Chapter Three: The Chosen One

Sitting in the bright room, Haifeng felt a rare peace settle in his heart. All the equipment he needed was at hand. He had to admit himself outdone by Qiu Zhiyong’s efficiency, and he couldn't help but wonder if he’d been given this assignment in a moment of crisis, or if, as Zhang Mufeng had hinted, Qiu Zhiyong had been plotting this from the beginning.

A series of footsteps echoed from outside the room, and a middle-aged man in a black short-sleeved shirt appeared before Haifeng. Catching sight of him, the man asked, “Ghost Dread? What are you doing here? Where’s Director Qiu?”

Haifeng couldn’t help but smile wryly at the sight. He thought to himself that his old classmate certainly knew how to pick people. Assigning this man to work with him meant there was no risk Haifeng would lose his temper or drive him away—he simply couldn’t outdo this man in an argument. In Ming City, Haifeng himself was the most disliked person, but if the same standards were applied to the entire Mingzhou Province, the man before him might well be on par.

Liu Zhiyang: Height, 1.88 meters; weight, 95 kilograms; vision, both eyes 1.5. Graduate of Jinghua Police University, Department of Law, former president of the university’s judo club, hobbies: free fighting and law. Deputy leader of the Legal System Division at the Mingdong City Police Bureau, infamous in the Mingdong judiciary as the “King of Insults.” If he’d lived in ancient times, he’d have been a master debater among scholars. Never letting an argument go, even when in the wrong he’d still argue three points—the phrase fit him to a tee.

Originally, Liu Zhiyang worked in the provincial police department's legal team, but finding administrative work dull, he requested a transfer to the Ming City police. There, he regularly berated colleagues over procedural issues, and even when sent to the prosecutor’s office to discuss cases, prosecutors could hardly withstand his verbal onslaught. Once he started talking law, he was a torrent of eloquence, his theoretical knowledge solid, and though he never used foul language, his pointed references left people speechless. He was never a sophist—his arguments always had basis and logic.

Everyone was wary of him; efforts were made to send him back to the provincial department, even to promote him, but he refused. The consensus became to send him away—to Mingdong. Unexpectedly, he went gladly, much to the chagrin of Mingdong’s judiciary.

“You didn’t see Director Qiu? Came straight here?”

“Director Qiu asked me to come! I was in the office for a meeting, his secretary told me he wanted to see me here. He hasn’t arrived yet? Why at the school? Did you get in trouble again and need me for a lecture? If so, Mingdong would have sufficed—why all this fuss? Such a big room just to instruct you seems a waste, and besides, my specialty is law, your issues are more about morals. Not my field!”

Then Liu Zhiyang’s tone shifted: “But it doesn’t matter. Learn from past mistakes, cure the sick and save the dying. Since I’m here, I’ll do my best to rescue you. Even if it’s hopeless, I’ll at least have tried.”

Haifeng watched Liu Zhiyang, thinking talking to him was always a mistake, but since it was just the two of them, there was no one else to take his place.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at Liu Zhiyang’s appearance: a towering, burly figure with a fierce face, dressed all in black—a veritable bear. His head, larger than most, sported a buzz cut, and if he added a gold chain, nine out of ten would take him for a gangster. Yet he wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, the thin frames slightly deformed by the width of his face. A brute trying to act the sage—a sight that was hard not to laugh at.

“All these years, you haven’t changed a bit—still the chatterbox, worthy of the ‘King of Insults’ title. I don’t need your rescue—I know you’re famous for talking people to death, not saving them,” Haifeng retorted.

“Don’t give up. If I can talk someone to death, I can talk you back to life. There’s hope yet! I haven’t given up on you, so don’t be discouraged. Your IQ is fine, you can understand what I say, but your emotional intelligence is another story. I heard you were transferred to traffic police, and just investigating drunk driving, you managed to implicate half the leadership—truly living up to ‘Ghost Dread.’ Everyone steers clear of you,” Liu Zhiyang replied.

“It’s tough for the folks in Ming City, struggling as it is, and on top of that, they have you—a harbinger of misfortune. Surprised the leaders haven’t gotten rid of you, but then again, with half gone, if they cross you, the other half might not last. That would mean total annihilation,” Liu Zhiyang added, feigning grief.

