163: Chapter 163 Old Liu's Liu with a Knife

When Xu Weidong returned to Hukuang Township, it was almost dawn.

He had the driver stop the car at the entrance of the Township Government, and instead of going to the family quarters, he went straight into his office.

He picked up his phone and dialed Xu Tianhua's number; it was answered after two rings.

"Dad, I have returned to Hukuang Township."

Xu Tianhua's voice was very calm, as if everything were under his control.

"Understood. Get some rest; you have work tomorrow."

There was no reprimand, no questioning, and no superfluous words.

Xu Weidong held the phone, silent for two seconds.

"Dad, you should get some rest too."

Then he hung up the phone, leaned back into his chair, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

He had learned this lesson.

Early the next morning, Deputy Party Secretary Hu Ming and Wang Jianguo finally returned.

Both of them had dark circles under their eyes and unsteady gaits, as if their bones had been extracted.

Deputy Party Secretary Hu Ming's shirt was wrinkled, his collar open, and a few faint red marks were visible on his neck.

Wang Jianguo was in an even worse state, with lipstick stains on his face that he was completely unaware of.

They bumped into each other at the entrance of the Township Government, exchanged a glance, and saw guilty consciences and embarrassment in each other's eyes.

Neither of them asked where the other had gone last night; they both lowered their heads and hurried into the office building.

Xu Weidong stood in front of his office window, watching them enter one after the other. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was a sneer or a sigh.

He did not call them in for questioning, nor did he mention what happened last night, acting as if nothing had occurred.

Some things did not need to be spoken aloud; speaking them would only make them difficult to resolve.

Meanwhile, on the highway to the provincial capital, President Zhou Hai was sitting in the back seat of his black Mercedes, his face as gloomy as the sky before a storm.

Qian Ying sat beside him, his chubby face full of panic, wiping sweat with a tissue incessantly. Tissue after tissue became damp, as if he could never wipe it all away.

"President Zhou Hai, that Xu Weidong escaped. What should we do?"

"We didn't get the photos, we didn't record the video, we didn't get anything. How will we explain this when we go back?"

Qian Ying's voice trembled with irrepressible panic.

President Zhou Hai did not answer; he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

He was wondering how Xu Weidong had woken up.

He had administered the drug himself, controlling the dosage perfectly—it wouldn't harm anyone, but it was enough to keep someone unconscious for three or four hours.

He had clearly watched Xu Weidong being helped into the room, watched Financial Director Wei Xue being sent in, and watched the door close; everything had proceeded according to plan.

But when he returned after handling other matters, the room was already empty.

He knew then and there that it was over.

Xu Weidong had woken up and escaped; the trap had been broken.

What unsettled him even more was that from last night until now, he hadn't received any calls from Yancheng, no instructions, no inquiries—nothing at all.

It was as if they had already treated him as an abandoned pawn, tossed aside and ignored.

"Explain? Explain what?"

President Zhou Hai opened his eyes, his voice cold. "The task wasn't completed. Do you think they will still acknowledge us?"

"We are nothing but chess pieces; when useful, we are treasures, and when useless, we are trash. Now that the chess piece is useless, they can't even be bothered to pick up the trash."

Qian Ying's face turned pale; he wanted to say something, but swallowed it back.

He subconsciously touched his pocket, where his phone was. He wanted to call a friend in the provincial capital to ask about the situation, but when he touched the phone case, he drew his hand back.

If there really was a problem, would his friend dare to answer his call? Would they dare to tell him the truth?

The car exited the highway and entered the ramp to the provincial capital. The toll gate barrier lifted, and the car drove out slowly.

President Zhou Hai breathed a sigh of relief. Once in the provincial capital, it was his territory; no matter how long Xu Weidong's reach was, it couldn't extend here.

That kid's influence in Lüjiang City was indeed massive. If he had stayed in Lüjiang City, he might not have been able to return.

Just when he thought he was safe, two blinding headlights suddenly lit up ahead. A black commercial vehicle was positioned horizontally in the middle of the road, blocking their path.

The driver slammed on the brakes, the tires emitting a shrill screech against the ground. President Zhou Hai's body lurched forward violently, his head nearly hitting the front seat.

Before he could react, another car drove up on each side, and the three vehicles formed a triangular formation, pinning them tightly in the middle.

The car doors opened, and seven or eight men in black stepped out. Each was burly and expressionless, as if they had been cast from the same mold.

The leader was a man in his early thirties, wearing a black jacket. He held a photo in his hand, walked to the Mercedes, and knocked on the window.

President Zhou Hai's scalp tingled instantly!

It was over!

The sky had fallen!

The earth had cracked!

He felt regret!

President Zhou Hai slowly rolled down the window. The man glanced down at him, then looked at the photo in his hand and nodded.

Then he looked at Qian Ying, compared him to the photo, and nodded again.

He signaled to the people behind him and said in a flat voice, "It's these two."

The people behind him acknowledged, called out "Brother Eight," and then pulled open the back door, dragging President Zhou Hai and Qian Ying out of the car like chicks.

Qian Ying was so scared his legs went soft; he couldn't even stand steadily. He was supported by two men in black, and his crotch was already wet.

President Zhou Hai wasn't much better off, but he still forced himself to speak up, "What are you doing? Do you know who I am? I am the Chairman of Dongshan Group, President Zhou Hai! This is kidnapping! It's a crime!"

The man called Brother Eight turned around and glanced at him, his gaze as indifferent as if he were looking at an ant about to be crushed to death.

He didn't speak, just nodded slightly.

Two men in black swung their fists and smashed them hard into Qian Ying's stomach.

Qian Ying let out a miserable shriek and bent over like a boiled shrimp.

"Hey buddy, why hit me?"

The fists didn't stop, landing one after another on his face, body, and ribs...

Blood gushed from his nose and the corners of his mouth, splashing onto the ground and gleaming with a dark red light under the streetlights.

President Zhou Hai stood to the side, watching Qian Ying get beaten into an unrecognizable state, his legs trembling like a sieve.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say that he was a man from Yancheng, but swallowed the words back.

President Zhou Hai knew that in front of these people, mentioning Yancheng was meaningless. Since they dared to make a move here, they weren't afraid of the people behind him.

Of course, he wasn't disappointed; when the fists landed on him, he only felt a sharp pain radiate from his ribs throughout his entire body, followed by endless darkness.

When President Zhou Hai woke up, he found himself in a strange place.

The air was filled with the smell of soil and fish; there was the sound of insects chirping in his ears, and occasionally the sound of splashing water.

His head felt like it was splitting open, and he didn't know how many ribs were broken; every breath felt like being cut by a knife.

President Zhou Hai struggled to open his eyes and found himself tied to a chair. Around him was a wide fish pond, the surface shimmering with ripples under the sunlight.

In the distance, there were a few figures, their faces unclear.

He struggled, and the ropes dug into his flesh, making him grimace in pain.

Qian Ying was tied to the chair next to him, his face swollen like a pig's head, his eyes reduced to mere slits, and dried blood hanging from the corners of his mouth. He was slumped on the chair like a pile of mud.

If it weren't for the slight rise and fall of his chest, one would almost think he was dead.

"Awake?"