A Good-for-Nothing

223. Wu Fangshuo (I)

Translator: Dragon Rider

Night was always the best camouflage for him. He had perceived that someone was tailing him, but he hadn’t expected that he would be attacked so soon. He wheeled around but it was already too late. The stalker had sneaked up on him. He still couldn’t believe it in the last second before he went unconscious.

Who was this guy exactly that had blindsided him so easily?!

In the police station.

During the past few days, He Zheng, Zu Zhichong and a couple of others had been entirely focusing on the investigation. Recalling that he and Li Zong hadn’t seen each other for days owing to their staggered working time, He Zheng missed Li Zong very much. While the others were studying the intelligence, he said, “I’m going outside for a few minutes.”

Then he walked out with his cellphone in his hand.

Leaning against a column beside a parterre, he made a phone call to Li Zong, who was probably at home already, for he answered the phone very soon. He Zheng chatted with him about nothing in particular for a while and then Zu Zhichong, who came out to take a smoke break, greeted him.

He Zheng hung up the phone. Zu Zhichong teasingly looked at him and said, “Why did you hang up? You should’ve ignored me and just kept talking with Chief.”

“Hey, Cutie, right now, are you feeling that joining this department was a big mistake? Let me tell you something. This is how lives of people like us always are. There’s no such thing as a regular office timing here. Every day we have to work as hard as oxen. I still remember that when this action group was first set up – at that time you were probably still a playboy hanging out in all kinds of bars – Chief and the rest of us were on missions every day. We once worked for over sixty consecutive days. I almost died of overwork.”

He Zheng listened, keeping quiet, but his countenance changed somewhat at the story.

Surprisingly, when Zu Zhichong reminisced about the past, the look in his eyes was tinged with something typical of an old man who’d experienced many vicissitudes of life. He deftly shook the ash off the glowing end of his cigarette and continued, “In the blink of an eye, I’ve grown from a handsome, charming young man into a tall, attractive, sophisticated and mature one. Time really does change people without them noticing.”

At first He Zheng was still listening, but when Zu Zhichong started sounding like a narcissist, he felt that this guy was indeed a shameless son of a bitch.

“Stop bullshitting and spare us both the embarrassment, will you?”

“Hey, I’m telling the truth! If you don’t believe me, take a look at this picture.”

After saying this, Zu Zhichong produced his cellphone, determined to show He Zheng the picture. The earliest picture, which was at the bottom of the album, had three people in it: Li Zong, Han Zhuo and Zu Zhichong.

He Zheng fixed his eyes on Li Zong. The photo showed that Li Zong at that time had looked, for all intents and purposes, the same as he did today, with a prominent nose, thin lips, dashing eyebrows, bright piercing eyes and his slender neck revealed above his collar, looking attractive from any angle.

“Look how delicate my skin was then. I was no less hot than any young pop star, okay?”

He prated on and on for quite a while only to find that He Zheng’s attention wasn’t on him at all, that he was staring unblinkingly at Li Zong’s face. Zu Zhichong huffed, “I can’t believe this. I’m so going to burn all you love birds to death some day!”

Zu Zhichong was deeply saddened by this display of affection.

He Zheng raised his chin and gave a snort of contempt. “I’d pay to see that. Would you like me to lend you a lighter?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Apart from anything else I’m your elder sect-brother. Show some respect, okay?”

He Zheng couldn’t be bothered to reply to that. “Send this picture to me. I just want Li Zong, so cut the other two from it.”

“Why?! I’m not doing that!”

He Zheng twisted his head aside and glimpsed a young man standing not far away from them, who was gazing fixedly at them. The moment He Zheng looked in his direction, the man quickly swiveled his head back.

He Zheng didn’t see his face clearly but inexplicably felt that that man looked familiar, and then Zhao Fei’s words came floating out of his mind.

“Male, around 26, well-proportioned in figure, about five feet nine.”

He Zheng felt as though something had just exploded in his head.

This man virtually fitted Zhao Fei’s description perfectly.

He Zheng suddenly took to his heels and sprinted towards that man, who seemed to have sensed it and also started running rapidly. This reaction further confirmed He Zheng’s speculation that this person was the man in black that had appeared in Jiang Shuanglin’s memory on that day! He matched the description precisely in every respect, including his figure viewed from behind!

During the instant that Zu Zhichong was stunned, He Zheng had rushed far away from him. Seeming to have sensed that He Zheng was pursuing him, the man put on a spurt, streaking at an inhumanly fast speed.

Perplexed, Zu Zhichong hurriedly followed.

“WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON, CUTIE!”

“THAT GUY’S THE KILLER!” Face grave, eyes staring fixedly at the man in front, He Zheng was tearing forward like greased lightning. He was even hearing the sound of the air whipping past his ears.

They tore through one intersection after another, all people nearby gasping in astonishment at the sight of their amazingly high speed, mistakenly believing that two former Olympic champions were having a competition and sprinting towards the finish line.

“Shit! How much longer is this going to take? I’m all out of breath!” roared Zu Zhichong. As luck would have it, they had just hurtled out of downtown and was now darting towards a mountain in the suburbs.

Without further ado, Zu Zhichong made a sequence of exorcism mudras and abruptly put a hex on the man in front. Caught off guard, the man who was dashing briefly lost his balance and then swished uphill rapidly and disappeared from view. Zu Zhichong and He Zheng quickly followed in his wake.

They didn’t know when, but they had rushed onto a nearby foothill which was deserted at the moment. On the hilltop was a gazebo where a man clothed in black was leaning against a crimson pillar, panting for breath, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, seeming to have been wounded.