The Poor School Heartthrob Was Secretly a Financial Titan - Chapter 27

It was a small room of seven or eight square meters, with a wooden bed, a three-legged table, and some broken cardboard boxes piled in the corner. He spent almost half a year in this room, sleeping during the day and doing odd jobs at night. The landlord charged him thirty yuan a month. The room used to be used to store miscellaneous items, and the windows were drafty, so cold in winter that it could wake you up.

I never imagined I’d be back in.

Han Xuetao withdrew his gaze and looked down at the person on the ground.

He Biao stirred, letting out a muffled groan. That electric shock had been quite severe; he wouldn’t wake up for at least ten minutes. Han Xuetao wasn’t in a hurry; he sat down on the bed and waited.

Five or six minutes later, He Biao was fully awake.

He opened his eyes, initially confused, then his expression changed as he saw the scene before him. He tried to move, but found his hands and feet were bound. He struggled a couple of times, but couldn’t budge.

“Awake?” Han Xuetao’s voice was calm.

He Biao stared at him without saying a word. Being a man of the underworld, he knew that shouting wouldn’t do any good; he needed to find out more about the other party first.

“Who the hell are you?” He Biao asked, his voice hoarse. “Do you know who I am?”

“He Biao, Brother Biao,” Han Xuetao said, “one of Qiao Laosi’s men.”

He Biao was taken aback, his wariness deepening: “You know you’re Fourth Brother’s man, yet you still dare to touch me?”

Han Xuetao didn’t respond to that question, but instead asked, “Who were you looking for at the Chunmei Hotel yesterday?”

He Biao’s eyes flickered, but he remained silent.

Han Xuetao stood up, walked to him, and squatted down.

“Tell me, who were you looking for when you went to Chunmei Hotel yesterday?”

He Biao retorted, his neck stiff: “Who you find is none of your business! You fucking—”

Before he could finish speaking, Han Xuetao slapped him across the face.

“Smack!”

He Biao’s face twisted, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Han Xuetao’s voice remained calm, “Who are you looking for?”

He Biao, panting heavily, stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed: “Fine, you’ve got guts. I’ll tell you, find two brats, one named Liu Jun, the other Bao Da. What, you know them?”

Han Xuetao ignored him and continued, “Who told you to find them?”

He Biao fell silent again.

Han Xuetao raised his hand and slapped him again.

He Biao spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes filled with malice: “You fucking have the guts to kill me, or I’ll make your whole family suffer a terrible death—”

Before he could finish speaking, Han Xuetao pulled something out of his waist.

A small hammer, about the length of a palm, with a hammer head on one end and a pointed tip on the other. The pointed end gleamed coldly in the streetlight.

He Biao’s words stuck in his throat.

Han Xuetao pulled up his left leg and propped it up on the three-legged stool next to him. He Biao struggled desperately, but his hands and feet were tightly bound and he couldn’t break free.

“Wait!” He Biao’s voice changed. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

Han Xuetao didn’t stop; the hammer head was pressed against his knee, the pointed end facing down.

“Judge Zhou. Zhou Jianguo.” He Biao spoke rapidly, “He’s the one who told us to find people! He’s the one who ordered the beating of your father!”

Han Xuetao paused for a moment.

He Biao quickly added, “It’s true! Fourth Brother has a grudge against Judge Zhou. His second brother was sentenced to prison by Judge Zhou, and everyone in the underworld knows about it! But this time is different. Judge Zhou came to our door and said he had a deal to make. He promised to get my fourth brother’s second brother out after the deal was done—do you believe it? I don’t know how a judge could get someone out, but Fourth Brother believed it!”

Han Xuetao stared at him without saying a word.

He Biao felt uneasy under his gaze, but kept talking: “Finding those two brats is true, beating your dad is also true. Judge Zhou said he wanted me to do two things: first, find those two brats who extorted his son, and second, teach that old bastard who went back on his word and returned the money a lesson—he’s talking about your dad, right? The one who returned the eight thousand yuan? He said to give him a beating, but not to kill him, just to make that family afraid. Fourth Brother asked me to send someone over.”

After he finished speaking, he looked at Han Xuetao, panting.

Han Xuetao remained silent for a few seconds.

He Biao, thinking he believed him, breathed a sigh of relief: “I already told you, this has nothing to do with me, I was just following orders. Let me go, and I’ll tell Fourth Brother we couldn’t find him—”

Han Xuetao ignored him, his mind racing.

Is Qiao Laosi one of Zhou Jianguo’s men? No. Qiao Laosi’s second brother was indeed imprisoned by Zhou Jianguo, and everyone in the underworld knows the two are enemies. But what He Biao said—that Zhou Jianguo proactively approached him, offering to “get him out” in exchange…

damn it.

What an upright and incorruptible Judge Zhou!

The outside world portrays him as someone who hates evil and shows no mercy to the underworld. But what’s the reality? He secretly colludes with the underworld, using prisoners as bargaining chips, and ordering people to beat up or harass others.

Han Xuetao looked down at He Biao.

He Biao was still rambling on: “…Don’t worry, I’ll pretend this never happened, just let me go—”

Han Xuetao pressed down on his leg with his left hand and raised the small hammer head in his right hand.

He Biao’s words came to an abrupt halt: “What are you doing?!”

“You’re the kind of person who has blood on your hands,” Han Xuetao said. “You know exactly how much blood you’ve spilled.”

