Wen Zhaoye searched several streets without success, and stood there, drenched in sweat.
His eyes were slightly red as he stared at the flashing neon signs around him, the fear in his heart overwhelming him and consuming all his reason.
He couldn't imagine what would happen if Wen Jiaojiao got into trouble, nor could he imagine how he would face the rest of his life in this city where he had no relatives or friends, if the police couldn't solve the case.
He suppressed his discomfort and continued walking forward, when suddenly he noticed Wang Daqing, who was slumped asleep at the entrance of the alley.
A clear, cold glint flashed in his eyes as he stepped forward and discovered that this spot offered a perfect view of the hotel.
Wang Daqing felt a light kick to his leg. When he groggily opened his eyes, he heard a deep voice:
"Did you notice anything happening at the hotel while you were sleeping here tonight?"
Wen Zhaoye was tall and imposing, his head slightly lowered, his handsome face half-hidden in the darkness, with the red light from the opposite side visible on the other side. He exuded a sinister and eerie aura.
Wang Daqing turned pale, cried out in alarm, and scrambled to his feet:
"I don't know anything, don't get me into trouble. My mom did all the bad things, if you want to find someone, go find her."
A flicker of realization crossed Wen Zhaoye's dark eyes. He decisively raised his foot and, just as the boy was getting up, brutally pressed it against his cheek, his voice chilling as he said:
"Explain yourself clearly, what bad thing did you do?"
A burning pain shot through Wang Daqing's face. Having done so many wrong things, he was too terrified to open his eyes, and whimpered:
"I don't know, I don't know anything. My mom made me become a human trafficker. Please, go find her. Whether you kill her or torture her, I won't say a word."
Unable to find anyone for a long time, Wen Zhaoye's anxiety fueled a surge of violent impulses that coursed through his body.
His eyes flashed with a sinister light as he released his foot. Just as Wang Daqing scrambled to his feet to grab the brick, he snatched it away and brought it crashing down on his head, roaring:
"Will you tell or not?"
A stream of scarlet blood slid down Wang Daqing's forehead to the tip of his nose. He collapsed to the ground in pain, groaning:
“I said, but I don’t know which girl you’re looking for? Is it Nana? Or Ya Wen or Song Qin?”
Wen Zhaoye's dark eyes were like sharp swords in the night, and he exuded a cold and ruthless aura as he looked down at Wang Daqing:
Who are you keeping an eye on here?
Wang Daqing gasped in pain, his breathing trembling:
“I didn’t catch that girl. My wife told me that she took a package from the front desk and never came out again.”
Wen Zhaoye noticed that he and his boss spoke in unison, but he still felt that people couldn't just disappear without a reason.
A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes, and he said in a harsh voice:
Tell me in more detail.
Wang Daqing's face was covered in blood, his eyes were seeing stars, and he was gasping for breath from the pain:
"However...however, a little while later, a woman with a missing arm, walking with her toes pointing outwards, and with large red spots on her face came out of the hotel."
Now, ask the boss if they've served this person; that should tell you if it was Jiaojiao in disguise.
But if she's safe, why didn't she come back at night? Or did she run into another group of human traffickers?
Wen Zhaoye realized this and felt increasingly uneasy. He glanced sideways at Wang Daqing, who was crawling out.
His sinister eyes darkened, and his grip on the brick tightened. As he drew closer, his shadow enveloped Wang Daqing like the darkness of night.
Wang Daqing was filled with fear, his pupils trembling as he stared at the brick that suddenly loomed larger before him.
With a loud "bang," a sharp pain shot through his forehead. He didn't even have the strength to howl; his whimpers were as weak as those of a newborn animal.
A surge of uncontrollable rage welled up within Wen Zhaoye, yet his voice grew increasingly low as he spoke:
Where is your gang?
"Red Rice Village...the end of the village." Wang Daqing weakly finished speaking the last sentence before completely fainting from the pain.
Wen Zhaoye glanced menacingly at the blood-stained brick in his hand. The next second, his eyes darkened, and as if venting his anger, he slammed the brick into the ground and turned to leave.
"It would be better if he were dead."
The alleyway was so silent and dark that even the moonlight could not penetrate it. The bricks lay in pools of scarlet blood, their surfaces evenly covered with crimson.
The boss and the group of police officers were all startled when they saw Wen Zhaoye walk back, looking menacing and covered in blood.
The policeman instinctively raised his gun, and the shop owner took a step back in fear, his lips trembling as he said:
"What...what did you go to do?"
Wen Zhaoye ignored him and continued speaking to the police:
"I just caught a human trafficker. He attacked me with a brick. To save my life, I snatched the brick from his hand and hit him on the head."
But he still wouldn't let me go, so I knocked him unconscious. He's currently at the entrance of the alley diagonally opposite, while his accomplices are at the end of Hongmi Village.
The police officers, somewhat suspicious, put away their guns, then exchanged glances. One group ran out the door, while the other said:
"Come with us to the police station."
Wen Zhaoye followed them out, then, remembering this incident, paused and turned back, saying:
"Is there a woman with a missing arm living here?"
"No, no," the boss waved his hand nervously.
"Then don't touch my room," Wen Zhaoye said as a final instruction, before turning and disappearing into the night.
The first light of dawn was breaking.
Wen Jiaojiao stood inside the factory, listlessly busy with her work.
She only had three tasks: fold each piece of clothing, stack them together, tie them with rope, and then He Chunya would be responsible for pulling them away.
Who else but me is the modern-day corporate slave?
As long as nothing goes up in price, I only need to work for six or seven years to build a small house. There's still something to look forward to in the future.
My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!
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