Chapter 10: Why Should Good People Be Destined to Remain Poor?

“So, you saw Gu Quan’an wrest the gun from the suspect’s hands?”

Inside a small room, the captain of the Third Squad, Xu Yong, questioned Zeng Shiqian.

“Yes, I heard the commotion and rushed in, witnessed Quan take the gun from him with my own eyes!” Zeng Shiqian replied.

“Captain, you should have seen it—Quan’s skills have improved so much! Just a punch and an elbow, and Old Dao was subdued!”

Xu Yong nodded, the situation now clear to him. After all, when a gun is drawn in the station, the cause and effect must be understood.

“Send Quan in!”

Gu Changqing was also summoned inside.

“What did you say to him?” Xu Yong asked curiously. Old Dao had been relatively calm here before. Why did he suddenly snap?

“I told him the missing woman was his victim—the missing female student,” Gu Changqing answered.

“Your memory's returned?”

“No, just fragments flashing in my mind. Maybe the case left a deeper imprint, and since it happened not long ago, I remembered a bit…” Gu Changqing replied, his expression unchanged as he spun his tale.

“I suspect I discovered something before, and he sent people to attack me. Tried to silence me!”

Xu Yong and Zeng Shiqian exchanged glances, realization dawning.

This matched the facts—before the incident, Gu Quan’an had indeed been investigating the female student’s case. Old Dao had wanted him to cover up her disappearance and, after his arrest, had kept quiet about what happened outside the bar.

“So I want to request a search warrant for Old Dao’s bar and home!” Gu Changqing continued.

“I’ll apply for a warrant. You two go back and write your reports!” Xu Yong ordered.

“I’m suffering from amnesia, Captain—how am I supposed to write a report?” Gu Changqing retorted carelessly.

Xu Yong glared at him. “Getting bold, aren’t you?”

He turned to Zeng Shiqian. “Teach him how!”

Then, with a hint of curiosity, he asked, “You’ve lost your memory—I get that—but how did your fighting skills improve so much?”

“I think I heard a theory once: everyone has a few locks in their body that exist to protect themselves. Like when a woman in her seventies lifts a car to save her grandchild,” Gu Changqing mused.

“Really?” Zeng Shiqian pressed.

“You believe that? Are you stupid?” Gu Changqing shot him a glance.

Zeng Shiqian was instantly indignant.

“You’re much bolder after losing your memory—like a different person!” Xu Yong observed.

“I am a different person,” Gu Changqing shrugged.

The others simply took it as him referring to the change after his amnesia, never imagining that he meant it literally. After all, Gu Changqing’s car was parked nearby, he was wearing his uniform from that morning, his height, appearance, hairstyle, sidearm, and everything else were unchanged—who would guess he was an entirely different man?

Exiting the captain’s office, Gu Changqing slung an arm around Zeng Shiqian’s shoulders. “The report’s all yours!”

Zeng Shiqian was instantly furious. Ever since Gu Quan’an had lost his memory, he no longer respected him as a senior and now even wanted him to write the report.

“A busty beauty!” Gu Changqing added nonchalantly.

Zeng Shiqian’s anger vanished, replaced by a grin. “It’s a deal! Tonight we’re going to Haicheng Nightclub!”

That afternoon, the hospital called with news: Old Dao had suffered a severe blow to the head. His injuries were grave—whether he would wake was uncertain.

Gu Changqing and Zeng Shiqian, accompanied by two security officers and armed with a search warrant, went to Old Dao’s bar. They were immediately blocked by seven or eight of Old Dao’s men.

“What, you want to stop us? You’re bold, aren’t you?” Gu Changqing flashed the warrant before them and then kicked out.

The man blocking their way was sent flying more than three meters, crashing through two tables. The rest of the crowd grew agitated, surging forward. “What, you’re going to beat us? You think you outnumber us?”

Gu Changqing grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it over someone’s head, then seized another man, lifted him, and slammed him to the ground.

The room fell silent.

Gu Changqing’s ruthless efficiency cowed the remaining men into submission. Even Zeng Shiqian and the other two officers were stunned.

