No matter how much bad luck Jiang Luo ran into—even if it was just tripping and falling—Zhao Mingshi would feel satisfied about it.
The only slight trouble was Bi Feng. Zhao Mingshi figured he could talk to him a bit more, persuade him to leave, and that would be the end of it.
Who would have thought that Bi Feng never came back to look for him again. Zhao Mingshi waited a few days, but when no one showed up, he quickly tossed Bi Feng—and that unlucky brother who’d been arrested—out of his mind and went right on living his carefree life in the United States.
What Zhao Mingshi didn’t know was that when Bi Feng was captured in California, faced with a tall man whose dark, oppressive expression made him look like death itself had come to collect him, Bi Feng backed away in terror. Staring at the man in panic, he babbled incoherently:
“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me.”
“It was Zhao Mingshi—yes, Zhao Mingshi—my classmate.”
“He said it. He said he’d introduce a fat fish to me. Yes, a fat fish.”
“Don’t kill me, don’t kill me—I’ll give you money. I have money…”
—
Back in China, in Haicheng, Zhao Guangyuan received a fairly heavy disciplinary penalty and was temporarily suspended. Unable to go to work, he could only stay at home—but he wasn’t upset at all. In fact, he was quite happy.
Because he had received a gift box that Jiang Luo had someone deliver.
At home, Zhao Guangyuan was looking after Zhao Shuo’s daughter, Yanyan. As he opened the gift box, he said cheerfully to her, “Yanyan, this is from your little uncle.”
Yanyan was curious. “What is it?”
When they opened it, it turned out to be a large box of very big sea cucumbers.
“Wow, caterpillars!”
Yanyan didn’t recognize them. She clapped happily. “Such big caterpillars—and they’re dark-colored!”
Zhao Guangyuan burst out laughing and corrected her. “These are sea cucumbers.”
“Grandpa will make sea cucumber porridge for you, okay?”
“Okay~!”
So where was Jiang Luo at this moment?
In Beijing, at No. 61 Qian Pudusi Alley.
A siheyuan courtyard was completely different from the garden courtyards of Sucheng—square and orderly, with several connected sections. There were no bamboo groves or rockeries in the yard, just neatly laid stone tiles, clean and tidy.
Jiang Luo was playing with a German shepherd. Not far from him in the courtyard sat Huo Zongzhuo in a wicker chair, along with a half–gray-haired man wearing a cashmere sweater, his back turned toward Jiang Luo.
The man’s voice was steady as he said to Huo Zongzhuo, “I advised you long ago. You have ambition, and you have ability. Limiting yourself to business alone is a waste of your talents.”
“This time, in that province, in the mountains—you saw it yourself.”
“The land is poor, the people are poor, yet there’s still a whole pack of rats stealing oil…”
Jiang Luo heard every word clearly, but he didn’t care. He tossed the ball and kept playing with the dog.
A few days later, Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo flew back to Haicheng.
On the plane, Jiang Luo chatted casually and asked Huo Zongzhuo, “Are you thinking about switching to a different path?”
“Yeah.”
Huo Zongzhuo didn’t say much.
After a brief pause, he added, “I’m worried that if I do, you’ll end up managing the business alone and won’t be able to handle it.”
“How could I be alone?”
Jiang Luo sounded relaxed. “We can hire people. It’s not like the company only has me.”
“Besides, a lot of businesses aren’t meant to last forever.”
“In a couple of years, when the market changes, some of them will definitely have to change too. Selling them off might even be an option.”
“You know I’ve invested in quite a few companies these past two years.”
“Compared to running physical operations, the returns on investment are higher and easier.”
“In the future, I might focus more on investing instead of running factories.”
The meaning was clear: he didn’t want Huo Zongzhuo to have too many worries—whatever he wanted to do, he should just go do it.
“Mm.”
Huo Zongzhuo still didn’t say much.
He put an arm around Jiang Luo’s shoulders. “No rush. We’ll take it step by step.”
“Focus on healing your injury and getting your body back in shape first. You don’t need to worry about anything else for now.”
After returning to Haicheng, Jiang Luo stayed home to recuperate and heal his wound. Huo Zongzhuo stayed with him, remaining at the Wukang Road house the entire time. Even when there was work to handle, he either dealt with it over the phone or had Secretary Wen make extra trips.
One day, Wang Junqing returned to the country.
As soon as he arrived, he handed a brown paper document envelope to Huo Zongzhuo, who was sitting on the sofa with Jiang Luo.
“What’s that?” Jiang Luo asked, eating fruit and watching TV.
Huo Zongzhuo opened the envelope. Jiang Luo leaned over to take a look. Inside were several bank cards and a few sets of documents.
“Bi Kang’s overseas accounts,” Huo Zongzhuo explained. “He was very clever—probably had someone advising him. He moved the money through underground banks, first to Hong Kong, then to Swiss banks, laundering it clean.”
“How much?” Huo Zongzhuo asked Wang Junqing.
Wang Junqing said, “About six hundred million yuan.”
Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow. “That dead fat pig.”
Then he asked Huo Zongzhuo, “These have to be handed over to the authorities, right?”
