Beneath the tranquil surface of Jiangzhou City, a turbulent undercurrent surged in silence.

It had to be admitted that the security systems of a major city were quite sophisticated; two surveillance cameras simultaneously captured Wang Zhuo’s assault on the police officers, and these two video segments were presented immediately to the top figure in the Dongjiang District Public Security Bureau.

The Bureau Chief was named Hui Hai, a rather uncommon surname. It was rumored that there was a place in Dongshan Province called Huijia Village where the majority of people shared this name, and Chief Hui’s grandfather hailed from there, though that was over sixty years ago.

Hui Hai was fifty-one, right in the prime of life. He was not tall, standing about 1.70 meters, with a plump, soft build, always wearing a pair of square-framed glasses, never cracking a smile.

But over twenty years ago, he wasn't like this. Back then, he was a low-ranking narcotics officer, fighting on the front lines of life and death, facing true desperadoes every day. His partner and superior was Wen Shan; the two of them had distinguished themselves so much that not only had they made a name for themselves in Jiangzhou, but their counterparts across the nation knew of this duo from Jiangzhou.

Later, during an anti-drug operation, Wen Shan was tragically killed, and Hui Hai was honorably wounded, spending half a month in the hospital. Prior to this, the pair had just received commendations from the Jiangzhou Municipal Public Security Bureau. With Wen Shan's death, the halo surrounding the Wen Shan-Hui Hai partnership immediately converged onto Hui Hai alone. The tearful lament of an old leader—"Don't let a hero bleed only to weep again"—became the rainbow bridge for Hui Hai’s meteoric rise in officialdom.

Hui Hai later became a Sub-Bureau Chief. Through a connection with a former classmate who ran a hair salon, he became entangled in an ambiguous relationship with the "Red House," marking the beginning of his descent from integrity toward corruption.

This relationship persisted for twenty years. During this time, Hui Hai’s position kept ascending, and the scale of the Red House expanded continuously. By the time Hui Hai could exert absolute control over the Dongjiang District, the Red House had reached its zenith.

In Dongjiang, you might not know who the District Head was, or who the Party Secretary was, but you absolutely could not be ignorant of Chief Hui; otherwise, you would make mistakes, offend the wrong people, and never even know how you died.

Moreover, Hui Hai's influence even radiated across all of Jiangzhou. Although people from other districts often helped him in transactional ways, it was undeniable that Chief Hui possessed the qualifications and the leverage to strike deals with the powerful figures.

When he received the report call about someone assaulting an officer and seizing a firearm, Hui Hai was enjoying a fine wine dinner at one of his secret love nests. He merely cursed them as useless swine, then hung up. In his view, this was a trivial matter: catch the person who stole the gun, sentence them as deserved, and place the four useless officers who lost the gun on indefinite suspension so they could work on managing the public relations fallout—it was a way to generate some side income for his subordinates, wasn't it?

As for the specifics of the operation, Hui Hai wouldn't bother; if a Bureau Chief had to micromanage everything, what was the point of having Deputy Chiefs?

However, the second call a few minutes later caused him some irritation. This time, the message came from one of the fools who had their gun taken: the young man who seized the weapon did so to enter the Red House to rescue a kidnapped girl. Hui Hai frowned slightly; this was not good news, trouble was landing right on his doorstep.

He immediately called his brother-in-law, Wu Shengyou, who was a Sub-Bureau Chief, instructing him to notify the Red House personnel to be on high alert and to give that fool who didn't know how to die a "proper welcome."

"Best to shoot him dead on the spot," were Chief Hui's exact words. Because only the dead couldn't talk, and afterward, they could stage the scene however they wished to smear him.

But the development of events far exceeded their expectations. By the time Deputy Chief Wu’s call reached the Red House, Wang Zhuo and his group were already rushing down from the seventh floor, their speed rivaling that of the hundred-meter dash champion, Usain Bolt. By the time Deputy Chief Wu’s contingent, sirens blaring, set off from the sub-bureau, Wang Zhuo and the other two were already speeding away from the Red House in a car.

"What the hell are you doing?!" receiving the third piece of news, Hui Hai exploded into a tirade, losing all appetite for dinner. He slammed his stemmed wine glass against the table, shattering it into pieces.

"I left the moment I got the call!" Wu Shengyou was also stewing in grievance. It wasn't that his men weren't loyal; it was just that the Eighth Route Army—meaning Wang Zhuo’s group—was too cunning.

"Get people to chase them! You, come to my office immediately and call in every available asset!"

Ten minutes later, Hui Hai’s confidantes gathered in a small conference room at a three-star hotel. This was Hui Hai's private office; he visited this place more often than the Public Security Bureau itself.

"Before this blows up, you must find those people for me!" Chief Hui displayed the fierce resolve he possessed as a narcotics officer. He pointed at one of his trusted subordinates: "Bring me the living or bring me the corpse. Especially that hard drive—it must be recovered!"

The confidant nodded solemnly. "Sir, what's the procedural approach here?"

"Issue an urgent wanted notice, offer a reward of one hundred thousand. Do I need to teach you how to do that?" Hui Hai slammed the table, picked up his phone, dialed, and waved his hand dismissively. "I’ll immediately call the other districts and tell them to cooperate. You all leave now!"

