Chapter Ten: The White Tiger Strikes

Seated on the plane bound for Qingdong City, Li Weiwei gazed out at the endless sea of clouds beneath her, a surge of emotions welling in her heart. She had received so much information over the past two days that it was difficult to digest.

Raised from childhood in the protective embrace of her family, Li Weiwei had always seen the world as a place filled with laughter and joy. To her, everyone was kind, everyone was loving. She had never imagined that in such a harmonious world, crime could exist, or that anyone would choose to end their own life.

In her understanding, so-called "bad people" were characters confined to television or the imaginations of novelists—never something that could truly happen. She never thought crime could come so close.

The news of Huang Guan’s suicide had already shocked her deeply, but learning the details left her questioning the very fabric of the world she knew. She could not grasp how someone could so wantonly harm a stranger, a kind person, for the sake of a little money.

She recalled a conversation she’d had with Zhao Zhijie while they were working on data recovery.

“You know Director Qiu, right?” Zhao Zhijie asked her.

“Yes, Uncle Qiu is a good friend of my father’s. He comes to our house often,” Li Weiwei replied.

“Director Qiu is impressive—a legend in our police force. No wonder your technical skills are so good. Did you learn from him?” Zhao Zhijie smiled.

Li Weiwei pouted in protest. “I’m self-taught, thank you very much! Uncle Qiu doesn’t know the first thing about hacking. He doesn’t have the expertise to teach me anything. Don’t make him out to be some kind of superhero!”

Zhao Zhijie chuckled, knowing Li Weiwei was telling the truth. He asked no more and focused on his work, starting up the machine to begin recovering the data.

The hum of the machinery made the already quiet room feel even more silent.

Li Weiwei couldn’t help but ask, “Do you think Huang Guan’s death had anything to do with being scammed? Would someone really end their life over money? Are people truly that fragile?”

As Li Weiwei peppered him with questions, Zhao Zhijie kept working, his expression calm. “Everyone’s circumstances are different. What seems trivial to you might be a matter of life and death for someone else. Whether he ended his life over the scam isn’t certain yet, but from the information we have, it was a critical factor—at the very least, an important catalyst.”

“Are people really so fragile? How can someone end their life over a small sum of money?” Li Weiwei still couldn’t understand.

“You’ve never worried about food or clothing, have you? So you don’t see money as a problem. But for some, five thousand yuan can decide life or death. And for the victim, it wasn’t just about the money—it was about trust, about feelings, about the impact on studies. When all these factors combine, it’s enough to push someone to suicide,” Zhao Zhijie explained.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Li Weiwei asked.

“You mean fraud? Every day. And suicides because of scams aren’t rare either,” Zhao Zhijie replied.

“Don’t the police do anything? Isn’t it their job?” There was a hint of anger in her voice.

“Of course we do, but these non-contact scams are hard to handle. The cost of investigation is high, and local police lack the technical means. Unless the leadership pays attention, most cases are shelved. Once a case is filed, no one follows up,” Zhao Zhijie said.

“So you just let these scammers get away with it? Is that all you do? Treating victims with such indifference?” Li Weiwei was bewildered.

“There are too many crimes and too few police. Do you know how many tasks a police officer handles each day? How many reports they have to fill out? How long it takes to process a case? How exhausted they are? With complex cases that don’t interest the leadership, who would want to take them on?” Zhao Zhijie said.

“So you just let things slide? If the technology isn’t good enough, improve it! You can’t just settle for the status quo and stop striving for better,” Li Weiwei pressed.

“You see enough, you get used to it. No one expects every case to be solved. Finish a few easy ones to satisfy the requirements and that’s enough. As for technology, do you think the leaders care about developing talent? I’m a prime example—a technical specialist who’s not valued. I get work to do, but no chance for promotion. If it weren’t for Chief Hai, I’d have given up a long time ago. Why bother learning new skills? What’s the use?” Zhao Zhijie replied.

“You’re a bit pessimistic! Not everyone can be promoted. Your attitude’s a little unbalanced,” Li Weiwei said.

Zhao Zhijie gave a bitter smile. “I’ve been here for eight years—eight years of youth, eight years of dedication. What have I gained? Nothing—my career stagnant, my family broken. It’s not the lack of promotion that disheartens me. If others were genuinely more capable, I’d accept it. What wears me down is that promotions here depend solely on connections, not on performance. Put yourself in my shoes—would you still work hard?”

“But you’re a police officer. If the police don’t take their work seriously, won’t crime run rampant?” Li Weiwei countered.

“When you can’t even take care of yourself, how do you find the energy to care about others? As long as you meet the requirements, why tire yourself out?” Zhao Zhijie replied.

“Are there many like you? Doesn’t anyone care about this kind of apathy?” Li Weiwei asked.

