A Bird Startled by the Mere Twang of a Bow
As night deepened, the Splendid Homestead Residential Community was quiet, with most windows darkened and only a few scattered lights adding to the tranquility of the neighborhood.
Qian Zhiming, the once powerful and shrewd vice president of Ankang Hospital, now paced anxiously back and forth in his luxuriously decorated living room like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. The two bombshell recordings circulating online had shattered his last line of defense. He dared not turn on the lights, fearing that even the slightest light would attract prying eyes, and could only endure the torment of fear in the darkness by the faint light filtering through the distant streetlights outside the window.
Just as he was about to be driven mad by this silent pressure, his personal cell phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated. It wasn't his usual one, but a number known only to a very few people.
He jolted awake, almost lunging to grab the phone. The screen displayed a completely unfamiliar number. He hesitated for a moment, then shakily pressed the answer button, pressing the phone tightly to his ear and whispering, "Hello?"
A slightly hurried but deliberately lowered male voice came from the other end, carrying an unquestionable commanding tone:
"Deputy Director Qian? I'm one of Mr. Wei's men! To make a long story short, things have been completely exposed. You should have heard those recordings online! The police could be at your door at any moment! Mr. Wei has already made arrangements for his escape route. He can't contact you directly right now, so he sent me to pick you up! Come downstairs immediately. There's a black Volkswagen sedan with its hazard lights flashing at the main entrance of the complex. Hurry! We don't have much time!"
The other party spoke extremely fast, giving Qian Zhiming to think or ask questions, and hung up the phone immediately after finishing, leaving only a busy tone.
Qian Zhiming gripped his phone, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, almost leaping out of his chest. Mr. Wei had sent someone to pick him up! This was the only straw he could grasp in his despair!
He had no doubt whatsoever, or rather, in his immense fear, he preferred to believe that this was the only way out. He repeatedly said "hello" to the already disconnected phone, then rushed to the bedroom, almost crawling under the bed, and dragged out a heavy, worn black sports bag from the deepest part of the bed.
With trembling hands, he unzipped the zipper and peered into the dim light from the window—inside were neatly stacked bundles of hundred-yuan bills, exuding the distinctive smell of ink and paper. This was his "life-saving money," painstakingly accumulated over the years using his position, specifically to cope with unforeseen circumstances like today. He roughly estimated that there was at least two or three million yuan inside.
He quickly zipped up his jacket, took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself down. Instead of rushing downstairs immediately, he carried his heavy backpack, tiptoed to the living room window, carefully lifted a corner of the heavy curtains, held his breath, and looked towards the main gate of the residential complex.
Sure enough! Under the glow of the streetlights at the entrance of the residential area, a black sedan was parked quietly. I couldn't make out its exact model, but its flashing hazard lights were particularly glaring in the night, exactly as described on the phone!
However, in that very instant, a cold voice suddenly rang out in Qian Zhiming's mind, which was filled with fear, like a long alarm bell:
"Wei Guangyuan... would he really be so kind as to come and save me?"
Having worked together for many years, he knew Wei Guangyuan's character all too well. That man was cold-blooded, selfish, and suspicious; he would sacrifice anyone without hesitation for his own benefit. In this life-or-death situation where he himself was in danger, how could he possibly risk sending someone to pick up this "burden"? The more likely explanation was... to silence him! Only the dead cannot speak, and cannot become evidence against him!
A chill instantly shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making him shiver. The black sedan parked at the door was no longer a lifeline in his eyes, but a death trap with its jaws wide open!
"We can't go through the main gate!" Qian Zhiming made the decision immediately.
Without further hesitation, he carried his heavy backpack and, instead of taking the elevator, pushed open the fire door and entered the dimly lit fire escape staircase. He dared not make a sound, taking two steps at a time, practically tumbling and crawling down the stairs. The heavy cash weighed down his arms, making him numb and breathless, but he dared not stop for a moment.
He didn't go down to the lobby on the first floor, but stopped on the second floor. He cautiously peeked into the empty corridor, then quickly slipped out and walked familiarly to an inconspicuous small door at the end of the corridor, marked "Equipment Room." He took out another set of Key — the Key to room 101 on the first floor and the equipment room that connected to the backyard, which he had secretly bought without telling anyone—and quickly opened the door and slipped inside.
The equipment room was cluttered with miscellaneous items. He groped his way to the innermost part and opened a more secluded window. Outside the window was a narrow passageway between the apartment buildings and the wall of the residential complex, a passageway that was almost deserted on weekdays.
Qian Zhiming first threw his heavy backpack out the window, then clumsily climbed out himself, stumbling and nearly falling when he landed. Ignoring the pain, he picked up his backpack and, like a frightened Rat, quickly moved along the shadows of the wall towards the direction of the back gate of the residential area that he remembered.
He dared not walk in a straight line, instead weaving through the buildings, using every trash can and every tree as cover. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat soaked his back, and the cold night wind sent chills down his spine. As he ran, he cursed Wei Guangyuan's ruthlessness in his mind, while also feeling a sliver of relief at his own "cleverness" and "foresight." Luckily, he had a backup plan; luckily, he hadn't been foolish enough to believe that phone call!
He was just one small patch of greenery away from the back door of the residential complex, a door rarely used and potentially vulnerable to surveillance blind spots! Once he stepped out of that door, he would be surrounded by the intricate network of alleyways in the old city, where he would finally have a chance to escape!
The glimmer of victory brought a slight relaxation to Qian Zhiming's tense nerves. He quickened his pace and rushed into the dimly lit green belt.
Just then, a colorful ball rolled to his feet with a "plop plop" sound, blocking his way.
A little boy, who looked about eleven or twelve years old, wearing a tracksuit and with a still-childish face, ran out from the shadows of the trees not far away, calling out to him as he ran, "Uncle, I'm sorry! Could you help me kick the ball back?"
In the dead of night, a child was playing ball in the neighborhood? A very faint doubt flashed through Qian Zhiming's mind, but at this moment, escaping for his life was the priority, and he had no time to care about such a trivial matter. He didn't even look at the child's face, but just frowned impatiently and subconsciously wanted to kick the ball away and continue on his way.
However, in that split second when his attention was diverted by the ball—
He suddenly felt an extremely intense, unbearable tingling and sharp pain in his lower back!
The feeling was like being struck instantly by a high-voltage power line; all strength and consciousness crumbled under that blow!
"Ugh--!"
Before he could even utter a complete scream, his body convulsed violently as if all support had been removed, his eyes rolled back, and he fell straight forward. His face, contorted with fear and running, slammed heavily onto the cold grass, and his sports bag slipped from his grasp and rolled to the side.
In the last moment before he completely lost consciousness, his unfocused pupils barely focused, and the last thing he saw was:
The little boy who had just been apologizing to him with an innocent look was now standing calmly beside him, his face expressionless. His right hand was casually holding the colorful ball, while his left hand was holding a stun gun that was flashing with faint blue arcs of electricity.
The boy's eyes were cold and indifferent, unlike those of a child, as if he had just finished an ordinary game.
The boundless darkness surged in like a tide, swallowing up all of Qian Zhiming's senses and his last bit of unbelievable horror.