Chapter 45: The Lion (5)

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When an accident comes too suddenly, it is difficult to remember what happened in the seconds beforehand.

The continuous sequence of events shattered in Wen Mingwei’s mind into slow-motion frames, yet he could not make out how Tan Zhao had been taken hostage.

The street outside the casino had already been cleared. Anyone with the slightest sense had taken a detour. Danwei did not want to offend Wen Mingwei and had vanished long ago.

Both sides had suffered casualties in the shootout, but Wen Mingzhe’s losses were far worse. After the explosion, hardly any of his men remained fit to fight. MP54 submachine guns closed in from every direction, uniform and disciplined—a sight that would make an ordinary gang leader’s knees buckle.

But not Wen Mingzhe. He tightened his grip on the gun in his hand, its smoking muzzle aimed at the back of Tan Zhao’s head. One shot would be enough to kill him.

No one dared make a rash move.

Gu Jing looked to Wen Mingwei for instructions.

For nearly half a minute, Wen Mingwei said nothing.

His eyes remained fixed on the hostage, Tan Zhao. Their gazes met, but in their desperate circumstances there was no way to communicate. If Tan Zhao had any experience, they might have been able to coordinate tacitly and strike back. But he did not, and it was too dangerous to take the chance.

In that instant, Wen Mingwei saw regret in Tan Zhao’s expression.

Did he regret causing trouble for him? Regret protecting him? Or regret something else entirely...?

Alongside the regret was a trace of fear.

He was not afraid of the gun at the back of his head. He was afraid of what Wen Mingwei would decide in the next moment. He suspected that Wen Mingwei would refuse to be coerced and abandon him.

“...”

Wen Mingwei suppressed the breath rising in his chest, slowly stepped back, and said, “Let him go, and I’ll spare your life.”

“Ha. Is a stand-in really that important?” Wen Mingzhe asked with feigned surprise. “After all these years, you still haven’t made any progress. Your head is still full of love and romance. You’ll never accomplish anything great!”

Wen Mingwei’s face darkened. “You’re hardly qualified to talk to me about accomplishing anything.”

The instant his words fell, a gunshot rang out.

A bloody hole suddenly appeared in Tan Zhao’s left shoulder. The bullet’s tremendous impact and the searing pain made him stagger violently, only for Wen Mingzhe to force him back beneath the muzzle.

Tan Zhao clenched his teeth and held back his cry. His face turned deathly white.

“Say that again,” Wen Mingzhe provoked. “I really don’t want to kill him. His life isn’t worth as much as mine, after all! But if you’re willing to sacrifice him, I can put a few more bullets in him. How about it?”

To prove he was not making empty threats, Wen Mingzhe pulled the trigger a second time.

The terrifying gunshot made Wen Mingwei’s eyelids twitch. Tan Zhao’s right shoulder was pierced as well. He trembled violently from the pain, barely able to remain standing.

Wen Mingwei drew a silent breath. The hand gripping his gun tightened until his knuckles blanched.

“Move aside,” he said.

“Let him go.”

He signaled to Gu Jing, ordering his men to clear a path and permitting Wen Mingzhe to leave.

The MP54s lowered one after another. A gap opened in the tight encirclement. Holding Tan Zhao hostage, Wen Mingzhe backed away through the crowd and withdrew. Though wounded by gunfire, his steps remained steady. He raised his head and shouted at Wen Mingwei, “Make them stay back! Don’t let them follow me!”

He showed no mercy in handling his hostage. Tan Zhao’s shirt was soaked with blood, his entire body cold. The smell of blood and gunpowder stabbed into his nostrils, keeping him unnaturally lucid.

Wen Mingwei’s figure was receding before his eyes. There was concern on that usually tranquil face, though not much. The distance between them grew greater and greater, until Tan Zhao could no longer see him clearly.

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Wen Mingzhe moved quickly. As soon as they reached the car, he strapped Tan Zhao into the passenger seat. A large number of submachine guns were already closing in behind them. He started the engine at once, floored the accelerator, and shot onto the main road, fleeing for his life.

Purbang’s streets were not particularly broad. The palm trees along the roadside had been planted without much order and often jutted beyond the landscaped strips, making them easy to hit on sharp turns.

