Searching for someone in northern Myanmar, and you call that earning tuition fees?

The luxury yacht "Desert Star" is cutting through the waves at a speed of twenty knots, carrying a group of people towards the high seas.

On the deck, music was deafening.

Hassan was still wearing his signature floral shorts, one foot on the leather sofa, holding the microphone, and singing loudly in a self-absorbed manner.

"I have twelve oil wells—but they can't buy your love—! Oh—yeah—!"

"Oh, my old camel, why are you weeping alone in the desert? Is it because your beloved mother camel has run off with that bandit who drives a Ferrari?"

He wrote the lyrics himself, and the melody went straight to the Pacific Ocean.

Li Changfeng was tucked into another fixed deckchair, a wine glass between his fingers, the red wine inside swaying gently with the movement of the boat. He wore sunglasses and appeared to be dozing, but his fingers, resting on his abdomen, unconsciously tapped a tactical rhythm with the vibrations of the engine.

Li Changfeng felt that life was finally comfortable.

Finally, all those endless inspection reports are gone, and my ears are finally at peace. I can no longer hear Old Zhao from the security department nagging, and I don't have to go to the police station to deal with those tedious statements.

"You've got a good plan."

Li Changfeng took a sip of wine, glanced at Su Ming who was checking the sturdiness of the ship's railings, and couldn't help but chuckle: "It's still quiet at sea, saves me from having to write an operation report later."

Although he said he wanted to take a vacation, Li Changfeng knew perfectly well what was going on. Staying on the island would bring trouble from the police, media, and tourists should war break out.

Once you get to international waters, that's a different story.

There are no laws here, only the strong and the weak.

"It's mainly to save money." Su Ming said without turning his head, tapping on the stainless steel railing as he spoke: "On land, if you damage flowers and plants, you have to pay for them; if you damage hotel facilities, you have to forfeit your deposit. But at sea, if you damage something, you just throw it back into the sea. That's called returning to nature."

Su Ming turned around and pointed to Hassan, who was still yelling "Oh yeah!": "Besides, the client bought a fully insured ship, so they can get compensation for battle damage. This is a good deal."

Li Changfeng paused, holding his wine glass, then let out a muffled laugh and shook his head.

Instead of passively defending, it's better to throw the meat out to lure the wolf into the house, and then close the door and beat the dog.

Hassan, tired from singing, wiped his sweat and moved closer to Su Ming, his face full of flattery: "Brother Su Ming, how was the song? This is 'The Bodyguard Song,' which I wrote especially for you."

Su Ming spoke frankly: "It's awful. And it's off-key. If you keep singing like that, even sharks will be forced to evolve legs and come ashore."

Hassan's face turned pale, and he quickly threw away the microphone.

"How much further out of territorial waters?" Su Ming asked, looking towards the cockpit.

The captain's steady voice came through the loudspeaker: "Three nautical miles to go. Boss, the radar shows two 'tails' following us for half an hour. They're moving very fast, and they're not fishing boats."

Upon hearing the word "tail," Hassan immediately shrank into a ball, his arrogant king of singers vanishing completely.

"You're here? So fast?" Hassan asked, trembling.

Li Changfeng put down his wine glass, stretched, and his joints cracked all over.

Li Changfeng walked to the railing and took a palm-sized monocular telescope from Su Ming.

On the sea, two white waves, like sharp swords, cut through the azure water and hurtled straight toward the yacht.

Several dark figures stood on the deck of the speedboat, the cylindrical weapons slung over their shoulders clearly outlined, their muzzles gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

"Damn, they've even brought out rocket launchers." Li Changfeng put down his binoculars, whistled with amusement, and raised an eyebrow at Hassan. "Not bad, Fatty, your head is worth a lot on the black market. Eight fully armed desperados, two assault boats, they're practically proposing marriage, they want to scatter your ashes."

Hassan's face turned pale instantly.

"Eight...eight?" Hassan's legs went weak, and he crawled under the round table, covering his head with his hands. "Are you kidding me! I'm just a sophomore in college! Why do I have to endure this kind of firepower?"

"Calm down." Su Ming walked over and tapped the table with his toe. "You're the client. If you hide, who's going to pay the final payment?"

Hassan trembled under the table, his voice trembling with sobs: "The checkbook is on the table! The PIN is my birthday! Fill it in anything! Burn it if you want! Please don't let me out!"

"The rules change once we're outside territorial waters." Li Changfeng's relaxed demeanor vanished, replaced by excitement. "Su Ming, this time, don't use your physics skills. Let your old brother stretch his muscles a bit, okay?"

He'd been feeling stifled at school for too long; he was itching to get back to neutering dogs and catching students who climbed over walls.

Su Ming watched the rapidly approaching red dot on the radar screen and simply nodded calmly: "Put the ammunition costs on Hassan's account, just don't shoot through the hull."