Mercenary’s War
Chapter 1279: One Thousand Two Hundred Sixty-Two: The Beginning of Friendship

Chapter 1279: Chapter One Thousand Two Hundred Sixty-Two: The Beginning of Friendship

Little Donnie took a call and then turned to Gao Yang, saying, “They’re here.”

Gao Yang stood up, slapped the door of Li Jinfang’s room as he passed by, and shouted loudly, “Let’s go pick up the goods!”

Without breaking stride, Gao Yang kept walking. Li Jinfang quickly emerged from his room and followed behind Gao Yang and Little Donnie.

As the three of them reached the front entrance of the hotel, a military off-road truck pulled up right in front of them. The driver poked his head out for a brief glance, then jumped down from the truck and pointed at the canvas-covered truck bed, shouting, “Everything’s in there. Go ahead and check it.”

Gao Yang glanced at the revolving door of the hotel facing the truck. The thought of inspecting a truckload of firearms right outside the entrance of a five-star hotel felt incredibly brazen.

Pointing at a street corner not far away, Gao Yang yelled, “Move it over there, to the other side of the street corner.”

The driver grumbled a few times, but he got back into the truck, started it up, and drove it about dozens of meters away.

The truck was a ten-ton vehicle—not exactly a large truck—but the gear built by the Russians was always rugged and bulky. Though it wasn’t heavy, its wheels were massive. Gao Yang had to exert quite a bit of effort to clamber up into the truck bed.

The items Gao Yang had requested were haphazardly piled in the truck bed: directional mines, rocket launchers, machine guns, machine gun ammo—all messily thrown together. It looked like the loading process had been rushed, filling the cabin to capacity.

Snapping his fingers, Gao Yang said helplessly, “Let’s take inventory.”

Many of the items were packed in wooden crates, requiring them to open each one for inspection. The loose items were difficult to count, but a quick glance sufficed to make a rough estimate. The three of them busied themselves in the truck for half an hour before confirming that everything they had ordered had been delivered without missing a single item.

Jumping down from the truck, Gao Yang gave a thumbs-up to the smoking man leaning against the truck bed. Smiling, he said, “Great goods. I’m very satisfied.”

Gao Yang knew the driver; he was one of the burly men who had led them to meet Shava the day before.

The driver grinned widely, pulling a box of cigarettes from his pocket. After taking out a few, he started handing them out to Gao Yang and his companions.

“There’s quite a lot of stuff here. Do you guys have suitable transportation for it? If it’s inconvenient for you, the truck’s yours too. Our boss said he enjoyed doing business with you, so consider the truck a gift.”

“Thanks. We could really use a truck like this.”

Amidst the banter, Gao Yang accepted a cigarette but frowned as soon as he took a look at it.

Ukrainian-made cigarettes are hard to smoke—extremely hard to smoke. A considerable portion of the cigarettes sold in the Ukrainian market don’t even have filters. What Gao Yang held was one of those unfiltered types, a plain white stick.

Men who don’t smoke in Ukraine are rare, and lots of women smoke as well. Ukraine’s domestic production can barely meet demand. Imported and smuggled cigarettes occupy a significant share of the market. As for the driver’s offering, it was one of Ukraine’s cheapest brands, “Salve.”

Although Gao Yang didn’t smoke, it didn’t mean he was clueless about cigarettes. Eileen smoked occasionally and had a habit of trying the most popular local brands whenever she visited a new place. This was probably a common habit among smokers. Thanks to Eileen’s reviews, Gao Yang at least knew that Ukrainian cigarettes were notoriously unpleasant.

Gao Yang knew how to smoke but seldom did so voluntarily. However, when men wanted to express camaraderie or strangers wished to show goodwill, sharing a cigarette was practically universal. Refusing was an option, but accepting and lighting it would undoubtedly leave a better impression.

The driver lit the cigarette for Gao Yang, who inhaled deeply before immediately wrinkling his nose. Sure enough, the cigarette barely met the minimum criteria for emitting smoke—crude and awful. Calling it simply “bad” was too generous; “extremely bad” was more accurate. Then again, it wasn’t surprising. Most members of the White Shark Gang, led by Shava, came from slums. In their world, smoking premium cigarettes was almost unheard of.

Perhaps the White Shark Gang had money now, but their habits and tastes didn’t necessarily evolve to match.

Gao Yang tossed the cigarette he’d just taken one puff from onto the ground and crushed it underfoot. Turning to the slightly embarrassed driver, he smiled and said, “Your cigarette’s not great. Try mine instead.”

Gao Yang retrieved a box of Chinese cigarettes—not particularly expensive, priced at roughly ten-plus yuan a pack. Premium ones were often too smooth and unsuitable for people living and working on battlefields.

Opening an unsealed pack, Gao Yang pulled out a cigarette and handed it to the driver, grinning, “Try mine.”

The driver’s expression eased a bit. He discarded his own cigarette, leaned toward Gao Yang’s lit lighter, and took a puff of the offered cigarette.

Chinese cigarettes are flue-cured tobacco, while Western brands mainly use blended tobacco. Ukrainian white-stick cigarettes, meanwhile, might as well be categorized as “anything that burns.”

