Chapter 6: The Central Park Murder Case (6)

Under Wu Zui’s careful observation, despite the reflective film on his own car windows, he could still clearly see outside. Soon, he noticed that Zhao Dali’s right waist bulged suspiciously, likely concealing a gun. Moreover, the black mist above Zhao Dali’s head was so dense that Wu Zui estimated he must have dozens of lives on his hands.

Wu Zui had no intention of risking his own sanity to probe whose lives Zhao Dali had taken. Just sifting through Zhao Dali’s memories would sap enough energy to knock him unconscious for days.

“You stay here. I’ll handle him,” Wu Zui instructed Xiao Ke’ai as he gripped his gun, reaching for the door handle.

“Master, I want to go too!” Xiao Ke’ai grabbed Wu Zui’s arm, having also noticed Zhao Dali was probably armed. To her, acting together would mean less risk.

“Why would a young woman go out there? We only have one gun. Stay put in the car. If he does anything, I’ll shoot him on the spot! You promised you’d listen to me,” Wu Zui said with a headache, looking at her eager expression.

“But Master! I beat Captain Lin—I’m good at hand-to-hand!” Xiao Ke’ai insisted, shaking Wu Zui’s arm, her heart set on joining the gunfight. In her excitement, she accidentally honked the car horn.

A harsh “beep—” echoed through the small village, instantly alerting Zhao Dali to the car’s presence. Xiao Ke’ai’s driving and tailing skills were decent; the car’s nose was just barely visible, making it easy to hide and exit. However, any exposure would immediately put their target on high alert—no one hides that well unless they’re up to no good.

“Sorry, Master!” Xiao Ke’ai apologized hastily, her face paling as she watched Zhao Dali unlock his holster, cover his gun with his jacket, and walk toward them, pointing menacingly.

“Take off your jacket!” Wu Zui ordered calmly as he stripped off his own shirt and began rocking the car with his legs, bare-chested.

“Huh?” Xiao Ke’ai was still frozen, not understanding his plan.

With Zhao Dali only five meters away and Xiao Ke’ai still clueless, Wu Zui acted fast, adjusting the driver’s seat to tip Xiao Ke’ai backward. Then he swung himself over her. Realizing what was happening, Xiao Ke’ai’s brows shot up, and she instinctively slapped at Wu Zui’s neck with her right hand while aiming a knee at his groin.

To Xiao Ke’ai, anyone trying to take advantage of her—even her idol—was an enemy to be destroyed. Wu Zui caught her hand but barely deflected her knee thanks to the cramped space in the car.

“Ugh... Pretend we’re a couple!” Wu Zui grunted, cold sweat breaking out as he grabbed the handle above the door, hissing in pain. Their scuffle made the car rock even more.

“Master, are you okay?” Xiao Ke’ai realized Wu Zui wasn’t trying to take advantage of her but was faking intimacy to fool Zhao Dali. She asked anxiously.

“If he comes over, I won’t be,” Wu Zui muttered, thinking he might as well have just rammed the car into Zhao Dali. But with Zhao Dali already armed, their survival odds had plummeted.

Next time, I’ll bulletproof this car, he cursed inwardly.

By now, Xiao Ke’ai had stripped down to her white undergarments. Wu Zui tossed his jacket over her and said, “Cover up, take off your shoes.”

Blushing, Xiao Ke’ai did as told, and Wu Zui hung one shoe on the steering wheel. He had no time to notice her embarrassment; Zhao Dali had reached the front of the car.

“Master...” Xiao Ke’ai tapped his shoulder in panic, pointing to the bulletproof vest Wu Zui had left in the passenger seat.

“Damn...” Wu Zui hastily covered the vest with Xiao Ke’ai’s jacket just as Zhao Dali tapped on the window.

“Anyone in there? I just need directions!” Zhao Dali, gun in hand and feigning geniality, pressed his weapon against the door, ready to shoot at the slightest sign of trouble.

