Chapter Fifty: The Black Inn

"Who are you?" Zhang Can was the first to speak, though he suspected this man was likely an official. After all, plainclothes officers were stationed outside—it was easy enough to deduce.

The man smiled faintly and replied in a deep voice, "My name is Gao Ming. I'm Secretary Zhou's assistant from the Municipal Party Committee."

He got straight to the point, making no effort to conceal his identity.

Zhang Can's heart tightened. His guess had been correct. Although Zhou Zheng hadn't come himself, his secretary—a secretary to the city's top leader—was by no means a low-ranking figure. In subordinate cities and counties, such a person would outrank almost everyone. Even here, in their own city, all would show him utmost respect.

"Oh, Secretary Gao, just say what you need to. With your position and mine, it’s clear our paths don’t cross. I’m just an ordinary citizen," Zhang Can replied.

"Good, I appreciate your straightforwardness," Gao Ming said with a slight smile. "I imagine you can guess why I’m here, so I’ll be direct: there are those who do not wish for you to see Zhou Nan again. Do you understand what I mean?"

Zhang Can was momentarily stunned. He had half-expected something of this sort, but hearing it spoken aloud by Gao Ming still irked him. It wasn't just the message, but the condescending and subtly coercive tone that he disliked.

In truth, there was no need for them to intercede—Zhang Can had already been restraining himself, avoiding further contact with Zhou Nan. But it was Gao Ming’s manner that grated on him.

Gao Ming continued coolly, "I won’t say much more. There are people who are simply not on the same level as you. Sometimes, unchecked desires can ruin a person. I hope you see your own path clearly."

Zhang Can couldn’t help but admire Gao Ming’s careful wording—everything said left no loophole for accusation, yet the meaning was abundantly clear. No wonder he was the secretary to the municipal party chief; his mind was indeed deep and calculating. There was no explicit threat, but the implication was unmistakable: if Zhang Can chose to go against them, they had a hundred ways to make his life in Jincheng unbearable, perhaps even worse than death.

It is an ancient saying: commoners do not contest with officials. If such wisdom has been passed down for thousands of years, there must be reason for it.

Zhang Can was no fool. After a moment’s thought, he replied blandly, "I don’t know what Secretary Gao is referring to. I’m just a country boy, earning a little to support my family, hoping one day to marry a wife of similar standing and go back to farming. I’ve never harbored any grand ambitions, nor do I have any dangerous desires."

Gao Ming chuckled lightly, "Heh, Xiao Zhang, you seem like a wise man. No great ambitions, no dangerous desires—that’s good. I won’t say more. Remember, the kidnapping incident—for you, it’s as if it never happened. We’ll block the news. We’ll catch those kidnappers. As for your sister, the police will handle everything."

His tone suggested it was time for Zhang Can to leave. Zhang Can asked no more, only nodded and said, "I’ll be going then."

After he got out, the plainclothes officer waiting nearby hurried over, ducked into the car to speak quietly with Gao Ming, then stepped back out and closed the door. The Audi rolled away, soon melting into the stream of traffic and vanishing.

The plainclothes officer then turned to Zhang Can. "Mr. Zhang, let’s head to North Gate. We’ve already set up surveillance in and around that shady inn. We’re just awaiting your arrival. Your sister and her companion are absolutely safe. Please rest assured."

The police response was swift; Zhang Can felt more at ease with those words. With the police involved, even the shadiest inn wouldn’t dare commit murder—at most, they’d try to extort a high lodging fee.

The officer murmured a few words into his earpiece. Barely ten seconds later, two white vans screeched to a halt beside them.

The officer opened a van door and said, "Mr. Zhang, please get in."

Zhang Can glanced back. Zhu Senlin, seeing the Audi had left, hurried over and climbed into the van behind Zhang Can.

Inside, aside from the two in the front seats, two more plainclothes officers sat in the back. Zhang Can and Zhu Senlin squeezed in. The officer from outside climbed in last and shut the door, making it rather crowded—mostly because Zhu Senlin, being so large, took up half the space, leaving Zhang Can and the officer to share the rest.

Zhang Can had looked over the men as he entered. They were all burly and alert, their presence exuding strength and precision.

Zhang Can was certain these were not ordinary police. Regular officers from community stations were just like any other townsfolk. The phrase "supercop" was laughable when applied to them. But these men carried firearms—he could see as much with a practiced eye—they were special police.

Zhu Senlin didn’t know this, but he could tell they were plainclothes officers, which in his mind meant the sort who caught pickpockets. He had no idea they were not ordinary police.

As they neared the North Gate, Zhu Senlin’s phone suddenly rang. Glancing around awkwardly, he answered in a low voice, "Hello? Ah Qiang? ... Everyone head back, there’s no need to come ... Why? No reason, just head back. I’ll treat everyone to a meal at Jin City Hotel, it’s on me..."

