Guns and Knives in Northeast China: Liu Yong of Shenyang

My name is Liu Yong. I’m from Shenyang.

At the Marriott Hotel on Qingnian Street, some big shot from Hong Kong tried to act tough with me. I slapped him flat on his back.

“In Shenyang, you’d better behave!”

A big shot from Beijing kidnapped my little brother, stabbed Uncle Dong, and even said they killed my dad.

I pulled the hunting rifle out from under the bed.

“You touch my family, and you’re asking to die.”

At the Hun River docks, I aimed my gun at Gu’s forehead.

He asked if I had the guts to pull the trigger.

I smiled. “Northeasterners hate that question more than anything. Go ahead and find out.”