Chapter Sixty: The Place of Imprisonment

From the very beginning, Zhang Qinglin understood every word Wu Cheng’an had said to Zhang Qinglin, and he knew that Wu Cheng’an must have had his reasons for escaping the hotel. Though he hadn’t explained, his appearance gave away that something extraordinary had happened to him.

“Cheng Che, say no more. The most important thing right now is to rescue Yueyue,” Zhang Qinglin said.

Wu Cheng’an stepped forward, glanced at Cheng Che, then reached into the pocket of his coat and took out an object, handing it to Zhang Qinglin.

Zhang Qinglin looked at his palm—a jade thumb ring. The ring was smooth, adorned with relief carvings, exquisite and finely crafted, clearly well cared for. But why would Wu Cheng’an hand him a jade ring?

With a puzzled expression, Zhang Qinglin took the ring and examined it closely, but found nothing unusual.

“What is this?”

“You want to see Jiang Haiyan, don’t you? This ring belongs to him,” Wu Cheng’an replied, frowning as he supported his injured arm.

“Uncle Jiang’s? What’s going on—did you see him?” Cheng Che leaned in for a look at the ring, his face frozen in surprise as he questioned Wu Cheng’an.

Zhang Qinglin shook his head slightly. He had seen most of Uncle Jiang’s belongings, but never this ring. “Tell me, where is Uncle Jiang now?”

Wu Cheng’an looked past them, toward the direction behind. “He was chased by a group of people. In the end, he made it here, only to be captured and taken inside that factory.”

Cheng Che muttered, “So you didn’t come to save Xinyue—but Uncle Jiang is inside too. Perfect, we’ll rescue them both.”

“In that case, let’s get them out as soon as possible. Are you up for it?” Zhang Qinglin stood in front of Wu Cheng’an, returning the jade ring to him. Seeing Wu Cheng’an’s pallor, he worried the man might not be able to handle it.

Wu Cheng’an pocketed the ring, his expression steady. “This injury is nothing.”

Just then, Xu Bin appeared from around the corner, hurrying over. “You two are crazy, running around like this! If they catch you, there’ll be no chance of a rescue—hey, who’s this?” He eyed Wu Cheng’an warily.

“A friend, here to help us rescue people,” Zhang Qinglin replied.

Xu Bin gave Wu Cheng’an a quick once-over. “Alright. Chen just left the factory. Now’s your best shot—get moving!” With that, he turned and left.

Behind the backstreets of Mogang Bridge, there were three large factories, all dealing in heavy industrial machinery. In one of them stood a derelict, empty storage building.

Xu Bin kept watch at the entrance while Zhang Qinglin and his two companions slipped around to the side of the factory. Wu Cheng’an vaulted the wall first to survey the interior before signaling the others to follow.

Inside, there were only a few workers; a couple of them stood idly, smoking, gazing at the empty building. Three or four men guarded the door—surely this was where their people were held.

Wu Cheng’an signaled in that direction, then leapt down, silently darting behind a machinery crate. Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che followed closely, creeping to the side of the building. With so many guards, charging in was impossible—they could only wait for the right moment.

“Tiger, the boss said not to starve the person in there. He’s very important to Young Master Chen,” a young man said to a sullen-faced man with a crew cut, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

The crew cut man sighed. “Alright, take that meal in, let him eat.”

“On it, Tiger.”

“Tiger, we’ll go help out over there,” said two others as they walked off.

Tiger was left alone, seated and smoking, eyes fixed ahead.

Zhang Qinglin glanced at him, then at the open doorway—none of them dared make a move. Just then, another burly man emerged from inside, announcing he was heading out for a break.

Wu Cheng’an indicated the back of the building, suggesting they check there. Zhang Qinglin told Cheng Che to stay put, then followed Wu Cheng’an around back, only to find more guards.

Scanning the surroundings, Zhang Qinglin noticed a small window on their side. He tapped Wu Cheng’an, and they moved over, but found the window covered with wire mesh. It wouldn’t open. It was a ground-floor window, and through it, they could see stacks of goods inside.

In front of the piles stood a chair, to which a person was bound. The man’s head was covered with a black cloth, his mouth sealed with tape, head lolling to one side. Judging by his build, he was a man—likely Uncle Jiang.

Zhang Qinglin searched for any other captives nearby, but Uncle Jiang was alone. There was no sign of Jiang Xinyue.

Exchanging a glance, the two returned to Cheng Che. After conferring, they decided to search for Jiang Xinyue’s location first, then act at night when fewer people were around. Daytime was too risky; just the three of them couldn’t handle so many guards.

After searching the factory, they found no sign of Jiang Xinyue. Besides the storage building, there seemed to be nowhere else to hold prisoners.

Night fell. As the other workers left, and only a few remained, the guards at the building’s door went off to eat, allowing the three to slip inside.

In the dim light, they found Uncle Jiang bound to the chair. Wu Cheng’an and Cheng Che kept watch at the front.

“Uncle Jiang! Uncle Jiang!” Zhang Qinglin hurried over, pulling the black cloth from Uncle Jiang’s head. The man looked different: his hair had grown long, almost covering his brows, his eyelids seemed to have changed, and though his face was familiar, it now felt strangely foreign.

Uncle Jiang stared in shock at Zhang Qinglin, then spotted Wu Cheng’an. “What took you so long?”

Zhang Qinglin hastily untied him. “Uncle Jiang, do you know where Yueyue is?”

Uncle Jiang froze, responding slowly, his eyes odd. “I don’t know. Get me out first, Da Zhuang.”

Zhang Qinglin steadied himself—he knew about Uncle Jiang and Wu Cheng’an’s connection, and forced himself to accept it.

