As soon as Jiang Chen stepped into the room, a blond-haired, curly-headed Westerner approached him with a broad smile.
The man clasped his hands together in a greeting posture clearly copied from some old kung fu movie, looking a little ridiculous.
Although Roberts was a foreigner, Jiang Chen noticed that his skin wasn't particularly fair—rather, it was rough, like it had been scoured by sandstorms.
Yet his neat appearance and polite demeanor conveyed genuine respect.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Roberts. Bruce has already told me about you," Jiang Chen said with a polite smile, although his expression held a hint of amusement.
He couldn't help but find it funny—there was just something awkward about a foreigner using a stereotypical "Chinese greeting."
"Bruce is a good man," Roberts said, reaching out for a handshake. "He once took a bullet for me in the Middle East.
It's a joy to meet him again. As the Chinese saying goes, 'A friend of a friend is a friend.' Am I right?"
"Absolutely. And Mr. Roberts, your Mandarin is truly impressive," Jiang Chen said, shaking his hand firmly.
(Although he wasn't entirely sure that was really a Chinese proverb…)
"Haha, of course! I've always been fascinated by your mysterious country," Roberts said with bright eyes.
"There's opportunity everywhere here.
Please, come in. I happen to have a bottle of '82 Lafite. I've been dying to try it."
"Well, it would be rude to refuse," Jiang Chen chuckled and followed him inside.
Unlike the new wines usually supplied by the villa, this deep red liquid exuded a rich, mellow fragrance.
Even someone like Jiang Chen, who wasn't fond of wine, had to secretly praise it: Good wine, indeed.
Standing silently by the wall was a tall man, motionless like a statue.
Yet Jiang Chen could feel a wild, beast-like aura radiating from him.
The man wore sunglasses, but his sharp Slavic features—prominent brow, high nose bridge—were unmistakable.
He had the rugged, fierce bearing of a battle-hardened soldier.
"My bodyguard, Nick Kachinsky. Belarusian," Roberts introduced with a grin.
"We met in Ukraine. He's a good man, responsible for my safety.
Bruce is great, but Blackwater International gets a little too cozy with the FBI sometimes. I prefer keeping things clean, so I switched partners."
Even as they discussed him openly, Nick stood as still and composed as ever, his breathing steady.
"Is your work really that dangerous?" Jiang Chen asked casually, leaning back in his chair.
"Bruce mentioned you're a famous broker—oil and gold?"
"That's right," Roberts nodded, lighting a cigar and offering one to Jiang Chen.
"Besides oil and gold, sometimes I have to handle a little... arms trade for clients.
Once you get involved in that, well, there's always someone who wants you dead."
Jiang Chen accepted the cigar but didn't light it, instead playing with it idly between his fingers.
"In your country, firearms are heavily restricted.
Here, it's paradise for someone like me.
But good times never last. I have a flight to South Africa at three this afternoon," Roberts said with a rueful smile.
Jiang Chen glanced at the clock—it was already eleven.
"Won't you be cutting it close?"
"No worries," Roberts waved it off with a laugh, then straightened up, his expression growing serious.
"I'm actually very interested in doing business with you, Mr. Jiang.
Is there anything I can help you with?"
Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow, surprised by the directness.
"Don't get me wrong," Roberts added quickly.
"It was pure chance that I overheard your conversation with Bruce at the party.
But you know, business opportunities are born from coincidences.
I've always been interested in opportunities in the Far East.
And my instincts tell me—we could work well together."
"Oh?" Jiang Chen chuckled, intrigued. "In what way?"
Roberts leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"You deal in gold, don't you?
But in your country, selling large quantities of gold without proper documentation would draw government attention.
Especially... undocumented gold."
"You know quite a lot about our system," Jiang Chen said, smiling without confirming or denying anything.
"But isn't selling gold in the U.S. just as problematic?"
"Of course it is," Roberts laughed.
"But we play by the law and the evidence—not politics.
I have a professional team that handles these issues for me.
Even if the FBI doesn't like me much these days, they haven't caught me yet, have they?"
He tapped his cigar thoughtfully and continued, "Let me give you an example.
I once bought a batch of crude oil from Iran—completely illegal under the embargo.
But I routed it through a shell company I set up in Saudi Arabia.
After that, the oil entered the international market perfectly legally."
This guy's just casually confessing to international smuggling, Jiang Chen thought.
But he quickly realized that with bodyguards like Nick, Roberts' anti-surveillance measures must be top-notch.
Jiang Chen understood now: Roberts wasn't just a broker—he was an expert at laundering "black" goods.
"Sounds like we really might have a deal," Jiang Chen said with a smile.
"I'm an honest businessman," Roberts said brightly.
"No matter how large the volume, I can handle it.
You just sell the gold to me—I'll take care of the rest.
And I only charge a 9% commission."
Jiang Chen pondered for a moment.
9% wasn't unreasonable.