The driver’s eyes widened. He took another puff and nodded repeatedly, saying, “Not bad! Not bad! Really good!”

Favoring foreign goods is a universal phenomenon, applicable in any country. Ukraine, evidently, has it particularly badly.

Gao Yang chuckled, handing the driver the freshly lit cigarette. Smiling, he said, “Keep it and enjoy the new experience.”

Chinese cigarettes and American Zippo lighters—these two items always had a surprisingly high appeal among Russians and Eastern Europeans. It never failed.

After the delighted driver stashed the cigarette away, Gao Yang thought for a moment and handed over one of the lighters he’d brought along, smiling, “Take this as a gift too—a keepsake.”

The lighter had an image of a seductive woman on it. The driver accepted it with delight, exclaiming, “Really? Thank you! Thank you!”

Though not yet a major figure, Gao Yang had climbed out from the lowest rungs as a humble mercenary into a more prominent role.

Gao Yang neither groveled before the powerful nor sneered at the unassuming because he understood that minor players often played pivotal roles at critical moments.

Unquestionably, Gao Yang appeared as a “big shot” to the driver. Despite making an effort to convey equality in demeanor and speech, the driver’s behavior had unwittingly betrayed his true thoughts—he was slightly nervous when offering Gao Yang a cigarette.

The driver, initially shy, suddenly brightened and pulled out the lighter he had used earlier from his pocket, smiling as he said, “I’ll trade you mine—it’s rare nowadays.”

The lighter was sizable, made with an iron casing inlaid with a bronze star. Its weight was palpable, and the entire exterior had been polished to a sheen. The star, bright and shiny, suggested extensive usage over a long duration.

The lighter was quite old, dating back to Soviet times. Gao Yang, having given a small gift, unexpectedly received something far more valuable in return. He didn’t refuse. After flipping the lid to test the mechanism a few times, his face lit up with joy as he exclaimed, “Wow, I love this gem! Thank you, buddy.”

The driver grinned, replying, “It’s nothing—just a trinket. Well, gents, I’ve got to be on my way.”

Gao Yang raised his hand, saying, “Wait a second, buddy. I still don’t know your name.”

“I’m Alyosha.”

Gao Yang nodded with a smile, “Alyosha, wonderful. Please, deliver this message to Shava for me. Tell him this deal was very enjoyable, and I’m interested in doing more business with him. If he’s interested too, he can come find me here, or I can go meet him again.”

Alyosha nodded, replying, “No problem. Wait here for me a moment.”

After Alyosha hurriedly walked to the street corner and waved his hands a few times, a burst of intense engine noise roared from nearby.

Accompanied by screeching brakes, two sedans came to an abrupt halt at the street corner. Six men carrying rifles jumped out of the cars quickly.

Alyosha raised his hands and shouted, “Relax! They’re good friends—everything’s fine, fine. Shava, come over here, over here!”

Gao Yang sighed helplessly. Although Surian had paid the full amount, Shava still couldn’t fully trust the deal, sending armed men as an escort. On second thought, it made sense; if Shava had merely sent Alyosha alone, that would’ve been far stranger.

Shava stepped out of one sedan, his face filled with irritation as he shouted at Alyosha, “What are you doing? Did you forget everything I told you? Why the hell are you waving your hands around like an idiot? I almost started shooting!”

Gao Yang murmured quietly to himself, “Ugh, rookies—no experience. This friendly exchange nearly turned into a firefight.”

As he spoke, Gao Yang discreetly gestured with his hand, ensuring that Cui Bo and Glolov, stationed inside the hotel, wouldn’t misjudge the situation and open fire on Shava’s group.

Little Donnie exhaled and whispered, “Then again, rookies are easier to deal with. If it were a veteran gang, things wouldn’t go so smoothly.”

Alyosha didn’t overhear Gao Yang’s remarks. Smiling, he turned to Shava, saying, “Peter wants to talk more business with you. Since you’re already here, why not meet directly? They’re really good friends.”

Gao Yang, standing approximately twenty to thirty meters from Shava, waved and shouted loudly, “Hi, Shava!”

Shava reluctantly waved back at Alyosha, gestured at the men holding rifles, and then carried a bitter smile as he walked up to Gao Yang. Apologetically, he said, “I’m sorry—a small misunderstanding. You know we always have to stay a little cautious. I hope we didn’t scare you.”

Gao Yang smiled, replying, “It’s fine—perfectly normal to lack mutual trust on a first deal. Here’s the thing, my friend—I need a few more things. Originally, I planned to buy them from someone else, but since I enjoyed doing business with you, I’d rather purchase everything from you. Would that be convenient?”

Shava laughed heartily and said, “Name it.”

Lowering his voice, Gao Yang said seriously, “I need a few vehicles—Ukrainian military trucks. Also, I’ll need Ukrainian military uniforms, officer badges, and similar identification. I need all of it to include verifiable credentials and papers that would let us pass through any location in Ukraine without question. Can you make that happen?” (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendations or monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation. Mobile users, please visit m.qidian.com to read.)