Puzzle Madness

Chapter 121 A Happy Security Guard
Pingyu District, Mong Cai City - This place is close to the suburbs and has even fewer people.

At noon, the streets were almost deserted. Only an old homeless man was snoring in a pile of cardboard in a street corner, his head resting on a woven bag bulged into the shape of a gourd, shielding him from the direct sunlight.

Across the street from him, there was a dilapidated Toyota Hiace parked in the alley next to the community.

Such vans are quite common in Mong Cai - vegetable market owners use them to transport fish to their stalls, and supermarkets and convenience stores use them to purchase beer.

The car's windows were covered in a darker-than-usual film, and even had a dark gray tint added. Aside from the driver's side window and the front window, it was practically impossible to see inside the car from outside.

The sun in Mong Cai is so scorching that such modifications are not conspicuous.

It sticks out from the entrance of the alley and almost blends into the garbage dump at the back of the community.

Sitting in the van was a fat man wearing a black windbreaker and shirt: even in the air-conditioned car, he was still sweating profusely and his shirt was soaked through.

The back seat had been removed, the space crammed with all sorts of equipment. He sat cross-legged in front of the monitoring console, writing and drawing, using it as a desk; papers, forms, and manuals piled up like a mountain.

Slightly--
The car door opened and hot air rushed into the car.

A skinny guy with a crew cut stuck his head into the van - his dark black suit was draped over his shoulders, and his tie was drooping, tied like a rope.

His hairline was very high, and there was not even a speck of stubble in the center of his head. His crown was so bright that it was blinding.

".Fatty, dinner is here. Where's [Plastic Immortal]? Still taking a nap? Why's he been sleeping for so long?"

This is the code name of the old man on the opposite corner of the street. No one knows who gave him the name. Apart from the big woven bag with bulging ends, he has nothing to do with the word "immortal" at all.

The fat man wrote furiously, but his mouth was busy:

"Yes, he's still sleeping. Old men are like that, waking up for a while and sleeping for a while. When they're awake, they have no energy, and when they sleep, they can't sleep well. It's really pitiful."

The guy with a crew cut climbed into the car, carrying a plastic bag with the words "Taro King" printed on it. He slammed the door shut.
"You are so nosy, and you are still meddling in other people's affairs. Isn't that pitiful?"

The fat man stared at the plastic bag in his hand, patted his sagging belly that looked like a cat's pouch, and grumbled reluctantly:

".Hey, why are you eating this again?"

The buzz cut guy threw the plastic bag onto the monitoring station, and the steam from the taro cakes swirled around in white.

"There's one on the next street. You made me walk two extra blocks on a day like this? Are you a human being? Then why don't you go buy it next time."

The frustration on the fat man's face faded in an instant. He smacked his lips and took out a piece of fried taro cake:
"Oh, sorry. Wait until your shift ends. Then I'll treat you to a meal at the restaurant. Okay?"

Recently, Asia-Europe Post has set up more than ten surveillance teams like theirs in Mong Cai, keeping an eye on the "important people" in this hot city day and night.

As for why it is "important", neither of them can figure it out; the workplace philosophy is to talk less and do more, and knowing more will not result in a larger year-end bonus.

It is said that Asia-Europe Post has had a conflict with other companies in recent days. Most of the staff in the branch are busy preparing for the conflict, and even the monitoring specifications have been reduced.

The fat man continued to write and draw on the monitoring station while biting a taro cake.
[Plastic Immortal] is a calm target and rarely moves: especially at noon; except for slapping his face a few times in his dreams and instinctively shooing away mosquitoes, there is basically no activity.

The observers could just count how many mosquitoes were killed by the wrinkles on the old man's face, which made them feel relaxed.

But something almost went wrong that morning: [Plastic Immortal] ran to the narrow alley next to Mong Cai No. 5 Middle School, and the fat and thin duo lost him - the road there was crowded with vehicles taking their children to school, causing the van to be stuck at the intersection.

Fortunately, the guy with the crew cut had just gotten off the car in the middle of the road and the old man came out staggeringly; so the matter was not a problem.