“Detain these few—charge them with resisting law enforcement!” Gu Changqing glanced down at the men on the floor, then looked up, sneering at the rest.

“Anyone else want to try? You’re thieves, I’m the law. If you get beaten, you deserve it!”

“You’re still not moving? Waiting for me to do it?”

The remaining five, though resentful, grudgingly made way.

“Try to be smarter in the future,” Gu Changqing said, slapping one of them lightly on the cheek as he passed.

He couldn’t help but admire this new body of his.

“Keep an eye on them,” he instructed the two security officers.

“You’ve got quite a temper now,” Zeng Shiqian muttered as they headed upstairs.

“Try getting beaten until you lose your memory,” Gu Changqing replied without turning.

Zeng Shiqian fell silent.

Old Dao’s office reeked of alcohol; a mess of undergarments was strewn across the sofa, the trash can held tissues and condoms.

Gu Changqing pulled open a drawer—inside was a jumble of odds and ends. Reaching beneath the drawer, he felt a gun.

Without betraying any reaction, Gu Changqing casually dumped the contents of the drawer onto the table, circled the room, and moved aside a painting to reveal a safe.

“Did you bring the keys?” he asked.

Zeng Shiqian produced a ring of keys confiscated when Old Dao was detained and quickly opened the safe.

Inside were stacks of cash and assorted documents.

Seeing the pile of money, Zeng Shiqian’s breath caught for a moment before he glanced at Gu Changqing.

Gu Changqing picked up two stacks, thumbed through them, and slapped them against Zeng Shiqian’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Zeng Shiqian asked, suddenly realizing and not quite believing.

“Half each,” said Gu Changqing, scooping all the cash out and dumping it on the floor—over a hundred stacks, meaning over a million.

“You’re crazy!” Zeng Shiqian’s breathing grew rapid, disbelief in his eyes.

“You know what Old Dao is—this money was earned through evil. It should be put to better use.” Gu Changqing threw an arm around Zeng Shiqian’s shoulder, sounding perfectly reasonable.

“Good men like us deserve a better life, don’t you agree?”

“There’s only you and me here, and Old Dao might never wake up. No one will ever know…”

“You want to get married, right? Now you have the money for a house. No more worries, and you can do your job even better!”

“Why should the wicked live in luxury while the good struggle all their lives for a doghouse? Are good men destined to be poor?”

“Brothers for life—I’d never harm you,” Gu Changqing said, turning to look at Zeng Shiqian.

“I…” Zeng Shiqian was close to losing his mind.

On one side was the code he’d always lived by; on the other, his friend’s devilish temptation and the mountain of cash before him.

“And if you don’t tell and I don’t tell, who will ever know? If not for yourself, think of your girlfriend and future children!” Gu Changqing’s eyes shone, a faint smile playing at his lips.

“Damn it, let’s do it. Brothers for life—we each take half!” Zeng Shiqian declared, gasping as if the decision had cost him all his strength.

Gu Changqing patted his shoulder.

Once you split the money, you’re true brothers. If you refuse, it means you don’t want me to prosper and are trying to harm me.

“Get a bag and pack the money,” Gu Changqing instructed, as he sorted through the rest of the safe’s contents.

Among them was a memory card labeled “Gu Quan’an.”

Gu Changqing pressed his fingers together and snapped the card in half, pocketing the pieces.

He inspected the other cards, deciding to review them later at home.

There were also several watches and gold chains, which he would turn in. As for the account books, Gu Changqing planned to burn them somewhere discreet.

Finally, there was a wooden box, sealed with wax.

Opening it, Gu Changqing found six glass vials filled with a deep blue liquid that emitted a strange, otherworldly glow.

He didn’t know what it was, but the glow unsettled him.

“One million four hundred fifty thousand,” Zeng Shiqian announced, his face flushed with excitement. They split it evenly—over seven hundred thousand each.

It would have taken him ten years to earn that much.

Gu Changqing was unmoved—making money had become so easy for him that he hardly cared.

After gathering everything, Gu Changqing took the handgun and spare magazine he’d found beneath the drawer before they left.