Chapter 361

Merging businesses isn't simple; although the combined assets of Yan Tong and the other anti-Wang front chief inspectors can't compare to Long Teng, in terms of employee count, though far fewer than Long Teng's, they still totaled over twenty thousand—no joke.

Fortunately, Yan Tong and the others weren't fools; though their businesses were mostly crude raw material processing, low-tech hardware and daily chemicals, plus some other light manufacturing and real estate, they were diversified and relatively healthy. Overall operations were actually decent, but high salaries and generous benefits forced annual adjustments, plus absorbing large numbers of new police officers' families, causing them to operate at a loss—or even in debt.

As for acquiring Yan Tong's assets, that wasn't even buying—it was bullying widows and orphans, costing next to nothing. Of course Wang Yan felt no guilt; all the money was dirty, and he'd given Yan Tong's widow enough to live on for years. Saying it cost "next to nothing" was only relative to the actual value of Yan Tong's vast empire.

As for Lan Gang's three men's assets, though he spoke nicely, it was practically no different from open robbery, far below market value. And even then, he hadn't paid in full—he arranged installment payments.

So in truth, his pressure wasn't nearly as heavy as imagined; he'd just absorbed too many backward businesses, temporarily making Long Teng unhealthy.

Building from nothing and improving or transforming existing foundations are two different things. Relatively speaking, the latter is even harder, because big ships turn slowly—too many aspects, too complex.

Because his subordinates' experience and ability were relatively poor, Wang Yan had to devote most of his energy to adjusting, upgrading, and transforming Long Teng's businesses. After more than a year, by June 1958, he finally steered Long Teng firmly back on track, letting it grow wild and surge forward along its predetermined path.

As for the police force's internal situation, it was exactly as the foreigners wanted: infighting, power struggles. The brothers who had once united tightly against the rival chief inspectors now turned on each other over who earned more and who earned less.

Wang Yan could have crushed them, but there was no need—it was human nature, and suppressing it did no good. Since the day he became Chief Chinese Inspector, he'd barely interfered in the chief inspectors' squabbles; he truly acted as referee.

Once the chief inspectors realized Wang Yan's constraints were lax, their courage grew bit by bit; they began drafting their own rules, collecting protection fees from gangsters, street vendors, and shopkeepers. When Wang Yan still took no action, they grew lazy, spending every day drinking and whoring, ignoring public order in their districts. The money they collected surged far beyond before, and their ambitions grew much larger; the streets reverted to the filthy chaos of before Wang Yan's rise, public resentment boiling over.

Then, on an ordinary beautiful morning, Wang Yan exercised his authority, convened a full-hong Kong chief inspectors' meeting, and dismissed nineteen chief inspectors in one go. When a few of them defiantly shouted that he'd taken the lion's share of the dirty money, he broke both their legs on the spot.

After that, the streets of Hong Kong and Kowloon returned to their former state—public order better in every district. They'd found Wang Yan's bottom line: the streets must remain peaceful, no public resentment. As for gangsters, forget it; merchants and street vendors still paid fees at the same ratio as in Chi Yun Shan—no one dared set prices or extort arbitrarily.

People are just inherently perverse…

Wang Yan didn't care much about the chief inspectors' power struggles; as long as citizens remained peaceful and the harm targeted only gangsters, he simply didn't care.

As for Lan Gang, Han Sen, and Li Yiwen—the three chief inspectors—the foreigners overestimated them; even with the imperial sword in hand, it was wasted, since they weren't insane.

They knew the foreigners wanted to use them to split Wang Yan's authority, preventing him from truly unifying the Chinese police force. But as the saying goes: eat whose food, serve whose master—all rank-and-file officers owed Wang Yan their favors. What could they possibly split?

Could they gather a group to fight? Would they dare? Though nominally the three chief inspectors of the major districts, their subordinates eyed their positions—but who dared eye Wang Yan's?

Even if, with foreign support and police regulations, they could technically split Wang Yan's power—what then? What if Wang Yan smashed the table and gave them heart attacks? Would the foreigners pay with their lives?

So they were very obedient—even overly so, showing none of the authority expected of Chinese police bigwigs. They also had to regularly report to the foreigners, neither loved nor cared for, stuck in the middle, struggling to survive.

