Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

As soon as Zhang Jie stepped into the room, he slammed his elbow backward, slamming it into Jiang Hu's chest. Jiang Hu was already feeling uneasy, and the force of the impact sent him staggering back two steps. His lower back slammed hard against the corner of the coffee table, causing him to hiss and gasp in pain. He grimaced for a long time, unable to recover, but he only dared to steal glances at Zhang Jie out of the corner of his eye, not daring to utter a single word—the ferocity in this madman's eyes was more terrifying than the gas in the mines back in the day.

The subordinate behind him slammed the door shut with a "click," then immediately tightened the safety catch with another "click." The two sharp sounds echoed like thunder in the silent room, exceptionally jarring. The sounds were like two invisible shackles, freezing the air in the room, making even the ticking of the wall clock sound heavy, each strike striking one's heart.

Zhang Jie turned around, his back to the door. The dim light from the bulb shone down from above, casting a deep shadow on his face. The contours of his nose and brow bone were sharply defined, and the ferocity in his eyes almost overflowed, sending chills down one's spine. He didn't speak immediately, but stared intently at Jiang Hu, like a butcher examining meat on a chopping board, the coldness in his eyes capable of freezing a person to the bone.

Jiang Hu felt a chill run down his spine under Zhang Jie's gaze, cold sweat beading on the back of his neck and sticky dampness on his palms. Just as he was about to force a smile to smooth things over, Zhang Jie spoke up, his voice cold and hard, like shards of ice drilling into one's bones: "Director Jiang, isn't what you did a bit unethical?"

He took a step forward, his leather shoes thumping on the floor. Jiang Hu reflexively shrank back an inch until his lower back hit the cold wall, leaving him nowhere to retreat. Cold sweat instantly soaked his polyester jacket. "We've cooperated for so many years, from screening waste from the mine to smuggling high-purity ore. Every time, wasn't it me and my brothers protecting you? I never even flinched when a knife was held to my throat!" Zhang Jie's voice suddenly rose, filled with a vicious, clenched teeth. "And now, you turn around and sell us out? Do you think I, Zhang Jie, am easy to bully, or are you tired of living and looking for death?"

Jiang Hu was taken aback by the question, then panicked, his neck turning bright red like a boiled shrimp: "Brother Zhang, what do you mean by that? When did I betray you? I've been locked up for days, enduring the cold and eating coarse rice with sand in it. How could I have had the time to care about your affairs?" He was truly confused—he had clearly kept quiet and hadn't revealed anything, so how did those ledgers hidden in the cracks of the wall and the bribed miners' families get found? He knew nothing about what was happening behind the scenes at the coal mine bureau, so how could he be a traitor who betrayed his comrades?

"I really didn't say that!" Jiang Hu stamped his feet anxiously, the sound echoing on the concrete floor. His tone was urgent, almost like a vow. "Brother Zhang, I swear to God, if I say I leaked this, may I be hit by a car and die! Do you believe me?"

Zhang Jie sneered, his laughter dripping with sarcasm like needles: "Not you? How did the Public Security Bureau manage to ambush us at such precise times? How did they know exactly where our temporary hideout was deep in the mine, even knowing the backup exit perfectly?" He suddenly took a step forward, almost face to face, spitting on Jiang Hu's face. "Director Jiang, are you trying to say that there are Public Security Bureau people hiding in your coal mine bureau, and that they leaked the information?"

These words struck a chord with Jiang Hu! His eyes lit up instantly, like a drowning man grasping at a straw, and he nodded hastily, "Yes, yes, yes! Brother Zhang, you're absolutely right! That must be it!" He leaned forward, his voice rapid like a machine gun, "My two managers, Old Wang and Little Liu, usually seem honest and respectful to me, but who knew they were actually spies planted by the Public Security Bureau! They must have leaked everything about us, otherwise how could it be such a coincidence? Even our warehouse hidden in the abandoned brick kiln was raided, and no one else knew about that place except for them and me!"

He spoke with such sincerity and passion that he almost believed himself—after all, he still couldn't understand how those two old subordinates who had followed him for three years and brought gifts to his door during holidays had become He Feng's men, exposing all his shady dealings and even confiscating the IOUs he had signed for the families of mine disaster victims.

Seeing his flushed face and desperate, almost heart-wrenching demeanor, Zhang Jie's suspicion didn't lessen in the slightest; instead, it grew even more sinister. He slowly took two steps back, pulled a dagger from his pocket. The scabbard was polished to a gleaming leather. With a flick of his thumb, the gleaming blade sprang out with a "whoosh," slowly twirling in his hand. The edge reflected a chilling light under the lamplight, almost blindingly so. "A traitor?" he scoffed. "Director Jiang, do you think I'd believe such nonsense?"

Jiang Hu's heart sank again, as if weighed down by lead. His lips trembled, and he opened his mouth, but couldn't think of any other words to defend himself. The air in the room grew increasingly stuffy, like a summer stormy night, suffocating him. The swishing sound of the dagger spinning was like a hammer blow to his heart, each strike bringing him closer to suffocation. Cold sweat streamed down his back, soaking his waistband.

Zhang Jie sat in the darkest corner of the warehouse, a pile of half-person-high discarded wooden crates against the wall, the air thick with the smell of mildew and cigarette smoke. A nearly burnt-out cigarette hung between his fingers, its ash dangling long, the embers flickering in the dim light, reflecting the shifting, sinister depths of his eyes. He looked up at Jiang Hu opposite him, his gaze like a poisoned icicle, a mocking smile playing on his lips, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping wood: "Director Jiang, now that things have come to this, stop pretending to be ignorant. What's the point of lying to me? There aren't many people in this world who know my background. From smuggling through the mines to black market transactions, what don't you know? Who else but you could have leaked this information? Now you're telling me you didn't leak it? Do you think I'll believe you?"

The panic on Jiang Hu's face flashed by like a candle flame blown by the wind, then he forced himself to calm down—it was too late to argue now. He forced a smile, a helpless one that looked more like a grimace, and unconsciously ran his fingers along the creases on his knees: "No matter how you look at it, this is a done deal. The mine is sealed, your men are gone, and I've got leverage over you. There's no point in trying to figure out who leaked the information. Stop beating around the bush and just tell me what you want. I'll do whatever I can to help you, okay?"