The General's Suspicions

The "offices" on the third floor of the main building are more like a luxurious nest.

The thick, dark red carpet absorbed all footsteps, the walls were covered with dark wood-grain panels, and the air conditioning was on full blast, its cool air dispelling the sweltering afternoon heat of Northern Myanmar.

There was no one behind the huge solid wood desk. On one side of the room was a set of imported genuine leather sofas. "General" was half-reclining on the largest single sofa, with his eyes closed and a thick cigar between his fingers. The pale blue smoke rose and swirled under the soft light from the ceiling.

Brother Bo stood three meters away from the sofa, slightly hunched over, with his hands hanging at his sides, trying to keep his breathing steady.

The fierceness he displayed in front of the "coolies" and ordinary security guards vanished completely here, leaving only a cautious respect, even tinged with a barely perceptible fear.

The general didn't speak, nor did he dare to speak first. He simply glanced quickly around the room out of the corner of his eye.

The giant TV wall opposite the sofa was off, its dark screen reflecting his somewhat distorted image. A wine cabinet stood in the corner, filled with various foreign liquors he didn't recognize.

Besides the smell of cigars, there was a faint, strange fragrance in the air, like sandalwood mixed with something else, which made one feel a little dizzy after smelling it for a while.

"Are all the people settled?" the general finally spoke, his voice hoarse and murky from long-term smoking, his eyes still closed.

Brother Bo quickly snapped out of his thoughts, took half a step forward, and plastered a fawning smile on his face, "Everything's settled, General. This batch of goods is of good quality; they all seem fairly honest. A few are quite strong; with some training, they should be able to get things done. They've already been assigned according to regulations—kitchen, maintenance, and basic work teams are all included."

"Hmm." The general snorted and slowly opened his eyes. His eyes weren't large, the whites somewhat cloudy, but the pupils were very dark, and they lacked warmth when he looked at people, like two deep wells. He took a puff of his cigar and slowly exhaled a smoke ring. "How's K doing lately?"

Brother Bo's heart tightened; he knew this was the key point. He carefully chose his words, trying to make his tone sound confident and reassuring:

"Everything's normal on K's end, General. He's always holed up in the finance office, in front of those computer screens, eating and sleeping there, very disciplined. A Long A Hu are keeping a close eye on things, haven't noticed anything unusual. As for the funds, I've heard from below that things are going quite smoothly lately, much faster than before."

"Smooth things are going?" The general's lips twitched, his expression unreadable, a mix of amusement and something else. "He's a talent, quick-witted. Much better than those useless guys we hired before." He paused, his cigar slowly twirling between his fingers. "But the more talented someone is, the quicker their mind, the more closely you have to keep an eye on them. Do you know how many paths and how much money he's got in his head right now?"

Brother Bo felt a chill run down his spine and nodded hurriedly, "I know, I know, General. That's why we can't relax at all; there are people watching us 24 hours a day."

"Just watching him isn't enough." The general's voice turned cold. He sat up straighter, his gaze piercing Brother Bo's face like a needle. "He's useful now, so I'm keeping him around. But once I've squeezed him dry, or once I feel he knows too much and starts to get restless... keeping him around will only cause trouble."

Brother Bo held his breath; he knew the general was about to make a decision.

"Those large cryptocurrency transactions you have, did he design the cash-out process? How far along are we?" the general asked.

"According to him, it's the final step. In about three to five days, all the money will be transferred to those clean accounts we designated," Brother Bo replied cautiously.

"Three to five days..." the general repeated, leaning back on the sofa and closing his eyes again, as if calculating something. Only the faint crackling of burning cigars and the sound of air from the air conditioner vents remained in the room.

After a full half minute, the general spoke again, his voice very soft, but every word was crystal clear:

"Once that money is completely in your pocket, find an opportunity to get rid of K. Do it cleanly, leave no loose ends. Make it look like... a sudden illness, or he accidentally falls from the second floor. He's in front of the computer all day, his health isn't good, it's normal for him to have an accident."

