This way, he didn’t have to bow to Jiang Luo personally—keeping his own pride intact—while still neutralizing the power backing Jiang Luo, ensuring he didn’t truly offend anyone in Haicheng who shouldn’t be provoked.
So by late morning that day, Li Fengrui set off in his car, carrying a hefty gift, to visit Chairman Qiu’s company.
In truth, Li Fengrui’s approach was practical and well thought out. He was sharp-minded, unlike someone like Guo Ronghai—he didn’t act impulsively or make moves against his own interests. Knowing when to lower his head, he did so.
But even the best-laid plans had gaps.
This time, the conflict with Jiang Luo arose because of the mall’s management issues. The merchants had turned against him, and others, like Shi Daxin, who had no goodwill toward him, might have stirred the waters further—hoping for his downfall, even his demise.
And what about Jiang Luo’s side?
Nobody wanted the waters muddied further; they certainly didn’t wish for Jiang Luo to suffer alongside them.
Li Fengrui carried his gift and, just as he entered Chairman Qiu’s office, a car with a hidden license plate began following Jiang Luo and his group.
Wang Junqing, driving, caught sight of it in the rearview mirror.
He tensed but stayed calm, pressing the accelerator to shake off the tail.
Jiang Luo sensed the speed, glanced back through the rear window, and asked Wang Junqing: “How long have they been following us?”
Wang Junqing replied steadily: “I only just noticed. They’re cautious.”
“Don’t worry. Just drive,” Jiang Luo said calmly.
Their car accelerated, and the car behind kept pace.
Wang Junqing changed lanes—the tailing car mirrored him.
They didn’t seem to care if Jiang Luo noticed.
Jiang Luo thought: Is it Li Fengrui? Desperate?
Up ahead, a crossroads led to the town, with no traffic lights.
Wang Junqing tried to use it to lose the tail, gradually pressing the gas.
Speeding, speeding, speeding… just as they were about to cross, a large truck honked from the side.
Reacting instantly, Wang Junqing swerved to avoid a collision, directing the car toward the truck’s path.
Boom! A massive crash—the truck collided solidly with their car.
At Huashan Hospital, Accountant Xue rested his plastered leg on a soft pillow, half-sitting, half-lying, eating a banana handed by a colleague.
He didn’t feel much pain, casually telling his colleague: “Just wait. Jiang will have to give me money again when he returns.”
“I know him well enough.”
“For enemies, he’s like a strong wind sweeping leaves. For his own, hm hm… he cares for me almost like I’m half his father.”
Elsewhere, Zhang Ningfu had awakened, still limited in mobility but mentally alert, moved from the ICU to a private ward because of high hospitalization fees.
There, he shared the room with Xiao Lu and Zhang’s wife and son.
The son stood at the foot of the bed, watching Xiao Lu feed Zhang Ningfu porridge.
Zhang’s wife paced the spacious ward, murmuring: “One person in a room this big—must be expensive.”
“Mom, can you not worry about that?” the son said, exasperated.
Xiao Lu rolled his eyes inwardly. The porridge had been brought from the factory canteen—he had no patience for their complaints.
Zhang’s wife, his aunt, tried to direct him: “Feed him properly. Can you do it?”
“You too, always siding with your boss,” Xiao Lu snapped, unafraid this time. “Can’t feed him? Then you do it.”
Muttering: The hospitalization is paid by Jiang, the porridge from the factory, and you came empty-handed.
“Hey!” Zhang’s wife glared: “How dare you talk back?”
“Mom!” the son intervened: “Say less. Let him finish feeding.”
“Talk to them? Talk to your boss then.”
At the company, Huo Zongzuo received a call, paused for a few seconds, and abruptly stood up.
“What did you say!?”
He stormed out of his office, dialing his phone. Coldly, he said on the line: “Go tie up Li Fengrui, wherever he is.”
…………………………….
By the time Huo Zongzuo arrived at the hospital, more than an hour had passed since Jiang Luo’s accident.
Wang Junqing had his arm bandaged and waited near the emergency entrance.
Seeing Huo Zongzuo, he immediately greeted: “Boss Huo.”
“Jiang Luo?”
Huo Zongzuo’s face was tense, moving quickly toward the emergency room.
“He’s still in the ER. Hit the car door, arm seems broken,” Wang Junqing explained, lowering his head.
“Not your fault. Didn’t see the truck coming from the side,” he said.
Huo Zongzuo didn’t console anyone, instinctively pressing Wang Junqing’s shoulder: “It’s not an accident. Can’t be this coincidental.”
Entering the ER, a nurse drew back a curtain, revealing Jiang Luo lying on the bed.
“Jiang Luo!” Huo Zongzuo rushed forward.
Jiang Luo’s forehead was wrapped in gauze, his left arm in a plaster sling, his face pale but intact.
Huo Zongzuo’s eyes reddened, veins bulging in his temples.
Jiang Luo weakly smiled: “I’m okay. Escaped the disaster.”
Huo Zongzuo exhaled deeply, holding Jiang Luo’s face: “It’s my fault. This is on me. You’re okay—that’s all that matters.”
“Don’t worry,” Jiang Luo said, smiling faintly.
“Not that easy to kill,” he added.
Later, Huo Zongzuo stood by the window in the ER corridor, calmly on the phone. Li Fengrui had been captured; he awaited further instructions.
Huo Zongzuo’s voice was cold: “Disable his hands and feet.”
Hanging up, Wang Junqing offered: “I’ll go.”
“You’re injured. Rest. I’ll send the fourth brother,” Huo Zongzuo replied, patting his arm. “No guilt. Responsibility is mine.”
Last time, he hadn’t shown mercy—only sending Li Fengrui a severed hand.
Jiang Luo was moved to a private ward, slightly dizzy, lying down with IVs dripping. Huo Zongzuo sat by the bed.
Watching Jiang Luo sleep, the fear still lingered in his chest—he couldn’t imagine if the truck had hit him directly.
All his years of fearlessness vanished in that instant.
He held Jiang Luo’s hand outside the blanket, gently stroking it with his thumb.
Yet Huo Zongzuo considered: Li Fengrui had already visited Chairman Qiu; the truck incident might not have been his doing. Others could be lurking, taking advantage of the chaos at Pacific Mall.
Whoever brought the truck meant to kill Jiang Luo—not just warn him.
Huo Zongzuo’s sharp eyes were like an eagle’s.
Jiang Luo was now hospitalized, giving Accountant Xue the opportunity to limp in and visit.
Old and young, standing and lying, their eyes met and both chuckled.
Xue teased: “Feeling cocky, huh? Usually, someone takes revenge—leg broken, right?”
Jiang Luo snorted: “Why just the leg? Should’ve broken your mouth too—too talkative.”
“Enough,” Xue said, sitting at the bedside. “We’re in this together now. Nobody’s to blame.”
Jiang Luo scoffed: “Nobody’s in this with you. Always gilding yourself.”
Xue said: “Drink more bone broth. You know, to strengthen what’s weak.”
“Will you make it?” Jiang Luo asked.
“Ha! You bossy little thing. My leg’s broken—make broth for you? Why not just swap my good arm for yours?”
Jiang Luo laughed: “Your bones are too old anyway.”
Xue lifted his crutch as if to strike playfully.