“So, where are you now? Out in the cold? Judging by your sulky look, probably so. But don’t complain—think of it as sacrificing for the greater good, contributing to the happiness of your colleagues,” Liu Zhiyang continued to tease.

As they spoke, Qiu Zhiyong entered. Seeing him, both men fell silent, awaiting their superior’s instructions. Looking at his two former juniors, Qiu Zhiyong was momentarily transported back to his own university days, to the vigor and exuberance of youth. Time truly flew—those once callow students were now middle-aged; he himself had reached the age of knowing his fate.

Liu Zhiyang was taken aback by how his old mentor had changed. He remembered him as a commanding figure, sharp and inspiring, and even in recent video meetings, he’d appeared wise and formidable. But now, Director Qiu looked much older—red eyes, dark circles, as if he hadn’t slept in days; his once imposing face now creased and weary.

Qiu Zhiyong nodded slightly to them. “The environment here is nice—full of scholarly voices and green grass, much better than the department. Being here makes one feel younger.” Then he turned to Liu Zhiyang, “So many years, and you haven’t changed much. How’s life in Mingdong?”

Liu Zhiyang grinned, “Can’t complain. Not the best, but better than some. You know me—I’ve few hobbies, don’t smoke or drink, just like boxing. My wife takes care of things at home, my parents are healthy, and the child is independent—nothing to worry about.”

“My work in the legal section suits me. It’s what I studied, and after so many years, I’m confident at it. If I had to write documents or manage personnel, I’d be lost—it’s not my strength. I’m not interested in writing books, so I have no love for bureaucracy. I prefer being on the front lines, handling cases myself.”

“I was uncomfortable at the provincial office—constantly on edge, dealing with superiors, nearly depressed. Ming City was better, even if it was a lower-level post. Doing what I liked made me feel clear-headed and happy. My family was initially unhappy I left such a good position, thought I was regressing, but seeing me content, they stopped complaining.”

“At the office, I was always working overtime on paperwork, which put me in a bad mood and led to constant arguments with my wife. We almost divorced. But after moving to Ming City, the fights stopped—we’re happy every day. When they asked me to return to the office, I refused. I’m doing well at the city level—why go back? Promotion wasn’t my goal; I’ve no desire for power.”

“They later sent me to Mingdong, and that was fine. I’d had enough of Ming City, argued with everyone worth arguing with. Those people couldn’t match my legal knowledge or debating skills. It got boring, so I wanted to see new places.”

“Plus, Mingdong’s scenery is beautiful, which suits me. Ming City, being a provincial capital, is too polluted. I don’t know how those officials can stand the air—being human air purifiers must be a habit. Mingdong’s different—fewer factories, less pollution, fewer people, less noise. The environment’s better, full of trees and grass, mountains and rivers. It’s a small city, but I live comfortably.”

Listening to Liu Zhiyang’s endless monologue, Haifeng felt his head ache. This man had never changed—a chatterbox even in school, famously dubbed the “Eastern Scribe” and favored for the debate team, but always disqualified for exceeding the time limit.

Haifeng glanced at Qiu Zhiyong, who was smiling, quietly enjoying Liu Zhiyang’s storytelling, not once interrupting. After all that had happened, Haifeng realized it had been a long time since his old mentor seemed this happy, so he let Liu Zhiyang continue.

“The social circles in Mingdong are simpler, which I like. Life is short—why make it complicated? Why spend your days scheming? Isn’t that exhausting?”

“I hated the endless infighting in Ming City—the backstabbing, the fake smiles. I’d rather stay at a lower level than go back to that. I’m no general, never had grand ambitions. I’m comfortable here; let them fight—I’ll do my job. If anyone crosses me, I’ll scold them—they can’t win. If they stew in anger, that’s their problem. If you’re not fit for battle, don’t complain when you lose.”

Haifeng couldn’t help but smile; he knew Liu Zhiyang had offended many in Ming City over case reviews, but had always managed to come out unscathed. On reflection, it made sense—after all, Liu’s strength was his tongue, and no one wanted their dirty laundry aired by a master storyteller. Avoiding him was the safest path.

