Farming Life Starting in Africa

Rosen drew his M1911 and fired without hesitation at the feet of the group of black men.

"Bang--!"

The pebbles on the ground bounced high into the air, kicking up a small cloud of dust, which startled the five men, who all shrank back and tried to hide under cover.

He said in fluent Arabic, "If you don't want trouble, get out of here now. I don't know who the next shot will hit!"

The five people stopped moving at the same time and turned around to look.

Rosen's fierce gaze swept across their faces. One of the burly black men, holding a small, exquisite Glock 43, also turned to him at the same time.

Rosen reflexively moved the gun barrel over, aimed at the hand holding the gun, and pulled the trigger.

"Bang--!"

The burly Black man let out a howl of pain, dropping his gun to the ground. He clutched his bleeding wrist tightly with his other hand. The bullet had pierced his wrist bone, and blood gushed from the wound, trickling down his dark skin like a layer of glistening oil.

"Alright," Rosen's voice wasn't loud, but it was clearly audible in the quiet alley, "Anyone else want to take another shot?"

The remaining four people looked at each other, and one of them was the first to move. He turned around and walked away quickly, and the other person followed closely behind and started jogging.

The remaining two were holding the burly man whose wrist had been shot; he was still howling, and blood dripped all the way down the path.

Rosen holstered his pistol and walked over slowly.

The woman was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving violently.

Rosen stopped three steps away and sized her up. She was tall and slender, probably a little over 1.7 meters.

Her skin was so fair it almost reflected the light under the dim lamplight. Her hair was a little messy, and her close-fitting gray quick-drying clothes outlined her figure clearly. Her chest was full, indicating that she was a naturally gifted person.

She is a rare species among girls in China, where malnutrition is common.

The woman showed no joy at being rescued. She still carried the basket and looked at Rosen, who was walking towards her, with a wary gaze, like a small animal cornered against a wall.

Rosen stopped three meters away from her, pointed to the dark surveillance camera above the shop entrance, and said, "You're safe for now. But if you don't want the shop owner to come after you for money tomorrow, you'd better put that broken basket down."

He bent down and picked up the Glock 43 from the ground. There was a familiar mark on the trigger of the gun, which made him chuckle. He instantly knew who the woman was.

The gun felt incredibly light in his hand; it was smaller than his palm. With its silver slide and black grip, it didn't seem like a practical weapon, but rather a toy a little girl would buy and carry in her bag for peace of mind.

"your?"

Rosen asked.

The woman put down her wicker basket, took two steps back, and pressed her back against the wall. Her eyes never left Rosen's hand, or more precisely, the gun in his hand.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back, looking hesitant and unsure of what to say.

Rosen didn't ask any more questions. He lowered his head, took out the magazine, ran his fingers along the edge of the magazine, and pulled out a thin wire from the capsule space, wedging it between the magazine's spring and the follower plate.

He pulled the slide, and the bullet in the chamber sprang out, somersaulted in the air, and landed in his hand. He flipped the safety and gently placed the Glock, now empty and with its magazine jammed, on the deformed wicker basket.

"Are you sure you can get home by yourself?"

The woman nodded slightly, as if she had relaxed considerably.

Rosen turned and left.

They didn't leave a phone number, didn't ask for my name, and certainly didn't say, "Would you like me to give you a ride?"

This woman is indeed quite beautiful. But what does her beauty have to do with him?

In this place, keeping your distance from strangers is the most basic survival rule, especially at night when danger lurks everywhere. He already carries enough secrets; if any one of them were to slip up, it would be enough to get him into serious trouble. He didn't want to invite any more trouble upon himself.

Besides, I already knew this from watching "The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber" when I was a child. What Yin Susu said to Zhang Wuji while lying in bed is absolutely true: the more beautiful a woman is, the more dangerous she is.

Rosen had walked several dozen steps when he heard the woman's voice behind him, clear and melodious, with a slight hoarseness, as if she had strained her voice from shouting for help: "Hey—thank you!"

Rosen didn't turn his head, just waved his hand. He thought his back looked pretty dashing, but he wondered if the woman could see him.

As long as you feel good about yourself, that's all that matters. As Comrade Lei Feng said, "Do good deeds without seeking recognition!"

He wasn't afraid of the woman threatening him with a gun from behind. The Glock 43's effective range was only fifty meters, and the magazine was jammed with wire. By the time she pulled out the wire and put it back in, Rosen would have long been out of range.

The woman leaned against the wall, watching the tall, floral-shirted figure wearing a baseball cap slowly disappear into the darkness at the alley entrance.

She glanced down at the Glock pistol on the wicker basket, hesitated for a moment, then picked it up. Suddenly noticing the wire in the magazine, she understood something. Her lips twitched, unsure whether she wanted to laugh or sigh.

She had been in Africa for less than a month, and today she had arranged to go to a bonfire party with two friends.

She stopped at a roadside stall to buy a drink halfway there, and when she turned around, she was nowhere to be found. She wandered around the alley for a while, and then those five black guys started watching her.

She ran all the way to the shop she had passed during the day. She remembered that the shop had a sign that said "24-hour convenience store" during the day, so she thought she could go in and hide. But when she got there, she found that the metal roller shutter door was pulled all the way down, and only a few wicker baskets used for selling goods during the day were left at the entrance.

As for the gun, it was given to her by her younger brother before she left home. It was small and exquisite, quite pretty, but she only tried firing it once and only used it to scare people.

When she had no other choice, she fired a warning shot into the air. The slight recoil startled her so much that her hand trembled, and the gun flew out of her hand, becoming an asset to the enemy.

The gunshot didn't scare the people away; instead, it enraged the five men.

What happened next was before that floral shirt appeared.

After much effort, the woman finally managed to pull the wire that was jamming the magazine out. She removed the magazine and clumsily reloaded the gun, feeling a sense of relief. Looking at the spot where the floral shirt had disappeared, a strange feeling welled up inside her.