Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

Zheng Qiang slowly shook his head, deliberately avoiding He Feng's inquiring eyes. His voice was hoarse, as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. "He Feng, don't ask me anything. I really... I don't know anything." He paused, and his hands on his knees unconsciously tightened, his knuckles clenched white, his fingertips digging deep into his palms, as if he had made a huge decision. "It's just... I have one more thing I want to ask of you."

He Feng looked at him quietly, his eyes calm. From Zheng Qiang's hesitant expression, he had already guessed about 70% of what was going on - at this moment, the only thing that could make him so worried was his wife and daughter at home.

"Don't tell Yaya and your sister-in-law the truth," Zheng Qiang's voice was filled with an undisguised plea. His voice trembled slightly, and his eyes reddened, but he fought hard not to let the tears fall. "Just tell them... just tell them that I received an urgent mission and have to go out for a while. Tell them not to worry about me, live a good life, and wait for me to come back."

He Feng nodded, his tone extremely serious, as if he was making a heavy promise: "I know. I will tell them that you have been temporarily transferred to another place to carry out a secret mission. The situation is special and your return date is uncertain. Let them wait for your return with peace of mind."

Zheng Qiang felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from him. He slowly lowered his head, his shoulders slumping slightly, and a deep, bone-deep fatigue emanated from him. He said nothing more. The only sound in the detention room was the monotonous ticking of the wall clock, which echoed again and again in the silence, making the air feel particularly heavy, as if even time had slowed down.

After a long time, so long that He Feng thought he would not speak again, Zheng Qiang slowly raised his head, looked at He Feng's back as he was about to turn around, and whispered in an almost inaudible voice, "Thank you very much."

He Feng opened his mouth, his throat seemed to be blocked by something. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say. In the end, he just looked at him deeply and said in a complicated tone: "Brother Zheng, you take care of yourself."

After saying this, he turned, opened the door to the detention room, and walked out. The light in the corridor was a bit dazzling, and disappointment surged in his heart like a tide. In fact, from the beginning, he had been hoping that Zheng Qiang would cooperate well and tell everything he knew, no matter what was involved. At least with a positive attitude, he might be able to plead for leniency.

He Feng never liked to plead for mercy. He always believed that no matter what was right or wrong, one had to bear the consequences of one's actions, and there was no room for excuses. But this time, his heart felt extremely heavy, as if a heavy stone was pressing down on him, making it difficult to breathe. He walked to his office, picked up the dedicated phone on his desk, took a deep breath, and dialed his boss's number: "Boss, I have something to talk to you about."

The leader on the other end of the phone noticed the difference in his tone; his usual cheerfulness was gone, and now he was more serious. He smiled and joked, "Tell me, what's the matter? Being so serious isn't like you."

He Feng gathered himself, trying to keep his voice steady. He briefly recounted Zheng Qiang's situation and the contributions and practical work he had done in his past positions. Finally, he whispered, "Leader, although Zheng Qiang made a mistake this time and stood on the opposing side, he did do a lot of practical work for the bureau in the past and achieved several significant accomplishments. I wonder... could you, for that matter, try to spare his life?"

The leader was silent for a moment, leaving only the faint hum of electricity on the line. After a moment, his steady voice rang out, "Alright, I'll have someone investigate this matter. Those who have made contributions will be rewarded, and those who have made mistakes will be held accountable. I won't hesitate to deal with this matter. You've done a really good job and have considered everything carefully."

He Feng hummed a sigh of relief and hung up. He leaned back in his chair, gazing out the window at the dark night, a mixture of emotions welling up in his heart. This was probably the first time in his life that he'd ever asked someone for help, for a "rival" who'd made a mistake, but also like it was for the days they'd fought side by side.

In the detention room, Zheng Qiang leaned against the cold wall, his fingertips scratching at the plaster unconsciously. He wanted to tell everything he knew. The secrets hidden deep in his heart gnawed at him like a venomous snake, gnawing at him day and night, leaving him with no peace. But the words were on the tip of his tongue, and he couldn't bring himself to speak them. Some things, if revealed, would implicate more than just him. He closed his eyes, and a tear finally slipped from the corner of his eye, landing silently on the dusty ground.

But just now, the cell door opened, and a scrawny little beggar was pushed in by a prison guard. The child looked no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, his clothes torn to the point of exposing his elbows, his face stained with dust, but his eyes held a cunning that belied his age. He had been arrested for stealing a steamed bun at the market, and he wasn't supposed to be in this serious criminal area, but somehow he had been assigned to the cell next to Zheng Qiang.

Zheng Qiang huddled in the corner, his hands wrapped around his knees, his mind a tangle. The faces of his wife and daughter, the threats from the Dark Soul Organization, and He Feng's disappointed look flashed before his eyes. His heart felt like a huge rock was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. When the little beggar was pushed in, he didn't even raise his eyelids, dismissing him as just another slacker.

But the little beggar walked straight to the door of his cell, looked at him for a moment through the iron bars, and suddenly grinned, revealing two pointed little fangs: "Director Zheng, how are you?"

Zheng Qiang looked up suddenly, his eyes filled with astonishment - how could this child know him? He frowned and asked in a hoarse voice, "Who are you?"

The little beggar didn't answer directly. He just stretched out his dirty fingers, tapped lightly on the iron railing, and uttered two words: "Dark Soul."

Zheng Qiang's face instantly turned pale, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on his back. He subconsciously glanced around, and seeing no one in the cell corridor, he lowered his voice, his eyes filled with fear and anger: "What do you want to do?" He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms—his worst fear had finally come true: their people had actually reached into the detention center.

The little beggar's smile grew even more triumphant, but his voice was extremely low, like a venomous snake spitting out its tongue. "I know your wife and daughter have been rescued. Do you feel relieved now and want to spill everything you know?" He paused, his eyes suddenly fierce. "But you'd better find out where they are. We know exactly where they are. If you dare say a word, or dare to expose the organization's secrets, don't blame us for taking action against them. By then, it won't be as simple as throwing a steamed bun."