Chapter 8: A Career in Security

Thus began my career as a security guard.

Compared to being a waiter, it was certainly much easier. When guests arrived, I helped direct parking; when they left, I sent them off with a smile.

Awang Restaurant mainly specialized in seafood and some local specialty dishes. I witnessed how those wealthy patrons could spend in one meal what I earned in an entire month. I saw the various luxury cars they drove and overheard their conversations about how much profit a single deal could bring.

These things were beyond anything I had ever imagined.

Back home, the village chief’s Changhe car was already the envy of many, and my parents’ annual income was less than two thousand yuan.

This only made my heart restless, fueling my desire to rise above my circumstances.

But it was easier said than done.

I knew I was just a fledgling toad starting out, and the only world I could see was the tiny bubble of Awang Restaurant.

So every day after work, I clung to a book, painstakingly absorbing every word. In my free time, I wandered through this urban village, exploring a world I had never encountered before. Compared to the poverty of my hometown, this village was already quite prosperous.

Yet beneath the surface, it was chaotic.

It could best be described as a tangled mix of dragons and snakes.

As my cousin Chen Jianjun put it: the water is shallow but filled with turtles; everywhere you look, there are gang leaders.

As a gathering place for outsiders, some people worked hard, while others sought illicit shortcuts. Fights, brawls, robberies, extortion, and harassment of women were almost daily occurrences. In the two weeks I was here, I witnessed no fewer than fifty fights, over ten robberies, saw a girl dragged into a small grove, and even heard about three bodies fished out of the river just outside the village.

The local security was maintained by a community-organized patrol team.

These patrols rode motorcycles in groups, and when they confronted fights, their response was even more brutal than the combatants—they believed in fighting violence with violence.

Most of these forces were organized along regional lines. The village was controlled by three factions: the Henan gang, the Sichuan faction, and the Hubei group. These three controlled the small gambling dens, arcade halls, karaoke bars, and brothels—the profitable underground businesses. Fierce turf wars broke out over territory and business. Eventually, a local big shot brokered a peace, dividing the village among the three: the Henan gang took the main street and east of Peace Road; the Sichuan faction took west of Peace Road; and the Hubei group controlled the factories on the outskirts.

Those unwilling to join these underworld groups but afraid of being bullied banded together. They would gather in noisy, protective clusters during the day, and at night, single women dared not step outside without fear.

I always carried a kitchen knife with me—a testament to how dangerous it was.

The big shot who mediated the truce among the three gangs was none other than my cousin Chen Jianjun’s revered Uncle Yong.

He was also our landlord.

Uncle Yong was a local, in his sixties, his real name Huang Yong.

Whenever my cousin spoke of him, his eyes sparkled with admiration. In his tales, Uncle Yong was a legend—once a local overlord, a sworn member of the Hongmen with the prestigious “Double Flower Red Stick” rank, a man famed for his legendary knife skills that could take on ten enemies at once. The Huang family was a prominent clan locally, and Uncle Yong held a central role in their ancestral rites.

During festivals, visitors from Hong Kong’s Hongmen would come to pay their respects to Uncle Yong.

After the reform and opening-up brought rapid development, Uncle Yong’s standing and wealth soared. Some said he was worth tens of millions; others claimed he was a billionaire. Most importantly, the patrol team was locally organized, and Uncle Yong commanded great respect among the locals.

Wealthy, influential in both the underworld and the legitimate sphere, anyone wanting to establish themselves—whether in crime or business—had to pay homage to Uncle Yong. Securing his favor could catapult one to the top!

Yet the legendary figure my cousin spoke of wore a simple white tank top and black shorts, blue slippers on his feet, and wielded a worn-out bamboo fan.

If not for my cousin’s vivid stories, I would never have believed that the old man who cuddled a little poodle named Xiaohua and greeted everyone with a smile was the local kingpin.

My cousin explained that in our hometown, you could always tell who was poor because they had to pretend otherwise; here, you couldn’t tell who was rich—street sweepers might just be millionaires freshly minted from demolition compensation.

I recorded everything I saw, heard, and imagined in a new notebook.

In my mind, I framed this urban village as my own world.

To conquer this world, I had to first establish myself within it!

For days on end, I dreamt of that unassuming old man patting my shoulder, saying, “Acheng, I believe in you. Work hard! I’ve got your back!”

In my dreams, I became the king of this village, respected by all. I had endless wealth and countless followers. I returned home to make Wu Chen and his arrogant father kneel at my feet and gave my parents a life of comfort.

But when I woke, I was still just a security guard.

Smiling politely, greeting and seeing off guests.

I resolved to turn my dream into reality.

I even tried to strike up a conversation with Uncle Yong, but he was always polite and reserved with everyone. I greeted him with a smile; he responded likewise, but beyond that, I didn’t know what to say. We lived in two different worlds. What common ground could we possibly share? As for my flattery, Uncle Yong wasn’t the type to be impressed by a young upstart. Why would he pay me any mind?

So I turned my attention to the girl my cousin described as a heavenly beauty.

She was Uncle Yong’s goddaughter.

I never quite knew which tone “goddaughter” was pronounced with.

I’d seen her twice—truly breathtaking, with a statuesque figure and captivating charm—but undeniably cold, her face a mask of distant indifference.

This girl was peculiar. She had a close relationship with Uncle Yong, who owned the two apartment buildings. He lived on the first floor opposite ours, while she worked as a clerk at an electronics factory in the industrial zone. After work, she would go to Uncle Yong’s place to cook for him before returning to her room.

I was curious—such a stunning girl, with Uncle Yong’s goddaughter status, surely making money wouldn’t be difficult. Why did she still work like the rest of us?

One day, I caught her and she looked at me with puzzlement. “What do you want?”

I nervously replied, “Nothing much, just wanted to warn you—there’s a thief watching you.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

I pointed to a mark on the wall. “A thief left a sign outside your door to mark you as a single woman to target.”

I explained the meaning of the symbol.

I expected gratitude, but she just nodded calmly and said, “I know. You’re in security too, right?”

I was stunned.

Was it only people in security who understood the thieves’ secret codes?

Before I could say more, she closed the door behind her and said, “Thanks.”

From that day on, I waited for Uncle Yong to look at me differently. After all, I helped his goddaughter avoid being robbed. She was so beautiful—maybe the thieves weren’t after her money but her. I’d done her a great favor; shouldn’t he acknowledge that?

Wasn’t he curious how a young man like me could know about this?

Why couldn’t he spare me a second glance?