“Don’t blow our cover,” Wu Zui whispered to Xiao Ke’ai. He rolled the window down a crack and, feigning annoyance, barked at Zhao Dali, “Get lost! Ask someone else! Don’t bother us!”

“Come on, brother, don’t be mad! Do you know how to get to Donggang Pier?” Zhao Dali grinned, peeking through the crack. As he glimpsed the two of them in a compromising position, Wu Zui rolled the window up again.

A voice from inside muttered, “What’re you staring at? Never seen people doing it outdoors? Go home and watch your mom!”

After his tirade, Wu Zui’s and Xiao Ke’ai’s heart rates shot past 150. If Zhao Dali didn’t buy it, their only recourse would be a final farewell.

Zhao Dali tightened his grip on the gun, hesitated, then re-holstered the weapon—though he left the snap undone, ready to draw at any moment. He slipped back to his car, still wearing that fake, simpleminded smile.

Now’s the time to slip away, no need to stir up trouble, he told himself.

As Zhao Dali left, the two in the car exhaled in relief.

“Sorry, Master! Are you... alright?” Xiao Ke’ai, though inexperienced, knew that a critical hit to a man could have serious consequences and asked with concern.

“I... should be fine,” Wu Zui replied uncertainly. What man would dare claim otherwise?

“Maybe we should go to the hospital—” Xiao Ke’ai began.

“Shh! Zhao Dali’s turning back!” Wu Zui cut her off. Zhao Dali, suspicious at the stationary car, glanced back.

“Don’t get out. Stay here and listen,” Wu Zui said, patting her on the head before grabbing his phone, opening the door, and stepping out—leaving the gun under the driver’s seat, as there was nowhere to hide it.

He searched for a pharmacy on his phone, pretending to need medicine, heading in the same direction as Zhao Dali.

Zhao Dali, surprised at the sight of Wu Zui shirtless, asked, “Brother, could you tell me the way to Donggang Pier?”

“Don’t you have a phone? Check it yourself. I’ve got things to buy, don’t waste my time,” Wu Zui replied brusquely, not looking up.

“Looking for a little something to spice things up, eh?” Zhao Dali jeered, seeing Wu Zui sweating (from pain) and searching for a pharmacy, assuming he was... lacking in stamina.

Wu Zui ignored him, went into the pharmacy, and soon came out empty-handed. Passing Zhao Dali, he noticed the items in his bag and got an idea.

“Hey, sell me some BYT,” Wu Zui demanded rudely.

Zhao Dali had brought BYT as a backup—if he had to jump ship during a smuggling run, he’d need fresh water. He hadn’t expected this kid to want some too.

Sizing Wu Zui up, sweaty and weak-looking, Zhao Dali sneered. “A thousand a box. I’m in a hurry. If you don’t like it, buy it somewhere else!”

Wu Zui, acting provoked, snapped, “Hillbilly! Fine, one box, WeChat pay!” flashing his phone.

Zhao Dali, happy to scam a sucker, tossed him a box of ten. He figured he could pick up more elsewhere, and one box was plenty.

He pulled out his phone for Wu Zui to scan and pay. As Wu Zui approached, he suddenly hurled his own phone at Zhao Dali’s face.

Taking advantage of Zhao Dali’s distraction, Wu Zui lunged for the gun. Both men’s hands landed on the weapon almost simultaneously.

Zhao Dali roared, swinging his left fist at Wu Zui’s temple. Wu Zui, faster, punched Zhao Dali in the chest, making him stagger back and allowing Wu Zui to snatch the gun. But before he could flip the safety, Zhao Dali, through gritted teeth, kicked Wu Zui’s wrist, sending the weapon flying.

Zhao Dali then drew a twenty-centimeter knife and charged. Wu Zui, shaking his aching wrist, dodged the attack. The fight continued—Wu Zui was slashed across the chest, but Zhao Dali lost his knife.

