Siheyuan came through and sent Jia Zhang to prison

He Feng watched Ma Xin's figure disappear at the end of the corridor. The door closed gently with a soft "click," and the moment it locked, it seemed to completely separate the faint footsteps outside from the silence inside. The faint smile on his lips gradually faded, and his eyes returned to a deep, still gaze. His fingertips gently caressed the rim of the warm teacup, the coolness of the porcelain seeping through his fingertips, making him even more alert.

He knew in his heart that Ma Xin's words, "Be careful in everything," were filled with worry—this unspoken concern, like the warm sunshine that quietly peeks through a window in spring, not scorching, but spreading a subtle warmth in his heart. But now was not the time to indulge in these emotions. The most important thing was to hold on to Jiang Hu, and follow this vine to thoroughly expose Zhang Jie and his gang of lurking parasites. Every day Zhang Jie stayed outside, he might cause more trouble; perhaps right now he was directing his men to destroy ledgers and transfer stolen goods. He had to close the net as soon as possible and not let them stir up any bigger storms.

He picked up his teacup, the rising steam blurring his glasses, his gaze lingering on the old locust tree outside the window. The leaves swayed gently in the breeze, and the dappled sunlight cast shimmering shadows on the ground, much like the undercurrents of the current situation—seemingly calm, yet turbulent beneath. He leaned back in his chair, his fingertips rhythmically tapping the table, producing a soft "tap, tap" sound that was particularly clear in the quiet office. He was waiting, waiting for Jiang Hu to arrive—this long-brewing drama was finally about to begin.

On the other side, Jiang Hu emerged from the Public Security Bureau building, hands tucked into his sleeves, a hint of undisguised smugness on his face. His steps were noticeably lighter than when he arrived. After all, he had already arranged to meet He Feng at the teahouse that afternoon. Regardless of the final outcome, the feud between Zhang Jie and He Feng could finally be somewhat absolved of his involvement. If a conflict were to break out between the two sides, whether it was a bloody battle or a war of words, it would be none of his concern. He would simply observe from the sidelines, focusing on securing his position at the coal mine bureau.

But right now, he needed to tell Zhang Jie about the meeting as soon as possible. Jiang Hu, calculating in his mind, turned and walked into a narrow alley, heading towards the address Zhang Jie had secretly given him yesterday. He wanted to see how that old fox Zhang Jie would react to this news—would he rush to make his move, or would he try to hold his ground first?

Arriving at the old-fashioned residential building where Zhang Jie was hiding, the walls were peeling so badly that the red bricks underneath were exposed. Several bulging cardboard boxes were piled up by the door, emitting a faint musty smell. Jiang Hu straightened his wrinkled clothes, cleared his throat, and was about to push the door open when he was stopped by two young men guarding the door. The two men wore black short-sleeved shirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, revealing a ferocious dragon tattoo on their forearms. Their eyes, like those of hawks, warily sized him up, like two wolves guarding their prey.

Jiang Hu's smile froze instantly, and a surge of anger rose within him. He deliberately raised his voice: "Don't you know who I am? I'm a friend of your boss Zhang Jie, a brother who's been with him in the mine for years! What are you doing stopping me? If this delays our business, can you take responsibility?"

The two henchmen didn't even lift their eyelids, clearly not taking his words seriously. In their view, the last coal transport operation had gone wrong, with several brothers being arrested by the police, all because of Jiang Hu's mishandling. Not only had it cost them manpower, but it had also made their boss lose face, so they had long since lost any goodwill towards him.

"Search him." One of the tall, thin men coldly uttered two words, his voice like ice shards. Before Jiang Hu could react, his rough hands reached out and touched him.

Jiang Hu was already holding back his anger, and this only fueled his rage. While dodging, he shouted, "What are you doing? Are you blind? I'm one of our own! Zhang Jie sent me!"

But the two men completely ignored his shouts and quickly searched his pockets, trouser legs, collar, and even the soles of his shoes—who knew if this old fox was carrying a bugging device or hiding something he shouldn't be carrying to trick their boss.

Jiang Hu felt extremely uncomfortable being searched and was about to lash out with insults when the tall, thin man suddenly pulled a black pistol from his waist and pressed the dark muzzle against Jiang Hu's chest with a "click." The cold metallic tang seeped through the fabric, sending a chill down Jiang Hu's spine. The tall, thin man's tone was ruthless and undeniable: "Behave yourself! If you don't, don't blame the bullets for being unlucky and sending you straight to meet the King of Hell!"

These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, carrying a chilling cold that instantly extinguished all of Jiang Hu's anger. He stood frozen in place, his hands raised, his fingertips trembling slightly, his face as white as a damp sheet of paper, not daring to even breathe—only then did he belatedly realize that Zhang Jie's men were all desperate criminals who had crawled out of a hail of bullets, their eyes bloodshot, their hands gripping knives, their eyes seeing only the glint of blades, not rules. If truly provoked, they would never hesitate to pull the trigger, killing a person as easily as crushing an ant.

Fear surged through Jiang Hu like a rising tide, washing over him in an instant. His earlier arrogance, fueled by numbers, vanished without a trace. He dared not utter another word of "no," standing there like a wooden stake, allowing the men to search him. Their cold hands rummaged through his pockets and waistband, the rough friction of their knuckles against his skin. Even the compartments of his briefcase were turned inside out; pens and notebooks were scattered on the floor. In the end, they found only a few neatly folded handkerchiefs and a stack of useless receipts.

"Alright, go in." The leader shoved him hard, and Jiang Hu staggered inside, his lower back hitting the door frame. He winced in pain, but he was both angry and scared, like a fire burning inside him with nowhere to go. He didn't dare to say another word.

The inner room was dimly lit, with only a single, yellowish light bulb hanging from the rafters, illuminating the moldy patches on the walls. Zhang Jie was sitting behind a worn-out wooden table, cleaning his gun. The cotton cloth rubbed against the barrel repeatedly, making a soft, rustling sound. Seeing him enter, Zhang Jie looked up and smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling together. His tone was leisurely: "Why are you in such a hurry? Is something urgent? What's wrong? Sit down and tell me."

Jiang Hu was seething with anger and had nowhere to vent it. As soon as he stood up, he retorted, "Are you out of your mind? You search me the moment I see you? Do you think I'm here to defect to the enemy? If I really wanted to harm you, would I have come here all by myself?"