There are many kinds of death.
The interrogation room was dimly lit, but Zhang Cheng's smile was unusually gentle as he looked at Zhong Te as if they were having a casual conversation.
"For example, feigning death."
He tapped lightly on the cold armrest of the interrogation chair; the sound was soft, but his words were clear.
“Deputy Director Zhong, you were right about something before. With our current strength, it would be humiliating to try to compete with someone like Zhong Yaodang who was born in Rome.”
"Since that's the case, let's go along with him."
"Didn't he want me dead?"
The playful smile on Zhang Cheng's lips slowly widened.
"Then I'll die to show him."
"The biggest characteristics of this kind of spoiled brat who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth are arrogance and impatience. As soon as he hears that I'm 'dead,' he can't stand staying in this wretched place, Funing, for even a day. Once he's gone, and I'm 'alive' again, won't everything be wonderful?"
Zhong Te's eyelids twitched violently. He stared intently at Zhang Cheng, as if scrutinizing a madman.
"You think you're so clever! If he finds out I helped you put on an act, do you think he'll let me live?"
"Then let's make the act as realistic as possible, so that he can't find any fault with it."
Zhang Cheng slowly stood up and moved his wrists, which were a little numb from being handcuffed.
"You don't naively think he'd stay interested in how tall the grass is on a 'dead man' like me, do you?"
He walked step by step to Zhong Te, his gaze deep and penetrating, as if he could see into people's hearts.
“Deputy Director Zhong, as long as we put on this show flawlessly, perhaps by the time he comes to his senses, you and I will be figures he needs to look up to.”
"Oh!"
Zhong Te let out a disdainful sneer; he didn't believe such nonsense at all.
However, Zhang Cheng precisely ignited the suppressed ambition deep in his eyes.
He looked at the man in front of him, who, despite being a prisoner, seemed to be in control of everything.
After a long silence, Zhong Te's eyes hardened, and he squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth.
"Okay! We'll do it your way!"
"It's a pleasure to cooperate with you." Zhang Cheng extended his hand.
"I hope so."
Zhong Te, with a cold face, did not shake the hand, but turned around and opened the iron gate.
...
Duty room.
Hu Bingyang stubbed out his third cigarette, finally made up his mind, and picked up the phone.
This matter must be reported to Zhao Daming immediately, otherwise, once Zhang Chengzhen gets into trouble, he, as the director, will be the first to be skinned alive!
However, the moment his fingers touched the dial—
"Help! Help! Something's happened!"
A shrill, terrified scream suddenly erupted from the end of the corridor!
Hu Bingyang was jolted awake and rushed out of the duty room, where he saw Zhong Te carrying Zhang Cheng, who was limp and pale, like he was carrying a tattered sack, and rushing out like a madman.
A streak of blood still clung to the corner of Zhang Cheng's mouth.
What's going on?!
Hu Bingyang's mind went blank for a moment, and he rushed forward in three steps, grabbing Zhong Te's shoulder, his voice trembling.
"Zhong Te! What happened to Zhang Cheng?!"
"His old injury has flared up again! He... he seems to have internal bleeding! He's passed out!" Zhong Te shouted in a hoarse voice, his face full of panic.
Hu Bingyang gasped, then a surge of anger rushed to his head, and he roared, "You fucking tortured him?!"
"Director Hu! Is this the time to talk about this? If we don't get him to the hospital soon, he'll die!" Zhong Te was sweating profusely and struggled to break free from Hu Bingyang.
"Yes, yes, yes! Quick! Get him to the hospital! Ambulance!"
Hu Bingyang completely lost his composure and watched helplessly as Zhong Te, carrying Zhang Cheng, rushed out of the police station like a mad bull.
He paced back and forth anxiously, then stomped his foot, turned around, rushed back to the duty room, grabbed the phone, and dialed Zhao Daming.
The call was answered almost instantly, and Zhao Daming's signature loud voice came through.
"Old Hu, what's up?"
"Zhong...Zhong Te arrested Zhang Cheng!" Hu Bingyang's voice trembled.
"What?! What the hell is going on?! I'm coming right now!"
"Da Ming, no, Director Zhao!" Hu Bingyang cried out with a mournful face, "It's too late! Zhang Cheng's old injury just flared up, causing massive bleeding, and he's already passed out! Zhong Te just took him to the hospital!"
"Hu Bingyang! I'll curse your ancestors!"
On the other end of the phone, Zhao Daming's roar almost shattered Hu Bingyang's eardrums.
"You just wait, you motherfucker! I'm not done with you yet!"
Hu Bingyang's face turned black, and a surge of anger shot from the soles of his feet to his head.
So what if you're a deputy director? Does that give you the right to point your finger at my ancestors and insult them?
The police officer in the institute shit on my head, and now you're digging up my ancestral graves...
"Zhao Daming!" Hu Bingyang's long-suppressed anger erupted instantly. He roared into the microphone, "Can't you fucking be reasonable?! Did I order Zhong Te to arrest him? He acted on his own initiative, what the fuck could I do? You're so great, go and kill Zhong Te right now! Damn it, every day, everyone, human or ghost, comes to yell at me, do you really think I'm made of clay?!"
"Bang!"
Hu Bingyang slammed the phone down.
Cool!
This is the best I've ever felt!
But his pleasure lasted less than three seconds before his face fell again, and he slumped into the chair.
He might have felt good cursing, but that bastard Zhao Daming would definitely make things difficult for him next...
...
In the darkness of night, a motorcycle sped wildly through the empty streets like an arrow released from a bow.
The police officers following behind, riding their old-fashioned bicycles, pedaled with all their might, but could only watch helplessly as the motorcycle's taillights disappeared around the corner.
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