Li Bai, The poet, the serious Assassin. Wrong-Doing ! (Not my writng, edited, stolen)
Shamelessly stolen from www.chinadaily.com.cn
I saw it on the Australia Network satellite TV. Bugger html skills still lacking !
China sentenced a man to death and jailed another 28 people for up to life on Tuesday for their roles in a massive slavery and child labour scandal involving scorching brickworks in Shanxi Province.
The owners, managers and thugs at the prison-like kilns which the Chinese media said numbered in the hundreds in the northern province of Shanxi were convicted of charges including forced labour and illegal detention, an official said.
Related :
China promises to probe child labor charges
Related stories:
Loose media rules move closer to law
Police rescue 548 slave workers
Gov't shocked at slave labour in brickworks
Zhao Yanbing received the death penalty from the Linfen Intermediate People's Court for accidentally killing a worker on a "black brick kiln" in Hongtong county, at the centre of the scandal.
The court also deprived of his political rights.
The slave labor scandal erupted last month after hundreds of parents complained their children were being forced to work in brick kilns in Henan, Shanxi and Shaanxi provinces.
Zhao, who was hired to supervise workers in the kiln, was found guilty of manslaughter by the court, according to a press conference by Vice President Liu Jimin of Shanxi Provincial Higher People's Court on Tuesday in Taiyuan, provincial capital.
Zhao had previously admitted to beating a mentally handicapped man to death for not working fast enough last November.
Foreman Heng Tinghan was given life imprisonment for intentionally injuring workers and for illegal detention. Following his arrest last month, Heng famously said about his role in the scandal, "I felt it was a fairly small thing."
The boss of the kiln, Wang Bingbing, the son of a local Communist Party village chief, was sentenced to nine years in prison for illegal detention.
Twenty-six other employees were given prison sentences. Six taskmasters, convicted of forcing workers to work in brick kilns owned by Wang in Caosheng Village, from March to late May this year, have been sentenced to jail terms ranging from 18 months to three years.
The workers had been forced to work overtime without payment. During the period, 18 workers were injured, one seriously, in unspeakable working conditions.
Thirty-one dirty and disorientated workers have been rescued from a brickwork factory in China, where they were being held as virtual slaves. more:
A total of 29 brick kiln bosses, foremen, supervisors or taskmasters, tried by courts in different cities and counties of Shanxi in seven separate cases, have been given different jail terms so far, the court statement concluded.
Sentences of a further 12 people involved in five cases are expected to be made public in a couple of days, the court spokesman said.
Jamieson is dancing in the streets,singing, offering free beer to strangers after this prompt hearing and conviction. Execution will be swift.
GREAT !
Very well done, China. Another instance of Excellence. They are really raising the bar ! Now, about my residence permit that will die soon....ahhh 2 days, I believe.
Oh, well fronted the C*ps, today, photo taken on the digital camera (again).
All papers (Champinese Gestapo, just doing their job...) bitte : handed over, red ink stamps all over the place. How much do you want ?
An approval letter from Mum too ?
Jees, done this twice already at the Intry-Ixit station for Founners. This is time 3. I just love pegging out.
Yeah. a sxnsixive one and I don't want to be brnned. Tyxos arwe deliberatesky in some cases, sorry.
You know me, a little paranoid, papers in order. MOW, stolen and adjusted:
The lovely Ping-Tan song made me sleepy, despite the fact that tonight I had to kill someone. Of course, old people always like Suzhou songs; they bring to mind to the good old days.
They were scattered around down there, around the swimming pool, but apparently not many of them were really listening to the Suzhounese music. They talked among themselves, noisy chatter and laughter from time to time breaking out of each group.
Indeed, not all of them were old; in fact, there were many young women. At the very least, that was enough to attract my attention.
Through the telescopic gunsight, I watched them one by one, as if I were in amongst them. A lively party. There was goat roasted on a spit. Mmmm....
The cross-hairs on the telescopic sight continued to wander. Once in a while it rested on the brow of a person, and followed him. If I were to squeeze my index finger, obviously that forehead would get a hole.
And the body of that person would collapse.
It might collapse slowly, like a large tree falling to earth, or it might suddenly jerk and drop, causing great consternation among the groups of laughing people, causing the glasses to spill all over the trays borne by the waiters.
Certainly it would be more interesting if the body fell sprawling into the swimming pool with a reverberating splash, so that the water spurted out wetting the clothes of the guests and the swimming pool quickly reddened from the blood and the women screamed “Oooow!”
But I hadn’t yet found the person I was supposed to kill. Indeed, it was not yet time. He would arrive momentarily. And as a matter of fact, I really didn’t need to be too concerned about finding him because the communication device in my ear would alert me to him.
“Are you ready?” asked a sweet and soothing voice frome my headphone.
“I’ve been ready for some time; which one is he?”
“Take it easy, just a bit longer.”
