Yao Weihai invited Tan Shiming to sit and personally walked him through the work he had been doing over the years on the “8·17” special task force.
“Five years ago, Professor Jiang Hansheng acted as an informant, helping us in the police locate where Qi Yan was hiding. After the ‘8·17’ atrocity, the city bureau immediately issued an order to set up checkpoints at road junctions. Qi Yan and his accomplices could not leave Haizhou, so they holed up for over a month in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.”
“Later, I personally led the team to carry out the arrest operation. We had intended to take them alive, but these desperate criminals fought back until the very end. During the exchange of fire, we killed four criminals on the spot, including Qi Yan.”
He deliberately glossed over a detail that was not entirely pertinent — namely, that Qi Yan had not been killed by his team.
When Yao Weihai led his people inside at the time, a suffocating stench of blood and decay hit them full in the face. The weather was muggy and oppressive; the smell was so thick it seemed otherworldly.
Jiang Hansheng had his back to the entrance, with no apparent external injuries. Only one half of his body sagged downward, his hands and feet trembling faintly — whether from fear or from pain, it was impossible to say.
In his right hand he held a gun, but could not keep it steady. His left hand gripped his right wrist, locking it in place, aiming squarely at one man.
Qi Yan was not far away, both hands raised high, assuming a pose of surrender.
When he saw people rushing in, he smiled with unhurried ease.
Seeing this, Yao Weihai shouted: “Jiang Hansheng, don’t shoot!”
Jiang Hansheng’s reaction seemed oddly slow. He turned his head around with great deliberateness.
Dark, ink-black pupils. A deathly pale face.
A chill ran through Yao Weihai, and he sensed dimly that something was wrong with Jiang Hansheng’s condition. But under those circumstances, he had no time to think carefully about it.
He exhaled a great breath of relief and thought privately: Thank heaven, Jiang Hansheng is still alive.
Given that Qi Yan had already surrendered and appeared to have no weapons on his person, Yao Weihai ordered two armed officers to go and apprehend Qi Yan, while he himself moved toward Jiang Hansheng.
Just as he extended his arm, intending to take the gun from Jiang Hansheng’s hand, Qi Yan — not far away — let out a cold, sinister laugh.
His lips moved, as though he said something to Jiang Hansheng.
Though Jiang Hansheng’s expression remained utterly calm and composed, Yao Weihai watched as his eyes instantly flooded red at the rims.
His arm shook more violently. He spun around, steadied the recoil firmly, and fired at Qi Yan — bang, bang, bang, bang! — four shots in rapid succession.
Three in the chest. One clean through the center of the forehead.
Blood sprayed outward. Qi Yan died on the spot.
The change happened so fast that no one present had time to react.
Yao Weihai was thunderstruck: “What are you doing?!”
No answer came. The next second, Jiang Hansheng collapsed straight to the ground.
During the psychological evaluation and mental assessment that followed later, Jiang Hansheng explained the reason he had fired: he had been injected with an overdose of narcotics and had not been in full possession of his faculties.
Yao Weihai signed the report. On the matter itself, no one pressed any further.
---
He was silent for a moment.
Meeting Tan Shiming’s searching gaze, Yao Weihai continued: “After that arrest operation concluded, we continued investigating the identities of those four individuals, and quickly established that one of them’s real name was Feng He — a man with a prior record who had once served time for illegal arms trafficking. By cross-referencing Feng He’s network of connections, we further discovered that he had been in frequent contact with a broker named He Wen.”
“According to people who knew Feng He, this He Wen could source goods that were impossible to find on the open market — narcotics, firearms, protected wildlife, even children. Both large-scale and small-scale.”
Tan Shiming’s eyebrows twitched.
After Yao Weihai had been promoted, Tan Shiming was transferred to Haizhou from another city to serve as head of the Major Crimes Unit. His knowledge of this case was limited to what he had heard in passing.
Now, hearing He Wen’s name, Tan Shiming immediately thought of Lai Zhengtian — the perpetrator in the Guan Ling shooting — whose older cousin was named He Wu.
He Wen. He Wu.
A question took root in his mind, but he did not open his mouth to ask it rashly. He simply listened carefully.
Yao Weihai said: “We suspected there was a highly complete trafficking chain lurking behind He Wen, and in order to dismantle this criminal organization from the roots, a deep-cover operation was initiated five years ago under the code name ‘Concealed Edge.'”
“At the time, He Wen was serving a prison sentence in Guhua for attempted murder, and I took advantage of that opportunity to assign ‘Concealed Edge’ to get close to He Wen. We expected to uncover leads quickly, but it turned out there were depths to Haizhou we had not imagined. One step in and you still couldn’t see the bottom.”
Yao Weihai’s tone was grave. The air around him seemed weighed down by something heavy and unspoken.
Tan Shiming’s brow furrowed hard. He glanced down at the slip of paper on the desk.
He asked: “So this is intelligence passed from ‘Concealed Edge’?”
Yao Weihai nodded. “After many years of undercover investigation by ‘Concealed Edge,’ we now have a general picture: the group behind the ‘8·17’ firearms heist belongs to a criminal organization headed by a figure known as ‘Old Scorpion.'”
Out of habit, Tan Shiming picked up his pen and jotted down the key points Yao Weihai mentioned.
“‘Old Scorpion’ — real name, age, and appearance all unknown. After the firearms heist, he went essentially silent. He has many branches operating under him across various locations, primarily engaged in narcotics trafficking. The individual controlling the Haizhou market is He Wu, chairman of Hengyun Logistics.”
After hearing this, Tan Shiming exhaled sharply — it had not taken long at all for his suspicion to be confirmed.
He confirmed with Yao Weihai: “He Wen and He Wu — two brothers?”
“That’s right,” Yao Weihai said. “Old Scorpion, Qi Yan, Feng He, He Wen, He Wu — all of these people belong to the same criminal organization.”
He tapped the slip of paper on the desk with a finger. “With this deal at Jingang Wharf, we have the opportunity to sweep them all up in one net.”
Tan Shiming began to grasp just how momentous this was.
He straightened his back and asked with great gravity: “Then what do you need me to do?”
Yao Weihai paused for a moment.