Fortunately, Wang Yan was considerate—he didn't pressure them, instead gently guiding them. And generously, he let them recommend candidates for vacant inspector posts. Besides assigning Lei Luo to Yau Ma Tei, he promoted six outstanding senior detective inspectors to chief inspector, and split the remaining twelve vacancies—four each—to the three of them.

Remember, those inspectors who'd once been their peers, having just defected, dared not overreach; of the nineteen dismissed, only four were fools—the rest mostly followed Wang Yan. Now each of them got four more, so their combined power actually surpassed his—though this only applied to chief inspectors, not rank-and-file officers.

Faced with Wang Yan's demands, they couldn't refuse; they could only tremble as they promoted their men. They met privately, unified their stance. Of the four promoted, two were known to be loyal to Wang Yan, one was the highest bidder, one was their personal favorite. As for the money these men gave them, they dared not keep a single cent—they handed it all over to Zhu Youzi.

Zhu Youzi was a master at his trade; he laundered it all, channeling it through Long Teng as charity—Wang Sheng became a famous philanthropist in Hong Kong and Kowloon…

On the top floor of Long Teng's Central headquarters, Wang Yan sat by a tea table at the window, sipping tea while gazing out at the view.

Just now, he signed the final document regarding the other chief inspectors' assets, finally ending this grand expansion. From now on, he'd return to his former leisure.

But before that, he still had one matter to resolve.

Because of the confrontations among chief inspectors across districts, friction had arisen among rank-and-file officers too. Understandable—officers in lucrative areas earned more, while neighboring districts saw their protection fees plummet. Those earning more looked down on those earning less; those earning less resented those earning more.

This situation was unavoidable as long as police and gangsters remained one family, as long as dirty money could be collected openly. But police and gangsters must separate—and that separation couldn't be done by Wang Yan, the highest Chinese leader of the police force. The stakes were too high, the implications too vast; even his prestige meant nothing.

Right now, his duty as Chief Chinese Inspector was to help his brothers earn more money and live better lives—not to cut off their livelihoods. Cutting off someone's livelihood is like killing their parents. He was Chief Chinese Inspector; even if he were the richest Chinese businessman, it wouldn't matter—the police and gangsters alike would kill him.

The timing isn't right yet—not urgent. When will the timing come? When the ICAC is established.

Though his police force is still manageable and public order decent, the systemic corruption hasn't changed; internal decay is no different from before, perhaps even worse. So the ICAC will be established—it's only a matter of time.

As for the claim that the ICAC rarely targets foreigners but mostly Chinese—never mind. The overall direction is positive; that's enough.

But that's for later. Right now, he urgently needs to resolve the unity problem among rank-and-file officers. If left unchecked, if tensions grow, hatred will deepen—and reuniting them later will be impossible.

Competition is fine, but mutual hatred isn't. He must find a unifying outlet for all officers, make them bond, forge brotherhood in shared struggle. At the same time, he must fix the current unequal distribution of profits. After all, the ICAC's establishment is still far off; if this isn't handled well, even the strongest brotherhood will soon vanish.

As he thought this, he unconsciously drank several cups of tea, checked his watch—it was 3 p. m. He rose, straightened his clothes, and left. Today he'd arranged to have dinner with his father-in-law, Bai Fanyu, and the whole family.

Bai Fanyu had been thriving these past years: heavily investing in real estate, and leveraging his connection to Wang Yan to handle supply and distribution. After all, Long Teng's scale and operations were enormous—Bai Fanyu hadn't gotten rich beyond measure, but close. Though still a member of the Chengzhai Elders' Council, he'd shut down his former illegal operations—gambling dens, loan sharks, brothels—and had truly transformed into a legitimate businessman.

His main reason for staying in the Chengzhai Elders' Council was the abundant labor force, plus the steady influx of mainland immigrants—Chengzhai's population grew year after year, and cheap labor was what he needed.

But really, it was only minor exploitation—not to the level of ruthless capitalism. After all, police internal competition came first; even cheap wages were still higher than before. The reason they weren't much higher was simple: few jobs, many workers, supply-demand imbalance. In plain terms: if you don't work, someone else will.

Smiling, Wang Yan nodded to his greeting subordinates as he exited Long Teng's main gate. He bent to get into his car—when suddenly, a woman's piercing scream rang out: "Officer… Chief Chinese Inspector… Wang Sheng… Wang Yan…"

The cry was heart-wrenching, utterly tragic. Accompanying it were two children's helpless wails.

