On an early spring afternoon, in the southwestern border between China and Myanmar, just outside the city of Ruining.
A young guy, probably in his early twenties, was riding a worn-out motorbike along a winding mountain road. On the backseat sat a large woven bag. The motorbike rattled and roared, mirroring the faint fatigue etched on the guy’s handsome face.
As he looked ahead, a city came into view. His lips curled slightly in a small smile, and with a twist of the throttle, the bike surged forward onto the highway.
Ruining’s Gao Town. The young man expertly maneuvered his motorbike down a narrow alley and entered a courtyard. On the left stood a row of two-story Dai-style buildings; on the right was a messy storage yard under a large shed. Piles of stones were scattered around haphazardly, with bags of raw stone stacked in all directions. Machines lined one end of the yard, their engines humming, and a group of people had gathered around a makeshift platform nearby, bending over to examine something closely.
“Back already, Alex?” A skinny, middle-aged man hustled out from the crowd, heading toward the bike to greet him.
“Yeah, I’m back. Louis, looks busy here today, huh?” The young man replied casually, glancing at the scene."Yesterday, a customer hit the jackpot, and word got around. A lot of people showed up. The boss is in the office; you should go see him," Louis Legge said.
"Alright, Uncle Louis. I'll help out later. For now, could you keep an eye on the bag for me? It's too heavy to carry upstairs," replied Alex as he headed quickly up to the second floor.
He stopped at the office door, gave it a quick knock, and stepped inside. Around a massive tea table spanning several meters, a handful of people were sipping tea and chatting. Hearing the knock, they turned to look, their eyes briefly landing on Alex as he walked briskly to the tea table and addressed a man in his fifties. "Boss, I’ve brought the goods back."
Bertrand Milburn glanced at Alex and asked, "No issues on the way?"
"None, boss. The goods are downstairs," Alex responded.
Turning back to the group of tea drinkers, Bertrand said, "Gentlemen, let’s head down and have a look. Fresh stock just arrived. Tonight, I'll treat you all to some wild game."
One of the middle-aged men raised his hand slightly and said, "Mr. Milburn, if the quality’s as good as yesterday’s stone, I’m claiming it."The group stood up and headed downstairs. Alex stepped ahead quickly, reaching the ground floor first. He grabbed a trolley and started loading the heavy woven bags onto it with some effort. Pushing the trolley into a room on the first floor, he was soon joined by Bertrand and the others. Bertrand casually shut the door behind him and said, “Alex, put the stones on the table.”
Opening the bag, Alex picked up each stone and carefully placed them onto a scratch-filled tea table. Each stone was still wrapped in several layers of thick woven material and Myanmar newspapers. Bertrand explained, “There are five in total. The largest weighs 40 kilograms, while the smallest is just over 6 kilograms. Take a look.”
The guests began searching for scissors and knives. Amidst the sound of paper tearing and scraping, the stones were gradually unwrapped. Each person then pulled out their professional flashlights, meticulously inspecting the surfaces of the stones.
Jadeite jewelry is beloved in China, but few people know that raw jadeite, when extracted, comes encased in a layer of weathered skin. This outer layer varies in thickness, and even with today’s advanced technology, no device can determine the quality of jade beneath the surface. Thus, people rely on visual inspection of the raw stone’s outer shell to make educated guesses about the quality inside. This practice, known as jade gambling, has existed for centuries and still carries both risk and allure.Axiang stood by, silently observing the stones. There were three black ones, one yellow, and one yellowish-white. The largest among them was black, while the smallest was yellowish-white.
Bertrand Milburn glanced over and said, "The black stones are from Mowanji, a very promising site. The yellow one comes from Geyein, and the smallest, the yellowish-white, is from Muna."
He was referring to the mining locations—an essential piece of insider knowledge in the stone trade. There’s even a saying in the industry: “If you don’t understand the mine, don’t gamble on stones.”
A man in his thirties asked, "Mr. Milburn, what's the price on these?"
"Ethan, you tell me which one catches your eye. I'll make sure you're satisfied," Bertrand replied smoothly, flashing a confident smile.
The group wasted no time. They busied themselves, flipping the stones front and back, shining flashlights on them from every angle. Their discussions overlapped, a blend of excitement and judgment. Axiang quickly stepped in to help, especially with the bulkier stones, which were a challenge to move.
About thirty minutes later, Ethan Glancy, the younger man, pointed at one of the black stones and asked, "What about this one?"
"400,000," Bertrand replied without hesitation.
Ethan examined it again, frowning slightly. "Sure, there’s water inside, even a color band... but the surface is rough as hell," he murmured, running his fingers over the stone. Then, he casually glanced at the others and chuckled, "Hey, anyone feeling lucky? We could chip in on one, test the waters."“Ethan, that one’s got a rough skin. The quality won’t be great, and you’ll have to gamble on the base—pretty risky,” a thin man remarked casually.
“Victor, which one catches your eye?” Ethan asked without much thought.
“I’d pick this yellow one,” Victor replied, his thin figure offset by the gleam in his intelligent eyes. “It’s got pine flowers, tight skin, single-water. If the color’s good, it’ll be a big win.”
Frank, a chubby middle-aged man, laughed nervously. “I’m new to this. I’ll just follow whoever’s betting—it’s all a learning experience for me.”
Bertrand, the boss, chimed in. “These stones were handpicked by us at the market. The quality’s top-notch. Whether you strike it big comes down to luck and connection.”
The group weren’t regulars, only showing up once or twice a year. But when they did, they gambled tens or hundreds of thousands on stone-cutting, making them solid VIPs.
Harold, the oldest of the group, said with ease, “If you’ve got your pick, just cut it. If you’re up for teaming up, that’s fine too. Frank can join whoever he likes; newbie’s got the itch.”
“Thanks, big bro,” Frank grinned broadly. He had recently become fascinated with this risky game, though he’d never dare come to Rui Ning alone without this crowd guiding him.In the end, four people picked three stones. Harold Daniels and Victor King went for the yellow-skinned one, weighing 17 kilograms. Ethan Glancy, the youngest among them, was feeling bold—he not only chose the one priced at 400,000 but also went for the biggest stone here, though its price wasn’t as high. Meanwhile, Frank Davis didn’t miss out—he bought a share in every single stone.
After settling the prices and payments, Bertrand Milburn couldn’t hide his delight. “So, gentlemen,” he asked quickly, “cut or no cut?”
Ethan Glancy grinned. “Cut, of course! What else am I buying them for?” He was already grabbing a pen, marking lines on the surface of one stone.
Ethan was new to jade gambling, still in the thrill of the discovery phase. Many beginners don’t even know what they’re hoping for—they’re just intrigued, curious to see what might be hidden inside. This type of customer was gold to stone merchants like Bertrand Milburn.
Bertrand turned to Alex Foster. “Go call someone to fire up the saw.”
