The anticipated explosion didn't come.
"The bombs were buried at the former location of Heng'an Orphanage, from where the building used to be, all the way to the back courtyard," Luo Wenzhou said. "We've already dismantled them.—Director Zhang, the orphanage has also been dismantled for many years. No matter how much you hated it, this place has changed. What meaning does it have now?"
Zhang Chunjiu slowly lowered the hand holding up the detonator.
Luo Wenzhou pressed his earpiece with one hand. Though he would have loved nothing better than to dive through the phone, he still had to divide his attention and deal with the person in front of him. "It's all over, Director Zhang."
There was a faint smile at the corners of Zhang Chunjiu's lips. "Oh, really?"
Luo Wenzhou realized something was wrong. The next instant, a heatwave exploded. An enormous sound rendered him temporarily deaf, and something hit his bulletproof vest. Someone seemed to be pushing him. His pupils contracted rapidly at a powerful light—the "Zhang Chunling" hidden among the crowd behind Zhang Chunjiu had exploded!
Unidentifiable pieces of flesh and blood flew through the fire. A person raising his hands in surrender had been standing next to the human bomb; one of his raised arms disappeared without a trace, and half of his face caught fire. Maybe he was scared witless; he stood unmoving where he was and began to shriek.
All the bulletproof shields rose at once. The well-trained special police quickly broke away and sought cover. Zhang Chunjiu fell forward heavily onto the ground. His back seemed to be on fire, burning painfully. Raised earth and stones spurted right towards him. He saw the police come together in confusion. His ears thundered. He couldn't hear anything. He could feel the exquisite explosion from the tremors in the earth.
The smells of blood and gun smoke were chokingly thick. The only imperfection was that the much-renovated surface of the ground had changed, changed into some mixture of asphalt, cement, and rubber…not the stinking mud that it had been back then.
In all his dreams, Zhang Chunjiu could smell the stink of that mud, because his head had been stamped into it more than once when he'd been young. The hatred engraved in his memory came with it, permeating the mud like a toxin. Now, having passed through so many years, the venom at last exploded like a gushing oil well.
Apart from the fat man dressed up as Zhang Chunling, he'd had five people with him. Each person had a secret little strongbox on him. Zhang Chunjiu had told them that these contained cash and gold bars for emergency use, had them divide them up amongst themselves and carry them with them. The fake Zhang Chunling didn't need to personally carry a bag, so the explosives had been hidden in the stuffing at his underbelly.
He'd had two plans. If he couldn't detonate the bombs underground, the bombs on those five people would still be enough to blow this place sky high—with the police on the scene all serving as sacrificial victims. Faced with a pile of body parts, the medical examiners would have had to work overtime until the Lantern Festival to separate them out, and Zhang Chunling would have escaped long ago.
He'd planned well.
Most importantly, this way, he could happily go to his death, not fall into the hands of the police and suffer their interrogations and trials.
They weren't qualified—no one on earth was qualified to judge his crimes.
Zhang Chunjiu, lying prostrate on the ground, turned his head slightly to look in the direction of the sports park. The small practice field looked back at him peacefully and quietly through the guard rail. Then the practice field gradually dissolved, turning into the metal fence surrounding the old courtyard. Those children stared at him silently, lifelessly, like a row of sinister little ghosts.
He smiled at them.
Just then, Zhang Chunjiu's chest went hollow. The illusion of the old courtyard walls and the little ghosts dissipated at once. He was roughly pulled up off the ground. Zhang Chunjiu's eyes were still dazed. For a moment he couldn't understand what had happened. Something closed onto his wrist. Luo Wenzhou, clutching his collar, was roaring something. Zhang Chunjiu instantly opened his eyes wide and realized something was wrong.
The trembling of the earth had stopped!
Zhang Chunjiu found the strength somewhere to struggle out of Luo Wenzhou's grip and suddenly turn around—apart from the fake Zhang Chunling, the other five "bombs" were all mute! Those cowards had taken shelter here and there, shivering, not paying attention to the suitcases they were carrying. One of the suitcases had fallen and opened. Waste paper and stones fell out from inside it. The bomb that had originally been in there had vanished!
Most of the old newspapers stuffed into the suitcase had already burned up in the fire. A corner of one of them floated in front of Zhang Chunjiu's eyes. There was still some faintly distinguishable writing on it. The date was fourteen years ago, and the article was about the fire at The Louvre—
Zhang Chunjiu began to roar and was pressed against the ground by the policemen surging up.
Luo Wenzhou handcuffed Zhang Chunjiu and immediately left him to his colleagues. He raised a hand to feel a little scratch on his forehead, then returned the call that had dropped just now. It didn't connect. Tao Ran's phone was turned off!
Tao Ran had spent a long time trying struggle free of his nightmares. When he'd woken and seen that it was still pitch black outside, he hadn't known how long he'd been unconscious. Panicked and confused, his first reaction had been to grab his phone and call Luo Wenzhou. But when he'd just connected, before he had time to say anything, there'd been a huge sound on the other end. Tao Ran's hand had trembled in fright, and he'd rolled right off his chair, knocking the battery out of his phone. As a half-immobilized injured person, Tao Ran had had to exert enormous strength to turn himself over, crawling over the floor feeling around everywhere for the parts of his phone.
