Hong Kong Storm: The King of Jobs

Chapter 770 360: One Wave After Another (Seeking Monthly Tickets!)

It sounds simple, but it took quite a while to do; it took half an hour to get it completely done.

"Here's the key. Keep it safe. There's only one. If you lose it, it'll be a real problem."

"Last time a client handled it, we lost two Red Snapper cards!"

The dockworker retrieved the key to warehouse number 57 from a long bunch of keys around his waist.

He handed it over to Dayezai, gave him a few instructions, and then left with the crane operator.

Everyone had left. Da Ye closed the warehouse door, pressed the switch at the door, and turned on the light bulb above his head.

This warehouse was known only to the big boss and himself; no one else knew about it.

The goods are absolutely safe here.

Da Ye walked to the toolbox on the truck and took out a pair of pliers.

He picked up the pliers and walked to the front of the container.

The iron gates of the dockside warehouse couldn't keep out the salty, chilly sea breeze, which felt like countless fine needles pricking his exposed skin. Da Ye zipped his jacket all the way up.

The beam of light from the high-wattage bulb overhead pierced the darkness, illuminating the mottled blue paint on the box and also highlighting the wrist-thick iron chain at the box door.

Da Ye squatted down and aligned the jaws of the pliers with the chain lock, which was a rusty cast iron lock with port dust accumulating inside the lock cylinder.

At first glance, it's not the kind of lock commonly used in regular logistics. I don't know where these guys got such cheap stuff.

The handle of the pliers was pressed against my palm, and the cold metal was quickly warmed by my body heat.

Da Ye adjusted his posture, bracing his left foot against the container doorpost, gripping the end of the clamp handle with his right hand, and tensing the muscles in his left arm to concentrate his strength on the jaws.

"click"

With the first exertion of force, the lock only deformed slightly, and rust fell onto his work shoes.

He frowned, pushed the pliers deeper into the lock cylinder, held his breath this time, and exerted force with his waist, abdomen, and arms at the same time, his knuckles turning white from the force.

With a "bang!" the lock snapped, the chain sprang open with inertia, and the iron ring at the end grazed his glove, making a soft "ding" sound.

Two broken iron chains lay on the ground, the sound particularly clear in the empty warehouse.

The moment the container door was opened, a mixture of cardboard box smells and chili sauce wafted out.

The container is a refrigerated container, and the temperature control system inside is still running. The thermometer shows 28.4°F, which is just the right temperature for storing chili sauce.

28.4°F is in Fahrenheit, which is -2°C when converted to Celsius.

This type of cold chain box is the latest box to be introduced to the market. Its internal structure is the same as that of a refrigerator, with a dedicated diesel generator and refrigeration equipment.

Because it has a dedicated diesel generator, refrigeration equipment, and fuel tank, it is longer than a normal shipping container.

Daye took out a flashlight from his pocket and shone it inside. He saw rows of cardboard boxes neatly stacked on top of each other, each box with a foreign language label printed on it.

The edges of the label were worn, as if it had been repeatedly rubbed. He climbed in using the metal steps along the edge of the box.

The flashlight beam swept across the batch number on the cardboard box: utgc220240315. Da Ye quickly pulled out the customs declaration form, which also showed the batch number as utgc220240315.

Without a single mistake, his anxious heart finally relaxed.

Daye took out rubber gloves from his toolbox, put them on with nimble fingers, and then took out a serrated box opener.

The blade is specially designed so that it will not leave any extra scratches on the cardboard box, making it easier to seal later.

Da Ye pointed with his finger and selected a cardboard box on the left side of the middle layer. He gently cut open the box with the blade, revealing a silver jar of chili sauce inside.

The can is printed with a cartoon panda design, and the label is fairly clear.

However, upon closer inspection, it can be observed that the font of the production date is slightly thicker than that of normal batches, and there is also a slight ghosting at the edges.

"These pinkies don't take their work seriously!"

"They can't even put a label on properly. Those stars they pick should all be sent to target practice!"

Da Ye muttered to himself, then picked up a jar of chili sauce, shook it gently, and there was no unusual sound inside the jar. He then looked at the sealant at the bottom of the jar.

The adhesive lines are even, with no trace of secondary pasting, and there is no possibility of a substitution.

After he opened the can with the can opener, the pungent smell of chili hit his face directly, making him cough.

"This hot sauce is absolutely amazing!"

"cough cough cough cough"

The spiciness of the Mexican hot sauce made Da Ye's heart skip a beat, and he quickly pulled a sealed test tube from his pocket.

The test tube has blue graduation lines printed on its wall, and the opening is sealed with a transparent sterile membrane.

This is currently the best-selling black market product. Everyone carries one when trading pork, because it can check the authenticity and purity of pork within three minutes.

The smell was so pungent that the chili sauce in the jar was as potent as sulfuric acid. Even with rubber gloves on, Da Ye dared not try it.

