At the Qingcheng Police Station’s emergency dispatch center, night had fallen, shrouding the entire city in darkness. But inside the center, the lights were blazing bright.
This was the dispatch hub for the entire Qingcheng police force—every emergency call placed in the city funneled in here, where operators would then dispatch officers to the scene based on the situation. And since emergencies don’t keep office hours, someone had to be manning the phones 24/7.
The relative quiet of the dispatch center was suddenly broken by the shrill ringing of a phone.
Ringggg!
Operator Liu Li snatched up the receiver, her tone crisp and professional. “Hello, this is the Qingcheng Police Dispatch Center. How can I assist you—”
Before she could even finish, a frantic, tear-filled voice cut her off from the other end of the line. “Help me! Please, I’m begging you—help me!”
Liu Li’s brow furrowed instantly. The sheer panic in the caller’s voice made it clear—this person was in serious danger. She knew she had to act fast to keep things from escalating.
“Sir, please give me your location and a brief description of what’s happening. Try to keep it concise—that’ll help us make the best call on how to respond.” She grabbed a sticky note, ready to jot everything down.
“I—I’m a scammer! I accidentally ripped off some big-shot underworld boss, and now he’s out to kill me! Please, you’ve gotta come—hurry! If you wait any longer, I might—I might not make it!
The address—right, the address! I’m at 368 Yumin Street, Building 3—yeah, Unit 501. Please, just come! If you don’t get here soon, I’m dead for real!”
Zhang Songyang was openly sobbing now. All the fear and pressure he’d been bottling up for so long had finally reached its breaking point, and the moment he got the operator on the line, it all came pouring out.
Liu Li had just picked up her pen, but now she set it back down, her expression hardening. “Sir, do you know that filing a false report is illegal? Emergency lines are for life-or-death situations. I hope you understand that. If you keep making fake calls like this, we will hold you accountable.”
“I—I’m not lying! Everything I said is true! Please, you have to come—now!” Zhang Songyang’s voice cracked with desperation.
Liu Li’s expression shifted again. In her mind, this was almost certainly a hoax—it just sounded too far-fetched to be real. Still, department policy dictated that even if a call seemed bogus, they had to at least check it out. Just in case it was genuine, they’d be doing their duty. If it turned out to be a prank, well—that was a different story.
“Ahhh!”
Suddenly, Zhang Songyang let out a bloodcurdling scream, making even Liu Li jump. “Sir? Can you hear me? Sir—sir! What’s happening?!”
Then came his terrified shout: “He’s here—he’s really here! Come quick—save me—”
And with that, the line went dead.
Beep… beep… beep…
Liu Li didn’t hesitate. She slammed down the phone, grabbed the note she’d scribbled, and dashed off toward the office.
BANG BANG BANG!
The thunderous knocking made Zhang Songyang, curled up in the corner of the bathroom, jolt so hard he nearly dropped his phone.
If someone was knocking now, it almost certainly meant Jiang Chuan had sent a hitman. If he opened that door, there was a good chance he’d be staring down the barrel of a gun. The moment he cracked it open, the killer would glance at a photo, confirm his face, and pull the trigger without a second’s hesitation—his head would burst open, and that would be it. Just like in the crime dramas.
He shook his head violently, trying to shake off the terror, but it clung to him like a second skin.
“Anybody home? Delivery’s here! Could you open the door?”
The voice came from outside.
Hearing that, Zhang Songyang’s nerves went into overdrive.
Delivery? It was true—he had ordered takeout. Some crayfish and barbecue to go with his bottle of Moutai.
But was it really the delivery guy?
His hands trembling, he fumbled for his phone and checked the delivery app. The courier was indeed very close by.
After a few agonizing seconds, he typed a quick message:
[Just leave it at the door]
Once he sent it, the noise outside stopped.
Whew. He let out a ragged breath, slumping against the cold tile wall like a puppet with its strings cut. As long as he could hold out until the cops showed up, he’d be safe. He just had to hope nothing else went wrong—and that the police would get there before the killer did.
But barely ten seconds had passed before—
BANG BANG BANG!
The knocks came again, and Zhang Songyang flinched so hard he could’ve sworn he saw his long-departed great-grandmother standing right in front of him, smiling and waving, ready to take him to the great beyond.
The person outside couldn’t be the cops—they couldn’t possibly have gotten here that fast. He’d only put down his phone two minutes ago.
Then it had to be the hitman.
Think—think! It had to be the killer, standing right outside, smirking to himself. One hand holding a photo, the other hovering over the gun tucked into his waistband, just waiting for him to open the door.
“Hello, this is building management. We got a report that something might’ve exploded in your unit? Just checking in—could you open up?”
Another voice from outside.
But it did nothing to ease Zhang Songyang’s frayed nerves.
Building management? No way. The property management in this complex was notoriously awful. He’d owned this place for years, and he’d never seen them this on the ball—unless it was time to collect fees. The moment anything actually went wrong, they’d vanish like they’d all won the lottery and quit.
“Huh. They said someone was home—maybe I’ve got the wrong unit?”
The voice faded again.
Zhang Songyang waited, straining his ears until he was certain there was no one out there. Only then did he allow himself to exhale.
No—he couldn’t just sit here waiting for the police. Who knew how long they’d take? Every extra second he stayed put was a gamble he couldn’t afford to lose. One more knock on that door, and he’d lose his mind completely.
He had to take the initiative. He had to get to the station—that was the only way he’d truly be safe.
With that thought, he scrambled to his feet, grabbed his phone, and gently eased the bathroom door open.
After confirming that the apartment was empty aside from himself, he crept out.
His eyes landed on the Desert Eagle lying on the floor. He swallowed hard, gritted his teeth, and scooped it up. This was crucial evidence—he couldn’t afford to lose it.
Tucking the gun into his jacket, he pulled his cap down low, bundling himself up as tightly as he could. Then, moving as quietly as a mouse, he tiptoed to the front door and peered through the peephole.
Only when he was sure the hallway was clear did he steel himself, yank the door open, and bolt out into the corridor.
He had one thought and one thought only: Get to the police station.
Only when he saw the officers with his own eyes would he finally be able to breathe.