From the terrace on the seventh floor of the hotel, I continued to peer through the telescopic sight. The damp breeze annoyed my lips and made me sweat so much that I wiped it off with a well-used napkin from that shit-runs-causing shit-hole that I mistakenly dined in at lunch today.
To pass the time while waiting for my target, I looked for the person who had spoken to me, mockingly. Laughed at my pathetic chinese.
And I gazed on the passing faces through the gunsight. Women were dressed in elegant evening gowns. Some with bare backs. Apple sized tits, though. Very beautiful faces, legs. The woman whose soft voice commanded me was also beautiful, I was sure. I had never thought a woman like her, a definite Chengdu (Sichuan) accent would be involved in a killing like this.
“Who is my target?” I had asked last week, when she orderd this shooting. Since the transaction was done by telephone, of course I could only guess at her appearance.
“You don’t need to know; this is part of our contract.”
Indeed, contracts like this were often the way things happened. I was just paid to shoot, who the target was being none of my business.
“But one thing you are allowed to know.”
“What?”
“The person is a traitor”
“A traitor?”
“Yes, a traitor to his people and country.”
He is the Chief Executive Officer of a plastics company that pumps 20 thousand litres of toxic by-product into the Yangtse River every day. That stuff migrates into Taihu, then to your luxury en-suite shower-head in Sunny Suzhou. He's also involved with contaminated bottled water !
So, my target was a traitor to people and country. Would I be considered a hero for killing him? I moved my rifle again. From behind the telescopic sight I studied the people who were arriving in increasing numbers. There was an uncomfortable feeling every time I focused on one of the people down below.
Maybe I knew one of them ?
Of course, their faces were the faces of perfectly fine people. I really didn’t know what was making me uncomfortable. Was it because so many of them wore formal clothes, the uniform that I hated? Were they in the Chinese kidney trade ?
Or was it just a feeling I had? Whatever it was, I swore to God I would feel truly happy if my victim this time were someone loathsome. A traitor to people and country is certainly a loathsome person.
I swung my rifle around again. Spying on people’s actions without them knowing I was watching gave me a pleasant feeling, awesome power - I can take out without regret.
It still hadn’t come to an end, that awful Suzhou whining song. It felt as if it had been going on a long time. Like the people down there, I didn’t really need to listen to it attentively. Suzhou music nowadays was like something preserved in a museum; those who performed it lacked the genius to develop it. Where was the woman with the gentle voice?
Everywhere, people were chewing free food, sucking down free drinks, smiling and laughing.
There were wives standing stiffly beside their husbands who were busily talking with their hands gesticulating in all directions. Men whose appearance revealed the souls of civil servants, respectfully keeping themselves inconspicuous, but eating greedily. Plainsclothes officers could be seen walking back and forth carrying walkie-talkies.
It would seem that the goat - roast party by the swimming pool at this seaside hotel was being attended by important people.
The night was clear and the sky was full of stars. In fact, the moon was full. I put down my rifle to rest my aching muscles. I walked into the room, getting some peanuts from the table. I turned on the television, but quickly turned it off again. CCTV 9 programs were always awful. It felt terribly quiet in the hotel room. I wanted to shoot my target quickly, then go home and have a beer.
“Hey, are you still there?” suddenly the voice was heard again.
“Yes, what’s up?”
“Don’t play games! I know you aren’t in position!”
I hurriedly went back to the terrace.
“How about it? Has he showed up yet?”
“He’s wearing a red cotton shirt, as it happens the only red one here, so it’s easy for you.”
I looked below; they were milling around like little animals; it certainly was not clear which one was wearing a red cotton shirt from seven stories up like this.
I raised my rifle again and tried to find a comfortable position. While chewing the peanuts, I peeped again through the telescopic sight. The cross-hairs went back to wandering from face to face. They were still laughing and smiling. I also smiled. In another minute your face will be overwhelmed with unabashed terror. I could shoot you all from here just as I pleased. But I won’t do that. I only work based on a contract.
“On which side is he?” I asked via the mike which hung below my chin.
“He’s by the corner of the swimming pool, on the south side, near the green umbrella.”
I swung my rifle to the right. Again I surveyed the greasy, shiny, glistening faces. The beautiful women I just had to pass by. And, there! that was him, a man wearing a red cotton shirt.
He was a man with regular features and an authoritative bearing. He was middle-aged, but didn’t appear to be over the hill. His hair was combed neatly to the back. A few comb-overs. He wasn’t laughing or smiling excessively. People crowded around him respectfully. There were also those who looked like they were fawning on him. The cross-hairs of my gunsight stopped exactly between his eyes.
“Do I do it now?"
“Just a minute, wait for the command.”
And I studied his face. Did he feel any presentiment of his fate? From behind the gunsight, faces bring forth their own particular enchantment, which is different if compared to that which we experience when meeting the person face to face.
He didn’t talk much, but apparently he had to answer many questions. And I felt that he answered very carefully. His countenance displayed an intention of courteousness without resentment. What was going to happen shortly when I shot him?