Ten minutes later, the video of Wang Zhuo assaulting the police officers spread throughout the entire Jiangzhou public security system. Twenty minutes later, various radio stations and taxi companies broadcast the wanted notice with the reward. Half an hour later, detectives from the Criminal Investigation Division found Gan Lin’s cell phone on the body of Xue Guangtou. At the same time, Wang Zhuo’s identity was also confirmed from the surveillance footage, as he had recently become somewhat famous online, making it hard not to recognize him…

Forty minutes later, all exit routes and transportation hubs were fully sealed off. Fifty minutes later, police cars drove onto the campuses of the Medical University and Fudan University, demanding cooperation in the investigation. One hour later, Zhen Jin’s small barbershop was raided, neighbors received gag orders, and the landlord was taken in for questioning by the police…

Everything proceeded with intense activity and systematic order. Hui Hai sat back comfortably on the leather sofa, fiddling with Gan Lin’s cell phone. The girl's photo on the screen was sexy, charming, and smiling sweetly. He exhaled a plume of smoke, already contemplating how he would keep this canary. This was an elite student from Fudan University, young and beautiful—far superior to those third-rate starlets who threw themselves at him.

What did it matter if they were just three inexperienced youths? What storms hadn’t Hui Hai weathered in his life? What crises hadn’t he overcome? Yet, he always managed to emerge unscathed. Did he really think this little ditch could capsize the Chief's massive ocean liner? What a joke.

At the seventy-minute mark, the case finally saw a major breakthrough. Following a tip from a taxi driver who had previously reported something, the police demanded that all taxi companies issue an emergency broadcast seeking three suspicious individuals seen in a certain location. Finally, a driver who heard the broadcast called in the police, detailing the physical descriptions of the three passengers he carried, which perfectly matched the suspects.

Could the Monkey King really escape the palm of the Buddha? Hui Hai sneered, his mood as still as an ancient well. What was the Cantonese expression for "a piece of cake"? Right, sa sa sui ().

"Where did they get out of the car?" Hui Hai asked casually while deleting Wang Zhuo’s photo one by one from his hand.

It was a pity that such a beautiful female university student had been claimed by this kid first, but this did not diminish his desire. Furthermore, he believed there was always a chance, a tiny possibility, that the boy hadn't had time to act yet—in that case, hehe…

"They got off at Haijiao Villa. The driver said the man made a call in the car, saying he needed to meet the grandfather of the girl who answered the phone. When they arrived at the villa, a man around forty and a girl around fifteen were waiting for them."

Haijiao Villa?

Hui Hai’s face suddenly darkened. That place was not ordinary; only high-ranking officials and military commanders were qualified to stay there—even he wasn't qualified.

"Where is that driver? I want to see him immediately!"

Hui Hai had just stood up when another call came in. "Chief, we have new intelligence. Wang Zhuo’s department head says Wang Zhuo knows Mayor Qin’s father and daughter, and that their relationship is quite close!"

Mayor Qin? Qin Xue the Impartial? Hui Hai was struck as if by lightning on a clear day, petrifying on the spot.

…

Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, the night at Haijiao Villa was tranquil and serene.

Outside the window, crickets sang their heartfelt calls. Waves of unknown floral fragrance drifted lightly on the evening breeze, wafting through the window screens and stirring within the room—a curtain of misty dreams.

Wang Zhuo, Gan Lin, and Zhen Jin were settled in a secluded courtyard. The courtyard contained rockeries, flower beds, and a pond filled with koi. A row of four spacious rooms had been converted into independent residences, each complete with a bathroom and shower, and even a reception room.

It was rumored that this area was originally where the salt merchants kept their concubines.

Gan Lin lay alone on the broad double bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The most significant event of her life had occurred today, rendering even passing the Imperial Examinations insignificant in comparison.

Yes, she had killed someone. Just as Wang Zhuo had said, a single shot through the head. The bullet entered through the center of her forehead, pierced through the back of her skull, and left a splash of vivid blood blooming on the ceiling.

She hadn't wanted to fire that shot, but she had to. The bald man had already aimed his shotgun at Wang Zhuo, and she dared not gamble on whether his aim was true or if he could hit Wang Zhuo.

In truth, she hadn't intended to kill that man; she only meant to fire a warning shot, but her body acted against her will, doing exactly that. During military training target practice, she had missed three out of five shots, yet this one shot was astonishingly accurate. She thought perhaps Heaven itself didn't want to spare that evil man, wanting him dead immediately.

Recalling everything that happened today, Gan Lin’s heart quaked. Without Wang Zhuo risking his life to save her, what fate would she have faced? Brutal beatings, or defilement? Would she end up as a prostitute or a madwoman locked in a cage?

She shivered, daring not to think further.

Suddenly, a faint kitten's meow sounded from the courtyard. Like a startled bird, she instantly shot upright, feeling every hair on her head stand on end, breaking out in a cold sweat.

The cat meowed once and then fell silent. Gan Lin couldn't help but blame herself: if she hadn't been so reserved when they arrived and had slept in the same room as Wang Zhuo, she wouldn't have been frightened by a mere cat.

Finally, the cat uttered a low sound and walked away, but an irrepressible urge compelled Gan Lin, without hesitation, to get out of bed, put on her shoes, and walk toward Wang Zhuo’s room.

A bold notion spun repeatedly in her mind: He was willing to give his life for me; what is there for me to hold back?

Need monthly passes, need monthly passes, need monthly passes! Wang Zhuo is growing up, rambling about needing monthly passes! M