The evening of the second day after taking out Hakeem and Markuer.
Song Heping stood on the watchtower at the highest point of the gold mine, holding a small piece of gold he had just gotten from a panner between his fingers.
The gold looked like it weighed only two or three grams, irregular in shape, and its luster didn't seem very pure.
This was a piece of placer gold, washed directly from the river.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long, like a sharp military spike piercing the parched land.
After looking at the gold in his hand for a while, he turned his head and asked Ferrari beside him, "Six kilos?"
His voice was light, and Ferrari couldn't help but sigh.
"Yes, the production is very low."
Ferrari wiped the sweat off his forehead: "From morning to now, both mines together produce at most six kilos a day. I asked the foreman here; this is in good conditions. When production is bad, it's only three or four kilos. Calculating with the current gold price..."
