“Of course, it’s Zhang Jiadong. It took me many years of investigation to confirm it was him.”
If Chai Hairuo were here, he would be shocked.
He thought Master Qiu was truly detached, not driving luxury cars or living in villas, remaining unperturbed by everything. Yet he didn’t know Master Qiu could become so emotionally charged.
His face couldn’t make fine expressions.
But his eyes could convey true emotions.
What had transformed a frail scholar into a major antique dealer, into “Master Qiu”? Naturally, it was bone-deep hatred.
His wife lay beside his enemy, his children called his enemy father. Many times, he wanted to rush at Zhang Jiadong, even if it meant dying together—better than living so pathetically!
But the cruel reality was, that even if he wanted to die with Zhang Jiadong, he couldn’t get close enough.
The disparity in their power was too great. His several probing attempts nearly got him killed by Zhang Jiadong. He could only endure. For his wife, for his children, for his unknowing mother’s safety… Master Qiu smiled softly:
“This grudge, after so many years, should be settled. This is between Zhang Jiadong and me. I can’t let an innocent person like you get involved. Zhang Jiadong’s stay in Hong Kong might be my only chance.”
It couldn’t be done in mainland China.
The mainland’s control was too strict. Once Zhang Jiadong entered, he’d be a foreign guest, protected by his status as a Los Angeles City Councilman.
Only in Hong Kong!
Though Britain had signed the Hong Kong handover agreement with China, the actual handover wouldn’t happen until 1997.
Hong Kong was now Chinese territory but “leased” to Britain. If anything happened to Zhang Jiadong in Hong Kong, it wouldn’t involve the Chinese government.
Hong Kong was also where Master Qiu had operated for several years. He was most confident about dealing with Zhang Jiadong here.
Xia Xiaolan thought his plan seemed good and well-arranged.
But—
“Are you sure Zhang Jiadong doesn’t know your new identity? Why would he suddenly propose resting in Hong Kong? He’d be safer staying in America, yet he chose to come to China…”
Xia Xiaolan felt both angry and sympathetic toward Xu Zhongyi.
As Zhou Cheng said, Cui Yiru had been married to Zhang Jiadong for 17 years. People’s feelings had degrees of closeness—Cui Yiru’s marriage to Xu Zhongyi hadn’t lasted as long as her time with Zhang Jiadong, had it?
Xia Xiaolan assumed Cui Yiru didn’t know the truth.
What would Cui Yiru choose when the truth was revealed?
Zhang Jiadong had separated Cui Yiru from Xu Zhongyi, stolen his property, leaving Cui Yiru without a husband, forcing her to raise their child alone, living in fear.
But then Zhang Jiadong married Cui Yiru himself, giving her a seemingly perfect “husband.”
To Xu Zhongyi, Zhang Jiadong was the enemy who had torn apart his family for 19 years.
To Cui Yiru, Zhang Jiadong was the man who had raised her children and been an attentive partner.
Xia Xiaolan felt it was a tangled mess. Cui Yiru probably couldn’t face Xu Zhongyi again—that’s why Xu Zhongyi was so pitiful!
Master Qiu remained silent.
Du Zhaohui’s mind finally caught up with Xia Xiaolan’s thinking:
“You suspect Zhang Jiadong is doing this deliberately?”
Damn, that bastard couldn’t be so brazen in Hong Kong too, could he? Du Zhaohui felt uneasy: “Let’s go, let’s cross the border quickly. I think Shenzhen is safer.”
Hong Kong had gang fights and street stabbings, with knives and guns being common. Shenzhen had strict control—Du Zhaohui himself felt he slept more soundly in Shenzhen.
It was pathetic.
He’d sold his Hong Kong mansion but slept better in a small apartment in Shenzhen.
Pan Baohua also frowned. He’d said he needed to leave for a while, but seeing the current situation, could he leave?
He couldn’t entrust Xia Xiaolan’s safety to Xu Zhongyi—the man was a powder keg ready to explode.
As for Du Zhaohui… why trust Du Zhaohui? He clearly couldn’t be relied upon.
Chengzi knew Xiaolan was returning to China and would probably take leave, but who knew when he’d arrive?
All four people in the car had their concerns.
The car fell into silence.
Until Master Qiu started the engine again:
“We’ll know the outcome soon. If I win, I’ll be the one returning to Shangdu.”
If he lost?
Master Qiu didn’t say, but everyone in the car could guess the result.
Du Zhaohui had pieced together the story—in terms of pure misery, Master Qiu had it worse than him. His wife wasn’t in his enemy’s arms, nor did his son call his enemy father. For a man, it was the ultimate humiliation.
It was truly tragic.
So tragic that Du Zhaohui decided not to hold anything against Master Qiu.
Du Zhaohui even felt a bit smug that Master Qiu had asked him for help instead of contacting Zhou Cheng. Didn’t that prove he was more capable than Zhou Cheng?
Just as this thought emerged, he couldn’t help turning to glance at Xia Xiaolan—
“BANG—”
A tremendous crash as the car was suddenly hit with great force.
Master Qiu was too frail to control the steering wheel, but Pan Baohua reached out and gripped it firmly.
The car skidded dangerously before barely stabilizing.
Two cars had rammed them from both sides—
Xia Xiaolan hit the car door, while Du Zhaohui had it worse. The collision hit Master Qiu’s driver’s side and Du Zhaohui’s door on the right. Fortunately, though not flashy, his car was sturdy. Despite the massive impact denting the doors, the car’s frame held… Du Zhaohui was thrown from his seat, his head slamming hard against the roof.
Du Zhaohui touched his head—it was wet, his hand covered in blood.
“These bastards have a death wish!”
Du Zhaohui clutched his head and tried to push open the deformed door, but Pan Baohua freed one hand to stop him: “Are you crazy? Want to die? This was deliberate!”
Indeed, this was no ordinary accident.
Someone had deliberately rammed their car. Xia Xiaolan could only see the car on the right—its front was crushed, yet it reversed and accelerated forward again, ramming their car once more—
“Keep your heads down!”
Pan Baohua shouted. Xia Xiaolan wanted to hide her head under the seat, not daring to act brave.
The crowd on the street scattered with screams.
Pan Baohua pushed Du Zhaohui’s head down, “Don’t just stand there—where’s your gun?”
Du Zhaohui didn’t bother asking how Pan Baohua knew about the gun but pointed under the seat. Pan Baohua reached down and retrieved Du Zhaohui’s hidden weapon, quickly loaded it, and fired twice at the crazed driver on the right. The driver clutched his chest and slumped sideways, his car veering off course.
One car remained on the left.
Du Zhaohui had come to the airport with quite an entourage, with escort cars both front and back. Hua drove the rear car.
Hong Kong’s roads were narrow, with heavy traffic and crowds.
When the two cars suddenly changed lanes to ram them, Hua hadn’t reacted yet. After Pan Baohua dealt with the right-side driver, Hua seized the opportunity to accelerate and ram the left car off course.