This was nothing like the territory of the Alliance. The maps were inaccurate, and the AI driving system was useless. Taking advantage of his familiarity with the roads, Wen Mingzhe turned into a maze of winding alleys, swerving left and right until he quickly shook off his pursuers.

After driving several miles and confirming that no one was following for the moment, Wen Mingzhe called a trusted subordinate and arranged for an escort.

After hanging up, he glanced at the man in the passenger seat and sneered. “Are you awake? It was only two bullets. Why are you making such a fuss?”

Tan Zhao had been conscious the entire time, but he said nothing. Wen Mingzhe looked at him again and again, realizing that he was just as skilled at putting on an act as Wen Mingwei. With his face cold and his emotions hidden, Tan Zhao was so composed that Wen Mingzhe could not help laughing.

“You let me kidnap you on purpose just now, didn’t you? Or was that not the case? If not, then you’re absurdly infatuated. You even took bullets for him while playing his stand-in?”

“...”

The car bounced along the uneven road. Every jolt sent a fresh stab of pain through Tan Zhao’s shoulder as it pressed against the seat. He did not answer Wen Mingzhe’s questions, but struggled to sit a little straighter, lifting himself away from the backrest.

Wen Mingzhe had been betrayed by his false younger brother too many times and was deeply suspicious by nature. He suddenly pulled a square-shaped detector from the glove compartment—a device Tan Zhao did not recognize—and swept it over the passenger seat from top to bottom. Only when it gave no warning did he relax.

“Just taking precautions. Making sure you aren’t carrying a bug or a tracker,” Wen Mingzhe said. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill you. You’re far more useful alive than dead.”

He still suspected that Tan Zhao had deliberately allowed himself to be captured. That move had looked far too much like offering himself up on a platter.

But Wen Mingwei had a foxlike face capable of captivating men and women alike, and he was surrounded by hopeless romantics. Wen Mingzhe found it difficult to judge their motives by the standards of ordinary people.

Just as he had never understood why Jian Qingzheng had remained so utterly devoted to Wen Mingwei.

Wen Mingzhe mocked him. “It’s one thing for that man named Jian to be hopelessly devoted, but don’t you think you look ridiculous? You do, don’t you?”

Tan Zhao’s face was pale from blood loss, and he did not retort.

Wen Mingzhe continued, “By the way, you know Wen Mingwei has been to Purbang before, don’t you? About eleven or twelve years ago. Jian Qingzheng accompanied him then. Those two were inseparable—wherever one went, the other was sure to follow. So you understand why you were brought here, don’t you?”

“...”

The car lurched again. Tan Zhao suppressed a cough. At last, Wen Mingzhe had finished taunting him and turned to business.

“When did you arrive? Did you come specifically to capture me?”

“What else?” Tan Zhao replied flatly.

“Damn, he really thinks highly of me.” Wen Mingzhe ground his teeth and spat out the window. Then he asked, “How many people did you bring?”

“I don’t know.”

“You really don’t know, or you’re pretending not to?”

“...”

“Oh, you truly don’t know.” Wen Mingzhe saw the answer in his face. “He doesn’t trust you?”

Tan Zhao neither confirmed nor denied it.

Wen Mingzhe said, “You received the email I sent last time, right? Have you considered working with me?”

“What would I gain from working with you?” Tan Zhao finally gave him a direct response, though his tone was far from enthusiastic.

Wen Mingzhe gave a derisive laugh. “Do you have a choice? You ought to be burning incense in gratitude that anyone is willing to help you, and you still have the nerve to pick and choose?”

He drove farther and farther away, and before long they had left the city.

Unfamiliar foreign scenery flashed past the windows. The bleeding from Tan Zhao’s wounds had not stopped and needed treatment.

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Wen Mingzhe was wounded as well, but he was tough and accustomed to injury. Besides, there was no way to visit a clinic now. As long as he did not die, he decided, it did not matter. He spoke to Tan Zhao as though nothing were wrong.

“If you’re content to be a stand-in, then I suppose it doesn’t matter if your company is sacrificed along with you. If you’re willing to let Wen Mingwei grind you down for the rest of your life, I can’t be bothered to waste my breath. At worst, I’ll wait for another opportunity. It’s not as if I absolutely have to work with you.”

