Chapter 3: The Arms Dealer in the Lens

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As the sun began its descent toward the west, Tang Mi climbed the hillside and gazed at the crimson land below. The vast red soil stretched out freely beneath the cliff, like flames sweeping across, consuming everything in their path until they met the sky. At the horizon, the desert framed this burning land with a delicate golden edge. Grey-white thorns and clusters of spiky plants dotted the ground like scattered fragments of bone amid the red earth and yellow sand, giving the scene a poignant, mournful beauty. This is where the famous East African Rift Valley bids farewell to the jungle and enters the desert, then stretches across the plateau toward the Red Sea.

This area is known as the “Corner Forgotten by God,” as the dry, hot desert winds have taken away precious water sources. The land is filled with termite mounds and sand, where only a few hardy plants can survive.

The view before her was vast and magnificent, perfect for capturing in a photo, yet Tang Mi didn’t rush to pick up her camera. Instead, she sat quietly, listening to the wind around her.

The northeast wind blowing down from the highlands was fierce, making her eardrums throb with a “thumping” sound. In the howling wind was a faint, sorrowful wail, coming clearly, yet weakly, from the jungle behind her, tapping at her heart. She instinctively hugged her knees, burying her face in them, fighting the urge to cry, unwilling to listen.

It was the sound of elephants mourning. They were holding a “funeral” for a deceased companion. Whenever an elephant dies, its family members will gather around the body, circling it and emitting a cry similar to weeping. This continues until one day, when the body decays into bones. Then, they break the bones into small pieces, carry them deep into the jungle, and bury them with soil.

This unique funeral ritual of African elephants astonishes and moves zoologists, showing that in the realm of emotions, humans are not alone. Animals, like us, grieve for the loss of their companions, and our ways of expressing emotions are not much more noble than theirs.

Thus, Tang Mi often pondered this question: Is it that animals possess human qualities, or that humans have animalistic traits?

On her journey through the jungle, she had seen many elephant corpses. Their tusks had been sawed off, and their bodies were riddled with bullet holes. Some were decaying, exposing pale ribs, but their once-beautiful grey eyes remained open wide, filled with sorrow, fear, and confusion. These eyes stared blankly at the bright blue sky, as if questioning why their lives were taken, not by wild beasts or disease, but by small bullets and the greedy faces behind them.

Tang Mi captured their questioning and confusion through her lens, and the doubts she had before taking the photos began to find answers. Due to poachers’ slaughter, most of the “adults” in the elephant herds were killed, leaving behind many orphans. Elephants are highly family-oriented animals, and without the protection and guidance of their parents, young elephants become lost, their temperaments twisted and irritable, attacking indiscriminately.

More importantly, to survive, their bodies start to evolve by reducing tusk growth to avoid being hunted. Animals adapt to their environment far beyond human imagination; Darwin’s theory of evolution pointed this out long ago. But now, the force driving their evolution is no longer nature—it’s humankind.

Suddenly, a series of sharp gunshots echoed from below the mountain, breaking her contemplation like a clap of thunder.

Her first thought was of poachers. She quickly flattened herself, crawled to the edge of the cliff, and took out her binoculars to assess the scene below. Scanning over low bushes and grasses, she saw flashes of silver light near a tall baobab tree.

Adjusting the focus, the scene grew clearer—a group of men stood under the baobab, and the glint came from objects in their hands.

New M12S submachine guns gleamed with a dark, metallic luster under the sunlight. With their compact frames and sleek lines, the guns looked like toys in the hands of men dressed in military attire.

If not for the gun barrels still emitting faint smoke and the rebel insignia on their clothes, Tang Mi might have thought she was witnessing a film shoot.

“Are they the rebels from Z country? Are they about to start killing elephants again?” Tang Mi thought, feeling a surge of heat rise from her chest, anger pulsing from her heart to her mind. In the jungle, she had photographed victims and crime scenes; the men below were the perpetrators. But what could she do now?

Should she rush down and accuse them, “You murderers!”?

Such a foolish action would be useless, leading only to death and further fueling the killers’ arrogance.

She gripped her binoculars, forcing herself to calm down. What would be the best approach?

At that moment, a man who appeared to be the leader stepped forward, hefting the gun in his hand with a satisfied smile. He signaled to the others, and several burly men lifted bundles of large ivory tusks, loading them onto a truck nearby.

Next to the truck stood a few white men in suits and sunglasses. Around their feet lay wooden crates, their lids open to reveal an array of dark, cold weapons stacked together like rotting produce in a marketplace, continuously passed into the buyers’ hands.

“So they’re trading arms,” Tang Mi muttered, her lips tightening as she came to a decision. She dropped the binoculars, swiftly set up her tripod and camera, and adjusted the aperture and shutter speed at incredible speed. Today, she had only planned to scout the terrain and pick filming spots, so she hadn’t brought much equipment—even Richie was back in the village tinkering with his lights.