Luo Wenzhou called six times without connecting. Remembering how Tao Ran had said "Fei Du" without any follow-up, his chest was about to explode. For a moment, his mind was blank.
His colleagues next to him had already quickly searched the suspects for other inflammable and explosive materials. A police officer ran over. "Captain Luo, there's one dead and one seriously injured. The dead person seems to be Zhang Chunling. It's likely he was carrying the explosive."
Luo Wenzhou's fingers almost subconsciously hung up and redialed. "Impossible. Zhang Chunling couldn't be the first to become a human bomb. And just now that fat guy didn't say a single word. That doesn't seem like Zhang Chunling's style. It was a front."
"Huh? A front?" His colleague was confused. With a rather complicated expression, he looked over to where Zhang Chunjiu had been shoved into a police car not far off. "You're saying that Director Zhang… No, Zhang… Whoever, that he personally lured us away to shield Zhang Chunling? So where has Zhang Chunling gone?"
Luo Wenzhou had no attention to spare to answer—the seventh call had connected!
Tao Ran was sitting collapsed onto the ground, feeling he hardly looked human. Panting, he said to Luo Wenzhou, "Fei Du…Fei Du drugged me, I…I don't know where he's gone…"
As Tao Ran spoke, he turned his head to look. The computer he'd used to look into Hao Zhenhua was turned on. Under the screen were a walkie-talkie and his other phone—many police officers normally used two phones, a personal phone and one provided by their employers, normally used specifically for work.
"He touched my computer, walkie-talkie, and work phone before he left." Dragging his cast-encased leg, Tao Ran moved with difficulty, shifting over next to the chair and going to the computer. "Just now… Your pursuit of Director Zhang, and those status updates Zhang Donglai posted… That bastard!"
Tao Ran tried to climb into the chair but failed. He really couldn't resist bursting out into a curse that might not be heard from him once in twenty years. "Those photographs Zhang Donglai posted were wrong, he didn't post them for us to see, he…"
Luo Wenzhou's nerves had been concentrated on Zhang Chunjiu. He hadn't had time to think carefully. Hearing the thread of Tao Ran's conversation now, he came around and swiftly raised his head, looking at Zhang Chunjiu. The blood that had poured from Zhang Chunjiu's ears had already dried. Through the car window, he was looking coldly at him.
Zhang Chunjiu must have mentioned Fei Du just now in order to distract him, to smooth the way for the explosion…but why had it been Fei Du he'd brought up? Who had those two photographs posted under Zhang Donglai's username been for? Where was Zhang Chunling?
Also…when Zhang Chunjiu had been preparing this drama for so long, it shouldn't have ended with only one dead and one seriously injured. Where were the other bombs? Why hadn't they gone off?
A few police officers urgently clearing the scene were rushing here and there gathering the scraps of newspaper that had fallen out of the suitcase. Luo Wenzhou looked over and instantly understood something. Not waiting for Tao Ran to speak, he hung up the phone and, gritting his teeth, dialed another number. "Hello—Director—Lu. How—are—you?"
Fei Du was shaken awake. When he'd just recovered a bit of awareness, he was picked up and thrown out of the car. It was dim all around, and he was unsteady on his feet. As soon as they touched the ground, he stumbled. He couldn't use his arms, which were tied behind his back, to keep his balance. He fell rather awkwardly to the ground.
The smell of the blood sticking to him made him want to throw up, and Fei Du had no interest in struggling. He simply rolled over where he'd fallen and laughed.
The driver who had grabbed him couldn't stand to watch his arrogance. He kicked him in the chest. "What are you laughing at!"
Fei Du really wasn't remarkable for physical strength. At the kick, he flew a length over the ground and immediately began to cough. His blood-soaked hair covered one of his eyes. After a good while, he finally caught his breath. He quietly sighed with emotion and said, "How truly barbaric. Teacher Fan, this good subordinate of yours has been pawing at me the whole way. It's anti-intellectual, and truly in poor taste."
Hearing these lines, the "barbarian" immediately stepped forward, planning to let him know what pawing truly meant. Just then, not far off there was a frail-sounding cough. A sickly male voice spoke. "Enough, don't give him something to laugh about."
Hearing these words, in the blink of an eye, the barbaric kidnapping driver turned from a teeth-grinding, blood-sucking wild beast into a domesticated animal. He agreed obediently and retreated a few steps.
Fei Du turned his head with difficulty and saw a woman come over pushing a wheelchair—if Luo Wenzhou had been there, he could have recognized the woman as the front desk receptionist who had passed him a note at the Great Fortune Building.
And sitting in the wheelchair was a man. His skeleton was holding up his big frame with difficulty, but he had lost weight dramatically. He was wearing a plain knit cap on his head, and his neck was feebly turned to one side. He was watching Fei Du with a smile that wasn't quite a smile…
Despite the bold mark this man had left in the depths of his consciousness, Fei Du nearly didn't recognize him.