Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

Zheng Qiang's lips trembled uncontrollably, his knuckles turning white from clenching his fists. He felt torn between two forces: hatred for the Dark Souls' viciousness, and even greater fear of their targeting his wife and daughter. He knew their methods all too well; their promised revenge had never failed, and the mere thought of their tormenting methods made his scalp tingle.

He stared intently at the little beggar huddled in the corner. Every word he spoke was like a spit of ice, piercing his bones. "You...are so cruel." Silence spread across the cell like thick ink. After a few seconds, he clenched his teeth, his voice hoarse like sandpaper. "Don't worry, I won't say a word."

The little beggar nodded slowly, without even raising his eyelids, but the threat in his eyes was like a poisoned needle, piercing one's skin. "It's best to engrave this in your bones." He paused, his voice as light as a sigh, but every word was sharp. "We have more people than you think. We know which foot you lift when you walk and how many times you chew your food. If you dare to play tricks—" He raised his eyes and swept across Zheng Qiang's pale face, "I guarantee that your wife and daughter will live to experience all the feelings you dare not imagine, which is a hundred times more painful than death."

With that, he turned around and retreated into the darkest corner of the cell like a frightened little animal, his back hunched, almost disappearing into the shadows of the wall. It was as if the ruthlessness he had just displayed had never appeared, leaving only a thin, shaky outline.

Zheng Qiang froze in place, his hands and feet cold. The little beggar's words echoed in his mind like a curse: "My wife and daughter will suffer more than death." Every day he lived, his family lived on the edge of a knife. When would this end? Rather than let them live in fear for the rest of their lives, it would be better...

He suddenly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there was only the determination to fight to the death in his pupils.

The next second, he suddenly raised his head and bit his tongue hard!

The pain exploded like thunder, shooting from the tip of his tongue to the top of his head. His vision instantly exploded in a sea of ​​blood. The smell of blood spread wildly in his mouth, hot and fishy, ​​trickling down the corners of his mouth and onto his gray prison uniform, creating a blur of dark red blossoms that looked exactly like the poppies his daughter loved to draw. He gritted his teeth, nearly digging into the root of his tongue, until his vision began to spin and his consciousness seemed to be swept away by the tide. He finally let go, collapsing heavily to the ground. Blood foam mixed with saliva poured out, covering his chin and neck. His breathing was as weak as a candle in the wind.

The beggar next door heard the muffled sound and slowly turned his head. In the dim light, he looked at the figure huddled on the ground, his face expressionless except for a faint smile, as if he were watching a play with a pre-written ending. After a few seconds, he turned back and buried his face in his knees, not saying a word again, as if everything that had just happened was just the noise of wind blowing through the window frame.

Not long after, the footsteps of patrolling prison guards could be heard in the corridor. With a clang, the cell door was pulled open. The guard was about to do the routine roll call when his eyes froze as they scanned the floor. "Zheng Qiang!" he exclaimed, rushing over and squatting. He saw that the man was barely breathing, with the bloodstain on his chest still spreading. He panicked and frantically fumbled for the intercom: "Hurry! Infirmary! No, call an ambulance! Cell 307, Zheng Qiang's in trouble!"

The news, like wings, reached He Feng half an hour later. He was sorting through Zheng Qiang's files, his fingers barely touching the page for "Family Contact Information" when the report reached him. He suddenly stood up, sending the files scattering to the floor. "What's going on?!" He grabbed his coat and rushed out, his car keys burning in his hand. He floored the accelerator, the tires screeching against the road.

The moment they rushed into the detention center and pushed open the door to cell 307, the strong smell of blood hit them. Zheng Qiang lay sprawled on the ground, his face pressed against the cold concrete. Blood still seeped from his mouth, staining the ground red. He Feng's heart felt as if it were being clenched tightly. He quickly rushed over, squatted down, and with trembling fingers, he probed for his carotid artery—the faint pulse was intermittent, like a candle flame that could go out at any moment.

"What are you still standing there for!" He yelled at the prison guard behind him, his voice cracking, "Where's the ambulance?!"

He Feng's heart felt like it was being yanked hard, aching and blocked. He had so much to ask—why he betrayed her, whether he knew how many people he had nearly ruined. But seeing the scene before him, all the words got stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth, but ultimately said to Zhao Lei behind him, "Zhao Lei, rush to the hospital. We must save him. Also, send more people to guard him. Don't let anything go wrong again."

He originally wanted to say "protect Director Zheng", but the word "Director" came to his lips and he couldn't say it out loud.

Zhao Lei quickly led medical staff to load Zheng Qiang onto a stretcher and rushed him to the hospital. He Feng stood in the empty cell, staring at the glaring pool of blood on the floor, a mixture of emotions welling up in his chest. He couldn't understand why Zheng Qiang had gone to such lengths. Was it to protect his wife and daughter, or... was there something else going on? He sighed, feeling that this case was a tangled mess, growing ever more complex and overwhelming.

He Feng sat in his office chair, feeling a heavy rock pressing against his chest, making him feel suffocated and anxious. He was truly distressed, yet he didn't know who to talk to. Zheng Qiang's hesitant expression was still fresh in his mind, and then, in the blink of an eye, he had bitten his tongue, signaling his refusal to speak. There had to be something else going on, perhaps someone was using some kind of leverage to threaten him. Otherwise, given Zheng Qiang's temperament, he wouldn't have been so decisive.

He stared out the window in a daze, his mind in a mess. Sometimes he thought of Zheng Qiang's usual calm appearance, and sometimes he thought of him with blood at the corner of his mouth and a determined look in his eyes, which made him feel very confused.

Just then, Ma Xin pushed the door open and walked in. She saw He Feng staring out the window, lost in thought, not even noticing her coming in, so she tentatively called out twice, "He Feng? He Feng?"

He Feng suddenly came back to his senses, startled, turned to look at her, frowned slightly: "Why did you come in without knocking?"

Ma Xin shrugged helplessly. "I knocked, several times. I guess you were so lost in thought that you didn't hear me. I was afraid something might have happened to you, so I came in to check on you."

He Feng finally came to his senses and smiled apologetically, "Is that so? Sorry, I didn't hear you." He paused and asked, "What do you want to talk to me about?"

Ma Xin walked over to the chair opposite him and sat down. Seeing his exhausted expression, she softened her tone, "I know you must be feeling bad right now. Although I haven't worked with Zheng Qiang for long, I really didn't expect him to do something like this... Speaking of which, it makes me feel really bad."