Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Lesson

The next morning, Wang Liqing, the warden of the Third Detention Center, found himself facing a monumental problem in his office.

“Oh, my dear Brother Feng, Master Feng, what are you thinking? Why on earth do you want to stay a few days in my detention center?”

Wang Liqing looked at the man in front of him, a man in his thirties, and felt completely vexed. Chen Feng was a household name, not just in Jiangcheng but throughout the entire Nanjiang Province. He controlled the province’s largest real estate company and was recognized as the godfather of the underworld there. From high-ranking officials to the lowest rungs of society, everyone knew him and showed him respect. Yet, such a man had arrived early that morning, walked into Wang’s office, and declared his intention to “stay” in the detention center for a few days. What kind of nonsense was this?

Chen Feng’s face was dark and cold as he asked, “What’s wrong, Wang Liqing? You’ve become a little emperor in this detention center and can’t handle such a simple request from me?”

“It’s not that I can’t,” Wang Liqing stammered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “But what are you thinking? This is a detention center, not a five-star hotel. Why do you want to stay here?”

Chen Feng’s eyes narrowed. “What, is it not allowed for me to ‘experience life’ for a few days?”

Wang Liqing paced anxiously. “You’re not taking this place seriously. Even if you want to come in, we have procedures. The city bureau manages us. Whoever they say goes in, goes in. Whoever they say comes out, comes out. I have no right to let anyone in or out as I please. Maybe you should inform the city bureau first?”

Chen Feng snorted coldly. “Listen, Wang Liqing. If you don’t make this happen for me today, you’ll be my sworn enemy from now on. I’ll say it here and now—do what you think is best.”

Wang Liqing could tell Chen Feng was not joking. After a long hesitation, he said, “How about this—three days, just three days. I’ll arrange for you to ‘experience life’ in the detention center for three days. Any longer and, without proper paperwork, I really can’t manage it.”

Chen Feng nodded. “Three days it is. But let me warn you—do not breathe a word of this to anyone. If there’s the slightest leak, you can forget about being warden; maybe go join the front lines in the criminal police unit instead.”

Wang Liqing turned pale with fear. He had no doubt about Chen Feng’s capabilities. Chen Feng could have him removed from office with a single word to the party committee, or even get rid of a sub-bureau chief effortlessly. This man was not to be crossed.

Wang Liqing hurriedly asked, “Brother Feng, we have single rooms, eight-person rooms, and twelve-person rooms. Which do you prefer?”

“I’ve already checked. Room 307.”

Chen Feng had done his homework before coming. The young man named Zhang Wenhao, whom Qingwu had mentioned, was being held in Room 307 of the Third Detention Center. So that was his immediate request.

Wang Liqing didn’t think much of it. “No problem. Wherever you want to stay, it’s yours. Try 307 first; if it doesn’t suit you, just let me know.”

Chen Feng nodded in satisfaction. “Now you’re talking.”

Wang Liqing asked again, “You’ll need a name and a charge. You can’t use your real name, Chen Feng, or your reputation will bring the whole place down.”

Chen Feng said calmly, “No problem. My name is so common, and few people have really seen me. Just book me as a thief. In here, no one will know who I really am.”

After lunch, under the escort of a prison guard, a new member joined Room 307. He looked formidable—tall, muscular, obviously not an ordinary person. Because of this, the others in 307 didn’t dare play any of the usual tricks on newcomers. Besides, after what happened to Zhang Wenhao, everyone was noticeably more peaceful, less interested in jostling for dominance.

This man was the famous Chen Feng, but while many knew his name, few had ever seen his face. No one in the cell recognized him.

Chen Feng’s arrival didn’t stir much interest. Zhang Wenhao sat silently on the lower bunk beneath Old Ji, seemingly indifferent to everything around him.

Chen Feng, however, kept a close eye on Zhang Wenhao, puzzled. Why did Qingwu care so much about this seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boy? She’d rushed from Yanjing early that morning, arranged for Chen Feng himself to “take care” of him in the detention center, and, crucially, she was acting under Madam’s orders. Did this boy have some extraordinary background? But that didn’t seem likely; if he did, how could he have ended up here so easily?

At that moment, Zhang Wenhao suddenly looked up and asked, “Does anyone know how I can call my family?”

“You can’t,” Meng said. “Anyone awaiting trial isn’t allowed to contact the outside.”

Zhang Wenhao’s face darkened again. Qinglong tried to comfort him, “Don’t worry about your parents. They’re probably doing better than you right now. The police will process your case quickly, you’ll be tried within a month. Hang in there.”

Zhang Wenhao nodded slightly. After several conversations, his hostility toward the others in the cell had faded.

Chen Feng interjected, “Kid, you’re so young. What are you in for?”