Finally, the [Plastic Immortal] moved along the sidewalk all the way to Pingyu District and found a place to sleep—finally, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. All the superiors wanted was for them to record the target's daily movements and report their location at any time.
-
The crew cut ate a spoonful of taro paste, frowned, and stuffed it back into the plastic bag. He glared at the fat man who was still writing tirelessly:

"At least keep a closer eye on the target, huh? You've been playing that logistics network game of yours forever. Be careful or I'll report you."

The obese man nodded repeatedly, a fried taro cake dangling from his mouth, but his voice was clear. His pen continued to scribble: "Sorry, there's a regional guild war going on recently; I need to prepare some character cards."

The so-called [logistics network game]: or [asynchronous large-scale role-playing game], is indeed an extremely popular entertainment project; most of the time it only requires paper, pen and people.

Each week, players from each region form their own groups, play games under the guidance of an official host, and record the results. The results are then aggregated to the operations headquarters to calculate the impact on the entire game world.
Next week, we will send new major events, modules, tasks and results to various official game stores to continue the next round of games.

Today in 1996, this kind of tabletop game that relies on paper, pen, and human imagination is still in its golden age:
In fact, because of the existence of the logistics pipeline network, they have a greater advantage in sociality, and there are always people who are more addicted to video games.

"The company is about to go to war, and you're still so carefree. Haha, you really are a big shot."

The more the buzz cut guy looked at the other person, the more annoyed he became. He climbed directly to the front row, sat in the driver's seat, and turned off the car's air conditioning:

"Why turn on the air conditioner? The cold air escapes through the observation port. And when it runs out of power, I have to replace the battery."

The van was not started - the rumbling sound of the engine might attract the target's attention; the air conditioning was powered entirely by the battery next to the monitoring station.

There was embarrassed laughter from behind, but no one blamed the guy with the crew cut for his revenge.
-
The crew cut sighed and put on his suit again; even though the car would only get hotter and hotter—
Tuk Tuk:

Suddenly, someone knocked on the car window with his knuckles, making a muffled sound.

The buzz cut guy shuddered in shock and immediately turned his head away:
Through the sunscreen, the thin man saw a guy wearing a fisherman's hat and a tight security uniform; it gave off a weird sense of disharmony.

He had dark skin, a short build but strong muscles - his security shirt was so full that the short sleeves were not wrinkled at all.

Wearing sunglasses, with a warm smile on his face:

"Hey bro! Is this your car?"

"What's this car doing here? I'm the security guard at the complex over there. An elderly woman suspects you're selling pornographic discs here, and it's a bad influence on the children—is that right?"

"Oh, the old man is very suspicious. I just came to ask. It's not easy for us foreigners to find jobs. The owner can't stand a few complaints."

"Do you have any pornographic videos? You can't just sell that kind of stuff."

This "security guard" spoke good Chinese, but his face didn't look like he was from here. His nose was blunt and round, with wings as wide as a truck's nose, and his curly hair fell through the gaps in his bucket hat.

Some people from Thailand, Indonesia or other Southeast Asian countries came to Jiaozhi Autonomous Prefecture to settle down.
It wasn't strange that the other person had such an exotic face - in fact, this unconcealed frankness made him even more persuasive.

"Oh, no, no; we don't do anything illegal. It's just too hot, so we'll take our time in the car. Please wait, we'll be leaving soon."

The buzz cut guy quickly smiled back, but didn't roll down the window:
"Excuse me, excuse me. Do you smoke? Come on, have one."

Without waiting for the other party to reply, he opened the glove box on the passenger side, as if to take out a cigarette from it to share -
Click:

With his body just halfway leaning forward, the guy with the crew cut suddenly pulled down the backrest adjustment lever next to the seat.

Kengdang
As his back and thighs exerted force, the guy with the crew cut and the entire backrest fell backward; a miniature pistol popped out from the sleeve of his suit in his right hand and was grasped in his palm.

The angle of the backrest is just enough to avoid bullets that may be shot through the car window--
boom!Boom!

The guy with the crew cut raised his gun without hesitation and fired at the car window and the guy who called himself a "security guard" behind him.

Ping-clang, ping-clang: broken glass flew everywhere, covering the thin man like dandruff.

　My buddy's buddy's classmate's brother-in-law suddenly said that he has entered the music industry in recent years - he seems to be singing rap songs. My buddy has received money and may go to shoot his music video in a few days; if there is no update suddenly, it means that my buddy fainted during the filming.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)