But opportunities come unexpectedly, like a fierce samba dancer throwing a flirtatious glance at the least prepared moment. Whether you can capture it depends entirely on your reaction.

Through her lens, a tall white man walked over to the leader, took a small velvet bag, and removed a sparkling object, turning it gently in the sunlight. A dazzling array of colors radiated from the small item, illuminating his blonde hair in an especially striking way.

Tang Mi aimed her lens at his face and the diamond in his hand. Yes, his face was striking—highly photogenic with deep features and defined contours.

“Dear arms dealer, take off those damn sunglasses and let everyone see your handsome face clearly,” Tang Mi thought to herself as she pressed the shutter. This documentary was meant to explore the reasons behind the elephants’ strange behavior, and the scene before her lens was the root cause.

She felt extraordinarily fortunate. The people below held weapons of destruction, while her camera was a weapon of truth. Its power might be small, but someone had to wield it.

As if hearing her thoughts, the man slowly turned his head, removed his sunglasses, and looked straight into the lens—and through it, at her.

His forest-green eyes narrowed in the sunlight, a sharp light piercing through layers of optical glass, stabbing into her eyes, even more dazzling than the diamond he held.

It was a look filled with warning and intimidation. Many large predators fix their gaze on their prey this way when enraged. Tang Mi’s hands trembled as she held her camera, and for a moment, she felt the urge to flee.

“Can he see me? That’s impossible—unless he has eagle eyes,” she tried to reassure herself, fighting down the fear rising within her.

The hillside where she hid was nearly a thousand meters away from the group, surrounded by dense bushes and tall grass. She was lying flat, and from his position, it should be impossible for the man to spot her.

Her initial instinct was right—she should have run. But many photographers have a reckless confidence, a tendency to believe they can capture the perfect shot just before danger strikes. Kane had once thought this way, and now so did she.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared to press the shutter again, only to see the man in her frame suddenly turn his back on her. When he turned around again, he was holding a Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle, aiming it directly at her lens.

“Shit!” Tang Mi cursed softly, quickly lowering her head and covering her camera, pressing her body to the ground. A thunderous blast sounded behind her, followed by a rain of splintered wood and leaves striking her body with stinging pain. She barely had time to roll to the left. The first bullet had missed, hitting a small tree behind her, but the second might not be so forgiving.

Resisting the urge to jump up and flee, she lay still in the grass. Exposing herself would only mean a quicker death.

Time seemed to freeze. She held her breath, feeling the cool, rough grass against her back, the heartbeat pounding in her chest in sync with the ground beneath her. The bright blue sky overhead seemed to narrow, pressing down on her like a giant net.

After a few moments, the anticipated gunshot didn’t come. She bit her lip and shifted slightly, only for a bullet to slice through her hair with a searing whistle, embedding itself into a rock in front of her. The rock shattered into dust and fragments, like a plaster statue cracking open. She quickly fell back, her vision dimming for a moment, her heart almost leaping out of her throat. In that split second, one question struck her: if she were about to die, what would she want to do most?

Without thinking, she clutched her camera tightly, her fingers moving swiftly.

A rustling sound of footsteps approached, growing closer and surrounding her like the patter of heavy raindrops.

Opening her eyes, she saw a cold, slender object pressed to her forehead.

“Stand up, hands above your head, don’t make me repeat myself,” a man with a gun ordered, raising an eyebrow. His dark face was expressionless, but his cold, predatory eyes glared at her from beneath a red military cap, like a snake watching its prey.

Tang Mi raised her hands above her head and stood up, catching a glimpse of the surroundings. Five or six men in military uniforms were pointing guns at her, each bearing the eagle-snake insignia of Z country’s rebel forces.

“Haha, Mr. Arthur, look what we’ve caught here!”

A loud, brash laugh came from behind the soldiers, rough and unrestrained, giving away its owner’s violent and commanding nature. Sure enough, a burly man built like a butcher but carrying himself with the pride of a general approached, flanked by a group of soldiers.

He looked Tang Mi up and down, his aggressive gaze lingering on her face, her curves, her chest, and slim waist, undisguised in his desire, sparking in her a mix of nausea and the urge to punch him.

“Well, well, a little doe caught in our trap!” The man’s smile grew lecherous, his chest heaving under his uniform like pork jello wrapped in coarse cloth. The row of medals on his chest jingled like meat hooks clinking against each other.

“Disgusting pig,” Tang Mi thought with disdain, holding back a sneer and instead wearing a look of terrified weakness as if she were about to faint.

