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Just as everyone was gazing down at the endless fields of poppies, feeling a mix of emotions, several large trucks rolled up at the foot of the hill. The trucks were packed with women whose faces were covered with scarves, and a few armed men stood guard at the back.
The trucks stopped as they passed the hillside. The door of the front cab swung open, and an Afghan man with a thick beard and an AK-47 jumped out, greeting Dudarev, who stood on the slope. Dudarev responded in the local language, exchanging friendly words.
The man came up the slope, chatting enthusiastically with Dudarev. He kept pointing at the women on the trucks below, and the two of them shared a few ambiguous laughs.
Not far away, Fiona Tang grew curious and quietly asked the bearded Akram beside her, "What are those two talking about? And what are those women in the trucks for?"
Akram shrugged with a strange expression and said helplessly, "Oh! Those women are 'spoils of war' from the tribal conflict. That man is a tribal warlord. He and his men just won a battle and captured those truckloads of women. Dudarev is a powerful and wealthy figure in this region, so the warlord is asking if Dudarev wants to buy a few as a side deal!"
"Oh my god—these women are—spoils of war! I—I can't even imagine—Afghanistan is just so, so primitive and brutal!" Fiona Tang gasped, covering her mouth in shock.
"Uh—extreme circumstances have extreme causes. Actually, Afghanistan is a place where geography, ethnicity, tribal politics, and foreign influences are incredibly tangled. The whole country basically still runs on a tribal alliance system. There are nearly four major tribes here, and the social structure is still pretty much primitive. The current government can't really enforce its laws in tribal areas, and most tribes have their own armed forces. Tribal elders hold real power and rule their territories, barely acknowledging the central government. Tribal wars break out often, wherever there's something to fight over. And where there's war, there's a winner and a loser! The winner gets all the resources of the loser. Women here have almost no social status, and in many places you can buy and sell women. Between tribes, women are considered an important resource of war!" Akram explained patiently.
"So—what will happen to those women?!" Fiona Tang looked at the terrified, helpless Afghan women on the trucks, like lambs waiting for slaughter. She felt her heart tremble.
"Those poor women will be sold to traffickers, who'll take them to the black market at the Afghan border, where they're picked out like livestock. Most will be sold to pimps in Peshawar, Pakistan, or even farther away. In the end, they'll all end up as prostitutes. That's their fate! Pretty tragic—" Akram shook his head and sighed.
"Is—buying and selling women legal in Pakistan too? Doesn't the government do anything?" Fiona Tang felt that those Afghan women were just too pitiful. She hadn't even been in Afghanistan for half a day, and already reality was stabbing deep into her heart.
"Uh—of course it's not legal! But it's a tribal tradition. The central government can't interfere. If they tried, it would spark massive riots, maybe even civil war!" Akram said helplessly, looking grim.
Faced with such a cruel reality, Fiona Tang felt her conscience burning. She couldn't help but stride over to Dudarev and said, "Mr. Dudarev, I want to ask you for a favor."
Dudarev was still talking with the tribal warlord. Hearing her, he quickly turned around, a flash of surprise in his eyes, then squinted and asked Fiona Tang in Chinese, "Oh? Beautiful Chinese girl, what do you need me to do for you?"
"Can you do me a favor? I—I want to use your connections to buy those truckloads of Afghan women!" Fiona Tang said bluntly.
"Oh! Heh—do you know how much they're worth? And if you buy them, where are you planning to send them—back to China?" Dudarev sneered.
"No matter what it costs, I'll buy them. If you can help me arrange a safe way out for them, I'll pay you whatever it takes. I just can't stand by and do nothing!" Fiona Tang said firmly.
"Heh—beautiful Chinese girl, those Afghan women aren't expensive. Wholesale price is only five dollars each. But if you want to safely get them into China, the transport fee alone is at least five dollars per person. So the total cost is over ten thousand dollars each! There are several truckloads of women, which means hundreds of thousands of dollars. That kind of money is nothing to me, but for you? Not so easy, right? And it's cash only!" Dudarev sneered.
"I have to save those Afghan women! But I don't have hundreds of thousands of dollars on me right now! I—I’ll find a way to pay you, can you front the money for me first!?" Fiona Tang swallowed nervously.
"Ha—front the money for you?! Hahaha—beautiful Chinese girl, you sure know how to joke! Are we that close? I'm only helping you get through the tribal area because Akram is an old friend, and I really want to see you guys kick some American ass! That's all there is to it. In this world, nobody does stupid things without a reason—especially here. I'm here to make serious money, not to play charity. If you don't have cash, don't be so naive! Just finish your mission and go home for your reward!" Dudarev sneered, throwing cold water on her hopes.
"You—you—can't you really lend me the money? I swear I'll pay you back as soon as I can!" Fiona Tang finally understood the terrifying power of money. Money itself isn't evil—it's people's hearts that are.
"Heh—not a chance!" Dudarev revealed his true businessman nature—he never does anything without a benefit.
"You—you're so cold-blooded!!" Fiona Tang was so angry her face turned pale.
"Heh, thanks for the compliment. If I weren't cold-blooded, I wouldn't have survived this long!" Dudarev sneered, his eyes flashing with impatience.