Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Sin of Greed

When Haifeng learned via video conference from Liu Zhiyang and Wen Yuxin’s teams that both the system provider company and the financial intermediary company were mere shell entities, with neither offices nor personnel on record in the local area, he knew Tang Hua was the last breakthrough point. Fortunately, before coming, Zhao Zhijie’s trace examination had clearly indicated that the so-called lending company was indeed located in Tang Hua; otherwise, the case would have to start from scratch once again, as hopeless as searching for a needle in a haystack.

Haifeng and Zhang Mufeng quickly found the lending company. The signboard reading “Jixiang Lending” made it clear to Haifeng that he’d finally found the right place. After confirming the location, the two made no further moves but instead found a hotel nearby where they could wait for their teammates.

On the third morning, the entire White Tiger Group arrived in Tang Hua. In the hotel room, Haifeng began outlining the plan for this operation.

“We’ve already determined that the so-called system provider and financial intermediary are both shells, but this lending company actually exists. What we need to do now is start with Jixiang Lending, uncover the relationship among these three companies, and figure out what scheme Jixiang Lending is running.”

Haifeng continued, “Liu Zhiyang and I will contact colleagues here in Tang Hua and enter the company under the pretense of a network emergency drill. Li Weiwei and Zhao Zhijie, you two are the leads this time—get hold of the company’s electronic contracts. There must be something fishy in them. Also, plant a trojan horse on their so-called big boss, Cao Jixiang, to help us monitor their movements.”

“I, together with Liu Zhiyang, Zhang Mufeng, Li Mengyang, and Wen Yuxin, will conduct one-on-one network security interviews with their employees to see if we can extract any useful intelligence. After gathering information, we’ll decide our next steps.”

After Haifeng finished, everyone began their preparations. Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang went straight to the Tang Hua Municipal Bureau to coordinate the next day’s emergency drill. Li Weiwei and Zhao Zhijie started setting up their equipment. Zhang Mufeng, Li Mengyang, and Wen Yuxin rehearsed the interview script, inserting key questions they wanted to ask while ensuring the script revealed nothing suspicious.

Once Li Weiwei and Zhao Zhijie had finished adjusting their equipment, they found there was still time and went over to see Wen Yuxin and the others, only to find them still rehearsing. Not wanting to disturb them, Li Weiwei suggested to Zhao Zhijie, “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around Tang Hua University—my alma mater, and it’s just nearby. I’m the best guide you’ll ever have!”

Tang Hua University was already renowned, and Zhao Zhijie had long wanted to see it. With Wen Yuxin and the others still busy and his own preparations complete, he could tell Li Weiwei was eager to revisit her old campus. He nodded, agreeing with pleasure.

As they reached Tang Hua University and gazed at the grand gates, Li Weiwei was clearly excited. She said, “Look at that! Isn’t Tang Hua University impressive?”

Zhao Zhijie nodded, “Beijing, South China, Tang Hua—Tang Hua University truly lives up to its reputation! Magnificent!”

Li Weiwei pouted playfully, “Of course! How could my alma mater be anything but extraordinary? This is classic French style. Many buildings here are historical monuments; in fact, this is said to be the largest surviving Baroque architectural complex in the country. Such beautiful scenes are not easily found elsewhere.”

Looking at the noble, elegant buildings, Zhao Zhijie was filled with a sense of luxury and romance. The leafy trees, lush grass, and the sound of students reading aloud made him nostalgic for his own youth.

Strolling across the campus lawns, Li Weiwei asked, “Don’t you think Group Leader Hai was being a bit alarmist earlier? Is usurious lending really that terrifying? Would people actually go for such loans? Isn’t it more reliable to get a bank loan?”

Zhao Zhijie replied, “Banks aren’t charities. For large companies, banks are approachable, but for small businesses or individuals, getting a bank loan is nearly impossible. Many companies face short-term cash flow problems—if they wait for a bank loan, they might go bankrupt before the money arrives. That’s why many turn to private lending, which creates a space for usury. Now, the lack of regulation over online lending has made usury rampant, even fueling its unchecked spread.”

Li Weiwei asked, “Is the market for usury really that big?”

“Many borrowers don’t realize they’re taking out a usurious loan until it’s too late,” Zhao Zhijie answered. “Once the contract’s signed, there’s no turning back.”

“Why not just not borrow money?” Li Weiwei pressed. “Is it really necessary?”

“It’s not about poverty, but inequality and insecurity,” Zhao Zhijie said. “You live comfortably, with no worries about food or clothing, so you don’t need to borrow. But for those struggling to make ends meet, there are always times when money is needed. With the soaring costs of education and housing, even the hardworking majority can’t make ends meet. To slightly improve their family’s situation, sometimes borrowing becomes necessary.”

