Chapter 164 Settled

Chapter 164: The Dust Settles

United States.

Zhao Mingshi parked his car by the garage, got out, and walked toward the villa’s front door. Just as he reached for his keys to unlock it, someone suddenly grabbed him from behind, spun him around, and slammed him against the door.

Zhao Mingshi was startled at first—thinking he was being robbed. But once he got a clear look, he immediately relaxed.

Bi Feng ground his teeth, seething: “So *that’s* the ‘big fish’ you were talking about?!”

“You got my brother killed—do you even realize that?!”

“My brother’s been arrested! Our home’s been raided! My parents have cried themselves blind—and you’re standing here acting like nothing happened?!”

Zhao Mingshi had already seen the news from back home and knew exactly what had transpired.

He remained utterly unruffled: “Yes, I introduced the big fish. Wasn’t he a major catch? A businessman of such influence—how many like him exist across all of China? Without me, would you have extracted tens of millions from him in one go?”

“I introduced the person. If things went sideways, that’s on you—not me. Don’t blame me—I didn’t take a single cent from you.”

Bi Feng gripped Zhao Mingshi’s collar tightly, leaned in, jaw clenched: “You think you can weasel your way out of this?”

“If you hadn’t introduced that big fish, would my brother have ever targeted him in the first place?”

“And if he hadn’t targeted him, would provincial authorities—or even central investigators—have been dispatched to interrogate my brother?!”

Zhao Mingshi stayed calm and indifferent: “It’s *him* who got arrested—not you. Who are you putting on this show for?”

“If I hadn’t taught you—told you about Swiss banks where money could be laundered without leaving a trace back home—would you have transferred all that cash so easily?”

“So your brother got arrested—wasn’t it inevitable, sooner or later? Did you really believe your family could go on indefinitely with your brother playing local kingpin in some remote mountain village, living high off the hog forever?”

He added, “Anyway—the money’s in your hands now, and you’ve got your green card. Why bother with what’s happening back home?”

“Take the money and enjoy yourself. Now you don’t even have your brother bossing you around.”

“Are you even human?!”

Bi Feng roared, raised his fist, and swung at Zhao Mingshi.

Zhao Mingshi took several blows—sustaining cuts and bruises on his face—but couldn’t have cared less.

He didn’t care whether Jiang Luo had fallen this time or not, though he suspected, given the scale of Major Case 113, Jiang Luo couldn’t possibly have emerged unscathed.

Any misfortune befalling Jiang Luo—even something as trivial as tripping and falling—would bring him genuine satisfaction.

The only complication was Bi Feng. Zhao Mingshi figured he’d try persuading him again—calm him down, send him on his way—and then everything would settle.

But unexpectedly, Bi Feng never returned. Zhao Mingshi waited a few days; when no one showed up, he quickly dismissed Bi Feng—and his ill-fated brother—from his mind, resuming his carefree life in the U.S.

What Zhao Mingshi didn’t know was that, when Bi Feng was apprehended in California, confronted by a tall, grim-faced man who looked like he’d come to end his life, Bi Feng recoiled in terror, staring at the man and stammering incoherently: “It wasn’t me—it wasn’t me!”

“It was Zhao Mingshi—yes, Zhao Mingshi—a classmate of mine!”

“He’s the one who said he’d introduce me to a big fish—yes, a big fish!”

“Don’t kill me—don’t kill me! I’ll give you money—I have money…”

—

Back in China, in Haicheng, Zhao Guangyuan received a serious disciplinary sanction and was temporarily suspended from his post. Unable to go to work, he stayed home—but far from upset, he was actually delighted.

Because he’d received a gift box sent by Jiang Luo.

At home, while looking after Zhao Shuo’s daughter Yan Yan, he happily opened the box and told her, “Yan Yan, this is from your uncle.”

Yan Yan asked curiously, “What is it?”

Inside lay a large box filled with plump sea cucumbers.

“Wow—caterpillars!”

Unfamiliar with them, Yan Yan clapped her hands gleefully. “Such big caterpillars—and they’re dark-colored too!”

Zhao Guangyuan chuckled, correcting her: “These are sea cucumbers.”

“Grandpa will make you some sea cucumber porridge, okay?”

“Okay~!”

Where was Jiang Luo at that moment?

In Beijing, at No. 61 Pudu Temple Front Alley.

The courtyard residence bore no resemblance to the garden-style home in Suzhou—it was square-shaped, divided into multiple sections of rooms. The courtyard held no bamboo groves or rockeries—only neatly laid bricks, clean and tidy.

Jiang Luo was playing with a German Shepherd. Not far away, Huo Zongzhuo sat in a rattan chair in the courtyard, while a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a cashmere sweater sat with his back to Jiang Luo.

The man spoke steadily to Huo Zongzhuo: “I’ve advised you long ago—you possess both ambition and ability. Limiting yourself to business alone is a waste of your talents.”

“This time in Guizhou’s mountains—you saw it with your own eyes.”

“The land is barren, the people impoverished—and yet a large group of oil-siphoning rats still thrives…”

Jiang Luo heard every word, crystal clear. He paid no attention, tossing a ball and continuing to play with the German Shepherd.

A few days later, Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo flew back to Haicheng.

On the plane, Jiang Luo casually brought it up: “Are you considering a different path?”

“Hmm.”

Huo Zongzhuo offered little else.

After a pause, he said, “I’m worried you’ll be overwhelmed managing the business alone.”

“How could I be alone?”

Jiang Luo’s tone was light: “We’ll hire people. The company isn’t just me.”

“Besides, few businesses are meant to last forever.”

“In a couple of years, when the market shifts, some businesses will inevitably need to pivot—or even be sold off.”

