Fang Senyan first walked to a seaside town and stepped into one of those parlors that kept their pink lights on late into the night. He told the proprietress directly to fetch him two beautiful women for a massage—up to this point, it was a perfectly normal transaction exchanging money for female companionship. However, if this proprietress also dealt in smuggling, she would then ask, "Are two beauties enough?"

Most regular patrons would usually reply that it was sufficient, but Fang Senyan answered that it wasn't—he needed at least eight. With that exchange, their secret code was matched. The proprietress would typically direct Fang Senyan professionally into a room, take out a map or a globe depending on its size, and vividly ask him where he intended to go, before arranging a deposit, lodging, and finally, buying his ticket before boarding.

Smuggling operations nowadays were quite professional, even offering first class and economy class—if you paid, the service was no less impressive than a standard cruise liner. Furthermore, the maritime police only made a show of enforcement during crackdowns; they generally ignored things otherwise—if the rats are gone, why keep the cats around? The journey from Chaoshan to Singapore took about eight days and eight nights. During this time, Fang Senyan neither wronged himself nor deliberately drew attention. He boarded the ship calmly, spent his days exercising in his cabin, entirely familiar with all the tricks and rules of sea travel, never betraying the slightest anomaly.

By the time he disembarked, Fang Senyan had gained something: his base Strength attribute had increased by one point, reaching 11. After getting off the smuggling vessel, naturally, people approached him regarding business. Fang Senyan, being familiar with the area, went straight to a hotel in Sembawang, within Singapore's GRC. Here, the proportion of the Chinese ethnic group exceeded 76%. Although Malay was the official national language, over half the population could still understand direct Mandarin conversation.

Singapore itself was heavily promoting the "Singapore Heritage Artifact Exhibition," followed by several days of the Chinese Charity Auction, the Asia Top 500 Enterprises Summit, and other events, all intended to inject a breath of recovery into the local economy that had been severely struck by the financial crisis. Consequently, the entire city held these events in high regard, though Fang Senyan paid them no mind. Singapore was a typical city-state; its combined naval, land, and air forces, along with logistics, totaled less than fifty thousand personnel... Such an extent of armed force, distributed throughout a metropolis of over five million people, was almost merely a symbolic deterrent, and for Fang Senyan, its intimidating effect approached nil.

The exhibition's opening ceremony was scheduled for the next day. Unquestionably, Fang Senyan did not choose to enter immediately. At the opening, the VIPs present would be of significant stature, potentially including the Prime Minister of Singapore and ambassadors from various nations. Acting at that time would mean dealing with their high-level security detail—something no rational person would attempt.

Fang Senyan’s plan was simple: wait until the opening ceremony concluded, then infiltrate the following day’s Chinese Charity Auction to identify which wealthy individual would acquire the bottle of wine he sought. After that, he would ambush the unwitting buyer upon their departure, executing a robbery that was shocking but ultimately minor in malice (since the goal was merely to seize a single drink), allowing him to slip away quietly and safely.

The sole immediate problem was that Fang Senyan absolutely had to gain entry to the auction hall to determine the buyer instantly.

Because even a fool could figure out that this bottle of Maotai would certainly not be the grand finale of the auction, and the buyer might leave immediately after securing the wine, before the auction even concluded. Thus, if Fang Senyan waited outside the venue, he would almost certainly miss his target. He could, of course, watch the live television broadcast outside, but such "live" feeds usually had a delay of about ten minutes, intended as a buffer against any unforeseen incidents (like someone suddenly shouting revolutionary slogans or engaging in indecent exposure). Fang Senyan could not be certain of the broadcast's exact format, so he was unwilling to take that risk.

Typically, outsiders were prohibited from entering auction houses unless they paid a substantial deposit. Fortunately, this time, in an effort to garner positive publicity, 50% of the proceeds would be donated to relevant charities. Such an event naturally demanded widespread promotion, ensuring plenty of reporters—ideally, mainstream media from every country—would attend. This served both to advertise the organizer's prestige and image, and naturally, to incite the vanity and competitive spirit among the wealthy attendees, thereby driving up the final sale prices.

Fang Senyan naturally set his sights on these journalists arriving from all corners. By dealing with just one reporter and seamlessly taking their place, he could easily and happily locate his primary target. Of course, he wouldn't dare target a reporter from a high-profile outlet like CCTV, as that would attract too much scrutiny. After careful consideration, he focused his attention on a reporter dispatched from the television station of Sabah State in the neighboring country of Malaysia.