But thinking of the fifteen million Hong Kong dollars he would receive after the deed was done, he gritted his teeth, hardened his heart, and reached into the chili sauce to pull out the phoenix wrapped in plastic wrap. He tore off the plastic wrap, took out a small piece of the phoenix crystal, smashed it with pliers, and then picked up a small piece and put it aside.

Then, Daye tore open the seal of the test tube and threw the phoenix crystal, about the size of a fingernail, into the test tube.

He tightened the cap of the test tube, gently shook it, and waited patiently.

Three minutes later, Daye saw that the liquid in the test tube had changed from milky white to dark blue.

The purity of this batch of pork is quite good, at least 65% or higher.

Da Ye didn't make a final decision. He opened several more boxes, took out several jars of chili sauce, opened each jar one by one, and tested them with test tubes. He found that there were no problems with any of them.

He rewrapped the Fire Phoenix and Blue Blood he had taken out, put them in a large bag, and threw them directly into the driver's cab.

As for the remaining cans of chili peppers, because the smell was too pungent, he threw them into a corner of the warehouse and left them to die.

The docks are teeming with rats; you can be sure that all that Mexican hot sauce will disappear in less than a night.

Daye took out a new iron chain and lock from his toolbox and relocked the container door.

He then opened the door to warehouse number 57, drove the container truck out, locked the door, and then disappeared into the traffic.

A-Qiang, a dock warehouse worker who had been busy working, straightened his safety helmet and picked up his walkie-talkie to call his colleagues after seeing the guy who had offered him a cigarette leave.

He asked a colleague to cover his shift so he could go to the restroom.

The busy colleague cursed, "Lazy donkey on a millstone, always pooping and peeing," and then obediently came over to cover the shift, telling A-Qiang to hurry back.

Ah Qiang made an OK sign and quickly disappeared, immediately running to the restroom near the shore.

After entering the restroom, he leisurely unbuckled his belt to relieve himself, washed his hands, and then squatted by the roadside, looking around and smoking.

It's a very foggy day today, and even though it's past five o'clock, the fog hasn't dissipated yet.

Just then, the sound of tires crushing gravel suddenly came from the fog. A-Qiang sat up abruptly and looked towards the intersection.

A black Toyota minivan slowly drove up, its headlights off high beams, the dim low beams blurring in the fog like two cautious eyes.

The car stopped ten meters away from him. The passenger window rolled down, revealing a hand holding a cigarette. The embers of the cigarette flickered twice in the fog.

"Who is Ah Qiang?"

A cold voice came from the back seat; it was the rough, hoarse voice of a gangster.

finally come!

A-Qiang ran a few steps forward and came to the passenger side window of the van, where he finally saw the people in the back seat.

The man in front of me had a fierce look on his face, with big eyes, thick eyebrows, and high cheekbones. He wore an old-fashioned Rolex on his left wrist.

There was a noticeable scratch on the edge of the watch face. A cigarette was held between the index and middle fingers of the right hand, and there was a light brown scar on the knuckle, extending from the base of the finger to the base of the hand.

This must be the pastor the manager was talking about, the number of red sticks in the number group, the most famous number group in Yau Ma Tei.

Men all yearn for the life of a wandering knight-errant and want to become heroes of their own kind.

Ah Qiang nodded, his throat tightening, unable to speak.

The pastor smiled, flicked his cigarette ash onto the ground outside the car window, and said slowly, "Where's what I wanted?"

"it's here!"

Ah Qiang finally regained his voice, speaking rapidly, and pulled out a pre-made key: "Today, only Boss Chen and I are on duty for the early shift."

"Boss Chen is in charge of Area B, and I'm in charge of Area A. Warehouse No. 57 happens to be in Area A, so it's under my jurisdiction!"

The pastor grunted in acknowledgment and got out of the car. The hem of his trench coat swept across the gravel on the ground, making a soft scraping sound.

He walked up to Ah Qiang, his gaze falling on the pocket he was clutching tightly. Instead of directly asking for the keys, he asked, "How's your kid's health? Is the dialysis going smoothly?"

Ah Qiang was stunned for a moment, not expecting the other party to bring this up, and quickly lowered his head: "It's...it's alright, it's just...we don't have enough money."

The pastor took a brown paper envelope from the inside pocket of his trench coat and handed it to him. The envelope was thick, and the edges were worn rough; Ah Qiang could feel the stiffness of the banknotes inside.

“There’s 50,000 in here!” The pastor’s voice was soft, but carried an undeniable weight: “Give me the key. If you need any more help in the future, just let the dock manager know.”

Fifty thousand yuan!
Ah-Qiang was overjoyed because with this money, his daughter could go to the church hospital for dialysis.

He quickly took the envelope with both hands, opened it, and said repeatedly, "Thank you so much, sir! Thank you so much, sir!"

"If you ever need my help in the future, just call me via pager."

"Go ahead!"

"Oh, and get me an empty warehouse and an empty shipping container."

The pastor nodded and told Ah-Qiang to prepare according to his requirements.

"Brother Pastor, everything is ready. It's right next to warehouse number 57. I took care of it as soon as the manager gave the instructions," A-Qiang said.

(End of this chapter)