Film and Television: My Cheat Code is AI

Gu Yang and Wu Jun came out of the villa and got into the car. Less than ten minutes after they drove off, Wu Jun's phone rang.

"What? They've gone to Nanshan?" Wu Jun's voice suddenly rose, his tone filled with anger.

Gu Yang turned his head, his brows furrowing slightly: "What's going on?"

Wu Jun slammed his phone down on the seat, gritting his teeth and cursing, "That bastard Huang Si'er. Fei-ge told us to lie low for a while, but he's the one who made the first move." He patted the driver's seat, his voice urgent, "To Nanshan, quick."

Gu Yang reached out to stop him: "Wait, put me down up ahead."

Wu Jun turned his head and glanced at him, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes, but he didn't ask any further questions and nodded to the driver.

The black sedan pulled over. Gu Yang opened the car door and drove away without looking back. The door slammed shut with a dull thud, like something being crushed into the ground. Wu Jun's taillights flashed briefly, casting a blurry red shadow on the gray street before disappearing around the corner.

Gu Yang stood by the roadside and waited until the car had completely disappeared before he reached out and flagged down a red Xiali.

Zhang Yang's car was parked fifty meters away at the alley entrance. He watched through the windshield as Gu Yang got into a taxi, started the engine, and followed at a distance. On the steering wheel, his fingers tapped lightly twice, the calluses on his knuckles rubbing against the leather, making a soft rustling sound.

"Bean bag."

【exist. 】

"Mark Guyang's whereabouts."

[Marked. Current driving direction: Dongcheng District. Probability of destination being reached - to be further analyzed.]

Zhang Yang dialed Lao Zheng's number. It rang twice before being answered, but no one spoke.

"Gu Yang is heading to Dongcheng."

The call ended. Zhang Yang tossed his phone onto the passenger seat; the screen lit up briefly, then went dark again.

Inside the bread truck outside the villa.

Old Zheng put down the phone, grabbed the car keys on the table, and said crisply, "Dongcheng."

Ding Jian and Ji Jie stood up at the same time. Ji Jie said, "Two minutes left."

Ding Jian said, "Old Zheng, let's get started."

Old Zheng nodded and said, "Prepare for action."

At the entrance of the villa.

Ding Jian crept along the wall. A bread truck was parked in the yard, its engine still running, white smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe and slowly dissipating into the air. He turned and gestured, and Ji Jie went around to the other side, her footsteps so light they were almost silent.

The door was ajar. Ding Jian kicked it open, and before the person inside could turn around, he was shoved to the ground.

"Don't move! Police!"

Liu Yi's face was pressed hard against the cold floor tiles, his lip was scraped and blood seeped out, and he was still cursing. Ding Jian handcuffed him, grabbed him by the back of his collar, lifted him up, and shoved him against the wall, the action rough but clean.

Ji Jie rushed to the corner of the room. Yang Zhen was tied to a chair, his mouth taped shut, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and onto his shirt. The skin beneath the tape was torn and red, the blood already dried to a dark brown. Ji Jie ripped off the tape, pulled out a knife, and cut the rope. The cold blade slid against his skin.

Yang Zhen gasped for breath and struggled to get out before the rope was completely cut: "Quick, quick, Nanshan." His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper.

Ji Jie helped him to his feet, and he swayed for a moment before regaining his balance. Ding Jian had already shoved Liu Yi into the car, the door closing heavily. Old Zheng shouted into the walkie-talkie, his voice drowning out all other noise: "Nanshan, all units, Nanshan."

Things have completely fallen apart in Nanshan.

Huang Si'er's men made their move first, and by the time Wu Jun and his men arrived, the two sides had already started fighting right there in the freight yard. Gunshots rang out one after another, exploding in the empty yard, echoing one after another, making people's ears ring. Interspersed among them were the muffled sounds of iron bars hitting sheet metal, clanging and banging, like something pounding on people's hearts.

Armed police and special police arrived almost simultaneously. Sirens blared, piercing the night sky over Nanshan. The freight yard was completely surrounded, the black combat uniforms and dark green armed police uniforms swaying under the beams of searchlights.

Wu Jun was cornered behind a shipping container, his gun still spitting fire, the muzzle flashing and distorting his face. He was shouting something, but the gunfire was too loud for anyone to hear.

Yang Zhen rushed forward, weaving through the flying bullets and splattering debris, raised his hand and fired a shot, hitting the man squarely in the chest.

Wu Jun leaned back and crashed to the ground like a bag of sand. The gun slipped from his hand, spun twice on the ground, and then stopped moving.

