Film and Television: My Cheat Code is AI

Sitting in the command vehicle, Lao Zheng picked up the walkie-talkie and said in a steady voice, "Attention all units, attention all units, we are now implementing the second plan."

Yang Zhen's voice came through the walkie-talkie immediately afterward: "Understood."

Zhang Yang also pressed the call button: "Received."

He released the handbrake, lightly pressed the accelerator, and the gray Jetta slowly glided out of the parking space. Chang Baole got into his car, and the two cars drove out of the parking space on the side of the karaoke bar, one after the other. Zhang Yang deliberately kept a distance of two or three car lengths behind Chang Baole's car, while Mao Dayong's car led the way. The three cars stretched out in a line, heading towards the southern suburbs in the night.

Old Zheng's voice came through the walkie-talkie again, this time with an added layer of caution: "Baole, listen carefully, once we get to the outskirts, we might lose your signal, so you need to be extra careful to protect yourself."

Chang Baole said, "I know."

"Also, if anything is discovered, evacuate immediately."

"Yes."

The convoy drove south out of the city. The buildings along the road became increasingly sparse, and the streetlights grew further apart, leaving only two beams of light from the headlights and the receding roadside trees on the road. Zhang Yang slightly adjusted the steering wheel, turning the front of his car directly behind the car in front to avoid the reflection in the rearview mirror being noticed by the car in front.

"Car number three, car number three, slow down, car number seven, follow up," Old Zheng directed over the channel.

"Car number two, car number two, please respond."

Zhang Yang pressed the call button: "Everything is normal."

Upon reaching the vicinity of an abandoned factory area in the southern suburbs, the taillights of the two cars ahead lit up, their right turn signals flashing as they turned onto a gravel road without streetlights. Zhang Yang didn't follow; he parked his car in the shade of a tree outside the intersection and turned off the engine. Behind him, Lao Zheng's car, Yang Zhen's car, and Ji Jie's car also came to a stop in turn. As soon as the engines went out, the surroundings suddenly became quiet, with only the occasional bark of a stray dog ​​in the distance.

Old Zheng picked up the walkie-talkie, lowering his voice even further than before: "Attention all units, attention all units, Number One has lost signal. Stay alert and stand by."

Zhang Yang stared at the dark gate of the factory area, silently tapping his fingers twice on the steering wheel.

Inside the factory area, Chang Baole followed Mao Dayong into the factory building. Several of the fluorescent tubes overhead were not working, and the rest emitted a buzzing electrical sound, making the light flicker. But even the poor lighting couldn't hide the impressive scene before them. More than a dozen cars, Hondas, Toyotas, and Santanas, were neatly parked inside the factory. The license plates hadn't been installed yet, and some still had their protective films on, reflecting a cold light under the dim yellow lights.

Chang Baole put one hand in his trouser pocket, looked around, and said with a smile, "Brother Mao's business is quite large."

Mao Dayong picked up a bag of potato chips from the table next to him, tore open the bag, grabbed a handful and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing with his cheeks bulging, his tone carrying a hint of feigned modesty: "Not at all, it's nothing compared to your business in the south."

Chang Baole walked over to a silver-gray Honda, tapped the hood with his finger, and turned to look at Mao Dayong: "I want all of it."

Mao Dayong's eyes lit up. He put the bag of potato chips on the table, rubbed his thumb and forefinger together—a gesture universally acknowledged: "Okay, how about this one?"

Chang Baole took out his phone from his suit pocket, turned on the screen, but there were no signal bars. Mao Dayong glanced at his screen, then nodded indifferently, "No signal here. Come on, there's a landline over here." He pointed to a red telephone on a worn-out desk in the corner.

Outside the factory area. Zhang Yang stared at the silent factory entrance, then glanced at the time on the vehicle's display screen. Chang Baole had been out of contact for almost ten minutes. He picked up the walkie-talkie: "Old Zheng, should I sneak in and check the situation?"

Old Zheng answered almost without hesitation: "No, we don't know what's going on inside. It's easy for something to go wrong if we go in now."

Just as he finished speaking, Ding Jian's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, nodded to Lao Zheng, and then answered the phone on speakerphone.

"Hey, bro."

