Chapter Twelve: Liu Shuang Falls into the Net

Liu the Fatty had recently felt his eyelids twitching incessantly, an ominous feeling growing stronger with each passing day. Still, considering that all his actions had been carried out with the utmost secrecy, he managed to steady himself. As usual, after a night of indulgence at a club, he staggered home to his villa with a young woman, barely twenty, on his arm. Yet upon entering, he was startled to find the entire house brightly lit. An uninvited guest was savoring his treasured wine with evident relish.

The woman in his embrace stared around in astonishment, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Liu the Fatty’s face paled for a moment. The man before him was all too familiar—the meddlesome youth he’d encountered at the hospital. Cold light flashed in his eyes as he said icily, “Kid, breaking into a private residence is a serious crime.”

Qin Yang glanced at him, downed the wine in his glass, and replied, “Aren’t you curious why I’m here? Liu Qishan played you for a fool before he died. You didn’t even know that, did you? Send the woman away. I’m here to negotiate, not to watch your little performance.”

At the mention of Liu Qishan, waves of shock crashed through Liu the Fatty’s mind. Who was Liu Qishan to him? A relative, efficient at running errands, but too greedy for his own good—he’d been eliminated because of it. The man’s death had appeared aboveboard; no one would suspect Liu the Fatty. Yet Qin Yang’s words forced him to think twice. He barked at the woman to leave, locked the door, and tried to compose himself. But as he turned to negotiate, a fist the size of a sandbag hurtled toward him.

Unable to dodge, Liu the Fatty cried out in pain as he crashed into the door, his face swelling and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He barely had time to say anything before Qin Yang unleashed a storm of blows, fists and kicks raining down like a violent tempest. The image of Gao Xiaolan’s tear-streaked face flashed through Qin Yang’s mind, stoking his fury and lending even more strength to his strikes.

The room echoed with the sound of blows and anguished howls, gradually quelling the fire in Qin Yang’s chest. When he finally withdrew his hands and feet, Liu the Fatty was utterly unrecognizable—his face bruised and swollen, sprawled on the floor and convulsing.

“What… what do you want?” There was no longer any thought of negotiating in Liu the Fatty’s mind; the agony had utterly broken his defenses. He shivered at the sight of Qin Yang’s menacing face.

Qin Yang took a deep breath, walked to the table, poured himself another drink, and downed it before pressing play on the tape recorder beside him. Familiar voices drifted from the speaker.

“Is it done? Don’t leave any loose ends. Give the doctor some money and get the body cremated quickly. Don’t let anyone find out.”

“Tamper with Yang Zhan’s drill. That punk tried to blackmail me—show him what happens.”

“…”

Watching Liu the Fatty’s face cycle through a kaleidoscope of emotions, Qin Yang sneered. “I think my intentions are clear enough, aren’t they?”

“This is impossible. Impossible! I—” Liu the Fatty stared at Qin Yang in disbelief. In a frenzy, he tried to lunge for the tape recorder to destroy it.

Qin Yang kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him staggering to the floor. Muttering incoherently at first, Liu the Fatty eventually let out a furious roar: “Liu Qishan, you bastard!”

“Whoever is a bastard is none of my concern. Tonight, you’re going to hand over all your money,” Qin Yang said coldly. “I want it fast. I don’t care about the money in your bank account, but every bit of cash in this house—hand it over now.”

“Will you let me go if I do?” Liu the Fatty asked, trembling.

Qin Yang flashed a radiant smile. A well-timed beating before a negotiation always yielded unexpected results. Seeing that clown-like grin, Liu the Fatty shuddered, realizing that resistance was futile. With his secrets in Qin Yang’s hands, and seeing that money was all he was after, Liu the Fatty resolved to make a clean break and hand over the cash—he still had enough in the bank to fund an escape.

Yes, escape. One look at Qin Yang was enough to tell him this was a ruthless man. Rather than stay and suffer endless exploitation, it was better to cut his losses and run while he still could.

Shakily, he made his way to the safe, opened it, and revealed stacks of cash. Qin Yang finally nodded in satisfaction. Stuffing all the money into a backpack he had prepared in advance, he looked at the battered, weeping Liu the Fatty without a hint of expression, then strode out of the villa. Left behind, Liu the Fatty lay trembling on the floor.

Suddenly struck by a thought, Liu the Fatty hurriedly grabbed his phone and dialed, “Tomorrow, as soon as the bank opens, withdraw all the money from every account. Recover every cent from those recent investments—I don’t care about penalties. I want to see all my cash tomorrow.”

But before he could finish, the shrill blare of sirens shattered his last hope.

The phone slipped from his hand as Liu the Fatty stared in despair at the police bursting through the door. His heart was numb with dread, but at the thought of Qin Yang’s arrogant face, his eyes grew vicious and wild.

“Liu Shuang, this is a court-issued arrest warrant. You are formally under arrest for murder and bribery. You have the right to remain silent, but with the evidence we have, any defense is futile.” A female officer strode forward, holding a document, her tone cold and mocking.

Not a single officer showed him the slightest pity at the sight of Liu Shuang’s battered, miserable appearance. Given all he had done, he deserved a thousand deaths.

Liu Shuang forced a wretched smile and offered no resistance as they cuffed him. But suddenly he spoke up, “You’re Officer Sun Qi, aren’t you?”

Sun Qi only sneered in response, neither confirming nor denying it. She was dressed in a black uniform, radiating heroic vigor; her delicate features were marked by an unyielding sense of justice, her figure graceful and athletic.

“I want to report someone. Before you arrived, he swept up every cent of my illicit gains,” Liu the Fatty said through clenched teeth, glancing at the empty safe. “A full million, all stolen by him.”

A cold gleam flashed in Sun Qi’s eyes. The loss of a million in stolen funds was intolerable for someone as meticulous as her. She demanded icily, “Who did it?”

“I don’t know his name, but I know he’s close to Gao Xiaolan, the daughter of Gao Jinfei, whom I helped kill. If I’m not mistaken, all the evidence came from him,” Liu the Fatty said, wiping blood from his mouth, his face twitching with pain.

Sun Qi frowned at this. It all sounded like something out of a film. But if this person already had evidence of Liu the Fatty’s crimes, why expose himself just for a million in dirty money?

“Take him back for questioning,” Sun Qi ordered coldly, sensing that things were not as simple as they seemed.