Liu Zhiyang went on, “In Mingdong, there aren’t even those annoying types—it’s quite refreshing. I don’t understand why everyone is obsessed with big cities. Heavy pollution, high pressure—is that any way to live? In big cities, you meet all sorts of unsavory people. Is it fun dealing with them every day? Happy or not, each day passes the same; why choose to be miserable?”

He continued, “It’s also an educational problem—the more you learn and see, the more restless you become. After experiencing luxury, who can go back to simple living? Who truly stays true to themselves? Even Tao Yuanming left public life only after failing in his career; had he been successful, there’d be no ‘Peach Blossom Spring.’”

“So, don’t keep preaching about reading books for riches—books I’ve read, but where’s my golden house? Education’s about cultivating people, not just reading. Being content is more important than being erudite but restless.”

“This obsession with modern metropolises—most people just struggle to get by. Why compete for meager gains? Outwitting everyone only leads to ruin.”

“But I can’t blame the young—big cities offer more opportunity and transparency. In small towns, everything relies on connections—how can they stay? I saw, during one round of promotions in Ming City, everyone relied on favors—how can that be right? If cheating is the only way forward, who would want to stay? At least in big cities, competition is fairer.”

Haifeng was aware of the situation. Although Liu Zhiyang exaggerated, it was impossible to have total fairness in a society built on relationships. Using outside help to get ahead wasn’t a crime, but if it became the only way, it would chill all hearts. The bigger the city, the more transparent the process, and that was the advantage.

Liu Zhiyang continued, “Mingdong is better in this respect—the people are less cunning, or maybe it’s because they respect my background and avoid me. Either way, I’m happy here. The only downside is the staff’s lack of legal expertise—I spend my days angry, scolding people.”

“But you can’t have it all. I accept the trade-off. I’m no longer in my twenties or thirties—my temper has cooled. Seeing young kids just starting out, I don’t have the heart to be too harsh, especially now that my own daughter is growing up. The old-timers are all afraid of me and send the young ones to take the blame.”

“They’re just kids, can’t be too hard on them. Education is key. I know—if someone was truly a legal genius, they wouldn’t be in a small place like Mingdong. If their foundation is weak but their intentions are good, I can teach them. I’m not a natural teacher, but I can help them improve. That’s my small contribution to Mingdong’s legal system.”

“But if someone is malicious, I won’t go easy. When it’s time to scold or refuse a case, I’ll do so. In law enforcement, the baseline must not be compromised. As long as their intentions are pure, I can handle their shortcomings. I’ll help them learn the law. That’s something I can do.”

Liu Zhiyang finally paused, parched, and turned to Haifeng, “Did you bring any water? I’m thirsty. Since I’m in Ming City, you don’t need to host me, but at least offer a drink.”

Haifeng replied helplessly, “I’m not a chatterbox, so I don’t carry water around.”

With a magician’s flourish, Qiu Zhiyong produced a bottle of water and handed it to Liu Zhiyang with a smile. “I’ve prepared for you. In a few days, I’ll have plenty of water stocked here—you won’t need to worry about logistics. Leave it to me.”

Liu Zhiyang gulped it down, genuinely parched. In no time, the bottle was empty. He set it down, swallowed, and looked at Qiu Zhiyong, who was still smiling, and asked, “Old mentor, I’ve been here half the day—why did you call me? Is it because this Ghost Dread caused more trouble? Do you want me to lecture him?”

“He’s at an age where change is hard—education starts young. At his age, there’s little hope, but I won’t refuse if you insist. We’re classmates and colleagues—I can’t watch him jump into a fire pit without pulling him out. But honestly, it’s usually those who provoke him who get burned; he seems to be doing fine.”

“If he’s not promoted, that’s nobody’s fault—he’s dark already and always has a scowl, playing the part of Li Kui. If I were in charge, I wouldn’t promote him either; his looks damage the government’s image. But if someone bullies him, I’ll step in. He’s a bit slow but well-intentioned. Not helping him would be unlike me. If anyone wants trouble, I’m not afraid. Let them come.”