“If you don’t mind, General Anderson, I’d like to ask this lady a few questions,” said a tall, blond man standing next to the “pig.”

“Of course, Mr. Arthur. She is your prey after all,” the “pig” gestured as if giving permission, clearly showing respect towards the tall man.

“Miss, what were you doing in the bushes earlier?” Mr. Arthur threw the gun in his hand to the soldier next to him, then casually placed his hands in his suit pockets as he slowly walked up to Tang Mi, observing her face intently.

“Taking pictures,” Tang Mi answered honestly, her eyes still fixed on the gun he had thrown, recognizing it as the M82A1, the same one that had nearly taken her life earlier. She also recognized this man’s face—it was the “arms dealer” she had seen through her camera lens moments ago.

“Taking pictures of what?” Arthur lit a cigarette, his face somewhat indifferent behind the smoke. His emerald green eyes narrowed slightly, emitting a dangerous gleam, as if warning Tang Mi that any wrong answer would lead to him firing his weapon, this time aiming directly for her head instead of the trees or rocks.

“Elephants,” Tang Mi’s body trembled slightly, her shoulders instinctively shrinking back, as if intimidated by his presence.

“Elephants? I hope you’re telling the truth,” Arthur signaled with his eyes, and the soldiers immediately took the camera and camera bag from Tang Mi and handed them over to him.

Arthur fiddled with the camera, his brow furrowing deeply, and his tone suddenly turned cold. “Why isn’t the LCD screen working?”

“It broke… The rocks exploded behind me earlier, I fell to the ground, it was terrifying!” Tang Mi bit her lip, her voice nearly breaking into sobs, her eyes filling with misty tears, flashing with fear and helplessness.

She looked fragile, like a frightened fawn, but the hunter across from her remained unmoved. He stared into her eyes, his lips curving slightly, almost as if he were smiling, but there was an unmistakable air of mockery.

Tang Mi’s heart skipped a beat under his gaze, feeling as though his eyes were two thin beams of light silently penetrating her skin, reaching into her chest and even deeper. Had he sensed something?

She quietly adjusted her breathing, trying her best to maintain a look of confusion and innocence on her face.

However, before she could manage to show anything, a hot breath, accompanied by the scent of men’s aftershave, rushed toward her, invading her nostrils with domineering force. Startled, two cold and soft things pressed against her earlobe, and a deep, gentle voice, almost like a lover’s whisper, reached her ears: “Terrified? How come you didn’t seem scared when you were secretly taking pictures of my face earlier?

Your eyes were completely calm when you dodged the bullets; I couldn’t see any fear at all. If you keep acting like this, you’ll give yourself away, miss.”

Tang Mi blinked her eyelashes, feeling a chill spreading from the spot where his lips had been against her ear, flowing to her limbs, turning into sharp ice flowers in her veins, sending a sharp pain through her fingertips. She didn’t need to think about how ambiguous her posture with this man was, but she didn’t care because staying alive was the most important thing at the moment.

In that instant, she remembered the time when she was swept into the sea by huge waves in the Bering Sea. It felt just like now—trapped, afraid, and powerless to struggle. This man’s danger level was just as fierce as the storm.

In the midst of her daze, Arthur pulled his lips away from her ear, grabbed the camera, skillfully removed the memory card, and tossed it behind him. The expensive, fragile device tumbled on the grass, rolling down the slope.

“General Anderson, leave this woman to me as a little discount for this transaction,” Arthur turned to Anderson, his tone casual but carrying the sharpness of a businessman.

“Oh? You’re interested in her?” Anderson’s eyes showed a hint of hesitation, but not because he was reluctant to part with Tang Mi’s beauty. It was because he had previously offered Arthur a few beautiful women, all of whom he had turned down. Why was it different this time?

As if sensing Anderson’s doubts, Arthur raised his eyebrow, his expression turning playful. He wrapped an arm around Tang Mi’s waist, and his hand expertly slid down to her bottom, grabbing it forcefully a few times.

“For business, I’ve been stuck in this godforsaken place for over a month. After the work is done, I need to do something to relax my body and mind.

Don’t worry, the Desert Raiders you ordered will be delivered in three weeks. With them, you’ll be able to outrun the government army’s convoy faster than lightning when you ambush them.”

“Of course, you’re my best business partner. Once my business succeeds, I’ll definitely not forget you, old friend.”

Ha ha, have a good night, Mr. Arthur.” Anderson’s oily black face broke into an ambiguous smile, not forgetting to sneak a few glances at Tang Mi’s perky backside.

This woman is a rare gem. While letting her go is a bit of a pity, compared to my career, what is one woman worth?

As long as the coup is successful and power is in my hands, I won’t be afraid of having countless beautiful women undress and line up before my bed.

With this thought, Anderson’s laughter grew louder.