Singapore and Malaysia are neighbors, and their bilateral relations had been very harmonious in recent years. Sabah State TV was akin to a provincial channel in Malaysia, similar in standing to Mango TV or Jiangsu Satellite TV domestically. Moreover, Malaysians and Chinese are not vastly different. If Fang Senyan darkened his complexion slightly and chewed some betel nut, he could pass for one. His objective was merely to gain entry; by the time the Sabah State TV crew realized a colleague was missing and started searching, only to discover the truth, Fang Senyan was confident he would have already achieved his goal.

Singapore commands the Strait of Malacca, a vital gateway connecting the Pacific and Indian Oceans. In his ten voyages by sea, Fang Senyan must have passed through here five or six times. Therefore, while he couldn't claim to be a local kingpin, he was certainly familiar with the routes. Every sailor smuggled goods—the larger the ship, the more they carried; the smaller, the less. In the later years, Fang Senyan had earned the trust of the captain of a five-thousand-ton Panamanian freighter and had even managed the "business" of selling private cargo. Naturally, those daring enough to handle smuggling operations usually had some connections in the underworld. Relying on goodwill established in the preceding years, Fang Senyan paid five thousand Singapore dollars (about twenty-five thousand RMB) and effortlessly acquired intelligence on the Sabah State TV group, including their lodging details.

After tipping sufficiently, Fang Senyan managed to secure a room adjacent to that of the Sabah State TV crew. He spent a considerable amount of time meticulously listening to their conversations, searching for any weak points. However, the group was jovial, often speaking in local slang, and Fang Senyan only had a rudimentary grasp of Malay. If they spoke slowly, he might be able to guess or bluff his way through fifty percent of their chatter. But clustered together and highly excited, their speech was rapid, leaving Fang Senyan utterly lost.

By the night before the Chinese Charity Auction began, Fang Senyan still hadn't found a single clue. But by now, his resolve was ironclad; if a mountain stood in his way, he would try to carve it open; if it were stone, he would seek to shatter it! Since these Malaysians wouldn't yield an opportunity, he would create one! After a brief thought, he went downstairs and bought a packet of laxatives. He identified one member of the Sabah State TV group who was of similar build to himself—one of the few who had a single room, indicating higher status. When the group went out for a late-night snack, he quietly snuck into the room and poured the laxatives into that man's glass.

The group claimed they were just grabbing a bite, but after eating, they went to a bar and returned thoroughly drunk. Everyone knows that once you are lying in bed when drunk, you are determined not to move, yet you become desperately thirsty in the middle of the night. Thus, Fang Senyan hadn't just added a pinch of laxative; he could have urinated in that glass, and the man wouldn't have noticed a thing.

So, the next morning, the man was unsurprisingly pale and sickly, slumped miserably in bed, radiating foul odors. His legs were weak, making it difficult to stand, let alone go out to report. The others exchanged glances, silently cursing the weakling for messing things up, but since this man had powerful connections, his companions could only reluctantly give him some medicine, offer a few instructions, and rush off to the auction site.

As soon as the group departed, Fang Senyan entered the room. Without preamble, he pressed a common local parang (machete) against the man’s throat, terrifying him into complete compliance. Having acquired all necessary items, Fang Senyan put on his prepared wig and sunglasses, knocked the man unconscious, grabbed the spare video camera the crew had left in the room, and strode swiftly away, looking every bit the part of a legitimate cameraman.

The rest was straightforward. Fang Senyan hailed a taxi to the venue, which was situated within a thirty-five-story luxury skyscraper in Singapore. Since the exhibition had been running for two days, the security presence seemed notably relaxed, with guards laughing and chatting, suggesting that even a civilian might find it easy to slip inside. Fang Senyan hurried in, flashed the press pass clipped to his chest, and proceeded directly to the 17th floor where the auction was being held. He found a corner, stood there with an air of purpose, and began surveying his surroundings.

The auction soon commenced, offering nothing new—just the usual platitudes, slogans, and emotional appeals. However, among the esteemed gentry seated below, there were quite a few attractive young women. But each one smiled sweetly while clinging to an old man, clearly the sort of beautiful flowers that could only bloom so brilliantly after absorbing the essence of aged manure.