Chapter 815: Managing Upward

First kill the chicken to scare the monkey; clever people as shrewd as monkeys rarely do the unexpected.

So as expected, over the next three days, all three construction sites within Balihe's jurisdiction settled wages with their workers—making quite a stir: construction firms paid the subcontractors, who then gathered all workers on-site, and even specifically invited Balihe police to oversee the cash distribution.

They're all tough skins—unless you show real power, they look down on ordinary people from their high pedestals.

The developers' accounts may genuinely have little money; the construction firms also hold back large sums, and those firms in turn withhold payments from many suppliers—a chain of delays, all just dragging out the payments.

But those matters aren't Wang Yan's concern—as long as the workers get their wages, everything's settled.

In fact, such wage withholding should be cut with a swift blade; involving the Labor Bureau is too cumbersome, time-consuming, and inefficient. Migrant workers are relatively better off because they're numerous—many people can cause trouble, trouble creates impact, and impact demands resolution.

If police had enforcement power, once facts were confirmed, they could simply arrest those withholding wages—it would be more effective, stronger, and better protect laborers' rights.

But in practice, there are still too many complications; yet if you arrested the CEOs of listed companies as a warning, the effect would be tremendous—but clearly this is nearly impossible. Because it's not a systemic issue, it's a human issue.

Just as the state's insistence on governing by law is absolutely without flaw…

In short, the outcome was excellent: workers happily received the blood-and-sweat wages they'd earned through a year of grueling labor, and Wang Yan had fulfilled his duty to them.

After this matter was resolved, as Xu Dezhou exhaled in relief, he had no time to relax before Zhou Jincai and Chen Mingsheng were detained for prostitution; the Public Security Bureau's Economic Crime Unit contacted the Yuhuatai Branch's Economic Crime Unit, and both sides sent two officers each to jointly investigate this group's economic crimes—immediately arresting Xu Dezhou.

When Zhou Jincai, under interrogation, heard it was the Economic Crime Unit, he wore an "I knew it" expression and cooperated fully, confessing everything—he welcomed Xu Dezhou to join him.

Dragging your feet—why not just pay the money earlier? Now it's time: nobody gets off easy, everyone's going to jail. That was Zhou Jincai's inner thought.

During these days, another event occurred: Li Yisheng, Li Dawei's biological father, died. His illness progressed too rapidly; when he first returned home, he still had a bit of energy and could speak a few words to people, but within two days he lost consciousness, lingered for a while, then suffered brain death.

The station organized everyone to pay respects together; offering condolences was station policy: five hundred yuan per family—a normal amount relative to their income and camaraderie; inspectors and the disciplinary committee wouldn't interfere—it was ordinary social exchange. Besides, they each gave five hundred yuan and didn't even eat a single meal.

Funeral customs dictate that regardless of where someone dies or whether they're local, they're cremated on the spot. So a wandering child who left home whole, healthy, and full of life returns to his hometown reduced to a single urn.

Of course, nowadays people don't seem to care much about this—after a day of exhausting labor, few have the energy to confront such an unavoidable yet unwelcome reality.

Li Yisheng became a pile of brittle bone fragments and ash at the crematorium at the foot of the mountains far from Balihe, carried back to his hometown by Li Dawei and his mother. There, they would hold another funeral, inviting relatives and friends to gather and announce Li Yisheng's death.

Li Dawei's hometown had crumbling houses and a few mu of land; on the village's slopes lay many graves, holding generations of villagers. Li Yisheng was the eldest in his family and must be buried near Li Dawei's grandfather.

Life continued: after resolving the workers' wages, Wang Yan kept visiting the public.

Now, problems within the jurisdiction were rare; by now, no one understood better than the people of Balihe how much the beloved Officer Wang was hated.

Most daily troubles and grievances people endure stem from ignorance, ruthlessness, and shamelessness. Once you bring them to heel, life becomes harmonious—and that's why Officer Wang is hated.

With countless examples before them, even those in neighborhoods Wang Yan hadn't yet visited—who once were somewhat arrogant—had all become somewhat more restrained. Their lack of troublemaking caused the number of emergency calls across Balihe to slowly decline.

