Chapter 35

The Old District Zhang Family!

The moment they heard that name, countless passersby felt their hearts tremble. The timid ones even shuddered involuntarily as they whispered, "It's those tyrants? Don't they usually stay holed up in the Old District? What are they planning?"

"Whatever they're planning, it's bound to be a big show."

"Looks like they're heading toward the government offices. Could they be trying to..."

The rest of his words seemed to have been strangled in his throat. Realizing he might have exposed the Old District Gang's plans, the passerby went pale and shrank back, quietly covering his mouth with both hands for fear that the bodyguards stationed ahead would hear him and seize him without asking questions. Imagining himself being dragged off to some sunless dungeon or abandoned warehouse and beaten senseless, he could barely stand. He immediately slipped away beneath the cover of the crowd, running as though his backside were on fire without daring to look back. Naturally, he did not hear the bodyguard standing at the intersection like a wooden post curse through gritted teeth, "That guy's read too many ghost stories, hasn't he?"

A bodyguard wearing sunglasses beside him replied expressionlessly, "Nutcase."

At precisely two in the afternoon, the passersby gathered along both sides of the street as if waiting to greet an arriving leader finally heard the faint sound of cars approaching from far down the road. Before long, those craning their necks caught sight of black vehicles slowly driving toward them. Leading the convoy was a striking, sleek black SUV. Two young men dressed in black and wearing sunglasses stood in the back, holding up a black banner between them. Eight bold white characters were painted across it—

Pay your taxes on time; it is everyone's responsibility?!

Behind it came a flood of black vehicles. The latest high-end models rolled in from the end of the street, silent and unbroken, pouring from people's line of sight straight into their hearts.

Between every sedan was another SUV identical to the lead vehicle, with two young men in black suits standing tall in the wind and holding up enormous banners. This time, the banners read: "Never evade taxes; be a law-abiding taxpayer." Below, in smaller print, were the gross revenues of every business under each gang and the taxes due. At the very bottom were the words: "Public oversight and reporting are welcome."

The faces of the many passersby darkened. None of them could figure out what the Old District gangs were up to.

Thus, a peculiar scene unfolded in the usually bustling city center—along both sides of the packed streets, shoulder-to-shoulder passersby stood there in stunned silence. On the traffic-filled main road, a river of black cars advanced quietly. There were no honking horns, no roaring engines. The entire city center seemed to be performing a silent pantomime. Only after every vehicle had passed, and the bodyguards who had sealed off the streets put away their flags, climbed into trucks, and withdrew, did the crowd finally erupt into noise.

"What are they doing?"

"No idea, but judging by those banners, it looks like they're going to the tax department to pay taxes."

"Could the tax department have reached some kind of agreement with the Old District gangs to jointly crack down on tax evasion?"

"No way, right? What company these days doesn't have some legal tax avoidance going on? Aren't they cutting off everyone's livelihoods? Do they have any sense at all?"

"Pfft. You expect people from the underworld to reason with you? Did water get into your brain?"

"Then... no, I need to go home and have the accountant go over the books again. I'd rather pay a little more tax than provoke those killers."

"Right. Better lose money than invite disaster..."

The Old District gang bosses, still driving grandly toward the tax department, had no idea that the moment they appeared, the public had saddled them with a whole string of bizarre titles—"the government's hounds," "the officials' claws," "thugs without official badges," "temporary tax department enforcers," and so on. They knew even less that their spur-of-the-moment desire to join in the fun would cause tax revenues in the long-sluggish Old District to surge by more than thirty percent over previous years. When the figures were reported to the province, the provincial leaders, unaware of the truth, unanimously concluded that distinguished families truly produced no weaklings, and a tiger father had no dog sons. Though the young master of the Gu Family was still so young, he handled affairs with remarkable steadiness. Not long after arriving in the Old District, he had already gotten along splendidly with the local powers and single-handedly pushed forward the Old District's reform plan. Now, even the economy was being managed so impressively...

This was why people really should not take spectating too seriously these days. When the businessmen who had belatedly realized what had happened—and had already filed their taxes, losing a sizable chunk of profit for nothing—beat their chests in regret, the passersby who had only watched the show and forgotten their own affairs put on knowing, hindsight-wise expressions and casually lectured them, "If you're watching the show, don't take it seriously. Whoever takes it seriously loses!"

Meanwhile, the Old District gang convoy, with neither the energy nor the intention to anticipate the consequences, continued "keeping a low profile" as it slowly headed toward the East District branch of the tax department halfway down Chenyang Street. Through the third-floor windows, the staff inside the tax branch saw a silent black flood bearing the Old District gangs' emblems approaching them. Unable to make out the banners on the cars, they tremblingly called the Guandong City Police Department in Guandong Province...

So when they arrived at their destination, the gang bosses stepped out of their cars looking refreshed and energized. Some did not mind lowering themselves enough to personally carry their account books in preparation for cooperating with the tax payment process. Then they saw a group of trembling uniformed police officers at the tax department entrance, weapons in hand, facing off against their banner-carrying brothers. Zhang Linmo, walking at the front, cast a half-smiling glance at the bodyguard who had arrived first. The man shrugged innocently and said, "I don't know what happened either. I'd only just gotten out of the car when a bunch of cops rushed out of the police department across the street, and then it became this."

