Chapter 33: He Approached Wearing a Reflective Vest

That evening, at a hotpot restaurant on Jordan Street, Lin Tiansheng gathered Chen Anquan, Zhong Zhihui, and Zhang Jinrong to celebrate Deng Gengyun’s transfer to the Major Crimes Unit.

Chen Anquan swished some beef in the pot and complained, "Boss, Gengyun is already carrying a gun after all his boxing, so when are you going to transfer me to the Major Crimes Unit?"

Zhang Jinrong poured whiskey into a plastic cup and sipped it slowly. "Chicken Head, I know you’re anxious, but hold your horses. Just wait a little longer..."

*Beep, beep, beep.* Lin Tiansheng’s mobile phone suddenly rang. He picked it up and answered, "Who is this?"

He expected a call from some small-time thug, but a raspy, aged voice came through the line: "Ah Sheng, it’s me, Uncle Deng from the New Territories. We met back at Brother Le’s place."

"Uncle Deng?" Lin Tiansheng’s heart skipped a beat, his expression turning to one of shock. The other three men exchanged glances and fell silent.

"Hahaha, Ah Sheng, I know you still remember me." Deng Yuchang laughed heartily and asked, "Long time no see. I heard you’ve been promoted to Probationary Inspector?"

"That’s right. Uncle Deng, your ears are sharp; you get news fast," Lin Tiansheng replied coolly.

Deng Yuchang chuckled. "Heh, Ah Xian and the others—relying on the favors left behind by Brother Le—can get you to Inspector or Senior Inspector, but can they get you to Superintendent? This year’s going rate for a favorable vote for Probationary Inspector is 150,000 HKD; for Senior Inspector, it’s 360,000; and for Superintendent, five million... how much do you think Brother Le’s remaining influence is worth?"

Climbing the ladder requires money. So-called systemic corruption is simply the chain reaction of political groups exploiting those below them to secure their own advancement. While the brass cannot erase the merit earned through life-and-death struggle, the higher the rank, the more administrative tasks dominate, and the fewer chances there are for frontline action.

The higher the position, the fewer the seats. When a position is contested, having someone backing you becomes crucial. You don’t need to buy every vote for every promotion, but a career is long and life is short; every opportunity to move up is precious. Betting everything on "objective merit" isn't realistic. Some stubborn people, after being taught a few lessons, eventually have to walk the crooked path.

Lin Tiansheng, however, wasn't moved by Uncle Deng’s logic. He retorted with a dry laugh, "Uncle Deng, is 'Brother Le' someone you can just call by name?"

The question placed him on high ground and clearly defined his stance.

Deng Yuchang’s tone shifted, turning cold. "Heh, you’re not convinced, are you? Young man, once you’ve smashed your head against the wall and bled, you’ll realize I was doing this for your own good."

Lin Tiansheng hung up and muttered, "For my own good? The talk of an old fossil just reeks of a corpse. Damn it!"

However, Deng Yuchang’s words were not entirely worthless. He pointed out that Li Junxia and Xu Qi’an, whether they liked him or not, had at least paid respects to the old remnants by allowing his promotion. After all, the Criminal Investigation Department had once held absolute power; even police officers in the Political Department had to have dealings with the Chief Chinese Detective to climb the ranks. The Political Department had a unique nature and had escaped the ICAC storm, but the two big sirs were hardly clean.

"Getting to Inspector is easy; getting to Senior Inspector will be hard," Lin Tiansheng mused. He looked at the four brothers beside him—each with a different expression but none lacking in wild spirit. He didn't feel discouraged. With brothers, rivals, and enemies, life had flavor. Fighting with men is an endless source of joy. Even if they lost, they would have brothers to die with!

Zhong Zhihui laughed, picked up his chopsticks, and swished some meat. "Good thing we’re prepared. Boss, Gengyun, let’s get to work tomorrow."

"Strike while the iron is hot."

Deng Gengyun kept his head down, focused on his egg-fried rice, and didn't respond. He never concerned himself with brainwork; he only handled the physical side.

...

