To be born under the sign of Cancer was proclaimed illegal by my great great great grandfather after the battle of Tanthana, and the declaration of independence. With the moon transiting through Cancer once every month, the power of the Cancerians was too great. Too frequent. Yes, it had led us to our victory against the Tanthanians, but it was deemed to be incongruent with a peaceful society following it.

There is not a Yapechean alive who knows what that power was. Not even my father. It was never to be spoken of, in the hope that the collective trauma it had unleashed would heal with time. The only thing known is that the results were so horrific that to be born under the sign became punishable by death at the coming of age- a fate that no family would assign their child intentionally.  Mine included. Had I not had the misfortune of being born six weeks prematurely, I would have been born under the sign of Leo, as my mother and father had intended. As it was, my mother was forced to give birth to me in secret, with no attendant other than my father. It fell to him to break the news to our people that my mother and her unborn child had perished during childbirth, and then to secret me away in the furthest wing of the palace to live my life in hiding.

The light is gone now, and the silvery moon is high. I can feel its energy pulsing through me. It feels different tonight. And of course, it is different. I am of age. The first moon in Cancer since my eighteenth birthday two weeks ago, and it is a full moon.

I close my eyes and feel the energy course over my body. It feels like subtle vibrations. A pulse in my veins, stronger than that transporting my blood, but not by much. I wonder how I will know when I am ready. I may only have one chance. If I do not succeed, if the plan is exposed, our people will have no way forward. The Rahulas’ reinforcements are expected by boat any hour. Once they dock and storm up the beaches, they will make for the headlands, and the battle will be lost. We are outnumbered, and the only active power at present is coming from the transit of Venus through Taurus. The Taureans weave sensuality through all who come in contact with them. Great for reproduction of the species, but not so helpful for battle. I am our only hope.

I turn my attention to the palace. That is where the signal will come from. My father has briefed me thoroughly on the plan. Our men are in position. The Rahulas are in position. Our plan hinges on the hope that my power will be the same as the other water signs. When being born under the sign of Cancer was banned, my great great great grandfather couldn’t have forseen how important the power to wield water would prove to be for our people. The other water signs are redundant in this battle. The transit of Pluto through Scorpio occurs only once every 265 years, rendering our Scorpios useless. So, too the transit of Neptune through Pisces- not due for another 63 years. Our civilisation will be decimated by then.

No one remains alive from the last time Pluto transited Scorpio, but our folklore tells that during the transit, Scorpios had the power to wield the water of bodies of fresh water. Our townships certainly moved from the side of Lake Yapache into the ranges some time in the last two centuries. There is every chance that this was a necessity to avoid flooding events from unmitigated wields.

The last transit of Neptune through Pisces revealed the ability of those born under the sign to wield the water of the skies- the rain. Leading to my father’s theory- that I will have the power to wield the ocean and create a tidal wave of such height and intensity that I can eliminate the Rahulan army with one strike. Of course, I must get the magnitude just right. Too high, and I will take out our people as well. Too low, and the Rahulans will suffer from nothing worse than soggy footwear, and our plan will be exposed.

The power is building. It sways me now where I stand. Is it the pull of the tide I can feel? I am encouraged by that thought. My gaze remains fixed on the palace. I will not miss the signal and fail my people.

There it is. A flash in the window of my father’s chambers, followed by another. I breathe in deeply, as I have been taught, and focus all of my attention on my chest. It’s happening. The power intensifies. It flows through me. I close my eyes tightly and raise my arms. I picture the ocean rising. My heart feels as though it is caught in a vortex. Is it my blood swirling, or the power? I don’t know, but I close down any other thought than the rising of the ocean. I have to see it clearly. The exact point when I need to release.

I must trust my instinct, and hope that my whole-hearted will to save my people will be enough. It’s here. I hold it steady at what I think will be 25 metres above sea level, give or take. And then, I fill my lungs with the cool, salty night air and a release it with a roar that I don’t even recognise, as I throw my arms wide, driving the energy towards the peninsula. I don’t know for how long I roar. It can’t be an hour, though it feels like it. It must be a minute. But when I stop, it is too quiet. Not the quiet hum that I was expecting. Not the quiet hum of a distant victorious army cheering from the headland. But the quiet hum of a distant battle that continues, unperturbed. And when I think of it, the ocean didn’t roar either. Only I did. I open my eyes. The ocean is still. The tide ebbs and flows gently as it did before. There was no wave. It didn’t work.

