We currently have 33 Monthly Tickets, and the 15th spot on the New Book Monthly Ticket Chart is held by someone with 40 tickets—just 7 tickets away, just 7 tickets! Sausage lovers know what that means.
While Wang Zhuo slept soundly for those sixteen hours, the world outside underwent a seismic shift.
The Iron-Faced Mayor, Qin Xue, moved with the swift, decisive authority usually reserved for military operations. The moment he left Haijiao Villa and settled into his car, the preparations began.
At dawn, three fully armed motorcades pierced the Dongjiang District like daggers. The first team secured the Red House Bathhouse in just ten minutes; the second took over the Dongjiang District Public Security Bureau; and the third surrounded the fortress of Hui Hai: the Wanjinlou Grand Hotel.
Armed police, armored SUVs, military units—all mobilized for an off-site operation.
For Qin Xue, the arrow was already on the string; it had to fly. The incident had already caused an extremely negative ripple effect. Any hesitation or drawn-out handling, any single misstep, and he himself would be cornered. Time did not allow for careful planning; it demanded swift, decisive action.
Evidence? Hui Hai had lorded over Dongjiang for nearly two decades, simply waiting for the right moment to be felled. Anonymous letters could fill a sack, and those willing to testify under their real names could organize a reinforced company.
Backing? No matter how powerful the connection, could it truly surpass Qin Xue? Could it surpass Qin Jingzhong, who stood behind him?
Resistance? Bring it on. With the Armed Police and the Army deployed, just try to stand against the machinery of the state and see what happens.
The first action team quickly sent back word: the Red House was deserted. Only a few elderly caretakers remained, knowing nothing and saying less.
Qin Xue had anticipated this. No matter; the monk might flee, but the temple remains.
In their haste, the Red House must have left behind a wealth of clues. As long as they searched diligently, these would become powerful pieces of evidence.
The second team’s news followed closely: the entire district’s surveillance footage from last night had been heavily tampered with and deleted. All recordings related to the Red House were gone, as were those from several major traffic arteries. Tracing the whereabouts of anyone connected to the Red House was now impossible.
“This Hui Hai,” the Secretary of the Discipline Inspection Commission in Jiangzhou commented upon hearing the news, “has formidable counter-surveillance capabilities.”
Qin Xue gave a cold laugh. He was merely a district Public Security Chief. How strong could his local influence truly be?
“Mayor Qin, the satellite photos are in,” announced Chief Secretary Pi Shaocong, pushing open the door while clutching a laptop.
Connecting it to the projector, the images were cast onto the screen. The first photo clearly showed several large buses pulling out of the Red House.
The resolution was so sharp that the six large characters written on the roofs of the buses were visible. Qin Xue nodded with satisfaction, a forced smile playing on his lips as he remarked, “It seems even Heaven won’t let Hui Hai escape. Last night was clear, with only a waning crescent moon—the satellite captured everything perfectly.”
Xiao Wanjun murmured thoughtfully, “This Jinyang Travel Agency that provided the buses must be involved.”
As the photos cycled through, the convoy of buses dispersed into three separate streams. One stream, consisting of two vehicles, turned into the courtyard of a secluded building in the suburbs. A line of stark red text marked the image: Dongjiang District Mental Health Hospital.
Clearly, someone was being hidden in the asylum, and it certainly wouldn’t be society riffraff or hostesses. It had to be some of the victims.
“This Hui Hai,” the Secretary of the Political and Legal Affairs Committee shook his head repeatedly.
Qin Xue pointed toward the mental health facility and sneered, “Looks like some people are being driven insane.”
The Secretary of the Discipline Inspection Commission shot Qin Xue a knowing glance. He understood that this man intended to play a grand game. Hui Hai belonged to the Public Security system; the mental hospital belonged to the Health system. Two departments were already slated for reckoning. Who would be next?
When this fierce political struggle concluded, countless officials in Dongjiang would surely fall. After the previous mayor was placed under investigation (Shuangguai), Qin Xue had held the office for two years without making any major moves. Now, he was finally ready to unleash his power.
…
“Brother Wang Zhuo, guess what I overheard just now?”
Qin Siqing slipped back in after a brief reconnaissance, mysteriously challenging Wang Zhuo to a riddle.
“Your dad calling your grandpa?” Wang Zhuo chuckled. “That’s one I can’t guess.”
“Yes! It was my dad reporting to Grandpa. He said the main culprits have been apprehended, but the owner of the Red House conveniently left the country a few days ago—bad timing.”
“Who did they catch?” Gan Lin interjected eagerly.
“He said the Red House’s protection was the Director of the Dongjiang District Public Security Bureau, who also serves as the Deputy Secretary of the Political and Legal Affairs Committee. His name is Hui Hai,” Qin Siqing traced the character for 'Hui' in the air.
“How high an official is that?” Zhen Jin didn’t know.
“Much higher than your hometown’s County Party Secretary,” Qin Siqing explained. “Hui Hai is Department/Bureau level; the County Secretary is County/Division level. It’s practically night and day.”
Wang Zhuo chuckled, “Indeed. A single rank higher can crush a man to death. That’s why your father moved so decisively to take him down.”
“It’s not as simple as you make it sound.” Qin Siqing rolled her eyes at him. “My dad is under immense pressure. They didn’t even dare use personnel from Jiangzhou, fearing leaks that he could neutralize. This entire operation used people from outside the province who flew in overnight.”