In Temple Street, at the Changhong Mahjong Parlor, a triad member in a brown jacket, cigarette dangling from his lips, pushed aside the plastic curtain and hurried in. He pushed open the door to a private room and placed a bowl of shark fin soup before his boss, "Chui Xi," bowing his head. "Boss, I’ve got word. The one who kidnapped the mistress last time is a cop."

"A cop?" Chui Xi, a stout man with a face full of jowls, sat in his chair shuffling mahjong tiles and raised an eyebrow.

In Cantonese, "Chui Xi" is not a flattering nickname; it implies someone who is a "bullshitter" or, more crudely, someone obsessed with women’s private parts. Triads with such vulgar nicknames often started at the very bottom, but such lowlifes often excelled at climbing the ladder by any means necessary.

Chui Xi was a high-ranking member of the Wo Shing Wo triad in Temple Street, overseeing over thirty entertainment venues with five or six hundred men under him. His influence was not small.

The man who brought the soup, "Yao Yang," nodded and scraped. "Yes, boss. That cop is a 'dirty cop' who used to run the streets before joining the force. He was recently transferred to West Kowloon as a plainclothes officer."

Chui Xi’s mind turned to the windfall his boss, "Hu Xu Yong," had made three years ago—over six million HKD, rumored to have been brought in by the mistress. It was no secret that the mistress had once been the wife of a "dirty cop." Hu Xu Yong often boasted that he even bedded police wives and feared no retaliation.

After the mistress was kidnapped, the boss had told his men to investigate but hadn't taken it to heart. They had many "mistresses"; if one went missing, she might have run off with someone else or offended the wrong person. It wasn't strange for a woman from that background to get into trouble. As long as she hadn't stolen money, the underworld wouldn't make a big fuss. But if it were confirmed that a dirty cop was seeking revenge, solving the problem for the boss would be a meritorious deed.

"Is the information reliable?"

Yao Yang said, "Absolutely. My sworn brother in the Tsim Sha Tsui branch, Ah Hu, told me. The Tsim Sha Tsui crew is already preparing to move, Boss..."

Chui Xi glanced at Yao Yang and said slowly, "Brother Yong handed the job to the Tsim Sha Tsui guys, but if you want to climb the ladder, don't say I didn't give you a chance. Pick ten of your best fighters, grab that dirty cop, and bring him back for the boss to deal with. Remember: no guns."

Yao Yang swallowed hard. "Boss, plainclothes officers carry guns."

"They're police, of course they have guns! Are you?" Chui Xi slammed a tile down and cursed. "If you're a coward, go park cars; you've got no business moving up."

Chui Xi didn't care about a "dirty cop" who just got his gun back, but since the man was wearing a police uniform, how he died had to be decided by Brother Yong. With the underworld’s information channels, unless someone was already deeply involved, it was hard to track internal police movements. Especially after the police reforms, buying info from the force was expensive—tens or hundreds of thousands. Unless it was a triad leader, many underworld figures lacked political sensitivity.

Yao Yang, thinking of the target as just a single plainclothes officer, hardened his heart. "I'll bring him back tonight."

"Good."

"I'll be waiting here." Chui Xi picked up the shark fin soup, took a spoonful, and after Yao Yang left, spat it out on the floor with disgust. "Pah, pah, pah! What kind of garbage is this? They didn't even clean the sand out of it."

His mahjong companion laughed. "Be glad you've got food to eat, Chui Xi. It’s the kid’s best effort."

At 6:00 PM, at Rongchang Mansion on Shanghai Street, Yao Yang led his men into the building. He split the twelve men into two groups, hiding them at both ends of the hallway, and set a lookout downstairs.

When Lin Tiansheng drove Deng Gengyun back to the building, the lookout downstairs turned and spoke into his walkie-talkie: "Brother Yao Yang, two people."

"Two?" Li Yao Yang felt a moment of panic and hesitated. Two plainclothes officers meant twelve rounds of ammunition—just enough to put one in each of them.

The underling suddenly laughed. "One of them is wearing a reflective vest; he's a traffic cop."

"Phew, get ready to work." Li Yao Yang breathed a sigh of relief, gripped his machete, and stared intently at the elevator door.