Chapter 8

After leaving the First Prison, Wang Tiejun didn’t go home; instead, he headed straight back to his team.

Wang Tiejun was not one to take An Xiaohai’s words at face value. He had suspected some issues in Haifeng Town for a while; An Xiaohai’s confession merely tore through the thin veil concealing the truth.

Picking up the phone, Wang Tiejun was about to call his anti-narcotics team members but hesitated and put it back down. An Xiaohai’s words echoed in his mind:

“I trust the government; it’s just the very few bad apples within it that I don’t trust…”

Could there be a “bad apple” in the anti-narcotics squad?

Wang Tiejun didn’t want to doubt his comrades, whom he had always believed to be exceptional and steadfast officers. Yet, recent setbacks had begun to shake his conviction.

Any slight misstep in his work could lead to catastrophic consequences, possibly endangering undercover officers’ lives. He couldn’t afford another failure.

“No, I can’t mess up this time. A failure would be a fatal blow to everyone’s confidence…”

Resolute, Wang Tiejun picked up the phone again but this time paged only two of his most trusted subordinates.

—

After lying in a hospital bed for ten days, An Xiaohai was restless. Occasionally, he stood up to stretch, knowing that any longer in bed would surely drive him to illness. No one pressured him to return to his cell, and the doctors and nurses treated him with more courtesy, likely due to Yang Yuanbing’s intervention.

Liu Cong visited twice daily—once in the morning and once in the afternoon—always punctual, checking briefly before leaving without engaging in further conversation. An Xiaohai made no effort to speak to him either.

As for Liu Jun, he hadn’t appeared even once, and An Xiaohai had no intention of asking about him.

An Xiaohai knew he had struck Liu Jun ruthlessly, far worse than the injury Liu Jun had inflicted on him. Liu Jun was essentially crippled, likely groaning in some hospital outside the prison since the prison infirmary couldn’t treat him.

In cases like these, no one would report it unless it was an unresolvable vendetta. Reporting would ensure that the whistleblower wouldn’t survive in the prison afterward. It was an unspoken rule of prison life: you could brawl to the death, but you could never turn to the authorities for help.

Late on the twelfth night, Wang Tiejun finally reappeared.

An Xiaohai exhaled in relief. Wang Tiejun’s arrival meant his operation had yielded results; otherwise, he wouldn’t be there.

“Tell me your conditions,” Wang Tiejun went straight to the point.

“I already told you last time. Those conditions still stand.”

“This operation was highly successful. We made substantial gains. I could file a report to request a sentence reduction for you.”

“Don’t. That would only get me killed faster.”

“Are you sure someone wants to harm you?”

Wang Tiejun frowned, realizing that if he filed a report, more people would know. He could circumvent that risk, though. But he wondered why anyone would target a young man like An Xiaohai.

“Very sure,” An Xiaohai nodded.

“Can you tell me who it is?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. But it must be related to the person I took down.”

“I can investigate.”

“No need, thank you,” An Xiaohai firmly shook his head.

Wang Tiejun was too upright for this. It was one thing to catch drug traffickers, but investigating this matter was another. An Xiaohai figured Wang Tiejun wouldn’t be able to handle it. If he botched it, it would harm them both.

Wang Tiejun lit a cigarette, lost in thought. Despite his integrity, Wang Tiejun wasn’t a fool. He understood An Xiaohai’s concerns.

“You were sentenced to ten years. I don’t have that long to wait for you to get out.”

“Yeah, ten years. That’s a long time,” An Xiaohai sighed. “Captain Wang, you’ve been pursuing Hai Yaozi for over ten years, haven’t you?”

Wang Tiejun froze before his expression hardened. Yes, he had been tracking Hai Yaozi for over a decade. Over those long years, he’d lost many people, including four undercover officers he’d personally trained and a brotherly friend, Luo Xiangyang.

Luo Xiangyang and Wang Tiejun had known each other since childhood, classmates all through school, and eventually joined the police force together. Luo went into anti-narcotics, while Wang joined criminal investigations. One day, Luo disappeared without a trace. His family searched frantically, but there was no sign of him. Wang Tiejun had helped look for him, but Luo was gone.

Years later, Wang Tiejun finally learned that Luo had gone undercover, but two months in, he went missing. Luo’s superiors assumed he had died. Three days after hearing this, Wang Tiejun, grieving, requested a transfer to the anti-narcotics unit.

Since then, he pursued drug traffickers with a relentless focus, holding onto a sliver of hope that Luo might still be alive, perhaps imprisoned by traffickers.

“Seems you know too much, which makes me suspicious,” Wang Tiejun looked at An Xiaohai, his eyes sharp as knives.

An Xiaohai met his gaze unflinchingly before glancing away to avoid embarrassing this righteous officer.

“Captain Wang, believe me or not, that’s all I know. I’ve requested a transfer to Area A; I should be moved there soon.”

“Area A?”

“Yes, it’s full of serious offenders, many drug pushers. If I put in the effort, I could gather useful information.”

“And you’re only doing this for information?”

“For myself too. I’ll report to you once a month, although I’ll need to find a secure way to do it…”

“You don’t need to keep stressing that. You want me to check on you monthly, so I’ll notice immediately if anything happens to you, right?”

“Nothing escapes you, Captain Wang,” An Xiaohai chuckled.

“Fine. I’ll handle our communication. I might also arrange some essential training for you.”

“Thanks, but really, no training needed.”

“No training? Do you understand the kind of people you’ll face?”

“Exactly why I don’t need it! You all have a certain aura; if I pick it up, I’d be at even greater risk.”

Wang Tiejun was taken aback but realized An Xiaohai was correct. Undercover officers, due to rigorous police training, often retained certain telltale behaviors that set them apart from true criminals. This might even be why they sometimes got exposed.

“Your family’s appeal was accepted by the court. Are you sure you don’t want me to intervene?”

“No,” An Xiaohai’s answer was resolute. “If you really want to help, Captain Wang, do it unofficially. It’ll look more like favoritism, something I doubt you’re skilled at.”

Without responding, Wang Tiejun watched him intently for a moment, then turned and left.

As Wang Tiejun’s footsteps faded, An Xiaohai exhaled deeply. He was confident that Wang Tiejun wouldn’t stand idle.

“Captain Wang, I hope you don’t mess this up…”

An Xiaohai turned his gaze out the infirmary window. The bars were thick, but at least the window was larger than the one in his cell.

Just then, the infirmary door opened again, and a hospital bed, accompanied by exaggerated groans, was pushed inside. Seeing the person on the bed, An Xiaohai’s brow furrowed.