“But isn’t it just ordinary borrowing?” Li Weiwei persisted. “You could just borrow a little and not overdo it. How could it turn people into slaves?”

Zhao Zhijie looked at her, knowing that someone as privileged as Li Weiwei had never experienced hardship and couldn’t possibly understand. He said seriously, “What Group Leader Hai described was not exaggerated—he only spoke of the most common situations. Let me tell you about a case I handled, and you’ll see how terrifying online usury can be.”

Li Weiwei nodded, “Go ahead.”

“A while back, there was a case involving a female student who wanted to buy a cell phone and took out an online installment loan. It was a credit loan—just an ID card was enough. But the platform required a nude photo for collateral—a so-called ‘nude loan.’ She made her payments on time, but during one period, due to a software update, she couldn’t make the payment. That counted as a default. Then came exorbitant penalty interest. If she didn’t pay, they threatened to contact everyone on her phone and post her nude photos online. The girl panicked and tried to keep up with payments, but she ended up borrowing two thousand and repaying twenty thousand, and still wasn’t done. Eventually, overwhelmed, she reported it to the police. But before we could investigate, her nude photos were already circulating online—her classmates had seen them. Unable to bear the humiliation, she took her own life.”

Zhao Zhijie paused, then continued, “After the case was solved, I learned their methods: the loan contracts were all legally compliant, the sums borrowed were small, and the interest wasn’t high enough to arouse suspicion. But the terms forbade early repayment and ensured that the borrower would default at least once, triggering huge penalty fees. If you didn’t pay, they’d harass you and your friends. The nude photos—regardless of payment—would be sold. The moment you took out the loan, you fell into their trap. The suspect even admitted to coercing the female borrowers into sleeping with him and pimping some out to criminal groups. This was considered a ‘milder’ case. Do you still think Group Leader Hai was exaggerating?”

Li Weiwei said, “But you could just avoid that kind of loan! There must be other places to borrow from.”

Zhao Zhijie retorted, “What if the whole industry is rotten? Even if you avoid nude loans, there are plenty of other usurious traps—the form may change, but the result is just as deadly.”

Li Weiwei asked, “Why not just not borrow at all?”

Zhao Zhijie smiled wryly, “Didn’t I just explain? It’s not about poverty, but about inequality and insecurity. Most borrowers simply hope to improve their lives a little, and most don’t realize they’re falling into usury until it’s too late.”

Li Weiwei was angry and bewildered. Why did such terrible things happen? Was there no one to stop them? Could society really be this rotten? Did people really do such things for money, with not a hint of conscience?

She asked, “Isn’t there anyone responsible? Even students are targeted—can’t anyone intervene?”

Zhao Zhijie asked rhetorically, “Who would intervene? Not only is online usury hard to detect, but even if it’s discovered, on what grounds can one intervene? Private lending is legal. Violent debt collection isn’t, but online lenders usually outsource collections, sidestepping legal responsibility. And cross-jurisdictional cases are rarely pursued—no one wants to handle them.”

Li Weiwei, disheartened, asked, “So these criminals just get away with it, hurting countless people?”

Zhao Zhijie smiled faintly and said, “There are always more good people than bad. Someone will intervene—otherwise, we wouldn’t be here in Tang Hua, would we?”

Li Weiwei nodded. In that moment, she felt newfound respect for Haifeng and pride in the White Tiger Group’s willingness to come all this way to Tang Hua. She quietly resolved to bring these criminals to justice and never let them have their way again.

Back at the hotel, Li Weiwei felt rejuvenated. Tang Hua was still as beautiful as ever; she somewhat regretted leaving this city. Returning to Ming City, with its dry air, tedious work, and cold architecture, left her numb. Yet now she was glad she’d come back to Ming City—otherwise, she’d never have joined such an interesting team as the White Tiger Group or experienced the heroism of fighting evil side by side. Truly, as the saying goes, a blessing may come in disguise.

By now, Wen Yuxin and the others had finished the next day’s rehearsal. Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang had returned from the Tang Hua Bureau. They rehearsed the next day’s procedures once more before retiring to their respective rooms.

The next morning, they gathered at the Tang Hua Bureau, and with the bureau’s cooperation, went to Jixiang Lending.

When they arrived, the boss, Cao Jixiang, was in the middle of a meeting with his employees. He was surprised by the sudden inspection, but quickly regained his composure, sent an employee out to buy fruit, and welcomed Haifeng and the others into his office.

Upon learning the purpose of their visit, Cao Jixiang smiled and promised full cooperation, instructing his staff to distribute the fruit to each officer. He was used to police inspections—here in Tang Hua, the police often showed up unannounced, asking for systems to be installed, forms to be filled, or safety hazards to be checked.

