Mo Du (默读) - Silent Reading

Macbeth VIII

“A truck?” Tao Ran said into one of Luo Wenzhou’s ears. “Lao Luo, it’s unavoidable for vehicles coming into the outer ring to pass through Baisha. It’s all trucks coming and going. Should we search the ones coming into the city or the ones leaving? The kidnappers spirited him away in a vehicle—do you think Zhou Huaijin is still in Yan City?”

Lang Qiao meanwhile said into his other ear, “Boss, should I bring the person in charge back to the City Bureau now, or investigate their outgoing and incoming e-mails first?”

Behind him, a flustered and exasperated Hu Zhenyu was pointing at Zhou Huaixin. “You… You… What are you doing?! You’re too impulsive!”

Next to him, Yang Bo’s face and neck were all red. “I’m going to report you for damaging my reputation!”

Luo Wenzhou: “…”

Chicken Soup for the Soul often posed the question, “Why do humans have two ears and one mouth?” Now he thought he’d understood—even if they’d had four ears, it wouldn’t necessarily have been enough.

Fei Du’s gaze flitted over Hu Zhenyu, then fell on Zhou Huaixin.

Zhou Huaixin straightened his neck. On his opium-addict’s face, aside from the eyeliner, something else appeared, indistinct and indescribable, that made him actually appear rather human.

“I’m not worried about what they say outside, and I’m not worried about any… what do you call it… any losses of market value on any markets—I don’t understand those things, Hu-dage, and I don’t want to understand them. I only know that I have no one close to me but my brother.” Having finished this proclamation, Zhou Huaixin’s voice fell away, and he stared into Hu Zhenyu’s eyes.

Hu Zhenyu for some reason avoided his gaze.

Zhou Huaixin turned up the corners of his mouth in a half-smile; it was unclear whether he was mocking others or himself. “This won’t sound good, but there are some things that if the old man did them, there would always come a day when they’d be dug up. Paper can’t contain a fire. You don’t really think you’ll have eternal glory?”

Hu Zhenyu in all likelihood had never in his life experienced elegant words coming out of Zhou Huaixin’s mouth. For a time he was speechless.

“Can you find my brother within ten minutes?” Zhou Huaixin’s gaze swept over the surrounding police. “Then go look for him! What the fuck are you all staring at me for? I’m the old man’s legitimate son, and I’m also one of his heirs. I’m deciding to let the dead be sacrificed a little for the sake of the living. Don’t I have that right?”

These words rather sounded like they made sense.

“As long as my brother is all right,” Zhou Huaixin proclaimed, his eyes red, “I’ll announce that my dad’s an asshole. A person has to be adaptable—so I’ll be an asshole’s spawn. Even if my father is conscious underground, he’ll know who wanted to hurt him, who wants to hurt our family. The blame won’t fall on me!”

Hu Zhenyu’s forehead broke out into hot sweat.

Just then, someone coughed heavily at the door and a voice coldly said, “Your family really does belong to you two brothers, but the conglomerate doesn’t. How many business partners and small shareholders does such a large operation involve, huh? Even the old man didn’t dare to make peremptory decisions while he was living. What are you supposed to be, wretch?”

Luo Wenzhou turned his head and saw several Zhou Clan employees scatter in a flurry from the door and an emaciated old man slowly walk in. He was less than 1.7 meters tall and a little stooped, making him look smaller and skinnier. Profound wrinkles came down from his nose to split his chin into three parts. The corners of his mouth hung down heavily, as if he’d never smiled in his life.