But I knew nothing of Chinese politics. So while staring at the face that would soon have a hole in it, I thought about other matters. Perhaps he had a wife, had children.
In fact, I thought it quite likely that he would have grandchildren. They would be wailing after hearing about the death of this person, and their weeping would be even more intense when they heard about how he had died. Let it be. Wasn’t he a traitor to his people and country? He had to get his punishment.
Somewhat tensely, I waited for the order to shoot. That was always the trouble with working according to a contract. I couldn’t do as I pleased. I was being paid to point the crosshairs of my gunsight towards the point where a shot would cause death most efficiently, and then to pull the trigger.
I always told myself that I didn’t kill people, I fixed problems that cause millions of people - abject misery. And I get paid to do it.
I just aimed and squeezed the trigger.
I stared at the face again, it felt so close -- even the pores could be seen clearly. It was as if I were studying the imagination of God, of divine fate. Who in fact will stop the life of this person, me or You? He is completely unaware that the angel of death is brushing against the back of his neck.
“How about it? Now?”
“I said, wait for the order!”
To hell with this little bitch, she really had her nerve, bossing around a paid hit man. My hand moved by itself, rubbing the gun. Relying on instinct, I searched for her among the crowded groups of overpaid, corrupt Chinese. One after another, beautiful faces filled my telescopic sight. I had to coax her into speaking.
“What are we waiting for?”
“You don’t need to know; the point is: wait!”
“This wasn’t in the agreement.”
“Yes, it was! Don’t act like an idiot!”
A silken scarf
A keep-sake from you
Bullshit! That Suzhouha song again, now very clear in my ear. For certain she was near the orchestra. I looked all around the orchestra.
My scope alighted on the swelling bosom of the Suzhouhua singer. There were several groups of people milling about. I could also hear the clinking of glasses and plates through my headphone. Maybe she was behind the orchestra, near the buffet table.
There were several women, as well as plain-clothes cops. Which one? I carefully looked them over one by one. Several among them were clearly only workers for the catering business. There was one women who looked like she was in charge. Maybe the one next to her. Her hair was straight and black, with bangs covering her brow. Her eyes stared in the direction of the red cotton shirt!
“Shoot him now,” she said softly in my headphone, and I saw through the scope she was indeed talking to herself. It looked like she was the one. She was listening by means of an earpiece and spoke to me through a microphone which was hidden in the strands of her necklace. A beautiful pendant, displayed on her slight chest.
“What?” I asked again, because I wanted to be certain that she was indeed the person.
“Shoot now!”
So this is how all the killings are carried out; just a link in a chain without end or starting point. This woman certainly was only one link in that chain. I turned my rifle back to its target.
The middle-aged han-bag-bearing-man was patiently listening to the story of someone who was standing in front of him.
The person telling the story seemed to be aflame with excitement, but the man apparently was holding himself back from catching on fire. He nodded, while stealing glances at those around him. As if he was worried that someone would hear.
I was ready to shoot. One squeeze of my index finger would end that man’s life story. I shifted the crosshairs of the scope slightly to the side, so that the bullet hole in his head wouldn’t make too symmetrical a division. The bullet would pierce his left eye. And I stared at the man’s eyes. Good God. Was it true that he was a traitor?
“You’re not mistaken? Is it true that he’s a traitor?”
“There’s no need to ask all these questions, shoot now!” I looked into his eyes again, wondering what kind of traitor he was.
“What kind of traitor? Why wasn’t he just put on trial?”
“What business is it of yours, fool? Shoot him now, or I’ll cancel the contract!”
A strange feeling suddenly came over me. I pointed the rifle at the woman instead.
“The barrel of my rifle is now pointing at you, sweetie,” I said coldly.
“What the hell is this?” In my scope I saw her face jerk up in surprise toward me.
“Tell me,” I repeated, “what wrong did this person do?”
“Shoot him now, you fool, or you will die!”
“In fact, you’re the one who’s just about to die.”
“Empty threats! You don’t know where I am.”
“You’re wearing a cheongsam with a slit to the thigh, and you’re behind the orchestra.” And I saw her face turn pale.
“You’ve broken the contract.”
“I don’t want to shoot an innocent person.”
“That’s none of your business, last year you shot thousands of innocent people.”
“That’s my own affair; tell me quickly what this person did wrong.”
The woman looked as if she was making a move to run away.
“Don’t run, there’s no use. Nobody will know who shot you. This rifle is equipped with a silencer. You know I never miss my shot, and I can disappear immediately.”
Her face looked up in my direction. I saw she was in a cold sweat. Full of anxiety.
“What do you want?”
“Tell me his wrong-doing.”
“He’s a traitor, he blackened the name of our people and country abroad.”
I change my mind.
I swing my rifle back to centre ther cross-hairs of the scope on the target.
Click. Mis-fires. Hurriedly re-load and Pahhhh. Silencer. Urgh. Messy. I reurn to the bar fridge, select a Heiniken and settle back to to the lounge in a a CNN partnered hotel.
Job done.
Jamieson.