Suddenly, firm footsteps sounded—the now fully clothed Xiao Ke’ai arrived, aiming the gun retrieved from under the driver’s seat.

“Don’t move! Hands up!” she ordered crisply.

Wu Zui quickly stepped aside, not wanting to be used as a shield. Unarmed, Zhao Dali wouldn’t last against Wu Zui even without Xiao Ke’ai’s help.

Wu Zui grabbed the gun from the ground, called Lin Feng to come over, and asked him to round up the nearby smuggling gang. He hadn’t called Lin Feng earlier because he wasn’t sure if Zhao Dali would follow Yan Junhao’s orders and wanted Lin to protect Song Shuxian’s group in case Zhao Dali became desperate.

Now that Zhao Dali was caught, there was no need for extra protection—detective resources were precious.

Wu Zui put away Lin Feng’s gun, pointed Zhao Dali’s own weapon at him, and waited until Lin Feng arrived, cuffed the suspects, retrieved his firearm, and took Yan Shenghan away before finally dressing.

One thing still puzzled Wu Zui—why hadn’t Yan Junhao or Zhao Dali committed suicide by poison? Unlike Zhang Qiang, they had ample opportunity.

As Wu Zui prepared to interrogate them, Lin Feng nudged him and winked. “Old Wu, what were you and the rookie up to?”

“What do you mean?” Wu Zui replied, baffled.

“Don’t play dumb! Look at you, shirtless, and your apprentice—her clothes may be neat, but where are her shoes? Old Wu, hitting on a colleague? That’s not like you.” Lin Feng gestured toward Xiao Ke’ai, barefoot.

“If you’re so gossipy, switch careers and be a reporter, not a detective, you busybody!” Wu Zui retorted, then went to remind Xiao Ke’ai to put her shoes back on. Those pale feet—any injury would be bad.

“Hey, Old Wu, seriously, don’t you need a tetanus shot? That cut is pretty deep,” Lin Feng asked, eyeing the blood on Wu Zui’s chest.

“No need for a hospital. The forensics guys can give me one,” Wu Zui replied, wiping the blood from a sword-shaped birthmark on his chest, which glowed faintly red.

“The forensics lab can do tetanus shots too?” Lin Feng was astonished.

“You need to have connections! Not for the likes of you!” Wu Zui mocked.

“Tch...” Lin Feng scoffed and went to examine the scene.

Meanwhile, every newspaper in Binhai City received an email from Yan Junhao, detailing the misdeeds of Zhong Yuyu, complete with Dr. Mo’s video confession and evidence of Zhong’s hiring of foreign mercenaries to kill Song Shuxian.

Reporters worked overtime to cover the scandal, and Zhong’s two older brothers, upon hearing the news, hurried to the station, ready to fan the flames.

After interrogation, Zhao Dali and his associates, together with Song Shuxian, Zhong Yuyu, and Dr. Mo, faced formal investigation. With overwhelming evidence, even the best lawyer couldn’t save Zhong Yuyu from a life sentence.

From Wu Zui’s impression of Zhong’s brothers, the death penalty was inevitable for Zhong Yuyu, and Song Shuxian, as an accomplice, would get at least thirty years.

Xiao Ke’ai, using Yan Junhao’s statement, reconstructed the entire Central Park murder case. Song Shuxian had originally been Yan Junhao’s girlfriend, but in their last year of college, Zhong Yuyu stole her away.

This left Yan Junhao, who had only ever had a platonic relationship, heartbroken. He returned home after graduation and married as his family arranged. Entering the sports world wasn’t hard for him. Soon, his wife became pregnant, just a month behind Song Shuxian.

When the ailing Zhong family patriarch’s will was read, it decreed that the first among his three heirs to produce a son would inherit 60% of the group’s assets, the other two getting 20% each. At the time, the Zhong estate was worth billions—having a son could mean a difference of 400 million.