Though Uncle Jiang looked at Zhang Qinglin, he was addressing Wu Cheng’an. Supporting himself on the chair, he slowly stood up.

“Uncle Jiang, you had us searching high and low for you. If Xinyue sees you, she’ll be thrilled. Let’s get out!” Cheng Che grinned.

Uncle Jiang managed a bitter smile, then moved his leg, wincing in pain.

Seeing Zhang Qinglin standing aside, he beckoned impatiently. “Hey, what are you waiting for? Come help me—I can’t walk…”

Zhang Qinglin hurried over to support Uncle Jiang’s arm, who, grimacing, dragged his right leg forward. Cheng Che also came to help.

Wu Cheng’an led the way. As they passed the stacks of goods, they suddenly ran into Tiger and several of his men.

Wu Cheng’an gestured, and they all stopped, hiding behind the crates as five or six men walked past.

“Da Zhuang, did the old lady make it home?” Uncle Jiang whispered to Wu Cheng’an.

Wu Cheng’an turned and shot Uncle Jiang a look of disgust. “Don’t mention Grandma to me. If it weren’t for you, she’d never have gotten into trouble.”

Cheng Che watched silently, then leaned closer to Zhang Qinglin and whispered, “Uncle Jiang knows Da Zhuang? And his grandmother, too?”

Before Zhang Qinglin could answer, a shout came from inside: “Not good! Someone’s escaped! Tiger!”

“Escaped? They can’t have gotten far—bring them back, now!” Tiger roared.

Just then, Uncle Jiang suddenly cried out and fell heavily to the floor, quickly covering his mouth, eyes wide with alarm. The noise immediately drew Tiger’s attention. He waved his hand, and a group of men headed their way.

Wu Cheng’an, exasperated, hauled Uncle Jiang to his feet. Zhang Qinglin supported him, while Cheng Che pointed toward a path behind them, indicating they could go around. Cheng Che and Zhang Qinglin helped Uncle Jiang that way, with Wu Cheng’an following.

As they turned behind the goods, they ran straight into a man wielding a long stick. “Tiger! They’re here!” the man shouted, blocking their path.

Zhang Qinglin and the others turned back, only to find Tiger and his men had cut them off from behind. “Just the few of you think you can break someone out?” Tiger sneered, signaling his men to surround them.

“You have the nerve to kidnap people. Where’s the other one? Where are you keeping them?” Cheng Che demanded.

Tiger raised his brows in puzzlement. “There’s only one here. You can’t even get him out, and now you want another? Hahaha…”

Zhang Qinglin realized something: judging by Tiger’s look, he truly didn’t know about the other captive. So Yueyue wasn’t being held here after all—or perhaps Uncle Xu’s information was wrong.

“Enough talk!” Wu Cheng’an’s eyes flashed coldly. He stared at Tiger, clenched his fists, and charged.

Tiger stepped aside, nonchalant, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, watching as he smoked.

Zhang Qinglin saw the man with the stick rushing over. He quickly set Uncle Jiang aside and stepped forward to block him.

Cheng Che hustled Uncle Jiang away. In an instant, chaos erupted, and more men poured in from outside.

Wu Cheng’an locked one man’s neck with his arm, landing a punch to the face. He then grabbed another attacker by the shirt, yanked him aside, and kicked him in the gut. The man cried out in pain and staggered back.

“Go!” Wu Cheng’an shouted.

Zhang Qinglin took a blow from the stick, his expression grim as he shoved the weapon aside and lunged at the stick-wielder, tackling him to the ground. He scrambled up, only to be grabbed by the backpack by another man. Eyes blazing, Zhang Qinglin shielded his bag, seized the attacker’s wrist, spun, and punched him in the head.

Wu Cheng’an felled two men with a flurry of punches, then darted toward the exit. “This way!”

Zhang Qinglin saw Cheng Che helping the limping Uncle Jiang toward Wu Cheng’an and prepared to follow, but three more men blocked his path. He yanked a crate off a nearby stack, sending things tumbling down.

The four of them made it outside. Tiger stubbed out his cigarette, his face dark, and hurried after them.

Uncle Jiang’s injured leg slowed them down. Cheng Che struggled to support him, moving at a crawl. Wu Cheng’an, bringing up the rear, grabbed Zhang Qinglin’s arm. “You go ahead. I’ll hold them off.”

Zhang Qinglin pulled out the knife Xu Bin had given him and placed it in Wu Cheng’an’s hand. “Take this. Be careful.”

Zhang Qinglin then led Uncle Jiang and Cheng Che toward the west side of the factory, where a door led to the street in front of Mogang Bridge. They reached the door.

Cheng Che grabbed Zhang Qinglin. “We still haven’t found Xinyue. Are we just going to leave her here?”

Uncle Jiang leaned against the door, gasping. “I was the only one held here. We’ll figure it out once we’re out.”

“What? Then Xinyue…?”

“Enough. Take Uncle Jiang to Uncle Xu. I’ll go back and look.” Zhang Qinglin, sweat streaming down his face, smashed the padlock on the door.

“Old Zhang, be careful!” Cheng Che held onto Uncle Jiang, watching as Zhang Qinglin left.

Zhang Qinglin returned to the factory yard. He saw Wu Cheng’an, breathing heavily, kneeling on one knee, knife in his right hand, blood dripping from the blade. His left hand pressed to his side, blood trickling from his mouth, his face marked with bruises. Seven or eight men surrounded him.

Tiger stood nearby. “Stop fighting. Soon enough, you’ll all be reunited.”

“Ah—!” Zhang Qinglin charged, kicking the nearest man.

Wu Cheng’an, seeing Zhang Qinglin’s return, sighed. He gripped the knife tighter, forced himself upright despite his wounds, and rushed at Tiger.