Chapter Forty-Three: They Drew Their Guns?

Du Jun was a clever man, well-versed in weighing his options. At this moment, if he wanted to avoid misfortune, his first priority had to be to take control of his own son. The fact that the county party secretary Guo Haijun’s daughter had been detained was not truly frightening; as long as he handled the situation properly and resolved the misunderstanding, nothing serious would come of it. What was alarming was that after her arrest, she had been slapped and had a gun pointed at her head.

When he heard this, he was stunned—his mind buzzed, and he wished he could shoot the offending officer on the spot.

Afterward, he had rushed out of his office to apologize to Guo Xiangqing, then hurried into the interrogation room to release her companions, hoping to soothe their anger.

But when he walked in and saw his son brandishing a baton as though about to strike, two officers sprawled on the ground, one still clutching a stun baton, and Director Zhao drawing his sidearm, he was stunned all over again.

“They drew their guns again… they actually drew their guns…” This thought echoed in his mind, over and over.

Yet he hadn’t completely lost his composure. He knew this was a thorny matter, but it was not yet out of control. At least Zhang Ye hadn’t been seriously harmed—there was still room to smooth things over.

But just as he was about to resolve the situation once and for all, his son spoke—bold and domineering. He had never imagined his son could be so foolish.

“To cross our Du family is to pay up or go to jail…” Even as the deputy chief of the police bureau, he would never dare utter such words, yet his son had said them—how could he be so reckless?

Utterly shaken by the back-to-back blows, he could no longer concern himself with protecting his son. If this matter was not handled properly, it wouldn’t just be his son in trouble—even he himself would be ruined.

So, without a moment’s hesitation, he apprehended his own son on the spot and rounded up everyone involved.

By the time Director Zhao and the others had all been taken into custody, County Party Secretary Guo Haijun and Public Security Bureau Chief Ye Qidong had arrived as well. Upon hearing the news, they had dropped everything and come straight over.

“Dad…” In front of Aunt Yuan, Guo Xiangqing had restrained herself, but when her father appeared, her pent-up grievances surged forth uncontrollably. Tears spilled down her cheeks like rain as she recounted, bit by bit, all the injustices she had suffered in the past hour.

“They drew their guns?” Suddenly, Guo Haijun’s voice, full of astonishment and disbelief, rang out—especially conspicuous in the hush that had fallen over the room.

His expression darkened instantly, his face turning grim as water.

He had heard on his way that his daughter had been slapped. Though furious at the time, he had not lost his reason. But now, he was truly enraged. After all, he was a father; Guo Xiangqing was his only daughter, the apple of the family’s eye. For her to be harassed, then slapped and threatened with a gun on the way to the police station was beyond belief—what he felt most was fury.

Ye Qidong was furious too. He never imagined that his bureau could harbor such scoundrels. Zhang Ye and his companions weren’t criminals, and especially as they hadn’t resisted, what reason did the officers have to draw their guns or to use violence?

As this once-simple matter drew the attention of such powerful figures in Lihua County, it became both simpler and more complicated. One thing was certain, though: whether Du Tao or Zhao Youquan, both were in trouble. But the one who would suffer most was Li Tao, the officer who, eager to curry favor, had thrown caution to the wind.

That very afternoon, the resolution was announced: Director Zhao Youquan, just days into his new post, was removed and issued a major demerit. The slightly overweight officer and another colleague each received a minor demerit and a verbal warning. As for Officer Li Tao, due to the severity of his misconduct, he was stripped of his uniform and faced criminal charges—what awaited him was likely three to five years behind bars.

As for the others who had joined in assaulting Zhang Ye, their cases would be processed as per normal procedures for brawling, with Du Tao, given his record in recent years, facing even harsher punishment.

…

“Aunt Yuan, thank you so much for today. If it hadn’t been for you, I might not have lost my skin, but I definitely would have taken a beating,” Zhang Ye said, offering heartfelt gratitude to Yuan Yuqing.

The day had been tumultuous and overwhelming; he still felt uncertain. If it hadn’t been for Yuan Yuqing’s connections, he doubted he would have gotten off so lightly, even if he did eventually get out.

“Oh, don’t say that. If it weren’t for you today, my Xiangqing would have been the one in trouble. If anyone should be grateful, it’s us!” Yuan Yuqing replied with a smile.

“Yes, young man, if not for her, you wouldn’t have been dragged into this. Here—this is my number,” Guo Haijun said, stepping forward. “If you have time, let’s arrange a meal at my home as a small token of apology for all you’ve endured.”

With that, he handed Zhang Ye a business card. Zhang Ye glanced at it—only a name and a number, no title or details. He accepted it with polite thanks.

Ye Qidong, sharp as ever, quickly followed suit. With the county secretary offering his card, it was clear how grateful he was for Zhang Ye’s actions. Ye promptly handed over his own card, his face creased in a warm smile.

Zhang Ye accepted them both. At this moment, those cards represented a kind of promise. If ever he needed help in the future, as long as it was within their power, they would likely do their utmost. Of course, such opportunities came only once; to call on them too often would dilute the favor and risk their annoyance.

By the time Zhang Ye and Wang Mengzi left the police station, dusk had fallen. The setting sun was slipping behind the mountains, leaving only a swath of golden afterglow that cast long shadows across the ground.

Seeing Wang Mengzi’s anxious face beside him, Zhang Ye smiled.

Perhaps out of worry, Wang Mengzi clung tightly to his arm, as though they were a couple strolling downtown—close and intimate. Their bodies pressed together, and the faint fragrance from her drifted into Zhang Ye’s nose, filling him with an odd sense of contentment.

“What is it?” Wang Mengzi, having watched Zhang Ye closely, asked nervously.

Today had hardly been a pleasant holiday for her—she’d felt tense, anxious, and frightened, and had been badly shaken. When Zhang Ye was taken into the interrogation room, she had been truly afraid. Thankfully, all had ended well; otherwise, she wouldn’t have known how to face his parents.

Even now, she didn’t know what she would say to them, especially since he was still covered in bruises. Though she had bought medicine at the station and treated his wounds, his face was still battered and swollen—not exactly fit for meeting people. It's late; I've done wrong. Scold me, punish me, cast your votes with full force.