Chapter Eighty-Two: We Are Here to Beat You Up

With the plan decided, Ji Liehu showed no hesitation. With a wave of his hand, his subordinates sprang into action. First, they found people to impersonate Liu Molan. Then, they conferred with Liu Long and others on how to leave behind evidence—subtle enough to evade detection, yet convincing enough to be believed. After several discussions, Ji Liehu was no longer in doubt about Old Qin’s judgment. This Liu Long, though not much of a fighter, had a sharp wit and a silver tongue; the clever tricks he devised were particularly impressive. Ji Liehu began to consider how to cultivate this Liu Long further.

Once the first operation was finalized in the office, Ji Liehu took a satisfied sip of wine, lit a cigarette, and said, “Liu Long, from now on you’re one of us. Is there anything you want to say?”

“Me?” Liu Long was excited, but at a loss for words. Seeing Zhang Qi and the others smiling silently, he understood and replied, “Rest assured, Boss Ji. I, Liu Long, won’t hold back if I can do something, nor will I pretend if I can’t. If I mess up, you can cut me down yourself—I won’t utter a word of complaint.”

“We’re all gentlemen here; enough with the bluster,” Cao Long said with a scowl.

Ji Liehu retorted, “Gentlemen, my foot! A gangster’s a gangster, a thug’s a thug—no need to act otherwise.”

“Fine, I’m a gentleman, happy now?” Cao Long cursed under his breath.

“Boss, we’ve tracked Zhao Ru,” Li Meng announced, bursting through the door as the two were bickering. He was visibly excited. “That bastard’s been hiding well, always moving with security. But according to one of the girls at the Golden Pavilion, he’s visiting a mistress tonight. This mistress is a regular at the Pavilion and quite friendly with our contact—she actually spilled his plans for the evening.”

“Good.” Ji Liehu clapped with excitement, glanced at Liu Long, and said, “Zhang Qi, Li Meng, you two take a few capable men and go. Liu Long, you’re going too, but you’re not to lay a finger on anyone, you hear me?”

“Yes.” Liu Long was a bit disappointed. He’d been a small-time gang leader for years, but rarely had the chance for a real fight. Now that he finally did, Ji Liehu forbade him from taking part. Still, he had no choice but to obey. As he left with Li Meng and Zhang Qi, Zhang Qi noticed his lack of enthusiasm and laughed. “What’s wrong? Upset you can’t get in on the action?”

“Brother Qi, what I most look forward to with Boss Ji is getting my hands dirty. Being told to stand aside is a bit frustrating,” Liu Long admitted.

Zhang Qi chuckled, “Tonight’s not some underworld brawl. If we can avoid a fight, we will. Besides, Liu Long, I’ve been with Boss Ji for years and I know how he thinks. Our line of work is full of danger—any day could be your last. Boss Ji wants you to play up your brains, to be the one who looks harmless. Don’t underestimate that—sometimes it can save your life. Understand?”

Liu Long nodded in sudden realization.

He’d forgotten—this wasn’t the small-town brawling of Fengyang County, where brute force settled grudges, but a much broader stage. The old ways simply wouldn’t work here; otherwise, it would be a quick ticket to the grave.

Zhao Ru was now over fifty, but still considered himself young and vigorous. With assets worth hundreds of millions, he felt it only natural to keep a few mistresses. In his eyes, a true rich man in this day and age was expected to have at least a couple of lovers. He fancied himself an AK-47, certain that he was far superior to others his age, who were, at best, mere .38 Specials.

Dressed in a tailored suit that barely contained his paunch, sporting an expensive watch, he stood before the mirror, hair dyed black and gleaming, a stark contrast to the wrinkles on his brow.

“It’s five forty—time to go,” Zhao Ru said to himself, content as he prepared to leave the office.

Just then, his assistant hurried in. Zhao Ru, annoyed, said, “You’ve been with me for years—why are you still so scatterbrained?”

“Director Zhao, Liu Molan has disappeared,” the assistant blurted, too anxious to care about his misstep. “Now, all over Haitian City, seven or eight people claiming to be Liu Molan have popped up in hospitals.”

“What?” Zhao Ru frowned, then sneered. “Hiding? How long can she hide? This reward is mine for the taking.”

“But Liu Ruoyu seems to have heard about Liu Molan and is preparing to return from Europe,” the assistant added quickly. “If he comes back, our plan could fall apart.”

“Hmph. Coming back won’t be so easy,” Zhao Ru replied coldly. “Send some news to Europe—have them put pressure on Liu Ruoyu. This is a multi-billion deal. If he screws it up, even if he comes back, he’ll have to step aside quietly. Cao Xianhu is dead—no one will ever trace the bounty to me. Just do as I say. This time, we’re set on taking down Tianfeng Group with our partners. If Liu Ruoyu thinks he can walk away, he’s dreaming.”

With that, the assistant left in a hurry.

Zhao Ru tidied his office, exited with his driver-bodyguard, and headed straight to his mistress’s residence. Several cars followed, but he was used to being tailed by police—he no longer cared. All the evidence had been erased; no one could catch him now. Upon arriving at the residential complex, the gate security blocked the trailing plainclothes officers, who could only watch from a distance as Zhao Ru entered his villa.

After he got out, the driver took the car to the garage.

Zhao Ru strode inside, expecting his lover to greet him, but was met with silence. Annoyed, he resolved to teach her a lesson in bed that night. He headed to the kitchen to check if dinner was ready, but as soon as he entered, he was startled to find three strangers sitting at the table, enjoying a fine meal, sipping his prized wine, and smoking his cigars.

“Who are you?” Zhao Ru’s eyelid twitched as he tried to back away.

But just then, two men entered, dragging his unconscious driver behind them.

“Director Zhao, apologies, but we’ll need your cooperation for the next few days,” Zhang Qi said coolly. “And don’t bother calling for help. Your bodyguards are all under our control. As for your mistress—she took your money and eloped with some pretty boy two hours ago. Where they went, I have no idea.”

“What do you want?” Zhao Ru swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.

“It’s simple,” Zhang Qi replied with a grin. “When the time comes, we’ll need you to increase the bounty you put out.”

“What bounty?” Zhao Ru tried to feign ignorance.

But Li Meng’s iron bar struck him in the gut, and after years of luxury, he had never endured such pain. He collapsed to his knees, gasping, agony written across his face.

“Don’t play dumb with me. No one can save you now,” Zhang Qi sneered. “For the next few days, you’ll stay here quietly. Don’t worry—we’ll let you keep in touch with the outside world. As long as you cooperate, things will go smoothly. If not, and the boys get bored and want to use you as a punching bag—well, don’t take it personally. We’re being honest: we just might beat you up.”