He Biao’s face changed: “No! I didn’t!”

Han Xuetao ignored him and brought the hammer down.

“Click”.

The sound of bones breaking was especially clear in the small room.

He Biao screamed, his whole body arched, the veins on his neck bulged, and his mouth opened wide, but he couldn’t make a complete sound.

Han Xuetao released his grip, stood up, and watched him convulse on the ground.

“This is to pay back for my dad.”

He put the small hammer away and walked towards the door.

He Biao curled up on the ground, hugging his left leg, his screams turning into groans, and his groans turning into sobs.

Han Xuetao opened the door and glanced back at him.

“Go back and tell Zhou Jianguo, and Qiao Laosi, that my name is Han Xuetao. Use whatever means you have. I’m waiting.”

The door closed, and the footsteps faded into the distance.

Only He Biao’s wailing could be heard inside the room.

……

At 7:40 a.m., Li Jiquan walked into the Discipline Inspection Commission compound.

I had just sat down behind my desk when the clerk, Xiao Zhou, followed me in, carrying a small stack of letters.

“Secretary Li, here is today’s letter of complaint.”

Li Jiquan nodded: “Put it there.”

Xiao Zhou placed the letter on the corner of the table, left, and closed the door behind him.

Li Jiquan made himself a cup of tea and first dealt with several urgent documents on the table. By the time he finished, it was almost nine o’clock. He picked up his teacup, took a sip, picked up the stack of complaint letters, and began to open them one by one.

The envelopes were all standardized, made of kraft paper, with the words “Letter from the People” printed in red in the upper left corner. Li Jiquan read a lot of these things every day; most were unsubstantiated rumors, a small portion concerned trivial matters, and truly valuable ones were rare, perhaps only a few a year.

The first letter reported that a township official had illegally occupied too much residential land. The second letter accused a section chief in a bureau of using public funds for lavish meals.

When I opened the third envelope, several photos fell out first.

Li Jiquan picked up the photo and frowned.

It was a young man, naked, squatting in a corner in a very indecent posture. The photo was quite clear; his face was directly facing the camera, and his expression was both comical and terrified.

Having worked in the Discipline Inspection Commission for nearly twenty years, receiving photos in whistleblower letters was not uncommon, but they were usually photos of women, or photos of both men and women. A photo of just one young man was truly a first for him.

Li Jiquan put the photo aside and unfolded the letter inside.

The letter was short, handwritten, and crooked, clearly an attempt to conceal the handwriting. The content was simple: Zhou Cheng, son of Zhou Jianguo, the presiding judge of the Criminal Division of the Donglin Intermediate People’s Court, had gambled and incurred a debt of 830,000 yuan. His father, Zhou Jianguo, had used his position to settle the matter for his son. A photocopy of the IOU was attached as evidence.

Li Jiquan paused for a moment, then quickly went to look through the envelope.

Sure enough, there was another piece of paper inside, a photocopy. It read, “Borrowed 830,000 yuan for gambling,” and the borrower’s signature was “Zhou Cheng,” along with a red fingerprint. Below that was another line: “All loans have been repaid.” That line also bore Zhou Cheng’s signature and fingerprint.

Li Jiquan narrowed his eyes.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the photocopy for a long time.

His daughter had just told him about this last night, and today someone sent the photos to the disciplinary committee. What a coincidence!

He picked up the photo and looked at it again. Yes, it was the scene his daughter had described. Several people were naked, squatting, and bending over. Although the letter only included a solo photo of Zhou Cheng, the scene matched.

His years of experience working in the discipline inspection commission told him that this matter was not simple.

First, if the IOU is genuine, 830,000 yuan—how much does Zhou Jianguo, a criminal court presiding judge, earn in a month? How could his son possibly repay such a huge gambling debt? Unless Zhou Jianguo has a large amount of unexplained wealth. This is a crucial clue.

On the other hand, this whistleblower letter has a strong smell of conspiracy.

It’s obvious that someone is deliberately targeting Zhou Jianguo.

Political infighting.

This was Li Jiquan’s first thought. He’d seen far too many similar tricks during his years at the Discipline Inspection Commission.

But this time the methods were a bit too extreme.

Using his son’s affairs to make a fuss, taking those kinds of photos, and sending them to the Discipline Inspection Commission—this is trying to use the Discipline Inspection Commission as a tool.

Li Jiquan was somewhat angry. As the secretary of the Discipline Inspection Commission, he couldn’t just follow someone else’s lead.

We need to find out at least who submitted this whistleblower letter and what their motives are.

Moreover, the Discipline Inspection Commission is currently investigating an even bigger case—the corruption case of Executive Vice Mayor Kong Sen has reached a critical moment. Kong Sen abused his power for personal gain and accepted huge bribes. The evidence is almost complete, and the final roundup is just needed.

At this critical juncture, he doesn’t have the energy to deal with a report that’s hard to verify.

Li Jiquan put the letter and photo back into the envelope, then casually opened a drawer and stuffed them inside.

He continued to open the remaining letters of complaint, scanned them, and found nothing of value. He then picked up the phone and called Xiao Zhou.

“Please file these.”

Xiao Zhou picked up the letter and asked again, “Is that all?”

Li Jiquan nodded: “That’s all.”

Xiao Zhou left with the letter. The door closed, and the office fell silent.

Li Jiquan picked up his teacup, took a sip, and his gaze fell on the drawer.

The whistleblower letter lay quietly in the drawer.