dragging—finally, 100 chickens are loaded.

Xiaoqiang pulls out the bracelet and necklace, hands them over. “You see this? I’m bleeding out today.”

She takes them, checks the bite mark still on the bracelet. “I see it. I see it. Come back anytime you need anything, kid.”

Inside, she’s wincing. *Should’ve never bitten that damn piece.*

“Good deal,” Xiaoqiang says. “You’re a straight shooter. If I need anything, I’ll come back to you.” He reaches into the truck and pulls out a pack of Lucky Strikes, hands it to her husband. “You’ve been busting your ass all day. Smoke a cigarette. We’ll owe you big time.”

The guy’s quiet, awkward. Just grins like a fool, takes the smoke, doesn’t know what to say. Xiaoqiang climbs back in, waves, and heads back the way he came.

It’s still light out—long summer nights. He decides to swing by the fish pond. Arrives. No one outside. Calls out: “Mr. Zhang? You home?”

Two shouts later, the door creaks open. Zhang Youcai steps out, apron on, stirring something in a pot. “Oh, Xiaoqiang!”

No small talk. Xiaoqiang grabs his arm. “Zhang Ge, I need a favor.”

Zhang lights a cigarette, takes two puffs. “Favor? Just spit it out.”

Xiaoqiang sighs. “Honest with you, Zhang Ge—I’ve had this gut feeling lately. Like something bad’s coming. I don’t want to be caught flat-footed. So I’m asking you—can you prep some fish slices? Long shelf life. Keepable.”

*Thud.* The cigarette drops to the ground. Zhang stares at him, stunned. “You hear something? Don’t hide it from me.”

Since the war shadow fell, everyone’s been living with fear. War could break out again any second. In chaos, lives mean nothing. Who wouldn’t want to survive?

“I swear, no news. Town’s full of people going to the city these days. Life’s getting better. Supplies are plentiful. Honestly? I’m just a low-life with a bad vibe. Can’t shake the feeling I won’t make it through. Sorry to dump this on you.”

Zhang doesn’t laugh. He pulls out another cigarette, lights it, stares at the flame. Businessman? No fool. He hears the subtext. Xiaoqiang’s hiding something. But he won’t push. “I can help. How many fish slices do you want?”

“More the better. I’ve got kids—half-grown boys, always hungry. You know how it is.”

He glances at the boy peeking out the window—wide-eyed, innocent. Xiaoqiang feels a warmth in his chest. He’s never quite figured out why he loves kids so much.

“Alright. I’ll make you 1,000 pounds. I’ve done this before—UV sterilization, vacuum-packed. All standard. You can trust it.”

“Man, you’re a saint. I’ll depend on you. Won’t let you work for free.” He pulls out his gun. Zhang’s pupils shrink to pinpricks. His body jerks back.

“Xiaoqiang, come in, have some tea.” Suddenly, Zhang’s wife appears, holding a teacup. She sees the gun on the table—*crack!*—the cup shatters on the floor.

“You—you—” She stammers, frozen.

Xiaoqiang rushes forward, grabs a broom, sweeps up the shards.

“Sorry, sister-in-law. Didn’t mean to scare you. No bad intentions.”

He sits back down, looks at Zhang. “Truth is, if you didn’t have a kid, I wouldn’t waste my breath on this. I’ve got a debt from a past life—can’t stand seeing kids suffer. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.”

He starts pulling the gun back.

Zhang lunges, grabs it. “Brother, I appreciate the gesture. I accept it.”

He slips the gun into his pocket.

“You’re sharp. I won’t beat around the bush. I’ve been stockpiling emergency supplies. I’d suggest you do the same. Better safe than sorry.” He pulls out a box of bullets, sets it on the table.

Zhang glances at it, hands it to his wife. “Put it up high. Out of reach of the kids.”

“Zhang Ge, please—get this done fast. I need it soon.”

“On it. I’ll get it moving. Let me know if anything changes. I don’t forget favors.”

“Fair enough. I’ll head back now. Sister-in-law, I’m leaving.”

He climbs in, starts the engine, and drives back to Happiness Town.

Zhang’s wife stands there, dazed. Finally whispers: “Honey… is it happening again? Another war?”

“Don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “Worrying won’t help. Let’s just get what Strong needs ready. Fast.”

Back at the orphanage, Xiaoqiang opens the truck door. The women spill out—chaos erupts. Chickens squawk, women scream, kids run. He doesn’t care about cleanup. He’s only in it to kill, not bury. He walks straight into the kitchen, eats three bowls of hot food—just half-full—and heads out again.