Volume One, Chapter 16: The Deadlock Approaches

At five in the morning, the iron doors of the dormitory were kicked open one after another. Security guards stood at the entrances, wielding batons and shouting angrily, “Get up, all of you! Want to sleep an extra minute, huh?!”

Low groans, coughs, and the muffled sounds of blankets being thrown off filled the air. No one dared resist; one by one, they struggled to sit up in bed, rubbing their sleepy eyes, faces still etched with exhaustion and numbness.

When someone was a bit slow, a guard kicked the bed directly and cursed, “If you dawdle any longer, I’ll deal with you.”

Startled, the man jolted awake and clumsily tumbled out of bed, barely putting on his shoes, his bare feet shivering against the cold cement floor.

“Move it! What the hell, still dragging your feet?”

Panic instantly swept through the dormitory. The captives scrambled off their beds, hastily throwing on clothes without even washing their faces, and were hurried out. Their steps were heavy and mechanical, like a pack of mindless zombies, as they shuffled down the narrow corridor toward the office area.

At the end of the corridor was an area fenced off with wire mesh, grimly nicknamed the “Graveyard.” Behind the wire lay freshly turned earth, still muddy and reeking faintly of blood. No one knew how many had been buried there, but everyone understood that those who didn’t return one night might become part of that ground by morning.

Passing by, the captives would instinctively lower their heads and quicken their pace, afraid that a second look would mark them as the next victim.

At exactly six, the large iron gate to the office area creaked open. Surveillance cameras slowly rotated, red lights blinking as if scanning each “worker” entering the compound. The captives lined up, swiping their numbered ID cards at their chests, stepping stiffly into the cold, heartless scam hall.

Inside, over a hundred worn desks were arranged in neat rows. Each desk held a secondhand computer and a pair of headphones; beside them were neatly stacked scam scripts, their covers emblazoned with four blood-red characters: “Script Is King.”

The walls were plastered with threatening slogans:

— “Performance decides your meal!”

— “If you don’t scam a hundred thousand, no food today!”

— “Slack off once, face the consequences!”

The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and a musty stench spreading from the corners, suffocatingly stale.

One by one, the captives sat at their stations, silently donning headphones and booting up computers. They hardly needed to be fully awake; the daily grind had long become a mechanical routine.

In a corner sat a boy of about seventeen or eighteen, his eyes bloodshot and hands marked with small wounds, as if beaten the night before. His fingers trembled slightly as he opened the computer; his cracked lips and hollow gaze betrayed his exhaustion.

“Hello… I am… from the Anti-Fraud Center…”

He tried to read the script, but his voice quivered, unstable and hoarse.

“Damn it! Louder! What the hell, are you chanting prayers?! ” a team leader slammed the desk beside him and shouted.

The boy snapped to attention, forcing calm, swallowing hard before continuing, “Hello! I am a specialist from the Anti-Fraud Center. We have detected abnormal transactions in your account…”

His voice was robotic and stiff, utterly devoid of emotion.

Nearby, a young man who had been there less than a month glanced nervously around and quietly asked his companion, “Has… Ah Qiang come back today?”

The companion gave a quick glance but said nothing, silently adjusting his headphones and redialing.

Everyone knew Ah Qiang was never coming back.

Li Yang sat at a desk in the hall’s corner, slowly getting used to the dull ache in his body. Bruises from last night’s beating still lingered on his ribs, each breath tugging at the wounds, causing involuntary grimaces. But pain wasn’t the worst part—he was still alive.

He scanned the room. Everyone sat at their stations, heads bowed, dialing numbers, trying to survive in this cold, fraudulent world. This was no company; it was a hell, a place where people only sank deeper into ruin.

Wang Meng’s eyes were fixed on him, and the Scorpion’s gaze lurked in the shadows, always watching.

Li Yang’s hands trembled. Cold sweat trickled down his neck, soaking into his collar and the wounds on his back. The memories of the black room from last night haunted him, tearing at his nerves inch by inch.

— Cao Zhiguo had hung up the phone.

“Did you blow your cover?”

“Brother Wang, I…”

“Shut up.”

At that moment, Li Yang knew he had angered Wang Meng.

Two guards dragged him down to the basement’s second floor “punishment room”—a foul-smelling black chamber. The floor was stained with dark, dirty water; rotten food scraps cluttered the corners, and a pungent stench of mold and decay filled the air.

“This is what failure looks like.”

He was forced to kneel on the cement floor, hands bound behind his back. In front of him floated a basin of foul liquid—a mix of waste water, excrement, and moldy leftovers.

“You think landing a big score like this is easy? You screwed it up so fast. Don’t want to take orders? Then eat this first.”

