The Republic of China: I, Xiangzi, a Hero in a Chaotic Era

Liu Jiaxiang's gaze slowly shifted to the speaker, his eyes deep and penetrating, possessing a penetrating power that seemed to see into people's hearts. A faint, yet chilling, curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh? Be cautious?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a chill down the officer's spine.

"What, you have a relationship with him? Did you take bribes from him?"

The patrolman was terrified, waving his hands frantically, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"No! No! Absolutely not! Director, you know perfectly well! I was just... just worried... I would never dare! I would never dare to accept any bribes!"

Liu Jiaxiang let out a short, cold snort, his gaze sweeping over everyone present like an icy blade:

"It's best if not."

He withdrew his gaze, no longer looking at the patrolman who was almost paralyzed with fear, and his tone returned to its previous calmness, but contained even greater pressure.

"Alright, stop standing around. Get to work."

"Do as I say, and if anything goes wrong, I'll take responsibility. If you don't listen to me..."

Liu Jiaxiang paused, his tone suddenly turning cold.

"Just pack your bags and get out of here."

The cold words "Get out" struck the patrol officers like a heavy hammer blow.

The image of Zhao Debiao's fate—unknown whether he was alive or dead, his future ruined—instantly flashed into everyone's mind.

Fear completely overwhelmed their apprehension towards Master Liu.

No one dared to utter another word.

"Yes...yes, Chief!"

The crowd responded hastily, their voices dry and trembling.

Immediately, as if granted a pardon yet also rushing to the execution ground, they staggered and hurriedly left the police station, their figures quickly disappearing into the shadows of Xisi North Street outside the gate.

For the drivers of Renhe and the car factory, this day was nothing short of a sudden nightmare.

The patrol officers at Xisi North Police Station seemed like completely different people.

They were no longer lazy or perfunctory; their eyes held a fierce determination born of being driven to the brink and an anxious eagerness to complete the task.

Their target was very clear—people and rickshaw pullers from the rickshaw depot.

Those rickshaw pullers who had previously overcharged customers and were generally slick were the first to be targeted.

The patrol officers pounced on them with pinpoint accuracy, like hungry wolves smelling blood.

Sometimes it's on the street, sometimes it's at the end of an alley.

A glance, a shout, and no reason is needed.

The patrol officers would step forward first, tapping the cart shaft lightly with their batons, staring at the driver with sinister eyes, and then hushed themselves to carry out blatant extortion.

Most of the rickshaw pullers dared not speak out against their anger, and could only reluctantly take out the few copper coins or small bills they had, hoping to pay up and avoid further trouble.

However, the patrolmen, having received the money, showed no satisfaction whatsoever. Instead, they became even more aggressive, shoving the driver aside and shouting:

"The car is impounded! You're suspected of extortion; take it to the station for investigation!"

No matter how much the driver cried and pleaded, the rickshaw was forcibly towed away.

For drivers without any obvious bad records, the patrol officers kept a close eye on them, looking for any possible "violations".

When turning at an intersection, if the handlebars wobble too much, the person is accused of "violating traffic rules and disturbing order."

If someone pulls their cart and gets even a little too close to a roadside stall while running, they are immediately accused of "obstructing the city's appearance and affecting the business operations of merchants."

The rickshaw was abruptly stopped, the driver was dragged off, a police baton was pointed at his nose, and the rickshaw was immediately confiscated.

Even worse, some drivers and vehicles are honest, law-abiding, and have no faults whatsoever.

The patrolmen would then circle the rickshaw twice, and then point to the tires with great seriousness:

"These tires are severely worn and do not meet safety standards!"

Or pointing to the driver's faded white jacket:

"Your clothes are disheveled, it damages the image of the police district! The vehicle doesn't meet the standards, the driver violated regulations, the vehicle is impounded! Go back and tell Master Liu to come to the station to pick it up!"

For a time, wherever a rickshaw with the "Renhechechang" sign appeared in Xi'anmen Street, Maojiawan, and even the entire jurisdiction of Xisi North Police Station, it was accompanied by the shouts of patrol officers, the pleas of rickshaw drivers, and the chaotic scene of rickshaws being forcibly towed away.

Panic spread rapidly among the rickshaw drivers. Like startled rabbits, they would turn their rickshaws around and run away at the sight of a police officer in black uniform, but they often could not escape the patrol officers' purposeful pursuit.

Cries, pleas, and the arrogant reprimands of patrol officers rose and fell.

Under the stern pressure of Liu Jiaxiang's ruthless orders, the patrol officers, in order to protect themselves, completely abandoned their last shred of restraint and used the same methods they usually used to oppress the people on the drivers of the rickshaw depot.

As the sun began to set, it cast a long shadow over the dilapidated courtyard wall of the Xisi North Police Station.

By mid-afternoon, the once spacious courtyard of the police station had become crowded.

The once empty dirt ground is now densely packed with rickshaws.

One bike after another, their handlebars intertwined, their canopies pressed together.

Dark or light-colored canopies stretched out in a continuous line, casting messy shadows in the afterglow of the setting sun.

The white painted logo of "Renhe Automotive" on the car body was particularly eye-catching in the twilight.

At a glance, there were as many as twenty or thirty vehicles, almost filling the entire courtyard to the brim, leaving only a few narrow passages.

The patrol officers returned one after another to report after completing their mission.

They stood by the courtyard wall or under the eaves, heads bowed, barely daring to breathe. Their faces showed no relief after completing their task; instead, they were filled with deeper unease and lingering fear.

The patrolmen glanced furtively at the closed door of the station chief's office, then looked at the rickshaws lined up in the yard, and felt a little uneasy.

The air was thick with the stench of cheap rubber, sweat, and dust, so heavy it was suffocating.

The last rays of the setting sun coldly fell upon this "trophy" made up of rickshaws, and also reflected on the pale and fearful faces of the patrolmen.

As dusk settled, the once crowded courtyard of the factory and vehicle depot was now deserted, with about half of it empty.

The hustle and bustle of the daytime traffic has long since dissipated, leaving only an unsettling silence.

The air was thick with the smell of cheap tobacco and dust, mixed with a faint sense of anxiety.

At this moment, Liu Siye, the owner of Renhe Car Factory, strolled in from outside with his hands behind his back, taking leisurely steps.

His face was flushed with the contentment of a hearty meal, and he was humming off-key Peking opera tunes, clearly having just returned from some leisurely outings.

The silk robe shimmered faintly in the dim light, standing out starkly against the backdrop of the dilapidated car factory.

He was about to go back to the backyard to rest when he saw his daughter, Hu Niu, rush out of the tent like a headless fly. Her usual fierceness was gone, replaced by a look of extreme anxiety.

"Old man! Old man! You're finally back!"

Tiger Girl rushed forward, her voice cracking, her fingers tightly twisting the hem of her clothes.

"Something terrible has happened! The sky has fallen!"

Master Liu frowned almost imperceptibly, but his steps did not stop; he continued walking steadily, only his humming of the opera tune was interrupted.

"What's the panic? Even if the sky falls, your dad will hold it up."