Especially considering that his gold had essentially cost him nothing.
Selling small amounts to local shops might have worked, but moving tons of gold would definitely draw dangerous attention.
Better to work with someone professional.
Roberts, sensing Jiang Chen's hesitation, grew a bit anxious.
9% was not a low fee, but financing the purchase would stretch even his considerable resources to the limit.
If the transaction exceeded twenty million dollars, he'd have to scramble to secure private loans.
Still, if Jiang Chen really had that much gold, Roberts was willing to lower the fee slightly to secure the deal.
Just as he was about to offer a discount, Jiang Chen spoke.
"I agree—but under one condition."
Roberts froze, then immediately smiled in relief.
"Name it."
"I guarantee the gold is pure—24-karat," Jiang Chen said calmly.
"Of course, you're free to verify it yourself.
But as for transportation, that's your responsibility.
I'll deliver it to a location within the country.
After the handover, the security of the gold is no longer my concern.
Also, payment must be made in U.S. dollars—on the spot."
"No problem, my friend!" Roberts agreed happily.
"So, we have a deal?"
"Deal," Jiang Chen said, reaching out his hand.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Roberts said, shaking it firmly.
He handed Jiang Chen a business card.
"If you're ready, just give me a call.
Oh, and you might want to prepare a Swiss bank account. It's... more convenient."
"Of course," Jiang Chen smiled, accepting the card.
"And good luck with your other ventures."
"One more thing," Roberts added quickly.
"Just so I can prepare my cash flow—how much gold are we talking about?"
"Ah, no rush," Jiang Chen said lightly. "I'll call you around July 15.
As for the amount... a few tons, give or take."
With that, Jiang Chen turned and left, leaving behind a stunned Roberts.
Roberts stood frozen in place, so stunned that he didn't even notice his expensive cigar falling to the floor.
A few tons?
Exactly how many tons?
Based on the current market rate—around $1,350 per ounce—a single ton of gold was worth approximately $43.4 million USD.
At a 9% commission, just three tons of gold could net him over $10 million in pure profit!
Nine percent!
It was absolutely insane—almost too good to believe.
This wasn't just a fortune—it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
It was money for nothing.
A few tons of gold...
Even if Jiang Chen asked for a 7% commission instead of 9%, Roberts would still jump at the deal.
How rich must someone be, Roberts wondered, to not even bother bargaining?
At the same time, it confirmed his earlier suspicion:
this gold definitely wasn't "clean."
What kind of business could produce so much untraceable gold?
Had Jiang Chen robbed the Central Bank of China?
"God Almighty..." Roberts finally muttered after a long while, sucking in a sharp breath.
"This guy... this is it. This is the big one."
He thought back to his own past deals—smuggling ten thousand tons of crude oil barely made him half a million dollars.
And that came with enormous risks—dodging U.S. Navy patrols, evading FBI investigations...
Yet Jiang Chen had casually proposed a nine-figure transaction, like it was nothing.
"Nick," Roberts asked quietly, almost dreamily, "Do you think this Eastern friend of ours is reliable?"
Nick, ever composed, shook his head.
"Sorry, boss. I'm not good at judging business matters."
But after a moment's thought, Nick added seriously,
"But he's a dangerous man."
"Oh?" Roberts chuckled, striking a silly Bruce Lee pose.
"What, you think he knows kung fu?"
Nick merely shook his head silently, familiar with his boss's quirky habits whenever he got excited.
"As a soldier," Nick said solemnly, "my instincts tell me—
If we were both unarmed... I'd only have about a fifty percent chance of beating him."
Roberts froze, genuinely startled.
He knew exactly what Nick was capable of.
Back in Ukraine, during an arms deal gone wrong, Nick had managed to fight off a dozen militia members with nothing but a pistol and nine bullets—getting Roberts to safety against overwhelming odds.
Now Nick was saying Jiang Chen's close-combat skills might rival his own?
Roberts burst out laughing.
"The East truly is a mysterious place. Maybe next time we should take a trip to Egypt too, eh? Hahaha..."
No wonder Jiang Chen didn't bother hiring bodyguards.
He was the bodyguard.
In a gun-restricted country like China, being able to fight was more than enough.
But Roberts wasn't worried.
Jiang Chen's personal strength had little to do with their deal.
Roberts considered himself an honest businessman.
He believed in contracts, in trust—the foundation for long-term profits.
He had no interest in short-sighted schemes or betrayal.
Even when he saw starving African children with diamonds clutched in their dirty little hands, he chose to trade candy instead of bullets.
After all, a single bullet cost more than a handful of candy.
He didn't doubt for a second that Jiang Chen truly had several tons of gold.
Nor did he have any intention of investigating Jiang Chen's background—
No risk, no reward. That's business.
And if Jiang Chen was willing to deal so confidently, it could only mean one thing:
he really had the goods to back it up.
Besides, trying to cheat him wouldn't benefit Jiang Chen in any way.