Wang Zhuo snorted, completely unconvinced. “Tch, isn't that exactly what he should have done? I’d rather ask him what he was doing all those years before.”
Qin Siqing felt a surge of irritation, wanting to explain, but found herself speechless. It was true; how many innocent people had the Red House harmed over the years? What were certain people doing back then?
Gan Lin suddenly thought of something. “Does this mean the arrest warrants issued for the three of us have been lifted?”
“Yours and Sister Zhen’s definitely are. As for this guy,” Qin Siqing winked, pointing at Wang Zhuo, “he assaulted an officer, snatched a gun, and killed someone. Even if he’s eventually acquitted, he’s bound to spend a few days in detention beforehand.”
Wang Zhuo forced a bitter smile. He had already considered this; it was exactly as Qin Siqing described—he would have his personal freedom restricted for a period before any trial.
Gan Lin couldn’t help but look at Wang Zhuo with concern. She had been persuaded by him last night and agreed to take the blame for the killing, but she had her own bottom line. If Wang Zhuo were to be sentenced, she would confess everything; she would never let him become her scapegoat.
“What’s a few days in detention? I was just planning to write a documentary novel anyway. It’ll be good experience,” Wang Zhuo declared flippantly.
Seeing his casual demeanor, Gan Lin grew worried again. This fellow never tolerated injustice. What if he injured someone badly while inside the detention center?
…
The Red House was sealed.
Tiger Squad armored vehicles and fighter jets were deployed.
Boss Hui had fallen.
Designated time, designated location, confession of wrongdoing—Shuangguai.
The news spread like wildfire throughout Dongjiang District, morphing into countless variations within a single day.
“Did you hear? Hui Hai fought with some minister-level boss over a starlet and got taken down by him!”
“Extra! Extra! Hui Hai assaulted a female university student—she turned out to be the daughter of a Military Region official! The army stormed the Public Security Bureau demanding answers!”
“Heaven has eyes! Hui Hai, you finally got what you deserved!”
“This man must be executed to appease public outrage!”
“Chongqing has Wen Qiang, Jiangzhou has Hui Hai! Hui Hai’s downfall is deeply satisfying!”
“Sigh, Dongjiang is going to be quiet for a while. With the Red House gone, where will we go to have fun now…”
“My membership fee of over three thousand yuan is still unused, damn it!”
“Waaah, my husband! Your spirit can finally rest in peace. On the day Hui Hai is sentenced, I’ll bring your ashes to watch.”
The public reaction was intense, but in stark contrast, the media collectively went silent.
Even online, no information related to the incident could be found. Dongjiang residents discovered that any news they posted online would be deleted or blocked within five minutes, making it impossible to locate.
Even the previous news items vanished into thin air. Yesterday, major portals like Xinlang, Souhu, and Tengxun had all featured special reports dedicated to Wang Zhuo, detailing his series of actions and focusing heavily on the major incident where he assaulted an officer, seized a gun, and killed a man.
That’s right—wanted for murder. The Dongjiang police clearly knew that Gan Lin was the killer, but they deliberately obscured her identity and presence, pinning the crime entirely on Wang Zhuo. The deceased, Guangtou Zheng Baogang, was lauded as a Good Samaritan who bravely fought criminals, and his kind-looking memorial photo occupied a prominent spot on Wang Zhuo’s special report page.
Those special feature links that were just prominently displayed on the homepages of major websites were gone, and netizens following the story discovered that on some sites, the links still showed up but displayed a “webpage not found” error before they could even update their main pages…
…
“A hero daring to commit crimes protected by martial prowess,” they muttered.
At Shengxin Pawnshop, Ding Ren, Ding Baoji, Yuan Dakai, and Cheng Tiankun sat huddled together. Before them was a table laden with fine food and wine, yet none had the appetite to touch their chopsticks.
They had just seen the wanted notice for Wang Zhuo in the latest newspaper. When they tried calling Wang Zhuo’s mobile, it was switched off.
In this age of advanced communication, the internet grabbed the immediate headlines, and television held the second spot due to its real-time nature. Newspapers required layout, proofreading, printing, and distribution—a lengthy process. By the time Ding Ren and the others got their hands on the paper, the news was already outdated.
They were unaware that, in order to retract the reporting on the assault incident, many newspapers in Jiangzhou had delayed their distribution by two to three hours, reprinting entire sections. In their third-tier city, information spread less quickly. By the time the gag order arrived, the papers had already been delivered to the newsstands, making them impossible to recall.
Ding Baoji asked, “Uncle, can you call Uncle Wang?”
“Wang Zhengdao?” Ding Ren shook his head with a wry smile. “He’s having too much fun with the beautiful Ao Dai women in Vietnam right now. He even gave away his phone.”
The Ao Dai is Vietnam’s national dress, somewhat akin to China's Qipao. Wang Zhengdao couldn’t find enough Qipao beauties in Shanghai, but in Vietnam, he found them everywhere on the streets and was so captivated he forgot to come back.
Cheng Tiankun said with a wry laugh, “He’s probably the only person in the whole country released on medical parole for this kind of thing.”
“Don’t talk about the whole country,” Yuan Dakai clapped him on the shoulder. “I know more than one.”
The three exchanged a look, thinking that Cheng Tiankun handled business adequately, but his thinking was still too naive.