Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 156: Life and Death in an Instant
June 2nd, clear skies.
A large weather display screen showed the forecast, while two cars were parked beneath it, their interiors hidden from view.
"This place is really hot."
"Then why did you come?"
"Where else could I go? Hey, Brothers, who are we catching today?"
"Someone named Zhang Ermao... lower your head."
Someone pressed down on Ruhua' curious head, as the persistent entanglement with Baldy had earned Ruhua the official treatment of a criminal investigator. Now, he was stuck driving for the team, averaging over two hundred kilometers a day or sitting in one spot for more than ten hours. Not to mention the discomfort of developing rashes from sitting too long and sweating in the heat; it was truly unbearable.
After another scratch, Xu Jian leaned in with a smile and asked quietly, "Mr. Sun, is it itchy?"
"Yeah," Ruhua replied, scratching comfortably.
"I don't get it. You're such a big boss; why are you putting yourself through this?" Xu Jian questioned.
This young man, Jet Black, looked like a coal hammer with his low attractiveness, making it easy for someone like Ruhua to find a bit of confidence. Ruhua smiled and said, "Do you want to hear the truth or a lie?"
"Of course the truth," Xu Jian replied.
"The lie is that I was inspired by your dedication to work."
"And the truth?"
"The truth is: the bank is going to take my house, and I can't go back for now. I'll drag it out for as long as I can."
"But if you keep dragging it out, won't they eventually take it anyway?"
"Not the same. The housing prices are rising. If I can delay for a couple of months, it might go up by a few hundred thousand."
"Wow... Mr. Sun, how much did you buy your house for?"
"Over twenty million at the time..."
"Uh..."
This price left the criminal police officers piled up in the car speechless, and no one doubted his words. Mr. Sun was not shy about showing off; he dined on lavish meals and smoked fine cigars. A single meal could nearly cover the expenses of a previous outing.
"Goodness, if we all pooled our resources together, we wouldn't even match a single hair on Mr. Sun's body," one Young Officer exclaimed.
"Wrong. If I could start over, I definitely wouldn't choose to be a nouveau riche," Ruhua said.
"To be a police officer?" Xu Jian asked with a smile.
"What kind of tone is that? Do you think I can't do it? Let me tell you, I'm quite patriotic and have a strong sense of justice. Back in school, there were always Little Rogues outside our school harassing girls, and no one dared to stand up... except me," Ruhua said seriously.
"Is that right, Mr. Sun? Were you really that impressive back then?" someone flattered.
"Impressive my foot! I often got cornered in an alley and beaten up, and no one helped me," Ruhua replied indignantly.
The whole car erupted in laughter.
At that moment, the voice of Surveillance Command came through the radio announcing that the target had appeared.
The operation began. Someone quietly opened the car door, and a few individuals crouched down as they got out from behind the vehicle. Ruhua slowly raised his head and caught sight of people at the entrance of the opposite neighborhood. With a snap, he tightened his grip, but when he turned around, he found himself already handcuffed to the steering wheel. He glared angrily as Xu Jian smiled and said, "Mr. Sun, you've already performed your heroic act; you can't keep stealing our business... Come on, don't make a sound."
Damn it! Every time they started working, they handcuffed Brother Ruhua. Furious, Ruhua slammed the steering wheel as he watched team members approaching from three directions suddenly accelerate, catching him off guard.
"Stop!"
A shout came from the left. The suspect turned his head and instinctively ran in the opposite direction, only to find that path blocked. He barely took a step before colliding with someone. He screamed, and then those police officers were on him—grabbing his neck, twisting his arms, and pinning him down. In one second he was standing; in the next, he was on the ground with handcuffs locked around his head.
It happened quickly—he was shoved into a car, searched, interrogated, and rushed to his residence for a search.
Soon enough, a stash of counterfeit money hidden in a bed box, along with images identifying the suspect, appeared on the command screen of the Luzhou task force...
...
"Anqing's operation has concluded; we confiscated 143,200 in counterfeit money from the hideout."
A stream of real-time information popped up on Zhou Qunyi's computer. He gently moved his computer aside as two colleagues across the desk smiled with satisfaction.
Since Wang Shou's arrest, this underground counterfeit money trafficking ring had been cracked open. Wang Shou had named his superior Ge Feifei, who was arrested on the same day as the identification scene. He subsequently revealed six subordinates. Within a week, the task force's direct team and local police forces coordinated across two provinces and seven cities to apprehend seven suspects involved in wholesale and retail counterfeit money operations.