Zhang Wenhao had no interest in answering. Qinglong moved closer and quietly explained Zhang Wenhao’s situation to Chen Feng, then added, “Wenhao’s not in a good mood. Don’t bring it up around him.”

Chen Feng frowned deeply. “That bastard Chen Ru still has the nerve? In Jiangcheng, he’s nothing.”

Meng laughed awkwardly. “Maybe in Jiangcheng he’s nothing, but to ordinary people, he’s still pretty powerful.”

Chen Feng was even more confused. If this was all Chen Ru’s doing, he could settle it with a word. Why had Qingwu insisted on having him watch over Zhang Wenhao in the detention center? Even stranger, she wanted him to observe the boy’s character.

It made less and less sense, and Chen Feng felt increasingly irritated. This damned Chen Ru had caused trouble, forcing him to “experience life” behind bars. If Qingwu had wanted, he could have just marched into Chen Ru’s office and slapped him around a bit—Chen Ru would have to take it.

Looking at the frail and delicate Zhang Wenhao, Chen Feng thought to himself: There’s nothing special about this kid—he looks weak, though rather handsome and sunny. If Chen Ru could mess with him like this, his family must be pretty ordinary. Why was Qingwu so interested in him? And behind Qingwu stood Madam herself, whom Chen Feng deeply respected.

On the other hand, Chen Ru was quite pleased with the day’s events. Still, thinking of his beloved son suffering in a hospital bed, he couldn’t quell his anger. In his eyes, it was only a matter of time before Zhang Wenhao would be convicted and spend years in prison atoning for his crimes. But letting him go unscathed physically seemed too lenient.

The Third Detention Center housed thousands from all walks of life, mostly petty thugs. Teaching someone a lesson inside was easy—just alert a few inmates and promise some cigarettes, and the job would be done.

So, Chen Ru pulled out his phone and called a minor boss in Jiang New District. This boss happened to have three men detained for fighting—normally nothing worth his attention, but Chen Ru’s call had him delighted. He hadn’t expected his men in detention could be so useful.

Some detainees, having committed only minor offenses, served one to three months and enjoyed much greater freedom, easily contacting the outside. Soon, Chen Ru’s orders, passed through the minor boss, reached the detention center.

That afternoon, during the daily 90-minute exercise period, all inmates gathered on the small yard—always the liveliest time of day.

Zhang Wenhao cherished this rare chance to feel the spring sun and breathe fresh air. Staying locked up, he felt as if he might grow moldy.

Prisoners were territorial, each cell grouping together, staking out a corner. Some with more connections would greet acquaintances from other cells, maybe offering a cigarette.

Bored, Chen Feng sat on a cement platform and pulled out a pack of premium Yellow Crane Tower cigarettes. The moment he did, those around him were dumbfounded.

This kind of premium Yellow Crane Tower was hard to get even with connections, costing nearly a thousand yuan a pack. Ordinary people never saw such things, much less those inside a detention center, where the commissary prices were five times higher than outside. Even a five-yuan pack cost almost thirty here—most people could only afford the cheapest smokes. So such high-end cigarettes naturally drew attention.

Seeing everyone staring, Chen Feng casually took out several and tossed one to each person, not forgetting Zhang Wenhao, tossing one onto his lap.

“Thank you, but I don’t smoke,” Zhang Wenhao said, trying to hand it back. Seeing Qinglong light up eagerly and savor the smoke, he handed his cigarette to Qinglong. “Here, you have it.”

Qinglong grinned, gratefully took the cigarette and tucked it behind his ear. “This is good stuff. Where’d you even get these, man? Your connections must be amazing.”

Chen Feng replied offhandedly, “Smashed a Mercedes S600’s window and stole them from inside.”

No one doubted him. Just then, a group of about a dozen approached. The leader, a dark-skinned youth, spoke to Meng, “Brother Meng, and brothers from 307, I’m here to borrow someone from you.”

Meng frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean, Blackie?”

“Nothing much.” Blackie smiled and tossed over two packs of soft Zhonghua cigarettes. “Someone’s asked me to teach Zhang Wenhao from 307 a lesson.” He glanced at the youngest in the group. “You must be Zhang Wenhao?”

Meng’s tone turned icy. “Blackie, no one from 307 gets ‘taught a lesson’ just because you say so. Take your cigarettes and get lost.” He flung the packs at Blackie’s feet.

“Han Meng, my boss ordered this. And to be straight with you, my boss is only helping someone else—a person you definitely can’t afford to offend.” Blackie’s voice was cold. “You and I are equals on the street. If you don’t respect me, fine. But don’t tell me you won’t respect my boss.”

“I don’t care whose face it is!” Meng snapped. “Get lost and stop yapping here.”

“Han Meng, you’re asking for it!” Blackie didn’t hesitate. “Boys, break Zhang Wenhao’s legs. Anyone who tries to stop us, gets the same treatment!”