Chang Baole's voice came through the phone, with the sound of Mao Dayong munching on potato chips in the background: "Ah Jian, prepare 150,000 yuan immediately and pay the deposit."

"Okay, Brother Cheng."

After hanging up the phone, Mao Dayong threw the last potato chip into his mouth, patted the crumbs off his hands, and said, "Okay, then let's do cash on delivery."

Before the words had even finished, two people walked out from behind the iron gate of the factory.

Chang Baole's gaze swept over them, his pupils contracted slightly. The one in front had an old scar on his left eyebrow, high cheekbones, and a wide jaw; the one behind was slightly shorter by half a head, with a thick neck and broad shoulders. When he took his right hand out of his pocket, it had a metallic sheen. Chang Baole's heart sank, but his expression only froze for less than half a second before returning to his previous casual smile.

He turned to look at Mao Dayong, his voice not loud, but each word was enunciated clearly: "Mao Dayong, you dare to double-cross me? All my brothers know I'm with you, aren't you afraid of getting into trouble?"

Mao Dayong leaned against the table, still holding the bag of potato chips, and waved his hand innocently: "Hey, hey, don't ruin my reputation. Don't misunderstand, these are all brothers who came to buy cars."

The scarred-faced member of the Sui brothers took half a step forward, sizing up Chang Baole with narrowed eyes. He didn't say anything, just stared at him as if trying to identify something.

Chang Baole felt a layer of sweat beading on his back. The switchblade inside his belt pressed against his lumbar spine, but he knew these two men couldn't be dealt with by a single knife. He pulled his hand out of his pocket, making himself appear completely unguarded, and asked casually, "Where do I pay?"

"Fuyuan Karaoke".

Chang Baole nodded, turned and walked out at a leisurely pace, like an ordinary person who was rushing back to be with his girlfriend after finishing a business deal. He could feel the two people's eyes glued to his back, all the way to the factory gate.

He opened the car door, started the engine, shifted gears, and the car smoothly glided out of the factory gate. Zhang Yang saw in the rearview mirror that Chang Baole's car had come out undamaged. He was about to press the call button to report the situation when...

'Bang bang bang,'

Three gunshots rang out from the factory, followed by two more. The sound was amplified several times in the open countryside, startling several crows in the roadside trees into flight.

Deep Blue's voice instantly popped into Zhang Yang's mind.

[Gunshot analysis in progress. The first two muffled thuds were from an AK-74, 5.45×39mm caliber, with a rate of fire characteristic consistent with short bursts. The following three shots were from a replica of the Type 54 pistol, with a single-shot interval of approximately 0.5 seconds. The AK-74 and the replica were not operated by the same person, indicating an internal exchange of fire. The gunshot location was approximately 20 to 30 meters from the factory entrance, overlapping with Mao Dayong's location.]

Zhang Yang pressed the call button and spoke twice as fast as usual: "There are gunshots coming from inside, from AK74s and replica Type 54 pistols. Two groups of people are exchanging fire, deep inside the factory."

Ji Jie's voice came through the walkie-talkie immediately afterward, her tone urgent: "Look, it's Bao Le's car."

Chang Baole pulled the car over to the side of the convoy, got out, and while his expression remained relatively calm, the veins in his temples were throbbing. He quickly walked to Lao Zheng's car window, his voice low but clear: "Mao Dayong and the Sui brothers are inside. I don't know what happened, but the gun went off as soon as I left."

Zhang Yang looked at Lao Zheng: "Lao Zheng, give the order. Encircle them, set up roadblocks."

Old Zheng picked up the walkie-talkie from the instrument panel, his tone no longer one of discussion, and switched directly to the command channel: "Attention all units, attention all units, take immediate action, set up blockades and roadblocks."

"Yes."

Everyone got out of the car and loaded their guns. Yang Zhen led his men to circle around from the left, Ding Jian led his men to surround from the right, and Zhang Yang and Ji Jie followed Lao Zheng straight through the middle to rush towards the factory gate.

