Chapter 74: Who Set the Trap for Whom?

Chen Aijia was astonished, yet she felt it was inevitable. The nearby precinct chief had personally brought people to arrest Yang Changfeng, something that seemed to have been foreseen by Yang Changfeng himself. Wang Hu’s connections finally revealed themselves.

“According to the victim’s description, we have identified the perpetrator as your company’s deputy security captain. We have already requested approval for his arrest, but must take him away now. You are required to cooperate,” the precinct chief stated meticulously, displaying his credentials. He clarified that they had no arrest warrant yet, but detaining the suspect was within their rights.

Chen Aijia remained silent for a long time before calling Yang Changfeng, asking him to come to the office.

Yang Changfeng glanced at his phone, then turned it off.

He didn’t call anyone—just switched his phone off.

As he entered, two fierce men immediately seized Yang Changfeng, cuffing him on the spot.

He glanced at Chen Aijia and An Ya, smiling, “Isn’t this against protocol?”

“My word is the protocol. You’re welcome to file a complaint,” the precinct chief waved his hand. “Take him away.”

This vast conglomerate had lost all its aura under Chen Aijia’s management. In another, more forceful company, even the mayor would have to come personally to inquire about the situation. For a precinct chief to act so brazenly—did he really possess such integrity?

Yang Changfeng said, “Is it worth it? A good job, wasted for Wang Hu. Truly not worth it.”

“No need for sarcasm. You’ll have your chance to speak inside. We respect human rights,” the precinct chief strode forward, scanning the faces of the vice presidents who watched silently.

Yang Changfeng turned back, “Don’t worry. At most, two hours.”

The police sneered. Two hours?

If he walks away from this within two hours, the precinct sign should hang upside down.

Chen Aijia seemed to understand, smiling slightly. She said little, only instructing An Ya to issue an order: “Security chief Wang Hu has repeatedly left his post without leave. Fine him two years’ salary and post the penalty decision publicly.”

The vice presidents were in an uproar—this was a direct confrontation.

Vice President Su was worried, but Chen Aijia waved her hand; she knew what Yang Changfeng was planning.

The face-saving race was tonight, with only three hours left before the end of the workday.

As Yang Changfeng exited the elevator, he saw Wang Hu, pale-faced and standing at the door with two trusted aides supporting him. He had been waiting for this moment.

“You deserve to die,” Wang Hu murmured.

Yang Changfeng shook his head and replied calmly, “Get ready to take a beating. Don’t run.”

A policeman punched Yang Changfeng in the stomach. Yang Changfeng glanced at the security guards nearby, “Who’s on duty? Pass along a message—when I return, I want to see the surveillance footage. If it’s missing, prepare for a beating. He’ll pay the price for his choices and receive the gratitude he deserves.”

Another punch landed—not painful, but Yang Changfeng remembered this policeman. He was young, with acne still on his face.

They were real police, not imposters; there was no doubt. Wang Hu would not give Yang Changfeng a chance to strike back.

Wang Hu smirked, apparently confident.

Once in the police car, the precinct chief said, “Hand over your phone.”

Yang Changfeng didn’t resist, watching as his phone was tossed into the car’s trash bin and drenched with water.

Why do people who court disaster always act so self-righteous?

The precinct wasn’t far—less than five minutes away.

Yang Changfeng was locked in a solitary room, ignored by everyone. It looked as though he would be left there forever.

Yang Changfeng was dissatisfied—why weren’t they making a move? It seemed his eyes would have to do the work once again.

Back at the company, the notice of Wang Hu’s punishment had just been posted. Wang Hu, furious, tore it down himself and called every office, personally, saying only one thing: “Do you want to be my enemy?”

A strange silence settled over the company; everyone was busying themselves.

Wang Hu went to the surveillance room, sneering as he clicked “delete” with the mouse.

This time, his opponent had no chance to resist. It was the precinct—the domain of sworn brothers.

Three days and nights locked up, no food or water, and then they’d deal with him.

“Should we go to the hospital?” his confidant asked.

Wang Hu considered it, then clenched his teeth. “No, wait until the end of the workday. I don’t believe that kid could get out.”

Chen Aijia was waiting too—waiting for a phone call.

After four o’clock, the call finally came. It was to her semi-public number, unfamiliar, but local to Jiangzhou.

Yang Changfeng was napping in the precinct, unconcerned about the handcuffs—they didn’t affect his rest.

Several officers walked past repeatedly, but none spoke to him. No one hoped Yang Changfeng would stir up trouble; if he shouted or yelled, any measures would be legal, since there was no surveillance.

The afternoon sun wasn’t fierce, but Sun Zhaoxing’s temper was.

Who was scheming behind the scenes?

Unable to reach Yang Changfeng by phone, Sun Zhaoxing grew anxious, fearing the kid might have run off. He quickly called Chen Aijia. As soon as the line connected, Sun Zhaoxing relaxed, but upon hearing Yang Changfeng had been taken to the precinct, he jumped up again.

Of course, Sun Zhaoxing wasn’t foolish—he wanted to know what was going on.

And then, Sun Zhaoxing became angry.

Mas Wei, who was already suffering a headache, received a call from the company’s big boss in the capital. The instructions were clear: from now on, she must follow Young Master Sun’s orders—whatever he asked, she must do, no exceptions.

Still flustered, Mas Wei immediately received a call from Sun Zhaoxing himself.

“Prepare a written report on last night’s events. I’ll need it tomorrow,” Sun Zhaoxing instructed, sounding perfectly reasonable.

Mas Wei was relieved. She thought it was something serious, but unexpectedly, Young Master Sun was targeting Wang Hu, the local strongman.

A good thing!

With Sun Zhaoxing’s power as backing, Mas Wei was not afraid to offend some of Jiangzhou’s martial world figures.

Sun Zhaoxing himself didn’t make any rounds. His final call went to the deputy director of Jiangzhou’s bureau, the one in charge of political affairs.

“I want everyone in that precinct gone. My request is simple: send my friend back, and handle your internal affairs. This time, I’m reporting as an ordinary citizen. If I don’t see news by tomorrow, I’ll resolve it my own way. Don’t give me that chance. I’ve lost all trust and confidence in Jiangzhou’s public security and legal system; don’t let my feelings turn to outright disgust,” Sun Zhaoxing said.

The deputy was angry too. Young Master Sun was a force, but could he treat them as invisible?

“I’ll give you one hour. If you can’t handle it in an hour, Jiangzhou’s police will face public condemnation online. I’m not unreasonable, but I won’t reason with officials involved in organized crime or who are themselves gangsters. Do as you see fit.” With that, Sun Zhaoxing hung up.