I sink to my knees, overcome with despair. My body still vibrates with energy. How could this be? How is it possible? I did not wield. I have failed. A cry out again, this time, a guttural roar, filled with grief. The grief that I will never know the people I should call family. Friends who I’ve yet to meet, who miss me from their life without even knowing I should be there. Love and passion that I will never know. If my people somehow find another way to win this war, I will remain in isolation. How can I show myself, knowing that I have failed? That’s if my father lets me live. If they don’t find another way, they will perish, and I will perish alongside them, never to know the feeling of connection with another human being. Never to know the divine vibration of fusion with a compatible sign. The despair engulfs my very being. I don’t know if I am still human. I think I may just be sorrow now.

The feeling of despair builds like a wave and I feel it crest. It is going to overwhelm me. I don’t know where I will end up, but I ride it. I don’t seem to have a choice. Again, my arms rise, I stretch tall, and then, when I think I might burst, the emotion bursts forth from me as a flay my arms wide. There is an atmospheric rumble that I can’t explain. It isn’t my voice. It’s the air around me, flowing through me, but not controlled by me.

I hear wailing. I open my eyes, my heart still clenched with emotional pain, but somehow slightly relieved from the release I have just experienced. What I see is beyond belief. Rahulas fall to the ground, clutching their chests. Their wails permeate the night air, piercing through the quiet ocean sounds, and the battle cries of the Yapeche. They fall, and they don’t rise again. They are dying. Defeated.

I don’t let go. I don’t let go of the emotional turmoil I still feel inside me, knowing now, in my very being, that it is my despair that brings them to their knees. No wonder those like me were deemed too dangerous, too threatening to live amongst society. I don’t wield water. I wield emotion. A wave of endless hopelessness and anguish is what brings the enemy to their knees and makes them yield.

I watch as my people take control of the peninsula and know that the war is won. My own fate is unknown. When my father knows what I have done here tonight, I know not what he will do. What can he do? Does he really have a choice? A weapon as powerful as this, with the ability to be unfurled once each month during the transit of the moon through Cancer, could be catastrophic if misused. But then, I am his daughter. Perhaps I wield some emotion for that reason alone.

Slowly, I realise I can let go. I can surrender. My people are safe now. A fresh feeling washes over me. Relief? Triumph? Acceptance. My purpose is fulfilled. Whatever happens now is superfluous. I may never know love, but my love for those I have never known was enough.

“So, the killer makes it past the security downstairs,” Derek said. “He enters the apartment where the victim is waiting with a gun. The victim shoots but only grazes the attacker, who knocks the gun out of his hand, poisons him, and flees before security arrives.”

“The killer is a Scorpio, so they may have the power of invisibility,” Arthur agreed. “I’m surprised the victim didn’t have more security.”

“Some people want to live simply,” Derek shrugged. Derek’s family had a house on Boxer Island. He’d invited Arthur, but Arthur declined, not wanting to force his overgrown orphan self on his partner’s family.

“The chief wants to talk to us,” the other Derek said, holding his cell phone. So that was the original. Gemini couldn’t duplicate technology.

“I’m sure he does,” Arthur stood. “These murders have a connection, and the killer is working their way up the social ladder.” He glanced away as Derek merged with himself. They left, dodging the uniformed officers and the lab techs in the hallway. Down in the car, Arthur buckled his seatbelt as his partner started the engine.

“So, what do a love guru, a financial advisor, and a homeless guy have in common?” Derek asked as he drove. “That sounds like the start of a dirty joke. But seriously, it’s nothing.”

“They probably share a killer,” Arthur pointed out as he closed his eyes. “Though there are plenty of Scorpio assassins, so maybe not.”

“The victims are also all psychic,” Derek agreed.

“Which means they all probably knew something they shouldn’t,” Arthur agreed. “But is it the same something or different somethings?”

“What do you have so far?” the Chief asked, leaning a thick fist on his desk. As an Aries, he was leadership material, but his style was aggressive on a good day. Arthur sat beside Derek in the chairs on the other side of the desk. The Chief’s office was old and worn, much like the man himself. It was painted in shades of brown, most of which had faded to tan.

“The financial advisor was managing seventy-three accounts,” Arthur reported. “Including the investment portfolio of a restaurant group, endowments for two universities, and a hospital expansion fund.”

“Restaurants?” the Chief perked up. “Any mafia ties?”