When they rushed into the factory, the fluorescent lights were still humming. Two people lay on the ground, the Sui brothers. The older brother was lying on his back, his eyes still open, shot once in the chest and once in the abdomen. His imitation Type 54 pistol had slipped from his hand and was lying on the ground two meters away. The younger brother was lying on his side, curled up in a ball, his clothes soaked in blood on the back. He was still clutching an AK-74 magazine in one hand, the gun tucked under his body.

Mao Dayong huddled in the back seat of a half-destroyed Santana, his body curled up in a ball, knees pressed against his chest, potato chip crumbs still clinging to the front of his clothes, his lips as white as paper, trembling all over: "It wasn't me, it wasn't me..."

Yang Zhen opened the car door, bent down to look at him, and said in a low but suffocating voice, "Who did this?"

Mao Dayong's voice trembled so much he could barely speak: "It's...it's those two guys. They came to pick up their car, their names are Chen Bing and Liao Xing. They thought the Sui brothers were policemen, and the Sui brothers thought they were policemen...I didn't know, they pulled out guns at each other as soon as they came in."

Zhang Yang crouched down, his gaze level with Mao Dayong, who was huddled in the back seat: "Say the name, be clear, who is it?"

"Chen Bing, and Liao Xing."

"Do they have a car?"

"We have... a Jeep and a Santana, both of which were picked up from me. The license plates haven't been put on yet."

After hearing this, Old Zheng turned around and ran towards the door, shouting, "Quick, let's go!"

Everyone rushed back to the car, and before the engine was even fully started, messages were already popping up on the walkie-talkie.

"Targets spotted, in the direction of Doujiazhuang, a green Jeep and a black Santana."

Yang Zhen also reported: "The bank on Chunming Road was robbed, and the suspect fled in a car towards Bailushan, which matches the characteristics of the current target."

"Target under interception. All units, move towards Bailu Mountain to encircle the target."

The convoy spread out on the mountain road. Zhang Yang gripped the steering wheel, feeling the road surface turn from asphalt to gravel, the undercarriage of the car rattling as flying stones hit it. The mountain road ahead grew narrower and narrower, flanked by dense bushes and exposed rock walls. Far from any residential area, there were no streetlights, only dust kicked up by the wheels swirling in the headlight beams.

The robbers' jeep was forced into a dead end. Two men jumped out of the vehicle, one holding an AK-74 and the other a replica Type 54 pistol, and made a final stand against the jeep.

Zhang Yang pushed open the passenger door and got out, using the door as cover, and braced his gun with both hands. In his crosshairs, the gunman with the AK was turning and running behind the rocks. Zhang Yang pressed his wrist down in advance, taking the lead, and held his breath.

"Bang!"

The gunfire of the May Fourth Movement exploded in the valley, the echoes reverberating outwards in layers. A bullet struck the gunman in the back, and he stumbled forward two steps. The AK flew out of his hand, smashed into the gravel, and he fell face down to the ground, motionless.

Almost simultaneously, Lao Zheng and Yang Zhen fired their guns. Lao Zheng's bullet struck the other gunman's right arm, while Yang Zhen's bullet pierced his calf. The imitation Type 54 pistol fell from his hand, spun twice on the ground, and came to rest next to a clump of withered grass.

The man knelt down on one knee, struggling to reach for the gun, but Ding Jian rushed forward and kicked the gun away. He then pressed his knee against the man's back and slammed the handcuffs on with a click.

On the way back, it was already dawn. There were very few cars on the highway, and outside the window was the endless morning mist over the North China Plain, with the gray-blue light of day slowly creeping up from the horizon.

Chang Baole was driving, and Zhang Yang was sitting in the passenger seat, with a bag of Yanzhao fried pancakes wrapped in a plastic bag on his lap. He broke apart the disposable chopsticks, scraped off the splinters, and then shoveled the food into his mouth, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's.

Tian Rui leaned over from the back seat, her eyes wide as she watched Zhang Yang wolf down his food: "Are you a reincarnated starving ghost? How can you eat so much?"

Zhang Yang, his mouth stuffed full, mumbled, "I've been starving all night. This fried pancake is really good." He held up the bag of fried pancakes and waved it at Tian Rui in the back seat, "Where did you buy this? Will you have any for tomorrow morning?"

Tian Rui burst out laughing, and everyone on the bus laughed too.