Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

Chapter 654 Hiding

The scarred henchman grew even more anxious, rubbing his calloused palms together vigorously, pacing back and forth in the cramped room, his leather shoes pounding loudly on the floor: "Then... what do we do now? Just hide like this? This room is drafty, and there's not even a proper lock. What if the inspection team follows the trail and finds us? We'll be trapped like turtles in a jar, with nowhere to run?"

"Hide?" Zhang Jie sneered, a vicious smile playing on his lips. His eyes flashed with the ruthlessness of a starving wolf eyeing its prey. "Hide here for a few days, then retreat when things calm down, heading south. We have people to meet us at the docks over there; the boats are all ready. Once we cross the river, who can catch us?" He paused, his teeth grinding. "But this isn't over—Jiang Hu dared to stab us in the back and betray us; he'll pay the price!"

His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white as if they were about to crack, and even the veins on the back of his hands throbbed: "Once we get away, the first thing we'll do is get revenge on that bastard! Not only will we make him spend the rest of his life in jail, but we'll also make him know that anyone who betrays us will have a terrible life! His precious son is in high school in the county, isn't he? And his old mother, I heard she's been bedridden for years..."

Before he could finish speaking, the air in the room had turned as cold as ice. The two henchmen exchanged a glance, swallowing back the words they were about to say, neither daring to utter another. They knew better than anyone that Zhang Jie wasn't bluffing—they had been warned when they first joined his gang that his so-called "loyalty" was just a facade, and the real issue was the leverage he held over them.

Zhang Jie's men were watching their wives and children's every move back in their hometown. Last month, the tall, thin man's wife wanted to take the children back to her parents' home, but she was "kindly" stopped at the village entrance. The next day, her family received a basket of fresh fruit—ostensibly a gesture of goodwill, but actually a warning. The note attached to the basket of fruit is still under the tall, thin man's pillow: "The family is well, don't worry."

Now we have no choice but to follow our leader to the bitter end, even if it's a path fraught with danger. Otherwise, not only will we not survive, but our entire family back home will likely suffer as well.

A deathly silence fell over the small room; even breathing became cautious. Only the occasional honking of a car from the distant highway pierced the night, its long, drawn-out notes making the small space feel even more oppressive. In the dim light of the lamp, tiny dust particles drifted slowly, much like their limbs, bound by fate, unable to break free or escape.

Zhang Jie leaned against the cold wall, feeling pain in every bone of his body. During the gunfight earlier that day, a stray bullet had grazed his arm; although the bleeding had stopped, it still ached terribly with every movement. He had then run frantically, winding his way through the mountains behind the mine for over ten miles to reach this spot, wearing through his shoes and his soles covered in blisters.

"Damn it..." he cursed under his breath, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. He was so tired that he didn't even have the strength to hate Jiang Hu anymore. He sat down on the ground, leaned against the wall, tucked the gun into his chest, and closed his eyes in a daze.

In a couple of days, once I've calmed down, I'll definitely go find Jiang Hu and get to the bottom of this. I'll find out what that bastard is really up to, trying to drive them to their deaths.

The thought had barely formed in his mind when his breathing became heavy. Exhausted and reeking of blood, he fell into a deep sleep in the musty little hut. His brow remained furrowed, as if even in his dreams he was plotting revenge against Jiang Hu.

On the other side, Jiang Hu paced back and forth in the detention cell. The pale light outside the iron bars, like a shroud, cast flickering shadows on his anxious face, even making the beads of sweat on his temples gleam coldly. For the first few hours after being locked up, he was indeed as frantic as an ant on a hot pan, banging on the iron door every few minutes, shouting at the guards, and mentally cursing his so-called "friends" outside—they smiled like Buddhas when taking his bribes, but when it really mattered, they all became cowards, nowhere to be seen!

But before long, he calmed down, even crossing his legs on the hard wooden bed, his fingers tapping to the rhythm of birdsong faintly coming from outside the window. The guard who brought him food yesterday evening was a different face. When handing him the enamel bowl, he inadvertently let slip, "That guy surnamed Zhang from the same case has escaped, and now they've put up wanted posters everywhere." These words were like a reassuring pill, hitting him hard in the heart, instantly putting him at ease.

His contact with Zhang Jie was always one-way. Apart from their privately agreed-upon code and the encrypted ledger hidden in a crack in the wall, no one else knew about their shady dealings. As long as Zhang Jie remained at large, the core evidence involving mineral smuggling and money laundering through underground banks would be broken. The police would at most have some fragmented evidence of mines falsely reporting production and withholding workers' compensation, which would at most result in a few years' sentence, but certainly not a death sentence.

As for the money he embezzled, he had already planned ahead. At the beginning of the year, he found two distant relatives who were practically unrelated to him to impersonate him. One ran a "farmhouse inn" in the countryside, and the other registered a "scrap metal recycling company" in the city. He split the embezzled money into more than a dozen "business revenues" and deposited them into different bank accounts. Even the signatures on the ledgers and the notes during the transfers were made flawlessly, more convincing than the real thing. If an investigation were to come, those two greedy fools would take the blame for him. At worst, he could spend more money to bribe them and let them serve a few more years in prison, which was better than losing his own life.

Thinking this way, Jiang Hu felt more at ease. He even hummed a little tune he'd heard years ago at a drinking party, the melody off-key, yet radiating a smug, unconcerned confidence. Once this storm passed, those who depended on him for their livelihood would naturally try to bail him out. Then, he could move to another city, and with his money and connections, he could still be his "local tyrant." Who would remember this mess then?

The night slipped away in deathly silence. As dawn broke, He Feng had already devoured half a cold steamed bun, ate a bowl of thin porridge with a dish of pickled vegetables, and the porridge, though lukewarm, couldn't suppress the sharpness in his eyes. He glanced at his watch; it was just past seven. The hands ticked gently on the dial, each tick like a hammer blow to his heart—today was a crucial day for interrogating Jiang Hu. This old fox had been in the bureau for so many years; his connections were as intricate as the roots of an old tree. There was no doubt that someone outside was using their connections to exert pressure. He had to pry open Jiang Hu's mouth before they could act.