Though officials always claimed these were routine tasks, to Cao Jixiang it was just an excuse to get some “benefits.” The so-called inspections were all for show, and he’d long grown accustomed to playing along. “It’s easy to deal with the king, but hard to deal with his minions,” he thought. Cao Jixiang disliked interacting with low-level officers but didn’t want to offend them either. He’d usually give his staff some cash to handle them, and that would be the end of it. Today happened to be a meeting, so he had to put on a show.

Haifeng and his team proceeded as planned, checking equipment and interviewing staff. Watching them work, Cao Jixiang found it hard not to laugh. “These people really rack their brains for a little extra cash. They don’t even understand what I do, yet they go through the motions. Judging by the size of their group, they must want a bigger cut. But I don’t mind—just get rid of these ‘plague gods’ and I can get back to making money.”

So he sat in his office with Haifeng and Li Xian from the Tang Hua Bureau, watching the activity outside. When things quieted down, Cao Jixiang knew the show was over, and the real purpose of their visit was about to be revealed. He pulled two fat envelopes from his drawer and handed them to Haifeng and Li Xian. “Brothers, it’s not easy for any of us. You work hard—please accept this as a token for some tea or a pack of cigarettes. You must take it!”

Li Xian was about to refuse, but Haifeng stopped him, smiling at Cao Jixiang. “Thank you for your cooperation. To be honest, we’re just fulfilling orders from above—if we don’t put on a good show, it’s hard to explain. We won’t keep you from your business. On behalf of my colleagues, thank you for your generosity. Wishing you prosperous business!”

After a few more pleasantries, Cao Jixiang saw them out and returned to his meeting.

Once inside the police car, with Liu Zhiyang as witness, Li Xian began to berate Haifeng. “Haifeng, I didn’t expect this from you after all these years! Does Ming City really pay so poorly that you’d come all the way to Tang Hua to make money? Only visiting this one company? Not going for a few more? Have you lost your mind? I may not care, but you’re embarrassing all of us in Tang Hua! If you’re short on cash, just ask me. Don’t make me lose face like this!”

Haifeng just laughed, and Liu Zhiyang doubled over with laughter, leaving Li Xian puzzled. “What are you two laughing at? Is it really that funny? Liu Zhiyang, you too—going along with Haifeng’s nonsense?”

Haifeng smiled, “If we hadn’t taken his money, wouldn’t he have just left? Letting him think we’re here for gifts is the only way to move on to the next stage. Give all the money to you—just hand it in when you get back. How could I ruin my old friend’s reputation?”

Li Xian pointed at Haifeng, “You’re full of crooked ideas! Lucky I’m not in Ming City, or you’d drive me crazy. But money alone isn’t enough—I want in. You can’t keep this case to yourself. Bring me along, let’s work together!”

Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang were naturally grateful for Li Xian’s willingness to help the White Tiger Group with the case. Laughing and chatting, the three left Jixiang Lending.

Back at the hotel, the group began organizing their findings. Only then did they realize that this small lending company had a cash flow in the hundreds of millions, with more than twenty thousand borrowers.

The power of online lending was immediately apparent. Compared to traditional lending, online lending involved far more people and had a much wider reach. This posed a significant risk—if something went wrong, it could impact a huge number of people and cause widespread social turmoil.

From the intelligence gathered, Haifeng and the team discovered that the legal representatives of the so-called system provider and financial intermediary were all relatives of Cao Jixiang. The individuals never showed up at the company, but their names were on the payroll.

Sampled loan contracts matched their previous findings. On the surface, they were standard loan contracts, but once you added the information system usage fees and financial intermediary service fees, it was clearly usury. A large number of borrowers had defaulted, generating enormous penalty fees for Jixiang Lending.

Zhao Zhijie and Li Weiwei also discovered that the company's software could deliberately cut off service, causing borrowers to default. They found related operation logs and scripts. They also discovered two companies with extensive dealings with Jixiang: Shiheng Financial and Qian’s Group.

Jixiang made large payments to Shiheng Financial, while Qian’s Group both provided and received substantial funds from Jixiang.

Haifeng and his team decided to investigate Shiheng Financial first, as both companies were located in Tang Hua.

The investigation at Shiheng Financial went smoothly. With Li Xian’s help, the White Tiger Group completed it the next day. The company was mainly a debt collection agency. Upon entering, they found ample evidence of violent collections, phone harassment, and threats using nude photos. The entire company was taken over on the spot.

The only regret was that the owner, Shi Heng, wasn’t present. Li Xian immediately contacted the Tangping Branch’s cyber division to coordinate Shi Heng’s arrest.