Haifeng knew Liu Zhiyang was teasing, but he was touched. For all his sharp tongue, Liu Zhiyang was a warm-hearted man. Haifeng was never afraid of making enemies and had done so often, but his conscience was clear—he never went easy on those who deserved it. But dealing with Liu Zhiyang always gave him a headache; a single encounter would leave him dreading conversation for a week.

Qiu Zhiyong smiled and said, “I did call you here to help Haifeng. He hasn’t caused trouble, but I do want you to go into battle—against crime. Here’s a research report—take a look. Haifeng wrote it.”

Liu Zhiyang took the report, muttering, “This illiterate wrote something? Pretending to be a scholar? Who’d read his stuff? He’s always full of wild ideas—I sometimes think he studied sorcery, not law. Only you take him seriously.”

But as he flipped through the report, his demeanor changed. He became absorbed, silent, and the room fell quiet.

Haifeng watched Qiu Zhiyong, puzzled as to how his mentor obtained the report. He’d written it after an inspection, submitted it to his superiors, but as Liu Zhiyang said, no one read it. How had it ended up here?

When Liu Zhiyang finished reading, he looked up at Qiu Zhiyong: “You called me here for this? This is bold—this isn’t just about unfair division of the cake; it’s taking the whole cake away. Overstepping boundaries like this is asking for trouble.”

“If you go through with this, you’ll threaten many interests. Legally, it’s not easy, and there’ll be problems on both the police and prosecutorial sides. Crime-fighting is our job, but using a sledgehammer from the start is a bit much.”

“And this plan isn’t strictly by the book—if someone wants to find fault, it’ll be a mess. It affects too many people; if something goes wrong, you could lose your position. You’re taking quite a risk protecting him. If this blows up, the consequences could be huge.”

“There’ll be a strong social reaction, too. Even if it’s legal, you have to consider the media and public opinion. This isn’t just his business—once implemented, it represents Mingzhou, even our team. You can’t ignore the fallout. And while these are crimes, is this approach an abuse of power?”

After speaking, Liu Zhiyang lowered his head, and the room was silent. Haifeng knew his proposal was hard for others to accept, but he also knew that sticking to the old ways solved nothing. The state of crime was too severe for complacency, hence his seemingly outrageous report.

Suddenly, Liu Zhiyang spoke again: “If we’re going to do it, let’s do it. The law’s net is vast—cyberspace can’t remain lawless. I know the situation in Mingdong—there are victims there, too. If we’re going to act, let’s make it a storm. I’ve rested long enough in Mingdong; time to put my skills to use. If you want to be heroes, I’ll help. Call me whenever you need. Mentor, just be careful—don’t let this ‘Black Star’ drag you into trouble.”

Qiu Zhiyong looked at Liu Zhiyang and said, “You’re a hero too—a member of this team. Join Haifeng in making history. The visible enemies aren’t the scariest; it’s the unseen ones. This isn’t something Haifeng can do alone. I plan to transfer you here—Haifeng will lead, you’ll supervise, and your legal expertise is essential. If you agree, I’ll send the transfer order to Mingdong.”

Liu Zhiyang thought for a moment, then turned to Haifeng, “Ghost Dread, let me be clear: don’t try to pull rank on me—I don’t buy it. And don’t expect me to take the fall for you. If you cause too much trouble, don’t blame me for telling you off.”

Then, more gently, he said, “With me here, do your job without worry.”

He turned to Qiu Zhiyong, “I’ll go pack and report back in a few days. Mentor, this special team is just work for us, but for you, the risks are great. If anything happens, your career could be over. You should think carefully.” With that, he left the room.

Qiu Zhiyong looked at Haifeng. “I’ve found your first team member—now the rest is up to you. The beginning is always the hardest. You and Liu Zhiyang are both my juniors—I know your abilities well and believe in you both. I’ll do all I can to support you. Do your best!” He patted Haifeng’s shoulder and walked out.

Watching his mentor’s faltering steps, Haifeng felt for the first time just how aged this once-mighty figure had become. Time spared no one.

But he also knew that beneath that frail exterior lay the heart of a lion. And this time, the lion was truly enraged. Those who had provoked him would soon face a raging tempest. And Haifeng would be the standard-bearer in that storm, standing at its eye, ready to confront the enemy.