Originally, Zhong Yuyu only meant to have fun, but after this, he brought Song Shuxian home, fulfilling her dream of marrying into wealth.

But as Song Shuxian neared her due date, she suddenly miscarried. The baby couldn’t be saved, and even her life was in danger, only preserved through the obstetricians’ efforts.

As her dream life slipped away, Song Shuxian, in desperation, suggested to Zhong Yuyu that they use Yan Junhao’s child as their own, to secure the inheritance.

She’d already had someone investigate—Yan Junhao’s wife was also carrying a boy, and their due dates were close enough for the swap.

In the end, Yan Junhao’s wife was abducted by Zhong Yuyu, and after giving birth in a remote location, died of postpartum hemorrhage. Her body was disposed of at sea.

Zhong Yuyu arranged for the DNA report to be altered and paid off the necessary people. He and Song Shuxian obtained 60% of the Zhong estate.

Yan Junhao’s wife disappeared without a trace. By chance, he heard part of the truth from an obstetrician. After investigating, he discovered what happened to his child, but the Zhong family, with the patriarch deceased and Zhong Yuyu in control, noticed. Thugs repeatedly threatened his family—his parents were abducted several times.

Yan Junhao tried to report the crimes, but lacking evidence, and every time he called the police about the kidnappings, his parents were returned—only to face more harassment after the police left.

Desperate, Yan Junhao went abroad to work and plot his revenge, giving his family some peace.

By chance, after joining a foreign mercenary group, Yan Junhao was assigned—two years later—the mission to kill Song Shuxian, hired by none other than Zhong Yuyu.

Yan Junhao took the job, planning to kill both Song Shuxian and Zhong Yuyu, then escape overseas with his child.

“Master, Yan Junhao is so pitiful! Will he be sentenced to death? If so, who will take care of little Shenghan?” Xiao Ke’ai asked tearfully, dabbing her eyes.

“I doubt he’ll get the death penalty. The bodyguards he killed weren’t locals and he has no prior criminal record. Unless his accomplices betray him, the charges are attempted murder, unlawful entry, and resisting arrest. If he cooperates with us to bust mercenary cells domestically, he could get a reduced sentence. With a good lawyer persuading the jury and judge, he might even attend his son’s wedding. After all, we have no extradition treaty with the U.S.,” Wu Zui replied cheerfully.

That was likely the best outcome for Yan Junhao.

“Wow, Master, you’re so cunning!” Xiao Ke’ai suddenly understood why Wu Zui had stopped Yan Junhao from killing Song Shuxian. As much as Song deserved retribution, she was a local citizen—her death would doom Yan Junhao.

“Shh, keep it to yourself,” Wu Zui whispered, finger to his lips by her ear.

With Xiao Ke’ai tagging along, Wu Zui returned to the station to finish their paperwork. Though the case was over, there were still files to complete.

A few weeks later, Wu Zui and Xiao Ke’ai attended the court hearing. Zhang Qiang and Zhong Yuyu received the death penalty, Zhao Dali got life, and Song Shuxian thirty years.

Yan Junhao, thanks to his cooperation and the intervention of a top defense lawyer, was sentenced to thirty years. With good behavior and further reductions, he might well see Yan Shenghan’s wedding in his forties.

Though the big mercenary insurance payout was gone, the court ordered Zhong Yuyu to pay Yan Junhao over five million in damages and cover all of Yan Shenghan’s expenses until adulthood. The lawyer secured this, and Zhong’s brothers, who now had tens of billions, were happy to pay for a better public image—helping stabilize the company’s stock price after the scandal.

After court, Xiao Ke’ai was thrilled—little Shenghan would be well cared for. With the compensation and attorney Zhang’s help, he was enrolled in a top private boarding school until university.

By then, Yan Junhao would likely be released.

...

Human desire is born of a single thought—greed. One must not be obsessed by wealth, for in death, it is all left behind.