A short while later, Li Xian received a call from the head of the cyber division at Tangping Branch. The details of Shi Heng’s arrest weren’t discussed, but he was told that the Tangping Branch chief wanted to invite him and the Mingzhou colleagues to dinner that evening. As for Shi Heng, his whereabouts had been confirmed, so they could relax and enjoy the banquet.

Li Xian glanced at Haifeng, knowing the invitation couldn’t be avoided. Since the branch was helping with the arrest and they’d already secured the evidence and personnel, it would be rude to decline their hospitality. Li Xian accepted the invitation on Haifeng’s behalf.

Haifeng was puzzled by the branch chief’s enthusiasm—his own rank shouldn’t warrant such attention. But since they were still within the Tangping Branch’s jurisdiction and still needed their help, he agreed to attend the dinner. He called Zhao Zhijie and Li Weiwei aside and whispered instructions to Li Weiwei, who nodded and left with Zhao Zhijie.

During the day, with Li Xian’s help, the White Tiger Group seized all materials from Shiheng Financial and completed the questioning of staff at Tangping Branch. The day passed quickly, and when Haifeng glanced at the time, it was nearly time for the dinner. Leaving the interrogation room, he found Li Xian, Liu Zhiyang, and the others waiting for him. With Li Weiwei and Zhao Zhijie rejoining them, they handed over custody duties to their Tangping Branch colleagues and hurried to the banquet.

On the way, Haifeng remarked to Li Xian, “Your police work here in Tang Hua is far better than in Mingzhou. Just separating casework from prisoner transport would benefit grassroots officers immensely. We should really learn from you.”

Li Xian smiled, “That’s all thanks to our Director Qiao Yuqian. He rose from the grassroots, knows the struggles of frontline cops, and, upon taking office, launched sweeping reforms. Separating casework from prisoner transport was one of them.”

“You know how it is—grassroots officers usually work late into the night to close a case, then have to transport detainees themselves. With the new system, detectives just notify the transport team in advance, and after casework is done, the team arrives to handle prisoner transport. This lets detectives rest.”

Li Xian continued, “It used to be said that ‘preferential treatment for police’ was just a slogan, while ‘strict discipline for police’ was an entire manual. But that’s not the case in Tang Hua. Director Qiao truly cares for frontline officers and has done a lot of good for us. Our ‘preferential treatment for police’ is real, no empty talk.”

Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang couldn’t help but praise Director Qiao, though they’d never met him. In Ming City, “preferential treatment for police” was just a phrase, while “strict discipline” was an unyielding reality. Leaders saw their subordinates as stepping stones, never considering their welfare, only putting on a show when required by superiors.

Yet strict discipline was always enforced, since leadership was held accountable for any mistakes. This made grassroots work ever more burdensome, with fewer and fewer officers. Those with connections found ways to leave, leaving only outsiders like Zhao Zhijie, who had neither connections nor a tendency to shirk work, or the old, weak, sick, and disabled. In a twenty-person police station, fewer than five really did the work, and many only showed up to collect benefits or awards.

A chief who genuinely considered the well-being of grassroots officers was rarer than a phoenix feather in Ming City. Both men felt a twinge of envy for their Tang Hua colleagues.

Li Xian, oblivious to their envy, continued proudly, “Director Qiao not only separated casework from transport, but also reinforced the grassroots, delegated authority and resources, and integrated data. Every frontline officer has the same level of authority as those in the city bureau. The old data silos are gone—no more making life difficult for grassroots detectives just because of data barriers. Everyone can make full use of police resources. The city bureau is now streamlined, with only essential staff, and all directives for grassroots units are consolidated to prevent redundant orders from multiple departments.”

“Under Director Qiao’s management, officers are happy to stay at the grassroots. I’ve tried to transfer some outstanding young officers to the bureau, but they prefer to stay put, saying there are too many leaders at the bureau and too much pressure. Only by insisting did I get any to come over.”

At this, the three laughed heartily. Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang once again felt genuine admiration. They knew how hard it was to make grassroots police want to stay and serve there.

In Ming City, everyone tried desperately to get transferred to the bureau—even if not to the city bureau, at least to a branch. No one volunteered to stay at the grassroots. Recruiting and retaining staff was a major headache. The only solution officials came up with was to force people to stay through administrative orders, but those with connections always found a way out, leaving the powerless behind. This led to widespread discontent and mismatched personnel—capable people without positions, those in position lacking ability.

Haifeng and Liu Zhiyang had quarreled and even cursed at their leaders over this, but nothing ever changed. After all, compared with career advancement, staff welfare was not their concern. This made them even more envious of Tang Hua’s colleagues, blessed with such a good director.