"The individual arrested today is named Zhang Ermao. According to Ge Feifei's testimony, he handled goods three times in total. Thank you to our comrades in criminal investigation; Saili, please convey my regards to them," Zhou Qunyi said with a smile.
His words sounded grand but were somewhat jarring. Fan Saili responded absentmindedly while another colleague, an expert in counterfeit money identification from economic investigation, reminded him: "Zhou's Team, although we've seized a large amount of counterfeit money, have you noticed that we're still at the end of the counterfeiting chain? The case situation has been declining without any leads upward; we might be getting further away from the core."
This comment made Zhou Qunyi's expression change slightly. He pondered aloud: "The criminal investigation team is intensifying their interrogation; Ge Feifei is most likely to know about the upper connections. There's no result yet, but we can't let these sellers go either. Until we have leads, we should sweep them all up."
"In that case," Con Artist cautioned, "this might only be a temporary fix. If we cut off the downstream sellers' connections and they quickly realize it, they could sever supplies to our province's market entirely; then we won't be able to proceed at all."
"Well, your suggestion is good... Let's discuss it in the evening meeting, arrange things, and expedite the identification of this batch of Counterfeit Money. Saili, draft a situation report. The Provincial Department is highly concerned about the progress of this case and may want to observe soon," Zhou Qunyi instructed.
"Understood."
The two stood up and exited the morning meeting room.
Back at her office, Fan Saili felt restless. Dealing with such a large volume of Counterfeit Money was beyond her unit's experience. She sensed that the vast net cast would only catch small fish. Reviewing the progress over the past week, from Luzhou to Fuyang, from Fuyang to Kaihua, and then from Kaihua to Anqing and Pengze, several cities were exhausted from the pursuit. Yet, all they had tracked down was a lead from Ge Feifei, with significant questions remaining about the manufacturing sites, transportation, and sales channels.
She opened her computer and began to review Ge Feifei's interrogation records and background information, quickly becoming engrossed in the details.
Ge Feifei, male, 41 years old, was unemployed in Kaihua before his arrest. He had worked alongside Wang Shou and had experience working down south. According to Wang Shou's testimony, they had unexpectedly reunited on a train after nearly ten years apart. They quickly hit it off and began wholesaling from Ge Feifei, who was already a Counterfeit agent. What raised suspicion was that Ge Feifei, Wang Shou, and their factory down south were all connected to a paper company, suggesting familiarity with related printing operations.
Was it a coincidence? Or was he deliberately concealing more serious crimes?
She opened Ge Feifei's interrogation video and scrutinized it carefully, trying to find more clues from this seemingly candid individual...
………………………
………………………
With high cheekbones, protruding teeth, and a short stature, Rascal seemed ready to pounce without saying a word. When he finally spoke, he sounded even less intelligent than a petty thief; his speech was somewhat slurred.
This was Wang Shou's coworker—a peculiar character. Looking at him made it hard to believe he had been involved in trafficking hundreds of thousands in Counterfeit Money. Yet those murky eyes were sharper than professionals when it came to identifying bills.
At that moment, he sat in the Interrogation Chair, intently examining a piece of Counterfeit Money—U.S. Bills. The identification method was simple: pinch it, rub it, hold it up to the light. Handing it over to the detective with an air of flattery, he declared, "It's fake."
"Have you seen this kind of money before?" Aeming asked.
"Old Guang showed me a few samples but didn't take any. Where can you sell U.S. Bills around here?" Ge Feifei replied dismissively.
“Who is Old Guang?” Aeming asked.
“He's from the south, collectively referred to as Old Guang... I really don't know his name. In this line of work, it's all about introductions; if you're not in the circle, he won't do business with you,” Ge Feifei replied.
This was the truth; the Underworld thrived on familiar connections. Aeming shifted the conversation and casually asked, “U.S. Bills are quite rare. How can you tell if they're real or fake? Do you know the method?”
“No, it’s about the color. We’ve done printing before, and you can tell at a glance. This level is higher; it’s not printed on plastic film,” Ge Feifei explained.
Aeming suddenly recalled that Xiao Mu also identified genuine Counterfeit Money by looking at the color from a distance. It seemed that such people were not hard to find; they just had to be insiders like the person in front of him, who had a background in printing and was well-versed in this line of work.
“Now tell me again about your experience working with Wang Shou, in detail, as much detail as possible,” Aeming said. This was a method to extract information when there was no clear subject for interrogation—having the suspect recount their story from the beginning to identify any inconsistencies.