The sound startled the man opening Wang Yan's car door—he instinctively turned toward the noise, hand moving to his lower back. His bulky frame filled out his custom-tailored suit perfectly; the whole motion looked imposing.

But that was overkill. Wang Yan straightened and patted his shoulder, pointing at the woman shoving against three uniformed police officers: "Just a woman with two kids—don't go pulling your gun at the drop of a hat."

He stepped forward. Seeing him approach, the uniformed officers stopped trying to drag her away, only blocking her from getting closer to Wang Yan.

This was Central. This was the entrance to Long Teng. This was the Chief Chinese Inspector's Long Teng. Fixed patrols were stationed here; every time Wang Yan came, he saw the diligent uniformed officers—and inevitably remembered the Central District Inspector. A good thing. Besides, Lei Luo had once drunkenly revealed that Wang Yan had bought the adjacent building—soon, the headquarters would be rebuilt. Everyone tacitly accepted that Central District, never the richest, ranked first among all police divisions. And after Yan Tong's death, the new inspector was Lin Mingyuan.

"Brother Yan!" The three uniformed officers saluted in unison, presenting their best demeanor.

Wang Yan smiled and waved them off, then looked at the woman who'd knelt with her two children, wailing uncontrollably: "Sister, please stand up and speak. Kneeling like this makes things hard for me."

The woman sobbed, choking out: "Wang Sheng, please have mercy—save my daughter. Only you can help us…"

"Let's go inside. If I can help, I will. Calm down first." Wang Yan shook his head, glancing at the three uniformed officers: "Help her up. Come with me."

The area was crowded; her scream had drawn a crowd. His photo was everywhere—Hong Kong's richest man, Chief Chinese Inspector—his fame dwarfed any celebrity's.

The woman was sensible enough—not resisting, just sobbing as she followed him into Long Teng's headquarters.

On the first floor, in the reception area, Wang Yan sat on a sofa, watching the two children—faces streaked with tears, huddled together in their mother's arms—staring hungrily at the cream cake before them.

"Eat." Wang Yan smiled warmly, pushing the cake toward them. Seeing the children too timid to move, he turned to the woman: "Sister, ready to speak? Take the kids over there to eat. We can talk slowly."

The woman nodded nervously, guiding the children toward the female secretary standing nearby: "Go with the sister. Don't be naughty."

She'd planned everything—but Wang Yan hadn't spoken, so she dared not. The courage she'd built up before arriving vanished the moment she saw this gentle, legendary figure before her.

"Speak."

The woman pressed her lips, wiped her tears, and trembled as she began: "My name is Luo Xiufen. I live in Yuen Long San Tin. I crossed the sea in 1953…"

She spoke more fluently, her voice growing angrier. Through her gritted teeth, Wang Yan understood why she'd come—why she'd traveled so far to block his door.

Hong Kong was a British colony, with a garrison of three armed forces—roughly twenty thousand troops, mostly stationed in Kowloon and the New Territories; few were on the island itself. Their purpose? No need to elaborate—obviously to guard against the mainland.

These garrison troops brought their families and mostly lived in their own closed circles. Within their bases, they had built-in schools, medical care, recreation—excellent benefits.

But none of that mattered. They still did things—just like U. S. troops in Korea or Japan: brawling, robbery, rape, and other outrages—repeatedly.

Unfortunately, this unfortunate woman named Luo Xiufen suffered exactly such a thing.

As she said, she came over with her husband in 1953, but he died during the sea crossing, leaving her to struggle alone raising three children.

Six days ago, her fourteen-year-old eldest daughter was raped by two foreign devils; the girl resisted, and after the assault, they beat her half to death. They had no insurance, no money, could not afford a hospital, and with neighbors' help, a local clinic's Physician took pity and treated her. But due to the severity of her injuries, she is now critically ill, waiting to die.

Women are weak by nature, but mothers become strong; despite neighbors urging her to "accept it," "think of your other two children," "think of your son," she ignored them all and ran to the local police station to seek the cops.