“It’s likely,” Derek agreed. “I don’t know a restaurant in this city that isn’t tied to the mafia.”

“And the homeless man?”

“He was admitted to the hospital the day before his death,” Arthur reported. “The attending physician said he was brought in for an overdose, but when they got him conscious, he made a commotion and took off. He was murdered in an alley a day later.”

“Who was his dealer?” the chief asked. “Any connections to the restaurant group?”

“He lives on the East Side,” Derek said. “That’s Lazlo Family territory. I’m not sure if they’re connected to the restaurant group.”

“Forensic accounting will check,” the Chief said.

“What about the love psychic?”

“Nothing so far,” Arthur admitted. “But we were only halfway through the interviews when we caught this case.”

“Split up and get them done. Use that new Virgo woman,” the Chief ordered.

“Interrogator Messi. She can come with me,” Arthur said to his partner, who nodded good-naturedly. The Chief dismissed them, and they returned to their desks, where they reviewed the financial planner’s documents and emails.

By eight, Derek had left, but Arthur kept working. He was never sure if it was because he was a Capricorn or if he loved his job. Several hours later, the sun had risen, and Arthur was no closer to a solution. He rubbed his tired eyes and then jumped. Standing next to his desk was Interrogator Messi. She wore a brown striped suit and a surprised expression.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as she tucked thick brown curls behind dainty ears. “I’m a bit early.”

“No, I’m glad you’re here,” Arthur stood and grabbed his coat. “There are a couple of people I’d like to get to before they go to work.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have time to change your shirt,” Messi said, glancing down at a stain on Arthur’s chest. He blushed and went to the locker room, where he showered and brushed his teeth. He was back in less than ten minutes. Messi was sitting on his desk next to two coffees. She was paging through the love psychic’s pink planner.

“These three people were supposed to meet with Ms. Rollings the day of her death, and these three had meetings booked for the next day,” she held up a slip of paper with names on it.

“We’re still working through the last people she saw,” Arthur said as he took a coffee.

“But why murder someone for something already said,” Messi protested. “The cat’s out of the bag.”

“You have a point.”

“Really?” she asked in surprise. “I mean, it’s just a thought.” She tucked her hair behind her ear again.

“It’s a good thought,” Arthur said. “Let’s do it.”

The first address was a swanky building in the Synastry neighborhood. Arthur and Messi beat rush hour traffic and arrived quickly at the fancy address. The woman was a well-manicured mother of two who had wanted to ask the psychic about her teenage daughter’s first boyfriend. When Messi apologized for interrupting their morning routine, the woman shrugged a cashmere-clad shoulder.

“The nanny has it covered,” she said. “I don’t know what to tell you. I wanted to consult Rollings about Jessica’s new boyfriend. I want to make sure it’s a healthy relationship for her first love.” Arthur thought letting her daughter live her life would be healthier but said nothing. He showed the woman the pictures of the homeless man and the financial advisor, but she didn’t recognize them.

“How did you hear about Ms. Rollings?” Messi asked.

“I heard about her from Tracy Rochester,” the woman answered. “She just got engaged and was supposed to consult with the psychic about her fiancé. I don’t know why, though. He’s a doctor.”

“Oh yes! She’s on our list of people to chat with,” Messi said. Arthur frowned at the breach in protocol.

“If you go now, you’ll catch her leaving yoga. It’s right around the corner,” the woman said, giving them the studio’s name. She then drifted off to check on her children. The detectives let themselves out.

“She’s telling the truth,” Messi told him in the elevator. “She has no idea who did it.”

Arthur and Messi walked to the address and waited at a cafe next door as sweaty white women filed out of the studio.

“There she is,” Messi pointed to a tall, thin woman in a green sports bra. Arthur wasn’t sure how she could tell them apart.

“Tracy Rochester?” Messi asked with a friendly smile.

“That’s me!” the woman smiled. Her smile faded as she glanced up at Arthur’s lurking form. Messi introduced them and ushered the woman to a table at the café before Arthur could speak. He was beginning to see the benefits of having an interrogator on the team.

“We’re just chatting with everyone about their appointments with Ms. Rollings,” Messi said.

“Yeah, of course,” Tracy said, sipping from an expensive water bottle. “It’s no secret. I just got engaged, and I wanted to do a consult. Everyone does it.” By everyone, she meant the wealthy elite who could afford the five-figure fee. Arthur tried to keep a neutral face.