“I met him at the factory. At that time, we both worked at Tengfei Paper Industry... I was in charge of color matching while he handled cutting. We worked together for about half a year. The work was heavy and tiring, so he moved on to an electronics factory. He even told me there were many female workers there and encouraged me to join... I didn’t go; I stayed at the paper factory but didn’t last long. I don’t know what happened after it got acquired; everything became machine-operated with computer color matching, and people like us who were a bit older were all let go... I really didn’t have much interaction with him; we only ran into each other on a train two years ago when I had just started this business. I told him about it, and he took twelve bundles, agreeing on five thousand for one and a half bundles. That guy still hasn’t paid me back... Oh government, you’re not suspecting me of counterfeiting money, are you? I really don’t have that capability; anyone in the know understands that getting into this game requires hundreds of thousands upfront. To reach R7 level, you need at least a hundred thousand investment; do I look like someone who could manage that?”
Ge Feifei desperately tried to prove he wasn’t cut out for this life. In fact, he was one of the victims; Wang Shou and this Old Trafficker hadn’t spared even their coworkers, having obtained six hundred thousand in face value Counterfeit Money from them while promising a price of seventy thousand that was never fully paid.
“Not really,” Aeming shook his head. Ge Feifei’s expression lightened momentarily, but then Aeming turned back and asked, “But we can’t determine criminal facts based solely on appearances. Think again—who else? Especially with these U.S. Bills circulating nationwide; if we find the right person, your crime won’t be serious. If not... well, you better weigh your options carefully.”
Ge Feifei looked troubled, his face reflecting despair. This expression was equally challenging for the police because it was impossible to tell whether he genuinely couldn’t provide more information or if he was contemplating ways to evade responsibility.
The interrogation continued for several hours; compared to the beginning, the returns were gradually diminishing.
After switching out personnel, Aeming stepped out and received a call from the Western Suburb Drug Rehabilitation Center, informing him that family members of a drug-related suspect had arrived and asking who would cover the expenses.
It was Li Qian’s family. Aeming set aside this matter and hurried to the rehabilitation center.
Later, it became clear that every action taken by Trafficker King challenged moral boundaries—he didn’t spare any married woman who could be manipulated. His old flame Yao Yuxia had been rekindled during her visit home, while Li Qian had also been lured back by him. According to Yao Yuxia’s account, she had been trapped for over a year under his control through Drugs and had endured multiple humiliating experiences involving three-way games of degradation. By this point in her testimony, Yao Yuxia was in tears, cursing Wang Shou as less than human—a beast.
It wasn’t uncommon for someone driven by drug addiction to commit heinous acts; Yao Yuxia’s willingness to live with such a beast illustrated this point clearly. However, handling Li Qian proved tricky—his severe addiction had already led to organ failure, and the treatment costs quoted by the rehabilitation center exceeded eighty thousand—a sum still hanging in uncertainty.
As they arrived at the location, anxiety weighed heavily on them. Stepping out of the vehicle, they encountered a similarly distressed doctor. Grabbing his arm, they hurried along, saying, "Officer Dang, we can't take this person... you need to find another place."
"What do you mean? It's our duty to treat and save lives. How can we just push a patient away?" Aeming retorted angrily.
"But we can't keep covering the treatment costs indefinitely. Besides... let's be honest, at her stage, there's no hope. She won't be able to quit; she won't survive the withdrawal symptoms," the doctor replied.
"You telling me this doesn't help; I need to consult with my team," Aeming deflected, then asked, "Aren't the family members here? They can just pay for it."
"If it were that easy," the doctor said helplessly.
At that moment, they heard wailing from inside. Aeming dreaded such emotional outbursts and slowed down, peeking through the door. Two female relatives were there, along with Li Qian, all crying uncontrollably and speaking in an incomprehensible dialect, leaving Aeming bewildered.
The issue of costs was complicated; the family wanted to transfer her to another hospital, and payment wasn't straightforward. With the case involved, Aeming hesitated to advocate for her release. He reported back to his team and gathered more information about the family situation.
One was her biological mother and the other her aunt. The two women, tears streaming down their faces, told Aeming in broken Mandarin that their daughter had been working in Guangdong and had gone missing for over a year. They had thought she was dead out there; who could have imagined it would turn out like this... it would have been better if she had died.
Their cries were relentless. Aeming instructed the doctor to comfort them while he waited for his team to arrive. Once again, he found himself outside Li Qian's hospital room, peering through the window at this suspect he had inadvertently brought back. Her eyes were vacant as she lay on her back; clusters of needle marks marred her elbows, and parts of her hands and feet were already festering. On one exposed calf, dark spots dotted her skin.