At first, the officers were somewhat sympathetic, but when they heard it involved the foreign devil garrison, they immediately waved her off, saying they couldn't handle it. She blocked them for two days until she reached the Inspector, who gave her the same reply. When she threatened to go to "Wang Sheng," the Inspector helplessly explained that it would be pointless, and patiently laid out the power dynamics for her.

This was because Wang Yan had once actually solved problems for citizens who came to him—not just one—and had removed several Inspectors and fired multiple police officers.

This was, of course, Wang Yan's self-promotion: the first case was brought to him by Zhu Youzi, then spread by word of mouth, and only afterward did a few desperate people find their way to him. His purpose was simple: to leave a lifeline for ordinary citizens, otherwise frontline officers would run rampant.

It never happened that just anyone came to him; most merely used his name to scare the police. In truth, unless pushed to the brink, no one truly came to him. The last time someone reported to him was last year, during the Inspector infighting and chaos. Since then, nothing. Last time he went too far—he removed a third of all Inspectors—who dared cause trouble again?

Luo Xiufen's thinking was simple: Wang Yan was the highest-ranking person she could reach; whether it worked or not, she had to try, otherwise she would betray her dead husband. So, with someone caring for her dying daughter, she brought her two children and came herself.

After patiently listening to the full story, Wang Yan showed an appropriate expression of sorrow: "Sister, that Inspector didn't lie—he spoke the truth. Though I am a wealthy merchant and Chief Chinese Inspector, I cannot give you a definite guarantee—I can only say I will do my best to deliver justice for you and your daughter. But your daughter's life should be safe; I'll send someone with you right away to take her to the hospital for treatment."

I'm sure you've heard I practice traditional Chinese medicine, and my skill is decent—if the hospital fails, I'll step in myself and spare no effort to save your daughter's life. For now, you and your two children focus on caring for your daughter. Don't worry about anything else: Long Teng will cover your daughter's medical bills and your family's living expenses, and will find you temporary housing. Leave the rest to me, alright?"

"Thank you, Wang Sheng." As she spoke, Luo Xiufen couldn't help but cry again—there was hope.

How could she not believe someone of such stature? Though what she most wanted was justice, saving her daughter's life came first. In truth, if her daughter's life could be saved, she was already deeply grateful.

Wang Yan waved and summoned the female secretary who had been playing with the children: "Arrange a few people, bring a surgeon, go with her to see her daughter's condition, arrange hospital admission. Also, take care of the living arrangements for this mother and her two children."

"Yes, Wang Dong."

"Go." Wang Yan waved his hand.

"Madam, please follow me." The female secretary smiled and gestured for Luo Xiufen to follow.

Watching Luo Xiufen and her children leave, Wang Yan exhaled deeply and lit a cigarette.

In every police station, piles of Juan Sect files accumulated, each filled with the foreign devils' countless crimes. He had known this before—not because he was unaware, but because he was low-ranking and powerless.

In the past, the standard procedure was to register, file, then shove the Juan Sect files aside to gather dust, pretending they didn't exist—letting time heal the victims.

Others had tried to fight back, but they too were low-ranking and powerless. Reports reached the police high command, but the commanders were all foreign devils—they merely alerted the garrison's higher-ups, who gave a passing nod and called it done. Go to the barracks to demand justice? Two slaps across the face, a machine gun pressed to your skull—what could you do? Who could intervene? Who dared?

Over time, the foreign devils grew ever bolder, no longer regarding the Han people as human.

In the past, Wang Yan's influence was small, so he selectively ignored it. Later, when his power grew and he rose to high office, he saw and heard little that wasn't terrible. Though he always remembered to stand with the people, he only reached this position two years ago, and those two years—especially the past year—were incredibly busy, so he overlooked this issue. Even if Luo Xiufen hadn't come, he would have noticed soon enough, because he planned to reorganize the Chinese police order anyway.

Of course, not thinking of it doesn't mean it didn't happen—no excuses needed. No matter how much he explained, the fact remained: Luo Xiufen came to him. He hadn't acted sooner—that was his fault.

Wang Yan is a patriot—this has never changed, and is beyond doubt. Sometimes, or often, the word "patriot" before him can be preceded by "extreme," "left," "hawk," or combinations thereof—none of it is excessive.

Now that Luo Xiufen has come to him, and his power and influence are great, he must act. And this is an opportunity—an opportunity to strengthen the cohesion of frontline officers…