After hanging up, Zhu Senlin gave the officers an embarrassed smile and explained, "My friends insisted I treat them to dinner."

Zhang Can, of course, understood: Old Zhu had called in reinforcements, not expecting the police to intervene. With police credentials, it was all perfectly legal, no matter how big a fuss they made—far better than handling it themselves.

Zhu Senlin was both shocked and puzzled. Why were these officers so eager to intervene for Zhang Can? It was a trifling affair at a shady inn, hardly worth such a mobilization—two vans, at least seven or eight officers, and from the earlier radio conversation, there were already men stationed at the inn, so at least a dozen officers in total. For such a minor matter, wasn’t this overkill?

The only explanation was that Zhang Can had connections in official circles. Zhu Senlin hadn’t known before, but now, seeing Zhang Can get into an official Audi with a government license plate, he was sure of it. He didn’t recognize the car’s occupant, but in Jincheng, only major figures would have such a vehicle.

Zhu Senlin sighed inwardly at how well Zhang Can concealed his connections—he’d never seen a hint of it in all these years. Had he known, he’d have done him more favors long ago. The kidnapping seemed nothing earth-shattering; the police should have handled it as a matter of course. For the city’s top officials to take a direct hand, and even meet the victim privately—it was unheard of, unless at a publicized event with journalists present, where leaders would show up for photos, encouragement, and so on. But in private, never.

As for Zhang Can, he seemed calm and unperturbed, eyes closed as if resting. Zhu Senlin was now even more convinced: Zhang Can must have powerful backers in city government.

The officer driving didn’t need Zhang Can to give directions—he headed straight for a lane at the North Gate, where both vans stopped. Zhang Can noted there were nine officers in total.

The officer who had spoken with Zhang Can waved to several others. "Ah Cheng, you and the others block both ends of the alley. Don’t let anyone escape. Ah Guang, Ah Fu, you three come with me."

Zhang Can and Zhu Senlin were surrounded by six officers as they entered the alley, just over two meters wide—no cars could fit. After walking twenty meters in, they reached a battered security door with a sign above: "Peace Inn." This had to be the place.

Just inside was a small lobby; to the right at the back was a reception desk, to the left a corridor. The receptionist, a woman of about twenty-five or twenty-six, fashionably dressed, looked startled as the six men entered, but quickly forced a smile. "Looking for a room?"

Zhang Can noticed the officers all looked to him without a word. Clearly, they’d been told to let him take the lead. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the counter. "I'm here to find two young women from the countryside. They called me, said they owed money for their room. I’ve come to pay their bill."

"Oh, is that so?" The woman glanced over at the group. No fool would believe they’d come just to pay the bill, not with so many men. If they’d come willingly, why bring such backup?

"Alright, let me make a call." Without missing a beat, she picked up the phone and dialed, acting as if nothing was amiss—she was clearly wary of being forced by the group.

Zhang Can understood her motive. She’d never release his sister and Liu Xiaoqin so easily. But with so many special police here, what was there to fear? Even if the inn’s boss summoned a crowd of thugs, would they dare challenge armed police?

Seeing the group unmoved, the woman relaxed a little, thinking perhaps they hadn’t seen through her. Once the call connected, she said, "Boss, it’s Ah Zhen. Those two girls have six friends here to pay their bill. Could you come over?"

She said nothing more, her tone pleasant and natural. Her words, however, conveyed a subtle emphasis on "six friends"—her boss, used to such matters, would understand.

Sure enough, within two minutes, a crowd surged in from outside and upstairs—about a dozen from outside, five or six from above, all wielding meter-long steel pipes.

Relaxed now, the woman pointed at Zhang Can’s group and said openly, "That’s them!"

From the crowd, a fat man in a suit stepped forward and said, "If you’re here to pay, then pay up and take them away. If not, I’ll sell them off out of province."

Zhang Can replied in a deep voice, "Money is not the issue. Bring them here. How much do they owe?"

The fat man grinned, "Not much. Room is eight hundred forty a day, plus service fees, meals—comes to one thousand nine hundred ten a day. Four days, that’s seven thousand six hundred forty. They paid for one day, so they owe five thousand seven hundred thirty. Add three days’ late fees and interest, it comes to eight thousand eight hundred."

At this, not only Zhang Can, but even the officers and Zhu Senlin couldn’t help but laugh. Still, no one acted out before the girls appeared.

Zhu Senlin immediately pulled a wad of hundred-yuan bills from his pocket, slapping them in his palm. "We have the money. Bring them out and we’ll pay at once!"

The fat man assumed his side had the upper hand—nearly twenty armed men versus six unarmed strangers. Surely, they’d just hand over the cash and leave quietly.