“You know I’ve invested in quite a few companies over the past two years.”

“Compared to profits from physical enterprises, investment returns are higher—and easier.”

“In the future, I might focus more on investing than running factories.”

This meant telling Huo Zongzhuo not to worry too much and to do whatever he wanted.

"Yeah," he said.

Huo Zongzhuo still didn't say much at this point.

He slung an arm around Jiang Luo's shoulder. "No rush, take it step by step."

"First, just focus on healing and getting better. Don't worry about anything else for now."

After returning to Haicheng, Jiang Luo stayed home, recuperating from his injuries, with Huo Zongzhuo keeping him company. They remained at the house on Wukang Road. If there was work to be done, it was either handled over the phone or by having Secretary Wen run some errands.

One day, Wang Junqing was back from abroad.

As soon as he was back, Wang Junqing handed a manila envelope to Huo Zongzhuo, who was sitting on the sofa with Jiang Luo.

"What's this?" asked Jiang Luo.

Jiang Luo was eating fruit while watching TV.

Huo Zongzhuo unsealed the envelope, and Jiang Luo leaned over to take a look. Inside were several bank cards and a few documents.

"Bi Kang's overseas accounts."

Huo Zongzhuo explained, "He's clever—probably had someone guide him. He moved the money through underground banks, first to Hong Kong, then to Swiss banks, to launder."

"How much?"

Huo Zongzhuo asked Wang Junqing.

Wang Junqing replied, "About 600 million yuan."

Jiang Luo raised an eyebrow. "That fat bastard."

Then he asked Huo Zongzhuo, "Shouldn't these be turned over to the government?"

"Yeah."

Huo Zongzhuo put everything back into the folder.

"By the way, there's one more thing," Wang Junqing added.

Wang Junqing said, "Bi Kang's younger brother, Bi Feng, said that 'Fat Fish' was introduced by one of his classmates."

Introduced?

Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo exchanged glances.

So, Bi Kang was out in the boonies—what are the odds that someone would target Huo Zongzhuo specifically?

"Who?"

"What's the name?" Huo Zongzhuo asked calmly.

Wang Junqing didn't answer immediately but instead looked at Jiang Luo.

Jiang Luo was quick on the uptake. "Someone I know?"

"Yes."

Only then did Wang Junqing say, "It's Zhao Mingshi."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Luo lost all appetite for fruit. He slammed the fruit plate down on the coffee table and leaned back, pissed.

Damn.

Jiang Luo cursed inwardly: Trash.

Huo Zongzhuo was just as taken aback. So, after all this, the mastermind wasn't a stranger at all.

Huo Zongzhuo glanced at Jiang Luo, reached out, and gently held his hand. Then he turned to Wang Junqing and asked, "Zhao Mingshi is in the U.S., right?"

"Make another trip—"

"No need to go. I'll handle it," Jiang Luo cut in.

Both Huo Zongzhuo and Wang Junqing looked at him.

Jiang Luo draped his legs over the coffee table, his expression blank as he stared at the TV. His voice was icy. "He gave me such a 'generous' gift, sarcastically. How could I not send something back?"

Two months later, just after the Spring Festival, in a courtroom in Guiyang, all the court officers were in their places, and the public seating was packed. The case being tried that day involved the main perpetrator of last year's Case 113: Bi Kang, the former county commissioner of Hexu County, Bimu City.

Bi Kang, dressed in prison uniform and handcuffed, was escorted into the courtroom. He showed no signs of remorse or despair—instead, he seemed unfazed, even composed.

Several members of the press in the front row of the gallery captured this scene with their cameras.

The trial followed standard procedure. The facts were clear, the evidence solid, and Bi Kang pleaded guilty to all charges. Ultimately, the judge sentenced him to life imprisonment and deprived him of his political rights for life.

As everyone in the courtroom stood to hear the verdict, Bi Kang stood tall in the defendant's dock, his head held high. His expression showed no fear or surrender—instead, there was a hint of haughtiness, as if he refused to bow to fate.

Only his parents, seated in the gallery, burst into tears upon hearing the verdict, drawing sideways looks from those around them.

Bi Kang remained unfazed, not even glancing at his parents. Clearly, life imprisonment meant nothing to him.

He had been an official, lived large, and in his mind, he had no regrets—none at all.

Until—

Just as he was about to be led away, his eyes swept across the gallery and landed on a figure standing in the back row:

Jiang Luo, hands in his pockets, looked at him with a smirk. The usual cocky grin he often wore now held a clear note of ridicule.

That expression seemed to say: See? Gotcha. Still want to point that gun at me?

Didn’t expect that, did you? I took a bullet, but I didn’t die.

Of course, I didn’t die.

You’re the one who’s done.

Jiang Luo even tilted his chin slightly toward Bi Kang’s parents in the front row, silently mouthing the words: I can still come after them.

Bi Kang’s calm demeanor instantly twisted into one of fury. He glared in Jiang Luo’s direction and screamed: "I’ll fuck your mother! Fuck your mother!!"

It’s all because of you!

It's all your fault!!!

Jiang Luo curled his lips into a smile as he looked at him.

Weren’t you fearless, indifferent, free of regret, and emotionless?

So you do have them after all.

Bi Kang, furious and scowling, struggled against the law enforcement officers restraining him. As cameras frantically recorded the scene, he screamed curses in Jiang Luo’s direction, his face twisted with rage, as if he wanted nothing more than to charge over and tear Jiang Luo apart with his own hands.

Jiang Luo had already sauntered away unhurriedly, leaving Bi Kang with a carefree, sloppy back, and even waved his hand: Bye-bye now~~