The brilliance of life had been utterly consumed by drugs; for these individuals, merely existing felt like being a walking corpse.
Standing outside the window, Aeming felt a heavy heart and remained silent for a long time.
The Task Force made an unsurprising decision: they placed her under surveillance by local police from her hometown and agreed to allow the family to transfer her to another hospital. Aeming watched as the two elderly relatives, tears flowing freely, helped their daughter onto the ambulance. That scene left him feeling utterly despondent...
...
This day was also significant; Binhai City’s Fourth Detention Center was on high alert. The sound of armed police marching echoed clearly even through thick concrete walls. The alarm sounded throughout the facility as heavy doors were sealed shut. Except for a heavily guarded corridor, everything else was locked down, with all on-duty personnel standing guard in front of every cell door.
It was a peculiar atmosphere. Those old inmates who had been imprisoned for over a year, or even longer, would solemnly tell the newcomers: someone is about to leave.
This was different from being released or sent for labor reform; this somber atmosphere meant that the one leaving was heading towards the end of the road.
As today's protagonist, Nie Qifeng appeared unexpectedly calm. Two servings of meat dishes and a cup of old wine were brought to him on plastic plates and cups. He used a maimed hand to hold a spoon, eating every last bit. This was his last meal in this life, yet he could not taste anything. This was the final moment of his life, but he could not articulate what remained in his mind or heart.
Perhaps there was nothing left. When fate could not be changed, whether standing or kneeling, it would harvest you regardless.
Then he heard the sound of the door creaking open. Dragging his heavy shackles, gritting his teeth, he stood up.
With a loud clang, the iron door swung open. Armed guards announced the execution, their expressions solemn, wearing masks that revealed only their eyes. Someone came forward to assist him, but he refused, gritting his teeth and limping forward step by step. His voice was harsh as he said, "Don't pity me; let me walk on my own."
No one paid him any mind; no one felt pity. Guarded from all sides, he hobbled along with the clanking of chains dragging on the ground, slowly moving down a dim corridor toward the outside.
Shen Lingchen stood by the vehicle, his face pale and expression grim. He had volunteered to accompany this final journey; the prison administration had made special arrangements for this particular suspect. The review for the death penalty had been expedited, and just before his demise, he had signed an organ donation agreement and accepted an interview, performing well. This move undoubtedly set a positive tone for the entire prison administration.
The sound of clanking iron shackles grew louder as a living life approached its end. Shen Lingchen could not articulate his feelings; despite having thought more than once about personally executing such a heinous criminal, at this moment of witnessing it all unfold, he felt an inexplicable sorrow.
There is only one thing in this world that is fair: death.
It treats everyone equally without exception.
At that moment, he saw Nie Qifeng emerging with a similarly pale face, struggling to walk out. He felt no pity or sadness; strangely enough, even knowing that Nie deserved his fate, there was no professional hatred at this final moment.
Looking up at the glaring sunlight for a brief moment and then at the scene filled with police cars, Nie Qifeng hobbled along. Just as he reached the vehicle, he suddenly burst into laughter nervously and called out loudly to the solemn officers: "Thank you! It’s such an honor to have so many people see me off!"
The door opened, and he was ushered into the prisoner transport vehicle by armed guards.
The convoy moved along winding roads—five vehicles in total—with Shen Lingchen in the second car. Lin Qizhao quietly remarked, "The execution will take place at the training ground designated by the judicial bureau; it was only prepared last night. The ambulance and refrigeration equipment are already on site... According to his wishes, only one person has been notified by the prison administration."
“Rong Ying,” Shen Lingchen said.
“Yes,” Lin Qizhao replied awkwardly.
“Where is Xiao Mu?” Shen Lingchen asked anxiously, worried about the troublesome one who had returned from Luzhou and then gone missing again.
“I don’t know, but I think we’ll probably see him today,” Lin Qizhao said.
Shen Lingchen looked at him curiously, and Lin Qizhao added shyly, “He must be worried about Rong Ying, so he will definitely show up. The bond between them is probably not so easy to resolve.”
Shen Lingchen sighed deeply, feeling dejected. “It should be like that; this is what they mean by ‘not enemies do not meet.’”
His own troubles were equally unresolved, accompanied by an indescribable sense of frustration, much like how he felt every time he saw the prison transport moving forward, unable to articulate the emotions swirling inside him.
Under the blazing sun, this special convoy approached the training ground in Sanyuan Village on the outskirts. It was heavily guarded and filled with a tense atmosphere. Today, here, a life of crime was about to come to an end…
Comment 0 Comment Count