“Yeah.”
Huo Zongzhuo put everything back into the envelope.
“Oh, there’s one more thing,” Wang Junqing said. “Bi Kang’s younger brother, Bi Feng, said the ‘fat fish’ was introduced by one of his classmates.”
Introduced?
Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo exchanged a look.
So that was it. Bi Kang was deep in the mountains—how could it be such a coincidence that out of everyone, he went after Huo Zongzhuo?
“Who?” Huo Zongzhuo asked calmly. “What’s his name?”
Wang Junqing didn’t answer right away. He looked at Jiang Luo instead.
Jiang Luo reacted quickly and paused. “I know him?”
“Yes,” Wang Junqing said. “It was Zhao Mingshi.”
The moment Jiang Luo heard the name, he lost all appetite for fruit. He tossed the fruit plate onto the coffee table and leaned back, speechless.
Damn.
In his heart, Jiang Luo cursed: trash.
Huo Zongzhuo hadn’t expected things to turn out this way either. After all the twists and turns, the instigator hadn’t been a stranger at all.
He looked at Jiang Luo, reached out to take his hand, then turned back to Wang Junqing. “Zhao Mingshi is in the United States, right?”
“Make another trip—”
“No need. I’ll handle it.”
Jiang Luo cut him off.
Both Huo Zongzhuo and Wang Junqing looked at him.
Jiang Luo swung his legs up onto the coffee table, sprawled lazily, staring at the TV with no expression as he said in a low, eerie voice, “He gave me such a big ‘gift.’ There’s no way I won’t give him something in return.”
Two months later, just after the Lunar New Year, in a court in Guiyang, all public officials were in position and the gallery was packed. The case being tried that day was the main culprit of last year’s 113 Case: Bi Kang, Party Secretary of Hexu County, Bimu City.
Bi Kang was escorted in wearing prison clothes and handcuffs. Throughout the entire process, he showed no extra emotion—no dejection, no remorse. He appeared very calm, even composed.
Several media outlets seated in the front row of the gallery raised their cameras and captured the scene.
The trial itself proceeded strictly by the book. The facts were clear, the evidence solid, and Bi Kang confessed without dispute. In the end, the judge pronounced the verdict in court: life imprisonment, with lifelong deprivation of political rights.
As everyone in the courtroom stood to hear the judgment, Bi Kang stood at the defendant’s seat with his head held high. There was fearlessness and composure in his eyes, and even a faint arrogance in his expression, as though he refused to bow his head to fate.
Only his parents, seated in the gallery, burst into loud sobs upon hearing the sentence, drawing frequent glances from those around them.
Bi Kang remained unmoved and didn’t even look at his parents. Clearly, whether it was life imprisonment or not meant nothing to him.
He had been an official. He had lived it up. To him, a life like that was nothing but satisfaction—no regret at all. Not even a shred.
Until—
Until he was about to be led away, and his gaze swept across the room, landing on a figure standing at the very back of the gallery.
Jiang Luo stood there with his hands in his pockets, smiling at him. The usual spoiled, rakish look on his face now carried a clear note of mockery.
That expression seemed to say: See? It’s over in my hands, isn’t it? Go on, point a gun at me again—do it.
Didn’t expect it, did you? I got shot and didn’t even die.
Of course I didn’t die.
The one who’s dead is you.
From afar, Jiang Luo even lifted his chin toward Bi Kang, gesturing toward the front row where Bi Kang’s parents and son sat, silently mouthing the words: I can still go after them.
The composure on Bi Kang’s face shattered instantly, replaced by savage fury. He roared in Jiang Luo’s direction, “I’ll f*** your mother! I’ll f*** your mother!!”
It’s all you!
This is all because of you!!!
Jiang Luo curled his lips and smiled at him.
So you’re not afraid, not indifferent, not free of regret or emotion after all?
Turns out—you do have them.
With his face dark and twisted in rage, Bi Kang struggled against the officers restraining him, cursing and screaming toward Jiang Luo under the frenzy of cameras and recorders, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to rush over and tear Jiang Luo apart with his own hands.
Jiang Luo had already left at an unhurried pace, leaving Bi Kang only with a devil-may-care back view. He even waved as he walked away.
Bye-bye~~
…………………………………………………..
United States. Inside a Microsoft office building, in front of the pantry.
Zhao Mingshi looked at An Qiao standing before him. The smile he had been wearing just moments ago while chatting with colleagues vanished at a speed visible to the naked eye.
An Qiao, however, smiled brightly at him and greeted him. “Hi~”
Then, deliberately using a sickeningly sweet tone, she added, “What a coincidence. So you work here too.”
“Looks like we’re coworkers now~”
As she spoke, she even held out her hand.
There was no way Zhao Mingshi was going to shake it.
He stiffened his face and lowered his voice. “Why are you here?”
“Me?”
An Qiao withdrew her hand, shrugged, and asked innocently, “Why can’t I be here?”
“Of course I’m here to work. What else would I be doing?”
She smiled again, then turned to leave. Before walking away, she said cheerfully, “Working with you—I’m really looking forward to it.”