As he spoke, he glanced at Tan Zhao’s expression. He saw no sign of contentment. Perhaps there was still hope. Perhaps Tan Zhao could be won over.

“Do you know why I approached you?” Wen Mingzhe coaxed. “For one thing, your identity makes it easier to win Wen Mingwei’s trust. For another, the two of us actually have something in common. Without Wen Mingwei, we would both still be living the lives of pampered young masters. We wouldn’t have suffered like this, would we?”

“...”

He spoke as though baring his heart, attempting to form an alliance of revenge, but his acting was clumsy and lacked sincerity.

Yet sincerity was not important. Cooperation based on mutual interests did not require genuine feeling. All that mattered was whether Tan Zhao was willing to cooperate.

Tan Zhao stared out the car window. It was impossible to tell how many of Wen Mingzhe’s words he had heard. After a long while, he finally spoke, but said only, “Where are we going?”

Wen Mingzhe choked, almost unable to draw breath. He swore under his breath.

“You—”

Tan Zhao interrupted him indifferently. “What do you want from me?”

Wen Mingzhe took this as a sign that his attitude had softened. After a pause, he said, “That’s a long story.”

The road ahead grew increasingly remote. Wen Mingzhe had originally intended to take Tan Zhao to the base nearest Purbang, a secret weapons depot. But Tan Zhao did not trust him, and he did not trust Tan Zhao either. They had not even begun cooperating yet, and even if they reached an agreement, neither could avoid guarding against the other.

He drove into the desolate outskirts, glanced at the rearview mirror, and, after confirming that they were safe for the moment, stopped behind an abandoned building, on the side sheltered from the sun.

He kept Tan Zhao bound, forced him out of the car, and led him inside.

It was a crude self-built house that appeared to have been abandoned for years. Dust covered everything, and there was hardly a place to set foot.

Wen Mingzhe shoved Tan Zhao into a corner, then retrieved some basic medical supplies from the car and treated his own bleeding, ignoring Tan Zhao entirely.

“Relax. With that amount of blood loss, you won’t die for a while. Wen Mingwei will come to save you.”

From the way he spoke, Tan Zhao’s value depended entirely on whether Wen Mingwei came. If Wen Mingwei did not care about him, then Tan Zhao had no reason to go on living.

Heavy blood loss made a person feel increasingly cold as their strength gradually ebbed away. Leaning against the corner, Tan Zhao became coated in dust and cobwebs. The color slowly drained from his face until his skin was as pale as the dust, from forehead to chin, yet his eyes remained unnervingly clear.

Wen Mingzhe glanced at him. “How much do you know about Wen Mingwei? You’ve never been involved in his core operations, have you?”

Tan Zhao’s silence confirmed it.

“As far as I know, Wen Mingwei rarely handles large-scale arms deals anymore. He has no major clients, and ordinary people wouldn’t dare buy from him. Yet enormous quantities of loose arms enter the black market every year. He controls everything—from the total volume to the pricing.”

“...”

“His influence is vast. You surely know that much. But just like our family was back then, the greater the influence, the more money it consumes. Every level, every department, every corner burns through funds. He needs a constant flow of money to keep the whole machine running. So even though everyone knows arms smuggling grows more difficult with every passing year, he cannot stop. I suspect that is why he entered politics.”

Wen Mingzhe understood the system particularly well.

“He should have more than one arms-manufacturing base. And it’s not only arms smuggling—mineral resources are crucial too. In any case, whenever he needs to cross a border or pass through customs, the checkpoint must be staffed by his people, people willing to look the other way. Otherwise, how could his goods be moved in and out?”

Tan Zhao shifted slightly, letting a spider crawl across the web beside him.

He made no comment, instead sorting through the implications in his mind.

The General Administration of Customs was an institution directly under the jurisdiction of both chambers, while control of the Senate and the House of Representatives had always been the main battleground between the Alliance’s two political parties.

Wen Mingwei belonged to the Civic Law Party. He had probably given the party considerable benefits in exchange for controlling the people within the customs administration.

Seen from that angle, his painstaking effort to elevate the Civic Law Party’s candidate was also an investment in power.

But for some inexplicable reason, Tan Zhao felt that this was not the reason Wen Mingwei had entered politics—or at least not the whole reason.

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