Wang Meng sneered, pressing Li Yang’s head down.

Li Yang struggled desperately; the foul smell filled his nostrils. His head was shoved hard into the filthy water, icy liquid flooding his mouth, tasting of rot and humiliation. He vomited violently, his throat burning sharply.

“Please... Brother Wang... I... won’t mess up again…”

Before he could finish, his scalp was yanked tight again. Wang Meng pressed an electric baton hard against the back of his neck—

“Zzzzz—!”

Severe currents surged through his body. Muscles convulsed uncontrollably as he writhed in the filthy water, teeth chattering, vision blackening, ears ringing, the world reduced to the harsh crackle of electricity.

“Remember, you have no right to fail.”

Wang Meng looked down coldly, as if gazing at a dying dog.

“Here, you’re just a dog.”

Rain splattered against the glass, snapping Li Yang back to reality.

The scam hall still echoed with familiar scripts, each person fixated on their screens, reciting mechanically. The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and the suffocating stench of damp rot.

“Li Yang, Brother Wang wants to see you,” the Scorpion’s voice came from behind, tinged with impatience.

He didn’t reply immediately, slowly rising and dragging his stiff limbs out of the hall. The Scorpion’s cold gaze followed him, measuring him like a broken but still usable tool. He knew he was like a cracked brick now—whether he stayed depended entirely on Wang Meng.

Wang Meng sat on a corner sofa in the office area, a cigar balanced between his fingers, a bottle of opened brandy on the coffee table. He squinted at Li Yang and tapped the ashtray thoughtfully.

“Still standing?”

He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes.

Li Yang inhaled deeply, straightened his back, and nodded.

Wang Meng didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he tossed a file folder at him. Li Yang opened it, and a photo slipped out—a middle-aged man in a suit, wearing an arrogant smile, eyes sharp and wary.

“Liang Zhenghua,” Wang Meng exhaled a smoke ring, his voice measured. “Real estate tycoon with some backing, hands dirty with money laundering. This time, he’s the target.”

Liang’s name caught Li Yang’s eye, along with the figure beneath: Target amount—five million.

A flicker of unease stirred in his chest. That sum meant the job was no ordinary scam. Even the dossier alone was enough to raise alarm.

“This job’s different,” Wang Meng said, staring at him, voice low. “Specially assigned from above. You, Li Yang, need to prove yourself.”

“And if I fail?” Li Yang looked up, meeting his gaze.

Wang Meng smiled coldly, “Mess it up?” He lifted the glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. “Then we’ll see who breaks first—you or Ah Qiang.”

Li Yang’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His fingers tightened. There was no turning back now.

“Phone, script, accounts—all set up by the Scorpion,” Wang Meng said, setting down the glass, eyes sharp on him. “Three days, five million. Fail… you know what happens.”

Li Yang lowered his head, flipping through the files, unease pounding in his chest.

Liang Zhenghua, boss of a major domestic real estate group, was entangled in forced demolitions and tax evasion. What unsettled Li Yang most was the last column: political-business connections, suspected cross-border money laundering, and ties to the police.

“Boss Wang, this target… isn’t it too complicated?” Li Yang frowned. “With political ties involved, if something goes wrong—”

“Wrong?” Wang Meng sneered, fingers tightening on the cigar until the knuckles whitened. “You think any of this is clean? Just follow the script. Don’t think beyond it.”

“But—” Li Yang started to protest, but Wang Meng slammed the table sharply, eyes flashing with lethal warning.

“You think you have a choice? Don’t forget, the fates of those captives under you are in your hands.” Wang Meng leaned close, voice low and icy. “Listen carefully. This script was rewritten from above—a ‘big fish’ job. Not everyone gets the honor. You, Li Yang, do.”

He threw a pre-configured encrypted phone on the desk. “Numbers, script, background—all ready. Time to prove yourself.”

“Five million, three days.”

He said no more, waving him off.

Li Yang took the folder and left the office, the weight of countless eyes like knives on his back. He knew this task was no ordinary scam—it was a gamble with his life.

Returning to his desk, he had just sat down when the Scorpion slammed an encrypted phone onto his table, voice dark: “Did you hear what Brother Wang said? No dragging your feet. Dial now.”

Li Yang clenched the phone, took a deep breath, and pressed the number.

Two rings, then a steady voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Li from the Municipal Public Security Bureau’s Economic Investigation Unit,” Li Yang spoke smoothly, following the script. “Your account is involved in suspicious cross-border transactions…”

Silence followed, then a cold sneer: “Public Security? Ha, you scammers, right?”

