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

The results of this test perfectly proved this point.

It's a shame to waste such talent on just using them as a tool to make money.

Zhang Tiancheng's gaze was deep. If he could truly obtain the position of Director of General Affairs, he would need to build his own team, and he would need truly capable and trustworthy confidants to control more critical positions and cultivate a more important network of relationships.

Liu Jiaxiang, in terms of ability, temperament, and the honesty he showed in this "confession," has initially qualified to enter his inner circle.

"He's a promising talent..."

Zhang Tiancheng murmured, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

He decided that after the appointment of the deputy director was finalized, he would observe Liu Jiaxiang further and give him some more core tasks to handle to see if he could shoulder greater responsibilities.

If he can truly become my right-hand man, then when I become the head of general affairs, I will need such a sharp and obedient blade under my command.

The sunlight outside the window was gradually setting in the west, and the light inside the office became softer.

Zhang Tiancheng picked up the already cold gaiwan teacup on the table, took a sip, and the icy tea went down his throat, but it couldn't extinguish the burning flame in his heart.

As evening fell, the solitary confinement cell was dimly lit, with only a small window with iron bars at the top letting in the last bit of daylight, casting shadowy images inside.

Master Liu sat cross-legged on the cold, damp floor tiles, with several decent dishes of food and drink in front of him—a dish of braised beef, a dish of fried peanuts, a dish of sliced ​​salted duck eggs, and a small pot of warmed liquor.

This was what Liu Jiaxiang instructed the prison guards to "improve" for him before he left.

Master Liu grabbed the wine pot and took a big gulp straight from the spout.

The pungent liquid of the cheap liquor rolled down his throat, bringing a burning sensation, but he felt incredibly refreshed.

The past few days of imprisonment, the fear and hunger, all seemed to vanish with this sip of wine.

He tore off a piece of braised beef and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing it vigorously, his cloudy old eyes gleaming with the light of relief after surviving a disaster.

"Tomorrow... tomorrow at the latest..."

He muttered to himself, then took another swig of wine, his face flushing an unnatural red.

"I'm out... I'm still Liu Siye from Renhe Automobile Factory..."

He recalled Liu Jiaxiang's calm and composed face, and his promise that "you can leave after the inspection," and a complex mix of emotions welled up in his heart.

Is it hatred? Of course it is hatred. It is hatred for the ruthless young director who squeezed all of his life savings out of him.

Is it fear? Yes, it is fear—fear that the other party will go back on their word.

But more than anything, there was a sense of relief that bordered on exhaustion.

Money can be earned back, the car factory is still there, and life is saved—that's the greatest asset.

As for that wretched girl, Tiger Girl, who absconded with the money... a sinister glint flashed in Master Liu's eyes. Once he got out, he would have plenty of ways to deal with her.

The effects of the alcohol gradually took hold, dispelling the fatigue and fear of the past few days.

Master Liu felt a long-lost sense of relaxation, and even felt a little giddy.

He started humming a tuneless little tune, poking around with his chopsticks among the bowls and plates, and stuffing greasy food into his mouth.

Having lived a life of luxury for so many years, he had never suffered such hardship or eaten such coarse prison food.

At this moment, the food and wine tasted even sweeter than the most exquisite delicacies in Master Liu's mouth.

About an hour later, the liquor in the small pot was almost gone, and there was hardly any food left on the table.

Liu Siye felt dizzy and everything in front of him became blurry.

He let out a loud burp, slumped to the side, and slid down against the cold wall in the corner.

My stomach was churning, and my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, so heavy I couldn't lift it.

Liu Siye's eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they finally closed completely, and he began to snore loudly as he drifted into a drunken dream.

Outside the cell, the corridor was deathly silent.

The tall prison guard and the short, stocky prison guard stood motionless by the door like two clay sculptures, their ears keenly picking up the rise and fall of snoring sounds from inside the cell.

Time passed slowly, and the glow of the gas lamp at the end of the corridor cast long, still shadows on the walls.

When Liu Siye's snoring became even and deep, even occasionally interspersed with a few indistinct murmurs in his sleep, the tall prison guard and the short, stocky prison guard exchanged a glance.

There was not a trace of emotion in his eyes, only a cold confirmation.

The short, stocky prison guard nodded slightly, slowly pulled a brass key from his waist, inserted it into the lock, and gently turned it. A soft click echoed, remarkably clear in the quiet corridor.

The two pushed open the door, slipped into the cell, and quickly closed the door behind them.

The cell reeked of alcohol and the sour smell of rotting food. Old Master Liu was curled up in the corner, fast asleep, completely unaware of the impending danger.

The short, stocky prison guard walked to the table, his gaze sweeping over the mess of dishes before finally settling on the rough earthenware wine bowl. He reached out, picked up the bowl, and flicked his wrist.

"Snap!"

A crisp cracking sound rang out in the cramped cell.

Pottery shards flew everywhere.

Almost at the same moment, the tall prison guard picked up the largest and sharpest piece of broken porcelain from the ground.

Without hesitation or pause, the tall prison guard swiftly covered Liu Siye's mouth and nose with his left hand, while his right hand, gripping the sharp shard of porcelain, aimed at the throbbing vein on the side of Liu Siye's neck and plunged it in!

"Pfft."

A dull, soft sound, like leather being pierced.

Master Liu's body trembled violently, as if he had been electrocuted.

He was suddenly jolted awake from his drunken dream, but immense pain and a feeling of suffocation instantly gripped him.

He tried to struggle and shout, but his mouth and nose were tightly covered, and he could only make a series of gasping sounds.

His cloudy eyes were wide open, filled with disbelief, terror, and excruciating pain, staring intently at the indifferent face of the prison guard above him.

Warm liquid splattered out, carrying a strong rusty smell, quickly soaking the tall prison guard's hands and cuffs, and also staining the front of Master Liu's clothes red.

The blood didn't gush out, but rather gushed out rapidly, flowing down the neck and meandering across the cold floor tiles, forming a dark red pool that kept expanding.

Liu Siye's limbs began to convulse violently, his fingers unconsciously scratching at the ground, leaving several messy bloody streaks. The hoarse sounds in his throat grew weaker and weaker, and the terror in his wide eyes was quickly replaced by a sense of disorientation.

His life, with its scheming, ruthlessness, glory, and humiliation, flashed by like a revolving lantern in the rapidly darkening mind, finally settling on Liu Jiaxiang's calm, unfathomable face.

It turns out... there was never a way out.

The thought flashed through his mind like the last spark before he was completely swallowed by darkness.

The convulsions gradually stopped, and the fingers that had been scratching the ground loosened weakly.

Those eyes, once bright and piercing, now only cloudy and lifeless, finally lost all their luster, staring blankly at the low, damp roof of the prison cell.

Master Liu, who had been roaming the western part of the city for decades, running casinos, lending money at exorbitant interest rates, and operating a rickshaw depot, spent his life oppressing rickshaw pullers and exploiting the lower classes. In the end, he was squeezed dry like a pig or a dog. In this muddled way, he died in a drunken dream in which he thought he was about to regain his freedom.