Farming Life Starting in Africa

"Don't hostages from other countries pay ransoms to get them released?" Leng Feng frowned, his face full of confusion. As a former soldier, he didn't yet understand the cruel rules of this chaotic Africa.

Rosen leaned back on the sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "You're overthinking it. Most people who get kidnapped can't afford the ransom, or their families don't want to pay it at all. Many people think it's not worth the price. Foreigners' lives are all priced, a price tag for a certain way of life. Maybe their families are even hoping they never come back."

Zhou Weijie sat opposite him, seemingly able to read Rosen's mind. He rubbed his temples with a headache. He knew Rosen's personality; he was easily swayed by gentle persuasion but not by force. Rosen would most likely try to confront Iron Army, which would mean losing a valuable customer.

However, he didn't say anything, just listened to the two of them debating the economics of international kidnapping.

Leng Feng was stunned for a long time before finally managing to stammer, "Then... what do you want to do?"

"See if there's any chance of rescuing them; if not, prepare for the worst."

After saying that, he bent down, picked up a plastic bag from beside his feet, and threw it at Zhou Weijie.

"Try your clothes on to see if the size fits."

Zhou Weijie took the bag and opened it suspiciously. Inside was an Arabic-style robe, grayish-white, looking no different from what the locals on the street wore. He touched the fabric, rubbed his fingers back and forth on it a couple of times, and his pupils suddenly dilated.

"This fabric..." He looked up at Rosen, his eyes wide with disbelief. The fabric felt exactly like a bulletproof suit. "You managed to make this?"

Rosen smirked. "Heh, I have my channels. These kinds of light industrial products are no problem for me."

Zhou Weijie didn't reply. He unfolded his clothes and laid them flat on the sofa, his movements as meticulous as a tailor taking measurements. Then he pulled a P226 from his pocket and cocked it with a click.

Leng Feng instinctively took half a step back: "Hey, hey, what are you doing—"

boom!boom!

Two shots.

The bullets struck the clothes as if hitting an invisible wall of cotton. In the end, only one slightly deformed bullet fell weakly onto the clothes, making two soft "tap-tap" sounds.

Zhou Weijie bent down and leaned closer. He stretched out his index finger and touched the spot, rubbing it back and forth a couple of times. He found that there was only a trace of white mark, and then looked up.

"The quality is quite good!"

Rosen chuckled, full of smugness.

"Honey badger," Zhou Weijie straightened up, his eyes shining like 200-watt light bulbs, "You can sell these from now on. I'll help you with the distribution; this is much more profitable than all the hard work we put into dealing with those dangerous things."

He paused, then lowered his voice, "I know quite a few wealthy people here who are afraid of dying. Those people are willing to spend any amount of money to save their lives."

Rosen rolled his eyes. "As long as you're not afraid of being targeted by the people from the Mainland Hotels, they have branches throughout the Republic of Ivia."

"Mainland Hotels?" Leng Feng interjected. "What kind of hotel? Is it a global chain?"

Zhou Weijie and Luo Sen glanced at him at the same time, as if they were looking at an innocent child.

"You don't need to know," Rosen said.

Zhou Weijie thought for a moment, biting his lip and calculating for a while. Finally, he slapped his thigh and made up his mind, "Selling a small amount won't hurt. I'll ship through a middleman, so they won't be able to contact me."

It seems money really does have an irresistible appeal. Such a valuable item could indeed fetch an astronomical price. A suit that can stop bullets—wearing it is like wearing a mobile bunker; who wouldn't want that?

"Alright, let's split it 50/50 then." Rosen waved his hand. "But safety comes first, especially for you. The people at the Mainland Hotel can't do anything to me. But it's different for you. If something really happens, you won't even be able to go back to China."

Zhou Weijie didn't care at all. "Hehe, it doesn't matter. That passport is meaningless to me. When I can't work anymore, I'll just find a place in Southeast Asia to retire, sunshine, beaches, coconut chicken."

Rosen joked, "Is your coconut chicken even legitimate?"

Leng Feng, listening nearby, felt a pang of discomfort. Deep down, he retained his military instincts and couldn't stand anyone criticizing his country. He immediately interjected, "How is it useless? With this passport, we have the protection of another country abroad. Besides, Chinese people will eventually return to their roots. Have you ever seen a tree whose roots grow abroad and still thrive?"

Zhou Weijie looked at him mockingly, a "you're still too young, kid" smile on his lips: "I don't even have an ID card. I don't even know where I'm from. I'm an illegal resident in China, so there's basically no way I can go back. Besides, the businesses I'm doing here are all high-risk, so it wouldn't be good for anyone if I went back."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Rosen clapped his hands, breaking the silence: "Alright, enough of that nonsense. Let's set off first thing tomorrow morning and bring Ma Xiao back so I can cause some trouble for Dane Company."

He glanced at the gray sky outside the window. Dusks in the desert always come quickly and fiercely; the sun disappears in an instant, without even a warning.

"Honey Badger, are you really going to go up against Dane Corporation?" Zhou Weijie asked.

Rosen pointed outside the yard, "There are still two of their tanks lying there. Even if I wanted to let this go, they couldn't."

He never mentioned killing them in the hospital. "Everything that happens is for my benefit, and anything that doesn't is worth dying for"—this twisted logic was a golden rule for Rosen.

Zhou Weijie sighed helplessly, "Fine. There are no wrong nicknames, only wrong names."

At this point, Zhou Weijie seemed to remember something and continued, "If a conflict really breaks out with Hassud tomorrow, then try to wipe them out—they still have quite a bit of gold. That money is enough for us to make a fortune."

He wasn't getting cocky. He knew perfectly well that with the bulletproof vests, as long as they had enough ammunition, they had absolutely no fear of that steel army still using cheap rifles. Wearing level three armor to fight an opponent with only a small pistol—it would be a disservice to the vest if they didn't win.

"Hahaha," Rosen laughed like a villain, "that's what I think too."

Zhou Weijie smiled helplessly, "The difficulty now is finding the Iron Army's stronghold. I'll have to contact them tomorrow and have them send someone over to pick us up."

Leng Feng timely poured cold water on the idea, saying, "This is very unsafe. What if they don't bring hostages? How will we rescue them? The transaction location certainly won't be in their hideout, right?"

Rosen nodded. Finding their base in those desolate hills would be difficult. Government troops had searched, but to no avail.