Li Yang’s pupils shrank slightly; he quickly adjusted his tone. “Mr. Liang, I understand your concerns. However, we have traced three large overseas transfers recently. If you have doubts, you may verify with the X City Economic Investigation Unit directly.”

“Where’s the proof?” Liang’s tone was casual but probing.

Li Yang immediately sent a carefully forged “Funds Freeze Notice” and a “Bank Transaction Anomaly Report.” Every transaction record was expertly fabricated, convincingly real.

“Mr. Liang, this report was generated after reviewing your account. Your funds are now under close surveillance. We hope for your cooperation.”

Ten seconds of silence on the other end.

Then Liang spoke calmly, “Do you really think I’m a fool?”

The call ended.

Li Yang’s heart plummeted.

Before he could react, a heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder, the force sending a sharp pain to his ribs. He gasped, face blanching.

“He hung up?” the Scorpion’s voice whispered dangerously in his ear.

Li Yang nodded through the pain.

“Trash,” the Scorpion shoved him roughly, pressing half his body onto the desk, voice dark. “You planning to soak in the water cell like that loser Ah Qiang? Or should I wake you up now?”

“I… I’ll try again,” Li Yang murmured, hands already slick with sweat.

The Scorpion stared a moment, warning clear in his eyes, then sneered and released him. “You’d better.”

Li Yang slowly straightened, chest pain making breathing difficult. He wiped sweat from his brow and picked up the phone again.

He knew this time, he had to make Liang Zhenghua bite.

At his desk, his heart pounded like a drum.

The encrypted phone glowed cold blue. The contact was preset as “Public Security Economic Investigator.” This was a meticulously planned con, with a script laid out clearly.

[Initial approach: I am from the Municipal Public Security Bureau’s Economic Investigation Unit. Your account is implicated in a cross-border money laundering case requiring identity verification…]

[Inducing panic: Failure to act promptly may result in asset freezes and legal liabilities…]

[Main extortion: To assist the investigation, a temporary bail payment is required…]

These cold words pierced Li Yang’s conscience like sharp blades. Yet he had no other choice.

Taking a deep breath, he dialed again.

“Beep—beep—”

“Hello?”

The voice was steady but wary.

Forcing calm, Li Yang began according to the script: “Hello, I am Officer Li from the Municipal Public Security Bureau’s Economic Investigation Unit. We have received a report concerning money laundering linked to your account involving large, suspicious funds. We need your cooperation.”

“Public Security?” Liang’s voice deepened. “How do you prove your identity?”

Li Yang followed the script, calmly giving a fabricated “employee number” and guiding Liang to access a meticulously faked “Public Security Anti-Fraud Network”—a phishing site that perfectly mimicked the real internal platform, complete with fabricated case reports and data.

“Mr. Liang, as you can see, this case is under review, involving substantial sums and serious circumstances,” Li Yang pressed. “We need you to conduct an asset check immediately. Please provide recent account statements to prevent system-initiated freezes.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Liang’s tone grew cautious, suspicion evident.

Li Yang’s heart sank but he remained composed: “Mr. Liang, I understand your concerns. However, failure to verify promptly will lead to immediate account freezing. To assist with the investigation, there is a designated bail account. You can temporarily lift the freeze by following the instructions to pay the guarantee.”

Liang paused, seemingly weighing his options.

“Crack!”

Suddenly, a heavy hand slammed down on Li Yang’s shoulder.

The Scorpion.

“What’s he dawdling for?” the Scorpion growled into the phone, glaring at Li Yang. “If you can’t handle it, I’ll take over.”

Suppressing his anger, Li Yang continued calmly: “Mr. Liang, please decide quickly, or we will proceed according to protocol—”

“I’ll think about it.”

Beep—the line went dead.

“Trash!” The Scorpion slammed the table and glared fiercely. “Are you soft? This kind of guy deserves a death blow, so why the hesitation?”

Li Yang pressed his lips together, silent, heart racing wildly.

This target was far trickier than he imagined. His instincts told him Liang Zhenghua was no fool easily duped.

“Keep dialing,” the Scorpion warned coldly. “You’ve got one day. If you can’t close this, you know the consequences.”

…

Late at night, in Li Yang’s dormitory.

Li Yang stared at the encrypted phone, anxiety churning inside.

Liang Zhenghua was clearly a crafty old fox, with a complex background. Mere scripts wouldn’t be enough.

But if he failed this time… Ah Qiang’s fate would be his own future.

“There’s no way out…” Li Yang murmured, a flicker of despair in his eyes.

“To survive, I must first gain trust, then find a real chance.”

He took a deep breath and dialed for the third time…