“Congratulations!” Messi said. “So, you were going to consult Ms. Rollings about your fiancé?”

“Yeah, he’s a resident at Saint Anne’s,” Tracy smiled. “Dr. Mike Maddix. He’s in the ER. He literally saves people’s lives.”

“Saint Anne’s?” Arthur spoke up. “How long has he been working there?”

“Like four years,” Tracy replied. “He’s on the fundraising committee. It’s how we met. Last year, we raised over 3 million dollars.”

“That’s impressive,” Arthur pulled out the financial advisor’s picture. “Do you know this man?”

“Sure, that’s Edward Bouchard,” Tracy said. “He just started managing the hospital expansion fund.”

“Are you aware that Edward Bouchard was murdered last night?” Arthur asked. The woman’s eyes widened.

“You’re kidding?” Tracy gasped. “Does Mike know? He just started working with him.”

“We haven’t spoken to Mike,” Messi said. “Do you know when he started working with Edward Bouchard?”

“It was only a couple of weeks ago,” Tracy frowned. “I know because he complained that they brought in a new guy. I don’t know why because the old guy was like a million years old and absolutely useless.”

“We have Dr. Rachel Ableton as the contact for the account,” Arthur said, looking at his phone.

“Oh yeah, Dr. Ableton’s name is on it, but she doesn’t do anything. She puts her name on stuff while everyone else does the work.”

“Before we head out, we noticed that you made an appointment the week before Ms. Rollings died. It was canceled last minute, and then you rescheduled for the day she died,” Messi said.

“Yeah, I had to cancel because Mike had an accident that day!” Tracy said. “It was so weird because he never drives. He crashed his car into a lamppost in a parking lot. Some kid ran out in front of him.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” Arthur said. “We should probably chat with your finance. He’ll be at the hospital this time of day?”

“Oh, always,” Tracy smiled. “Let me know if I can help in any way. I’m sure Mike will want to help, too.”

Arthur and Messi said goodbye to the woman and hurried to their car.

“She’ll be texting him now,” Messi said as Arthur started the car. “She was telling the truth.”

“He won’t run,” Arthur said. “Smart guy like that will think he can fool us.”

“Once he realizes I’m a Virgo, he’ll know he can’t,” Messi grabbed a handle as they turned a corner. Her small shoulder bumped against Arthur’s large elbow. He blushed and moved away. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Arthur took out the phone and handed it to Messi.

“Answer it,” he ordered.

“It’s Derek,” Messi said. She pressed the speaker button.

“Arthur!” Derek said. “We got the killer. We contacted the Lazlo family, and they gave up the assassin. They didn’t want the heat. We interviewed him, and sure enough, he killed all three victims.”

“Who hired the assassin?” Arthur asked.

“We don’t know,” Derek admitted. “It was set up through the dark web.”

“We have a lead. We’re heading to Saint Anne’s,” Arthur said. “We’re looking for Dr. Mike Maddix. Send backup.”

“On it,” Derek said. “I’ll head over now.”

“Have them wait in the parking lot,” Arthur said. “We don’t want to spook him.” The car pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Arthur parked in the loading zone.

At the front desk, Arthur and Messi asked for Dr. Maddix and were directed to the break room. They walked through the ER, a bustling place full of hospital beds and patients, nurses and doctors rushing between.

In the breakroom, they found two female nurses and a man in a white lab coat.

“Dr. Maddix?” Arthur approached the man.

“That’s me,” the doctor said. “I hear you’re asking some questions about Edward Bouchard.” Arthur shook the man’s hand. Messi smiled and nodded. The nurses glanced at them, packed up their lunches, and left.

“We just met your fiancé, Tracy,” Messi said. “She’s fantastic!”

“Tracy’s great,” Maddix agreed. “She mentioned you stopped by.”

“She was supposed to have an appointment with Ms. Rollings,” Arthur said. “Were you aware of it?”

“Yes, I knew,” Maddix frowned. “I’m sure she mentioned that I think it’s weird, but she insisted.”

“I understand why you’d be annoyed,” Arthur agreed. “It’s not very trusting.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Maddix said. “Just confused. The people I grew up with don’t do things like that.”

“It must be hard to keep up with Tracy’s crowd,” Messi said. “It’s a different world. All of those galas and fundraisers. How long have you been managing the expansion fund?”