Brother Bo's heart clenched. Although he had a premonition, hearing the decision in person still sent a chill down his spine.

K certainly knows too much about the core money laundering channels and related accounts. If he becomes disloyal or falls into the hands of others, it would be a devastating blow to the general.

This method of "settling accounts" was not uncommon among the generals. He swallowed hard, suppressing his discomfort, and nodded vigorously. "Understood, General. As soon as the money arrives, I will make the arrangements immediately, ensuring a clean and efficient process so that no one can find any fault."

The general waved his hand, indicating that he could go and do his business.

Brother Bo as if he had been granted a pardon, bowed again, and backed towards the door. Just as he reached the door and his hand touched the cold doorknob, the general's calm voice came from behind him. "Keep a close eye on the newcomers. Don't let Rat sneak in."

"Yes, General! I'll make sure someone keeps a close watch!" Brother Bo quickly assured him, then gently opened the heavy solid wood door, slipped out, and carefully closed the door behind him.

The corridor outside was paved with marble, so shiny it was like a mirror, and the air conditioning was even stronger. Brother Bo leaned against the cold wall and let out a long, silent sigh, only then realizing that a small patch of his undershirt was already damp. Reporting to the general was always like walking through the gates of hell.

He composed himself, straightened his clothes, and his face once again displayed the fierce and impatient demeanor typical of a head of security, as he walked down the corridor. He needed to arrange for people to keep a close eye on the newcomer, and also on K's side... He planned in his mind that as soon as that large sum of money arrived, he would act immediately. This matter couldn't be delayed.

As he descended to the second floor, passing a huge floor-to-ceiling window, he glanced unconsciously at the park outside. The afternoon sun was blindingly bright.

He saw several newly assigned maintenance workers, nicknamed "piglet" or "cowboys," moving discarded tables and chairs under the direction of a security guard on the concrete ground below. One of them was "A Mu," the one who looked quite strong and had been assigned to be an electrician.

The man was carrying a broken table, walking steadily toward a distant garbage dump. His movements seemed unremarkable, just like someone doing work. But for some reason, Brother Bo watched that Back View, a very faint, inexplicable sense of unease suddenly swept through him.

That's too stable.

New "piglet" workers, especially those assigned to such menial tasks, are usually either reluctant and slack off, or they desperately try to impress with a mix of flattery and fear, their movements either unsteady or flustered.

But this "A Mu," from the way he carried the table to the way he walked, exuded a sense of... steadiness? Yes, steadiness. It was as if he wasn't carrying a broken table, but rather completing a routine task that he had practiced countless times.

Moreover, his route to the garbage dump was almost straight; he didn't instinctively avoid puddles or debris like others, and his gaze didn't seem to wander around with fear or curiosity like most newcomers.

It's like... he already knew the way around here, knew where he was going, and what he was supposed to do.

The thought only flashed through his mind. Brother Bo frowned, realizing that he might have been a little nervous because of what the general had just said.

What's so special about a peasant who smuggles himself in to make a living through illegal means? At most, he might have been a bit stronger and more reliable because he used to work on construction sites.

He shook his head, banishing the inexplicable doubt from his mind. The most important thing now was to keep a close eye on K, wait for that money, and then... a sinister glint flashed in his eyes. He had to handle the general's orders flawlessly.

He stopped looking out the window, turned around, and strode downstairs, his rubber shoes making a dull thud on the marble floor.

On the open ground outside the window, "A Mu" —Qingsong —threw the broken table into the trash heap, dusted off his hands, then turned around, head slightly lowered, and walked back to the security guard, awaiting the next instruction. From beginning to end, his expression remained unchanged, as if the scrutinizing gaze cast down from upstairs had never existed.

The sun was still blazing, and the park's hustle and bustle seemed listless in the afternoon. Undercurrent, unnoticed by anyone, were quietly growing stronger.