“I don’t know how many there are like me, but I know in Mingcheng, there’s no shortage of people slacking off. If the leaders don’t care, no one else will. Many people hardly set foot in the office all year. Everyone’s used to it,” Zhao Zhijie said with regret.

For a while, neither spoke—the only sound was the machine’s steady hum.

“You’re divorced?” Li Weiwei couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Zhao Zhijie answered, still fiddling with the device.

“Because of your job?”

“It had something to do with it, but it was mostly my own fault. Life with me was too hard for her. Maybe she’ll be better off now,” Zhao Zhijie said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived in Qingdong City. The plane will be landing shortly. Please return to your seats, stow your tray tables, and straighten your seatbacks. Do not unfasten your seatbelts yet. Thank you for your cooperation. We wish you a pleasant journey and hope to see you again.”

The flight attendant’s announcement pulled Li Weiwei out of her reverie and back to reality. She glanced at Zhao Zhijie, who was rubbing his bleary eyes beside her.

“We’ve arrived in Qingdong?” Zhao Zhijie asked.

“Yes, we’re here,” Li Weiwei replied.

The sky in Qingdong was a dull gray, and a steady drizzle fell, lending the air a chilly dampness. Hai Feng and his team left the airport and boarded the shuttle bus to the hotel they had booked.

On the way, Li Weiwei asked Zhao Zhijie, “What do you think of Chief Hai? What kind of person is he?”

“I’ve only worked with him once before, so I don’t know him well. But I do know he’s an excellent commander—and a good police officer,” Zhao Zhijie said.

“Tell me his story, will you? I’d love to hear it,” Li Weiwei said eagerly.

“There was an operation to crack down on organized crime, and I was brought in for technical support. My first impression of him was that he was strict, with sharp, intimidating eyes—but his actions commanded respect. There were eight locations to raid, but we only had enough people for six groups. Chief Hai—he was still Captain Hai then—was assigned three of the locations, but had the smallest team.

“Before the operation, he scouted the terrain. He found that two of the spots were factories, far from the city with poor signal—sometimes you couldn’t even make a call out there. The third was closer to town with good communications. So he had us start with the nearby one, arrest everyone there first, then move on to the other two, using their poor signal to our advantage. Later I learned he even sent someone to jam the communications—on the day of the raid, they had no signal at all.

“When we went for the simultaneous raids, I saw how clever his plan was. We finished the first site, and when we hit the factories, the people inside had no idea. Their lookouts couldn’t reach them.

“But the overall operation wasn’t a complete success—many had been tipped off and fled two days before. Chief Hai had me start forensic analysis right away while he checked the video footage. I was up all night, and so was he, poring over evidence in his room.

“When I reported my findings to him, he immediately led a second round of arrests—caught everyone who’d slipped the net—and only then was the operation truly complete. I later found out he’d stayed up all night like me, but the next day he sent me to rest and kept on working himself.”

Li Weiwei listened with rapt attention, and when Zhao Zhijie paused, she urged him on, “Is there more? Tell me more—Chief Hai sounds fascinating.”

Zhang Mufeng chimed in, “He once had the demolition crew detained for destroying private and public property during a forced eviction; handled an economic case that put a city government official in jail; oversaw personnel assignments and sent all the people the leaders tried to place to the toughest jobs; investigated criminal cases that shook the education system; cracked down on drunk driving, even arresting the daughter of the former Mingcheng Bureau chief—half the bureau leadership got into trouble because of that, and the former chief had to retire early.”

“How do you know so much about Chief Hai?” Li Weiwei asked, puzzled.

“It’s all in the newspapers—and some from people who’ve worked with him. Outsiders call him ‘Judge Hai,’ but do you know what the Mingcheng Bureau calls him?”

“What do they call him?” Li Weiwei asked.

“They call him ‘the Scourge of Ghosts’—anyone who tries to pull strings or use connections gets dealt with. Anyone who tries to abuse their power in front of him ends up in jail,” Zhang Mufeng replied.

The three young people burst out laughing, and Li Mengyang joined in.

Liu Zhiyang watched the group with a smile and said to Hai Feng, “Why are they so happy? Do you know what they’re talking about? Young people are so lively. Look at you, always so stern. I wouldn’t be sitting here with you if we weren’t old classmates. I thought you might be lonely, but you’re used to being on your own, not fitting in with anyone. Still, you may not be great with relationships, but you’re sharp at reading people. The young ones you’ve found are all talented. How did you pick them? Any tips you can share?”

Hai Feng replied in his quiet way, “Less talk, more work.”

Liu Zhiyang chuckled, “You’re too blunt. You’re a good man, but no one appreciates you, and you never try to adapt.”

Yet, despite his words, Liu Zhiyang truly valued his old friend. He knew that although Hai Feng was taciturn and socially awkward, his very presence brought something unique to the team. Liu Zhiyang believed that Hai Feng was living out his own understanding of the law and his oath to the people, in his own way.