Yang Zhen squatted down, checked his carotid artery, and then stood up. His expression didn't change much, only his breathing became slightly heavier.

He walked up to Huang Si'er.

Huang Si'er squatted on the ground with his hands behind his head, the handcuffs already on. His shoulders were trembling, and sweat streamed down his forehead, dripping onto the ground.

"Where is Gu Yang?"

Huang Si'er raised her head, her lips twitched, and her voice was hoarse: "Gu Yang didn't come at all."

Yang Zhen frowned slightly, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes gathered together.

Old Zheng walked over, lowered his voice, and whispered in Yang Zhen's ear: "Gu Yang went to the East City area."

Yang Zhen turned to Huang Si'er and asked, his gaze fixed on his face, "Does Gu Yang know anyone in Dongcheng?"

Huang Si'er paused for a second, as if he suddenly understood something, and his expression changed. His eyes flickered, and his lips moved: "It seems he has a lover in Dongcheng."

"address."

Dongcheng, an old residential area.

Zhang Yang parked his car on the roadside outside the residential complex, facing the exit. Through the windshield, he watched Gu Yang walk into Building 4. The motion-activated lights in the stairwell turned on floor by floor, the yellow light climbing upwards in the darkness.

He took out his phone and sent a text message to Lao Zheng, typing in the neighborhood address. After sending it, he placed the phone face down on his lap, the faint light from the screen pressed between his thigh and palm.

He had a Type 54 pistol tucked into his belt, a gift from Zhao Fei. The gun was pressed against his skin, already warmed by his body heat. There was another one in the glove box, his own. Two guns, two identities; he knew exactly which one was which.

Wu Jun and Huang Si'er are both finished today. With both gangs being taken down simultaneously, Zhao Fei's side can't possibly remain silent. Whether he can distance himself from this entirely depends on how cleanly the police pull the net.

Zhang Yang lit a cigarette, took two puffs, and the smoke slowly dissipated in the carriage. He looked up and glanced at the window of Building No. 4.

On the third floor, in the third window, the light was on. A shadowy figure flickered behind the curtains, then disappeared.

[Gu Yang's current location: Third floor, east-facing unit.]

"understood."

About twenty minutes later, the hallway lights came on again. Gu Yang walked out carrying a black bag, his steps quick, his leather shoes making a hurried sound on the concrete. He opened the door of the Xiali car, threw the bag into the back seat, started the car, and drove out of the residential area. The taillights left two red streaks in the night.

Zhang Yang waited until he turned the corner before starting his car and following him from a distance.

Gu Yang's car drove eastward, passing through half of the city, and entered Xiaonanzhuang. The streetlights on both sides of the road became sparser, and the buildings became shorter and shorter, until finally it became a cluster of low bungalows and overgrown open space.

Zhang Yang could see flashing headlights at the intersection ahead from afar—not an ordinary car, but a police car. The blue and red lights swirled in the night, casting flickering light on the tree trunks and walls along the roadside.

He turned the steering wheel and veered off onto a side road, bypassing the obstacle.

The rest is none of his business.

He believed in Lao Zheng, and he also believed in Yang Zhen.

Gu Yang's car was stuck in a narrow alley. There were police cars in front and behind. The headlights illuminated the alley brightly, making it look like a passageway cut by light. The shadows were stretched long and crooked, pressed against the ground and walls.

Yang Zhen got out of the car and stood in front of it. The headlights cast his shadow, making it clearly visible.

Gu Yang sat in the car for a few seconds, then kicked the car door open, clutching a Type 64 pistol in his hand.

"Put the gun down!" shouted a nearby policeman in a shrill voice.

Yang Zhen waved his hand, signaling everyone to put their guns away.

He walked forward alone. His steps were slow, but each step was firm and deliberate.

Gu Yang pressed the gun to his temple, his finger on the trigger. The streetlight shone on his face, making the sweat on his forehead glisten and trickle down his temples.

"I knew this day would come." Gu Yang's voice was flat, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

Yang Zhen stopped and looked at Gu Yang. His gaze shifted from the muzzle of the gun to Gu Yang's eyes, and he said in a low voice, "You still have some conscience; you didn't point the gun at us."

Gu Yang didn't speak. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"You think you're clean now that you're dead?" Yang Zhen took a step forward, his shoes scraping the ground with a soft rustling sound.

"Don't come any closer." Gu Yang's finger tightened on the trigger, his knuckles turning white.