“I don’t manage that. I just help out from time to time,” the doctor crossed his arms. “Dr. Abelson manages the account.” Arthur glanced at Messi, who subtly shook her head.

“Dr. Maddix, did you hire someone to kill Edward Bouchard?” Arthur asked.

“Why would I have to hire a killer?” Maddix laughed. “I’m a Cancer. I could block an artery with my power and make it look like a heart attack.”

“But you wouldn’t have an alibi,” Arthur pointed out. “Cancers have to be in the same room as their targets. Most have to touch them.”

“I don’t have to touch anyone,” Maddix said. “I’m a top-level Cancer.”

“Dr. Maddix, why aren’t you answering the question?” Arthur asked.

“You’re a Virgo, aren’t you?” Maddix turned to Messi. “I don’t have to answer any questions without my lawyer present.”

“You aren’t being arrested,” Arthur said. “We are just having a conversation. Don’t you want to help?”

“Of course,” Maddix said. Messi looked at Arthur and shook her head.

“Look, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Maddix stood. “I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer.”

“Then you’ll have to come to the station with us. You have the right to remain silent,” Arthur said and stood. He pulled his handcuffs out of his pocket. “You have the right to legal counsel…” Arthur stopped = as pain ripped through his left shoulder. He fell to his knees. The doctor extended his arms. Messi also fell, grabbing her arm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Maddix cried. “I’m a good person. I save lives. I deserve a decent life.” The Doctor pinched his fingers, and the pain in Arthur’s chest worsened. He fell to his side. Messi struggled up and raised her right hand. A blinding white light emanated from her palm. Arthur closed his eyes, and it was the last thing he saw.

He awakened in a hospital bed to the worried face of a nurse checking his pulse. Derek stood in the corner of the room.

“Messi?” Arthur asked Derek.

“She’s fine,” Derek said. “She got your guy. Blinded him. They’re down the hall.” Arthur gently pushed the nurse away and stood. They went down the hall, where the other Derek stood beside a uniformed officer in front of a door. Arthur opened the door and went in.

Messi sat in a chair, looking tired. The doctor lay in the bed, hands cuffed to the rails, steel mittens over his hands. White bandages covered his eyes, and his face was burned like he had spent a week on a beach without sunscreen. He was unconscious, but Arthur gave him a wide berth.

“I got the recording,” Messi whispered. She led him out the door, and the uniformed officer took her place.

“Are you ok?” Arthur asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. Before they could say anything else, the Chief appeared from around a corner, three subordinates following.

“There you are!” the Chief called. “Excellent job. The district attorney is confident this will be a slam dunk!” He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, and Arthur winced.

“It was all Messi,” Arthur told his boss.

“Oh, I know,” the Chief smiled at her. “You’re looking at a promotion for this young lady.” This time, Messi winced.

“It’s always been my goal to make detective,” she admitted.

“We’d be proud to have you!” the Chief said. “I think I know a man who could use a partner.” He smiled at Arthur as a nurse came around the corner.

“Both of you should be in bed!” the nurse said, pointing at the detectives. The Chief shooed them away, and they followed the woman to their rooms.

Easy Southern Banana Pudding

Yield: 14 servings, about 2/3 cup each

Ingredients

• 3 cups cold milk
• 2 (4 serving size) boxes Jell-O Vanilla Flavor Instant Pudding & Pie Filling
• 30 Nilla Wafers
• 3 medium bananas, sliced
• 1 (8 ounce) container Cool Whip Whipped Topping, thawed

Instructions

1. Pour milk into a large bowl.
2. Add dry pudding mixes. Beat with a wire whisk for 2 minutes or until well blended. Let stand for 5 minutes.
3. Arrange half of the wafers on bottom and up side of a 2quart serving bowl; top with layers of half each of the banana slices and pudding. Repeat all layers.
4. Cover with whipped topping.
5. Refrigerate for 3 hours.
6. Store leftover dessert in refrigerator.

Notes

Save 60 calories and 3.5 grams of fat per serving by preparing with fat-free milk, Jell-O Vanilla Flavor Fat Free Sugar Free Instant Reduced Calorie Pudding & Pie Filling, Reduced Fat Nilla Wafers and Cool Whip Lite Whipped Topping.

Garnish with additional banana slices, dipped in lemon juice to prevent darkening, just before serving.

I have two teenage sisters, who have both always enjoyed looking nice, and taking a lot of care with their appearance. They have dozens of health and beauty products in their rooms, they get their hair done a lot, and getting ready can take them over an hour.

