Chapter Thirteen: The Car Accident and the Second Jackie Chan?

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Gao Ning had gradually adapted to his new life. The work of a patrol officer was relatively simple; most of the time, there was nothing to do. Black coffee in hand, or a book to read while parked in a breezy spot—so long as he didn’t go overboard, all was permitted. As long as he responded to dispatches, clocked in and out, no one cared what he did in between.

Anna was much the same. After the initial excitement of two days, her emotions had settled. The two spent more than eight hours together each day, chatting and joking, and had grown increasingly familiar.

During breakfast, Gao Ning summoned the eighth American soldier, landing him at the estate of Banning Waterworks—the very lair of the main antagonist in the plot.

Indeed, Gao Ning hadn’t been idle these days, using the police internal system to look up the waterworks tycoons’ information. He soon pinpointed the sullen-faced boss. That was the advantage of being a cop; though he couldn’t recall the man’s name, he remembered the water resources company well.

The old lady and Liang Bing had been in frequent contact, their locations changing constantly. It seemed they would make their move soon. Yet Gao Ning hadn’t decided whether to meet them. He couldn’t deny that the old lady’s words had startled him. He hadn’t expected her gentle appearance to mask such a dark and ruthless heart.

Liang Bing was no less fierce, intending to eliminate her husband to acquire funds. Perhaps not her real husband, but her willingness to sell him off was astonishingly abrupt. Gao Ning could tell from her tone that it was no different from slaughtering a chicken. He had thought the coldness in her expression was merely a shell for protecting her inner self, but it turned out her heart needed no protection—it was cold from the start.

Not only cold, but vicious. With teammates like these two, it was no wonder Gao Ning hesitated.

“Attention, Brooklyn officers: There’s been a severe traffic accident at the intersection of Howard Street and Delancey Street. Officers nearby, please respond immediately.”

The two were patrolling in their police car when Anna, hearing this, perked up. “It’s right ahead—perfect, Mark, let’s take this case!”

“Understood!” Gao Ning replied, grabbing the radio. “Dispatch, 0909 responding—we’re nearby!”

“Received!”

Anna floored the accelerator; the police car shot forward.

The intersection was a mess—many passing vehicles had stopped, and several good Samaritans were trying to rescue people trapped beneath the cement truck.

Looking at the crumpled sedan, it was clear no one inside could have survived. The crowd relaxed as the police arrived.

“Anna, call an ambulance! And backup!” Gao Ning pushed open the door and rushed toward the cement mixer.

The truck was in much better shape; unlike the small car, it only had some dents at the bumper, and the driver’s door wasn’t deformed.

A bald man’s head was slumped against the steering wheel, blood staining a small patch, but not even running down—nowhere else was even scratched.

Yet such a minor head injury had taken the man’s life.

Gao Ning hesitated, then reached to check the carotid artery. No response.

“How bad is it?” Anna asked.

“He’s gone,” Gao Ning shook his head.

Anna pointed at the small car and shook her head as well, her expression grim.

Gao Ning didn’t need to look to know that the person underneath was beyond saving. On the Red Alert map, neither of them had a glowing marker. The dead were no longer his and Anna’s responsibility. They took isolation tape from the trunk and cordoned off the scene.

Anna stood guard while Gao Ning acted as temporary traffic officer, directing vehicles to prevent further accidents.

Police always arrived quickly; within minutes, four or five police cars, an ambulance, and a tow truck pulled up.

The sergeant was a stranger—a mustache, a bit of a belly, in his early forties. He came over, asked about the situation without wasting words, then had his team process the scene swiftly.

With the case handed off, Gao Ning and Anna greeted the newcomers and withdrew. As for the person in the crushed sedan, whether they extracted the remains with tools or cremated them as is was no longer their concern.

Before leaving, Gao Ning glanced at the license plate and made a mental note.

Not far from the accident, in a villa, an Asian woman with glasses stood by the window, checked her watch, and murmured, “It’s about time.”

She entered the bedroom and changed into a dust-free suit, grabbed a gas mask. Opening the wardrobe, she pushed aside the clothes, revealing a door embedded in the wall.

She took a remote from the shelf, pressed the red button, waited three minutes, then donned the gas mask, twisted the dial handle, and opened the heavy alloy door.

It was a safe room.

Inside, the furnishings were cozy, all the amenities present.

Yet what should have been a refuge for the wealthy was now trashed as if by violent looters.

A man lay on the floor, shirtless, his torso covered in fine wounds, some still seeping blood.

It was clear he’d been here awhile.

The woman frowned. “How did it get like this again? Looks like I gave him too much. Smash away, smash away—none of it’s mine, anyway. If he breaks it all, I can rest easy.”

She ignored the man, stepping over him to tidy the room.

She brought in a cart from outside, piled up large trash, and hauled it out twice.

Then she dragged in a powerful vacuum cleaner, cleaning the room thoroughly.

There had been a television and gaming consoles for entertainment, but they had all been smashed by the man. This time, he had even shredded the bedding.

After cleaning up and replacing the bedding, the woman fetched a medical kit, struggled to move the man and tended to his wounds.

If Gao Ning were here, his eyes would have widened like lightbulbs.

This… wasn’t that famous actor, Jack Chen?

But if this was Jack Chen, then who had Gao Ning seen before?

What was going on here?

The woman finished quickly, dragged the vacuum out. When the heavy alloy door closed silently, a concealed ventilation shaft in the corner released a thin mist.

Minutes later, Jack Chen jolted awake.

He sprang upright and, seeing the spotless room and his bandaged wounds, his emotions collapsed.

“Ah—!”

He howled in frustration, slamming his fist into the wall.

The wall didn’t budge, nor did it make a sound, but his freshly bandaged fist started bleeding again.

“Who are you? Who?! Bastards, come out! If you’re going to kidnap me, at least negotiate! Keeping me locked up without a word—what does it mean? It’s been three days! Three days!

What on earth do you want from me?!”