Yang Zhen didn't stop. He walked slowly, but without hesitation.

"You're right, everyone has their own choices. Just like I chose to be a policeman for life." Yang Zhen's voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet alley, every word clearly reached Gu Yang's ears. "You can choose to die so easily."

He paused, his gaze never leaving Gu Yang's eyes.

"But have you thought about your parents? Your elderly father?" Yang Zhen's tone changed, taking on a deeper meaning. "And your son, he's eight years old this year, isn't he? You said you'd live your whole life for him. You'd live for him, and you'd die for him."

Gu Yang's hand trembled slightly. The muzzle of the gun moved away from his chin a little, then back to his chin.

"Put the gun down. Go back and see him."

Gu Yang's eyes reddened. The light from the streetlamp shone into his eyes, reflecting a slight dampness.

"Have you calculated for yourself how many years you could get? How much could be reduced if you perform good deeds to atone for your sins? When you get out—"

Yang Zhen's voice softened, as if he were afraid of startling something.

"Your son has grown up."

silence.

Only the faint sound of the wind blowing through the power lines remained in the alley, like something softly whimpering.

Gu Yang's hand slowly loosened. His fingers slid off the gun handle one by one, as if he had used up all his strength. The gun slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a crisp sound—the sound of metal hitting concrete—echoing in the empty alley.

Yang Zhen stepped forward, quickening his pace. He took out the handcuffs and personally put them on Gu Yang. As the handcuffs closed, they made a soft click, and Gu Yang's shoulders slumped, as if all the bones in his body had been suddenly removed.

Zhang Yang parked his car on a secluded side of the road and turned off the engine. He looked out the window at the area where police lights were flashing in the distance.

Gu Yang was put into the police car. The sound of the car door closing came from afar, muffled, like something settling down.

Zhang Yang pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, took one out, and put it in his mouth. He flicked the lighter twice before it lit, the flame flickering and reflecting on his face. The dim streetlights shone through the car window, sculpting sharp angles of light and shadow on his face.

He rolled down the car window a crack, letting in the cool autumn breeze. He rested his arm on the window frame and slowly exhaled a puff of smoke.

Gu Yang has been arrested.

Wu Jun is dead.

Huang Si'er was also arrested.

Both gangs were completely dismantled in a single day. The police did a clean job, arresting those who needed to be arrested and killing those who needed to be killed, without any unnecessary actions or survivors.

Without any survivors, no one would tell Zhao Fei that someone was following Gu Yang when he went to the East City that day.

He dusted off his cigarette ash, the grayish-white ashes scattered by the wind.

The phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID; the name on the screen shone brightly in the darkness. He waited two seconds, then answered.

"Hey, Yangzi."

"Brother Fei."

Zhao Fei's voice was the same as usual, but his speech was a little faster, as if he were being urged by something: "Wu Jun'er and Huang Si'er have both been arrested by the police. Wu Jun'er died on the spot."

Zhang Yang took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it between his fingers: "When did this happen?"

"Just now." Zhao Fei paused, his breathing coming through the receiver with a slight hissing noise. "Shouldn't we start thinking about our escape route?"

Zhang Yang's tone remained unchanged, as calm as a still lake: "Brother Fei, whatever you say, I'll do."

The sound of a lighter clicking came from the other end of the phone, followed by Zhao Fei taking a deep drag of his cigarette. He exhaled, his voice steadying slightly: "Da Zi said we shouldn't move yet. Let's see if the police are after Wu Jun'er and Huang Si'er, or after us."

"Brother Fei," Zhang Yang said, "why don't we go out and avoid this for a while?"

"A shipment is arriving in a couple of days," Zhao Fei said, his tone calming, but with an unwavering certainty. "I have to receive it myself. We'll leave after this shipment is shipped out."

Zhang Yang remained silent for two seconds. The only sound in the carriage was the faint crackling of the cigarette burning between his fingers.

"Okay, Fei-ge. You're in charge."

"Alright, you're getting a day off today. Take a good rest."

"Thank you, Fei-ge."

Zhang Yang hung up the phone.

He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat; the screen lit up briefly, illuminating the seat's outline, then went dark. Leaning back, he finished his cigarette. The smoke slowly rose into the car, touched the ceiling, and dissipated.

The cigarette butt flashed briefly in the darkness before going dark again.

Zhao Fei didn't leave.

There's a shipment to receive.

Zhang Yang stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, the embers extinguished with a very soft hiss. He started the car, the engine's low hum echoing in the quiet night.

There is still time.