Hearing that, Zhang Linmo instinctively looked back at the four-story building opposite them, which bore the words "Guandong Province Guandong City Police Department Headquarters." Then he turned back and praised Mayor Gu beside him. "Just as expected, a strong general has no weak soldiers under him. It's been many years since I've seen cops move this quickly."

Gu Zhaohuan: "..."

Because of seniority, Wang Zhaoyi had to get out of the car later, but he never thought a scene could be too big. Hugging an account book, he squeezed through from behind. When he saw the situation at the entrance, he burst out laughing. "I thought I was pretty good at putting on airs, but it turns out government people aren't bad at it either. What a special welcoming ceremony. I like it."

Gu Zhaohuan's face darkened further.

Having clearly noticed that their own mayor was mixed in among the Old District gang members, the police captain, who had been tremblingly imagining a bloody battle, stepped forward and greeted them somewhat awkwardly.

Gu Zhaohuan nodded to the utterly bewildered police captain before him and said with a smile, "You've worked hard. These bosses are here to pay their taxes."

That single sentence immediately made the police captain, who had become deeply suspicious after seeing the banners, understand the mayor's unspoken meaning. He could not help feeling both amused and annoyed. Meanwhile, the tax director, who had bungled the matter and embarrassed himself, came scrambling out of the tax department. He grabbed Gu Zhaohuan's hand and shook it excitedly, stammering, "Welcome, city leaders, to inspect our work. Welcome, esteemed bosses..."

Welcome what?

Welcome them to inspect the place? Even if he wanted to show weakness to someone outside his own system, this was not the way to do it. Welcome them to visit? This was not some hotel or teahouse—what the hell was he welcoming them for? Welcome them to pay taxes? Damn it, paying taxes was a taxpayer's duty; even sucking up had to be done properly.

In that instant, the director found himself brightly and tragically at a loss. He wanted nothing more than to gaze up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle, silently weeping as the sound of camel bells rang in his ears...

Gu Zhaohuan looked speechlessly at the poor tax director. The old man was drenched in sweat, so anxious he looked ready to cry without tears. Feeling that he was the more kindhearted one, Zhang Linmo casually waved a hand and said with a smile, "We're just rough men with little knowledge. It's our first time coming to pay taxes, so we hope Director, you can give us plenty of guidance."

Having run out of words, the director could only nod and force a smile. "Of course, of course."

After carefully looking things over, Wang Zhaoyi, who stood beside Elder Wang Qi, who stood beside Elder Gao Yunsheng, who stood behind Zhang Linmo, suddenly blurted out, "No wonder they say officials protect one another. Your tax bureau security guards wear uniforms identical to the police department's officers. Did you order them all from the same clothing factory?"

The poor director could no longer maintain his smile. He nodded stiffly at Wang Zhaoyi and asked with difficulty, "And this gentleman is?"

Wang Zhaoyi glanced at the bosses around him, took a small step back, and grinned shamelessly. "I'm just an insignificant little person. You don't need to mind me. Just pretend I don't exist and let me quietly stay in a corner by myself, quietly watching you all exchange pleasantries!"

Tax Director: "..."

Zhang Linmo rubbed his head with a pained expression and interjected, "Time is tight. Mayor Gu said we need to finish verifying these accounts before four o'clock. Director, what do you think...?"

The rescued director immediately turned sideways to make way. "Yes, yes. Please, everyone, come in."

Inside the tax building, the staff, now clear on the direction things were taking, carried out their work in an orderly manner. The bosses, who had never set foot in a government office in their lives, looked around like tourists visiting a new attraction. Every boss had at least two personal bodyguards accompanying him, and the bustling crowd quickly filled the tax hall.

The businesspeople handling matters at the counters were all nervous, and even the staff behind the windows were tense. In the vicious cycle of becoming more nervous, making more mistakes, and then becoming even more nervous, Wang Zhaoyi, who was standing nearby watching and had always had a sharp tongue, said disdainfully, "Your professional standards are terrible. You move slower than the cashiers at our nightclub. You're wasting us taxpayers' time, wasting us taxpayers' money, and murdering us taxpayers' lives!"

The staffer seated at the counter, a girl of perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six who had likely just graduated from university, instantly had tears well up in her eyes. She looked up pitifully at the fierce-looking Wang Zhaoyi, pursed her lips, and apologized. "I'm sorry. I-I'm new here."

Wang Zhaoyi silently looked at the girl for a while, seized by the guilty feeling that he was bullying a child. He sighed softly, rubbed his head, and comforted her, "It's fine. I'm new too. We'll get used to working together."

The girl: "..."

The representative of a small business standing on the other side of the counter could not endure the strange atmosphere any longer. He hurriedly gathered up his documents and said with a smile, "Um... I'll come back tomorrow!"

Wang Zhaoyi stared wide-eyed at the small businessman who fled with his account books. Only after a long while did he react and murmur, "Wasn't today supposed to be the deadline? What the hell is he coming tomorrow for?"

The girl glanced at Wang Zhaoyi with tears in her eyes, pressed the button beside her desk, and said, "Next."

The long line scattered with a rush. The many timid small business owners all declared that they would rather pay late fees, rather have their business licenses revoked and remedy the situation afterward, than risk their lives handling paperwork alongside these bosses.

Watching groups of small business owners flee in panic, Wang Zhaoyi raised both hands innocently, widened his bright eyes, and said, "It wasn't my fault."

At that moment, the girl behind the counter pressed the button again with an expression of impending doom, as if she were calmly facing death. Taking a deep breath, she called out in a tearful voice, "Next."