Chapter 148: Act of Valor

2022-05-20

After Captain Zhou left, his seat was left vacant. Headquarters hadn’t appointed anyone to take over yet, so for now I was filling in. Once they picked the next person, I’d step down. Even though I was just a temporary choice, it was enough to put a spring in my step.

But the moment I sat in this chair, I realized the job was a far cry from what I’d imagined. Being the captain wasn’t just about solving cases—there was a mountain of other trivial matters to handle too.

Like right now, I was struggling to write up a report about a domestic dispute. The whole mess started because a couple fantasized about winning five million in the lottery and couldn’t agree on how to spend it. Their argument escalated so fast, words turned into fists. Fortunately, nobody got seriously hurt—just some scrapes and bruises.

As I sat there frowning, trying to figure out how to word the report, I suddenly heard a commotion outside.

I pushed open the office door and stepped out, finding Gu Chen and Guan Zengbin there as well. About a dozen locals were crowding and shouting in the hallway, pushing and shoving like it was a marketplace. From the looks of it, it was yet another neighborhood quarrel—one of many I’d dealt with lately.

A young guy barked at the crowd, “Calm down! If something happened, just explain it clearly. Pushing and shoving isn’t helping. Some people are working inside—whatever’s going on, can’t we talk about it calmly?”

His words finally quieted the mob. Through a gap in the crowd, I spotted three men at the center, their arms pinned behind them by the others, bodies bent forward. Judging by their faces, they didn’t seem to care one bit.

I scowled and made my way to the front.

Checking out the people gathered, I noticed they came from all walks of life. Some wore fur coats, others shabby old sweaters, and a few were in stylish windbreakers. There were business types, day laborers, high school students, even a few homemakers.

But those three men being restrained? They were sharply dressed—windbreakers over neat shirts, tartan scarves around their necks. They looked exactly like the kind of white-collar workers you’d find in a high-end company.

With men and women all mixed in, this clearly wasn’t just some family scuffle. Was this about unpaid wages to migrant workers again?

“What happened here?” I asked a few people.

But Guan Zengbin and the others just shook their heads, signaling they’d only just come out and had no idea themselves.

I cleared my throat and addressed the crowd. “Let’s not get out of hand here. Pick someone to represent you and tell us exactly what’s going on.”

At that, a teenager who looked like a high schooler spoke up. “These three tried to steal a phone.”

“Steal a phone? How did that go down?” I asked, more intrigued now. “Give us the whole story.”

The high schooler launched into the details, telling us how these three turned out to be thieves.

Turns out, all these people had been using computers at Xianyuan Internet Café that afternoon, around five. That was prime time for the café, packed with customers. The three men slipped in, wandering the aisles under the excuse that they couldn’t find adjacent seats. Officially they were ‘waiting for someone to log off,’ but in reality, their eyes were scoping out easy targets.

They zeroed in on people lost in online games, completely absorbed in their screens.

These customers often left their phones on the table or hanging out of their pockets—modern phones are huge, after all. For the thieves, that made for perfect hunting. After picking a mark, the three of them would crowd around, pretending to watch the game.

Two acted as blockers, shielding the victim and other customers. The third would swipe the phone in a flash.

Once they’d scored, the trio never lingered. Claiming it was too crowded, they’d say they were moving to another café and exit right away. By the time the victim noticed their phone was gone, the three were long gone.

Same tactic this time. But in the middle of it, someone caught them red-handed.

That someone was the security guard at Xianyuan Internet Café—the only one on shift.

When he spotted the theft, the guard confronted the trio. During the struggle, the stolen phone fell to the ground. That was all the proof anyone needed that these three were the culprits. Exposed, the thieves went from angry to desperate, trying to force their way out. But the guard stood firm, blocking their path.

They knew the longer they stayed, the worse it would be for them. One of them suddenly pulled out a dagger.

Like tide rushing back, the crowd scattered in panic. But the guard didn’t budge. The thief with the knife, now wild with anger, raised it and lunged for the guard’s belly.

People could already picture the bloody scene about to unfold—except things took an unexpected turn. With a sudden clatter, the dagger dropped to the ground.

The guard had locked his grip around the attacker’s arm, then twisted hard behind his back. A sickening crack echoed as the thief’s arm popped out of joint. The other two, shaken by the brutal takedown, tried to bolt. The guard didn’t care one bit—he caught both, one in each hand.

A moment later, before anyone even knew what happened, both thieves were sprawled out on the floor.

Then the crowd surged back in, surrounding the guard and escorting the trio of thieves to the station.

Turned out it was an act of bravery. As people chatted, one man was pushed forward. I studied him—a man in his forties, tanned, in a gray sweater and an unzipped leather jacket. He didn’t look like much of a talker; as the others nudged him ahead, he appeared a little bashful.

“Lock these three up!” the crowd shouted.

One of the thieves piped up, “Talking about theft? Got any proof? Which one of you saw us steal? If we really did swipe a phone, where is it? Where’s the owner?”

His voice turned hysterical, and he acted like he didn’t care about the consequences. Honestly, he wasn’t wrong—even if we suspected them, without a victim to press charges, there was a good chance nothing would come of this. He knew his law, at least a bit.

I looked to the crowd and asked, “Where’s the victim?”

No one spoke up. For a while, all was quiet. Then an older woman said, “That kid ran off. You know, we all caught the thief for his sake, but the minute he grabbed his phone, he bolted. Like the saying goes, what hurts most in this world isn’t evil people doing bad things—it’s good people staying silent.”

The woman didn’t look like anyone who’d be gaming in a café—probably just someone who’d come in after hearing the commotion. Her words, sincere and clear, immediately won raucous cheers from the others.

I scratched my head and said, “No victim, no problem. If you all testify that these three did it, we can still detain them.”

But before I could finish, the ringleader interrupted. “Great, go ahead and testify. But when I get out, just remember—I’ve got nothing to lose, but all of you have families. Think hard about the consequences.”

His glare was vicious as he looked around, then snapped, “Let go of me.”

The person holding him jumped, startled, and instinctively released their grip.

Right then, the woman from before chimed in, “Oh shoot, I left a pot on the stove at home—better get back before I burn the place down.”

The high schooler added, “Wait, I’ve got a cram class. Gotta run.”

In a flash, the idling crowd turned into a frenzied pack of Wall Street traders—everybody was suddenly swamped, claiming they barely had five minutes to spare. In a matter of minutes, the place emptied out, leaving only the internet café’s guard behind.

The thief was still full of swagger as he smiled coldly at the guard. “You’d better mind your own business, man. Or you’ll be out of a job before you know it.”

Hearing that, Gu Chen walked up and slapped the thief across the face. “Still think you can threaten someone? The three of you better tell us exactly what happened.”

Any fight left in them vanished at once; they hung their heads and followed Gu Chen inside.

It was only while taking their statements that we learned the guard’s name was Hao Ren. He was forty-four, and before this he’d lived in the countryside learning martial arts from his master. He once dreamed of opening a martial arts studio, but in this day and age that wasn’t realistic. So when he faced down that knife, he never felt afraid.

We got in touch with Xianyuan Internet Café and reviewed the security footage, which confirmed all three as thieves.

They were sentenced to fifteen days of administrative detention.

Before Hao Ren left, we thanked him for his bravery. He replied, “It’s nothing. I was just doing what I should. My master taught me when I was a kid—if you practice martial arts, you must stand up for what’s right and protect others.”

As I watched Hao Ren’s silhouette retreat, I suddenly recalled the old wuxia novels I read as a child.

It was just that, back then, the heroes seemed a lot more dashing than Hao Ren.