I slept with my sister's classmate, and she turned out to be my boss.

After Fang Zhiwen left, Qian Cheng pondered for a long time.

Walk--

Secretary Fang told him to leave.

Can we stay?

Of course not, Fang Zhiwen has already made his point clear.

escape--

It was his only way out.

He went into the bedroom and took out an envelope from the bedside table drawer—it contained 20,000 yuan.

He had taken this out earlier as a precaution, but he never expected that the worst would happen so soon.

After escaping, using cash is much safer than making a physical payment.

After everything was packed up, he sent a message to his wife.

"I'll be away on a business trip for a week, don't worry about me."

He didn't know how long he had been gone or where he was going, so he could only send such an ambiguous message to reassure his wife.

Before leaving, he looked around the house, wondering if he would ever be able to come back.

He sighed deeply and walked towards the door.

Just as he was about to open the door, he turned back and took out a USB drive from the drawer under the coffee table. It contained records of projects he had handled over the past few years.

He stuffed the USB drive into the inner compartment of his backpack, zipped it up, and went out the door.

As he went downstairs, he ran into a neighbor who was walking his dog back home.

"Director Qian, you're out so early?"

"Yes, on a business trip."

Qian Cheng didn't say much and quickly walked towards the parking lot.

He drove a black Passat, the town's public bus, which he had been using for three years.

I opened the car door, got in, started the engine, shifted gears, and stepped on the gas. The car drove out of the residential area and merged into the main road.

From Liuhe Town to the provincial capital, the entire journey is on the expressway and takes a little over two hours.

Qian Cheng gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, but his mind was in turmoil.

Fang Zhiwen said, "You go in, I'll stay outside..."

Over the years, Fang Zhiwen has treated him well, and he remembers everything he has done for him.

But "not bad" and "taking the blame for you" are two different things.

When Fang Zhiwen asked him to shoulder the burden, was he treating him as a brother or as a pawn to be discarded?

he does not know.

But he had no other choice.

The car turned onto the highway entrance ramp.

In the distance, he saw two police cars in front of the tollbooth.

One vehicle was blocking the entrance to the toll station, while another was parked in the emergency lane next to the ramp.

The police lights on the roof of the car flashed in the morning mist, alternating between red and blue, dazzling the eyes.

Several police officers wearing reflective vests stood on both sides of the tollbooth entrance, one of whom was waving at him to signal him to slow down.

Qian Cheng's heart sank.

He instinctively slammed on the brakes, and the car's speed dropped sharply.

He wanted to turn around, but the ramp was only two lanes wide, and cars behind him were already blocking his way out...

Qian Cheng sat in the driver's seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel, trembling uncontrollably. A thought flashed through his mind: It's over...

He stared at the person standing at the tollbooth exit ahead—Zhao Gang.

He was wearing a dark jacket, no hat, and holding a document holder in his hand. He stood there, motionless.

The two looked at each other for a moment through the windshield.

Zhao Gang raised his hand, signaling him to pull over.

Qian Cheng did not move.

He gestured again.

Qian Cheng's hands trembled even more violently.

A crazy thought flashed through his mind—rush over?

But the road ahead is blocked.

Reversing?

The road behind it was also blocked.

Abandon the car and flee?

Two legs can't outrun a wheel.

Zhao Gang walked over and knocked on the driver's side window.

"Director Qian, please get out of the car."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was very clear.

Qian Cheng sat motionless in the driver's seat.

His hands were still gripping the steering wheel, but his fingers were completely out of control; he couldn't even hold on tightly.

Zhao Gang knocked again.

"Money Prospects".

This time, instead of calling him "Director Qian," he was called by his full name.

Qian Cheng took a deep breath and reached out to open the car door.

The car door opened, and a cool morning breeze blew in.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the driver's seat, and his legs went weak, almost causing him to lose his balance. He had to hold onto the car door to stay upright.

My hands were shaking, my legs were shaking, and I felt completely drained. I even needed external help to stand up.

"Qian Cheng, you are suspected of involvement in a case of intentional assault and are now under criminal detention in accordance with the law. In addition, you are also suspected of other disciplinary and legal violations..."

Zhao Gang didn't take out his handcuffs, he just looked at him.

"Be cooperative."

Qian Cheng lowered his head.

"I see."

He didn't struggle, didn't argue, and didn't even ask "Why are you arresting me?"

Because he knows why.

Zhao Gang winked at the police officer behind him.

Two policemen walked over and stood on either side of Qian Cheng.

"Get in the car."

Qian Cheng turned around and glanced at his car—the door was still open, the backpack was still on the passenger seat, and the engine was still running, emitting a low hum.

He looked at it for a few seconds, but didn't say anything about taking the car keys out or taking the backpack with him.

He turned around and followed the police officer toward the police car.

Every step felt heavy, as if my legs were filled with lead.

Zhao Gang stood there, watching Qian Cheng being led into the police car.

A young policeman walked over and asked, "Captain Zhao, what should we do with his car?"

"Drag it back."

"Where are the things in the car?"

"The photos must be taken regularly, nothing can be omitted."

The young policeman nodded and turned to make the arrangements.

Zhao Gang opened the car door and sat in the passenger seat.

"Walk."

Two police cars drove away from the highway exit, one after the other.

Qian Cheng sat in the back seat with his hands cuffed in front of him.

He looked down at the handcuffs on his knees, metallic and cold, reflecting the light from the car window.

These hands have signed countless contracts, approved countless payments, and stamped countless official seals.

They are now handcuffed together and unable to move.

As the police car entered the county town, he saw familiar streets through the window—

He has lived here for more than ten years, and he knows every shop, every intersection, and every building.

He passes by that vegetable market every day after get off work, and sometimes he stops to buy some vegetables to take home.

He ate at that noodle shop at least twice a week. The owner was very familiar with him and would always give him an extra fried egg.

He didn't know if he would be able to come back again.

The car turned into the police station compound and stopped.

Qian Cheng was taken off the car and escorted to the interrogation room.

He walked down the corridor, head down, not daring to look to either side.

The corridor wasn't long, but it felt like he had walked for a very long time.

The interrogation room door opened, and he was led in and seated in the interrogation chair.

The door closed behind me.

Qian Cheng looked up and glanced at the room—it wasn't big, with a table, three chairs, and a mirror hanging on the wall.

He knew it was a one-way mirror and that someone was watching from behind.

The light from the incandescent bulb shone directly on his face, making him squint.

On the opposite wall, eight large characters are written: "Confess and you will be treated leniently; resist and you will be punished severely."

He stared at those eight characters for a long time.

In the corridor, Zhao Gang came out of the interrogation room, and Ma Jun greeted him.

"Captain Zhao, when will the interrogation begin?"

Zhao Gang glanced at his watch: "Let him wait an hour. Let him think about it himself."

Ma Jun nodded.

Zhao Gang walked to the end of the corridor, opened the window, and lit a cigarette.

The sky outside the window was gray and the clouds were low.

He silently recited a sentence in his mind.

"Fang Zhiwen, you're next."