Before heading out, Wang Xiaoqiang had warned Xia Guifang that the Provincial Capital was in chaos, and soon his words came to fruition. As they made their way back to the Yijia Hotel, they passed through a particularly desolate stretch of road when a group of motorcycles roared up from behind, their engines thundering, assaulting the eardrums.
Just as they turned to look, two motorcycles sped to the front and screeched to a halt. The tires made a piercing noise against the pavement, and after braking, the bikes turned to block the road across the lanes, cutting off their path ahead.
The next two motorcycles that had been speeding along pulled up sharply beside Wang Xiaoqiang and Xia Guifang, the friction squeal forcing Xia Guifang to cover her ears.
Two more stopped behind them. On one of these, a large-bellied man was riding pillion, his face hidden inside a helmet, indiscernible.
Six motorcycles had them hemmed in.