So, as I was growing up with them, I heard the names of a lot of brands. Lululemon. Brandy Melville. Mecca. Bershka. Zara.

I would kind of just overhear these brand names when my sisters talked amongst each other, or see logos on shopping bags every once in a while. My brain kind of just put these names into the category of “girly girl stuff that didn’t really concern me” and I went on with my life.

Then one day, I was in Lisbon on a holiday last August. I was getting a lot of grief for the way I dressed, and I was informed that, on our last day of the trip, I would be trying on clothes. It was quite fun, to be honest.

The centre of Lisbon had just about every brand you can think of, but I didn’t know what to try on, or what I liked. That’s when the person I was with suggested that we go into Zara. I was like

“Zara?? But isn’t that for girls?”

I don’t think that was a silly assumption for me to make. After all, the store’s name was literally a girls’ name, and I had only ever heard Zara be brought up in the context of my sisters buying new (girls’) clothes. But the person I was with kinda laughed when I said that, as if I had said something silly.

As it turns out, Zara does boy clothes too. Great ones, which I enjoy wearing.

I think the name is misleading. If only I had known this a few years earlier.

How should the rest of the world handle foreign policy with the United States after seeing Trump and Vance’s orchestrated attack on Ukrainian President Zelensky?

Many people are shocked for some reason, but we Chinese believe this is just what the US would do, and it was predictable given America’s recent behavior. We knew from the first day of the war that either Russia would be eliminated and divided up by Europe and the US, or Ukraine would be eliminated and divided up by Russia, the US, and Europe. To our surprise, in Mr. Trump’s plan, Europe becomes completely insignificant. From the questioner’s perspective, by the rest of the world he meant Europe, and he was extremely angry about it.

We of course consider this to be immoral, and we believe that the US and Europe have an unlimited moral responsibility toward Ukraine. You cannot tell the Ukrainians many years later that everything they have done over these years was only for themselves and has nothing to do with the overall freedom and democracy of the Western world. Now Ukraine’s grain, minerals, and economy are taken by Americans, its land is taken by Russians, Ukrainian men die on the battlefield, women flee to Europe, and everything is in ruins.

See these lives that vanished on the battlefield; they might have been young kids who enjoyed silly animated shows and short videos, respected engineers and doctors, husbands and sons with their own families. They stick pictures of their favorite virtual girls on their rifles, they say goodbye to their families via social media, they call out desperately in the camera of the drone. These children have no idea what they are facing; they just believe that they have support from the Western liberal world and that they are doing the right thing: they are protecting their country and the Free Alliance. Now, they are organic matter rotting in the soil. Regardless, after all this, NATO’s leader—the United States—tells Ukrainians that they are fighting only for themselves. This is the most hypocritical and clownish farce. After all these years, after Ukraine’s active support for democracy and freedom, and its serious planning to apply for membership in democratic clubs like NATO and the EU, and its brave participation in desperate fights for this, Americans tell them that they need to be grateful and pay their debts，and there are no security assurances because Ukraine has already been sold to Putin. “Vladimir, without your war, the US would have had no chance to get these minerals and contracts for free” Mr Trump said so.

But this is all a lie aimed at deceiving Ukrainians and Russians into opposing each other, isn’t it? We saw the US and Russia carving up Ukraine’s body, with Ukrainians and Europeans having no say in the matter. The traditional Western savagery is breathtaking. Even many Westerners themselves cannot accept this.

Why are countries such as Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, and even the Philippines a haven for Chinese criminals while Vietnam does not face this problem?

Why? Those countries you mentioned including Thailand have millions of immigrants from China.

Even my great granddad could anytime be traced back from mainland China- we tag along pretty well until we don’t care about different races.

Vietnam and China remain rivals, can’t see eye to eye like the Hebrews and the Canaanite during the old days.

The ‘Han Dynasty’ dates back 100 B.C.E before AD 1, to Qing Dynasty and the war in the late 70s between them. In short, there has never been peace between this two countries till now, bro.

Especially the ongoing over South China Sea territorial disputes making more unstoppable tensions

But they (Vietnam & China) maintain economic ties, the same crap as the “peace talk” between the 2 presidents from the US and Ukraine the other day.

From what I read, despite military tensions exist, both countries avoid direct conflict today.

Which Chinese criminals want to mess with Vietnam knowing our little friends used to send the “big bully” packing… You? Bro!