Two or three seconds of silence. Then Yao Weihai quickly absorbed the reality that Qi Yan might also be at the wharf, and pressed his voice low. “Qi Yan — that man is more interested in police officers than in any transaction.”
There was no fear in Yao Weihai’s voice. If anything, there was a faint edge of excitement.
“I have the picture now,” he said. “Please dispatch two additional police teams to provide support at Jingang.”
Yao Weihai had already mapped the positions of the group. The area around the warehouse was dense with shipping containers. Using the cover of darkness, he had been steadily tightening the perimeter, and had already moved his team close to the warehouse.
Now they were waiting on the informant’s signal. The moment the transaction was completed, police would move in to make the arrests.
Inside the command center, Jiang Hansheng’s pupils contracted slightly. He raised his eyes and fixed them on the image on the display screen.
Jiang Hansheng rarely showed much emotion. In ordinary circumstances, his face was composed and unreadable — no sharp edges visible. But at critical moments, the edge in him became impossible to conceal. Now was one of those moments, his dark brows and eyes striking with an intensity that was almost too sharp to look at directly.
Two minutes passed. He said, “Something’s wrong.”
Tan Shiming went alert. “What’s wrong?”
“The feed is on a loop.”
Jiang Hansheng pointed to one of the screens. In a corner of the image, a tiny point of light was darting erratically — easy to miss.
A moth.
It flew into frame, traced a chaotic path through the air, and flew back out. Jiang Hansheng counted the seconds silently. Three seconds later, it entered the frame again.
Look closely enough, and it became clear — the path it traced each time was identical.
Tan Shiming went rigid with shock, his voice dropping to a murmur. “How is that possible?”
The surveillance feed covering Jingang Wharf had never moved at all?!
……
Inside the wharf warehouse.
Seventh Uncle’s eyes gleamed with a cold and penetrating light, tracking every subtle shift in Jiang Cheng’s expression.
The moment Jiang Cheng saw Yao Weihai’s photograph, countless thoughts raced through his mind. In the end, he steadied himself — and suddenly broke into a smile.
“Seventh Uncle, I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re suggesting,” Jiang Cheng said. “I work for Boss He. I handle business. I’m not here to help you kill police officers.”
“There’s no business to be done tonight.” Seventh Uncle’s smile carried a cold, unsettling edge. “Tonight, one ton of narcotics arrives at Jingang — that’s information known only to the people in this room. But it’s false. The only thing coming to Jingang is the cargo vessel itself. There’s no cargo.”
Jiang Cheng’s brow furrowed.
Seventh Uncle had someone bring over a laptop. Its screen was divided into four surveillance feeds.
The footage was in black and white. Visibility wasn’t as good as daytime, but it was still possible to make out the faint shapes of figures moving within.
Seventh Uncle smiled slightly, his gaze sweeping the room. “Tell me — it’s just a timber cargo vessel. How does something like that justify the police turning out in such force?”
One of the men exclaimed in shock. “Seventh Uncle — are you saying there’s a mole among us? Who is it?!”
Jiang Cheng’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Unknown,” Seventh Uncle said, entirely unhurried. “But we’ll find out soon enough.”
He pressed a black chess piece down onto Yao Weihai’s photograph and said in a low, measured voice, “Old Scorpion’s orders — this man is to be taken alive. If he ends up dead, someone pays for it with their life. Anyone who brings him back alive walks away with three million.”