Balihe's 110 emergency calls peaked at 140–150 during holidays, around 70–80 on weekends, and fluctuated between 40 and 60 on weekdays.

But now, holiday numbers are hard to track since October 1 has passed and the long holiday is over; even ordinary weekends now see only 40–50 calls, and weekday calls have stabilized at nearly 30–40.

This is because neighborhoods Wang Yan visited rarely call 110; Dongning Village, the first he visited, went three full months without a single call—though later that changed, calls remained few, mostly minor disputes from personality clashes or careless words. Every call received meant immediate dispatch; officers arrived, said two or three sentences, and left.

At night, Wang Yan would still visit those neighborhoods to counsel them—same for others. Now they call only because they can't reach him; otherwise, he'd have come already.

Now, because Wang Yan visits so often and his reputation has grown, and because he cooperates with publicity efforts, he livestreams every ten or fifteen days, combining official documents to conduct legal education and answer netizens' questions—so many people seek him out.

He's surrounded by controversy: he's only just graduated, been a police officer less than half a year, yet received two commendations, two third-class merits, one second-class merit, one first-class merit, was promoted ahead of schedule, and as a bachelor's graduate now holds the rank of One Bar Two—worse, he was exposed as extremely wealthy, a genuine billionaire, plus his published papers in academic journals and Qiushi articles, and the methods he used to deal with ruffians—many online still curse him. Of course, many also like him; those who call him don't send lewd messages.

As for those cursing him, he hired a law firm to have interns collect evidence of rumors and defamation; first, local police stations would visit and reprimand them; if caught again, he'd sue directly—Officer Wang specializes in treating trolls and moral blackmail, setting a real example for how to handle online abuse. He openly declared: if anyone suffers false accusations, they can come to him—he'll help find a lawyer and front the legal fees, to be repaid only after winning the case.

So although his online reputation is sharply divided, he doesn't see it.

Many have complained about him, but all are outsiders who dislike him; inspectors won't touch such cases, the disciplinary committee ignores them, and the mayor's hotline gives no response.

As for the people of Balihe, put it this way: if he were fired, a few might cheer, but most would block government gates to protest his dismissal.

Even in neighborhoods he hasn't visited, those habitual troublemakers and exploiters know to tone it down—how many calls could there possibly be?

Now, the main emergency calls aren't within neighborhoods but on the streets: merchants being unscrupulous, customers being unscrupulous, or conflicts between customers—issues in food delivery, ride-hailing, and other service industries, mostly disputes, with virtually no public order cases.

Robbery has vanished; theft has nearly vanished—because Balihe's new surveillance system is fully installed, achieving true 360-degree coverage in public spaces, and every business has cameras inside and out; there are simply no such stupid thieves left.

Besides, months ago, under Balihe Police Station's swift, precise, and brutal crackdown, petty thieves in the jurisdiction were already subdued—most received light sentences, some just fifteen days' detention. But the speed? No joke. Even in businesses or companies, Balihe's case resolution is fast.

Basically, arrest one, and word spreads through the whole circle; when many such circles combine, those with criminal intent lose their courage.

On the other hand, theft and robbery mostly involve minors and young adults in their twenties—those who don't study, don't work in factories, don't take jobs, but want to smoke, drink, chase girls, and even upgrade their phones—they have no money and refuse to earn honest blood-and-sweat wages, so they turn to crime.

But because of the earlier campus bullying incident, Wang Yan's warning about cracking down on youth in the jurisdiction wasn't empty talk—he visited every primary, middle, and high school, and separately summoned sports-specialized students from junior and senior high, since these energetic, unmotivated kids are the main force behind student fights. Off-campus delinquent youth could also provide tips to Wang Yan.

Upon checking back, many had already been visited by Wang Yan—just not the children themselves. A single phone call, a warning or scare, was enough to frighten them into compliance. Then, round up a few prominent ones, arrest them, interrogate thoroughly—no major issues, detain for fifteen days; serious issues, handle normally; spread the word—and young people are thoroughly frightened.

The most direct proof: the "ghost fire" gangs haven't been seen for a long time. Whether they've truly cleaned up or just pretended, as long as they're invisible in Balihe, Wang Yan's mission is complete. If they've caused trouble elsewhere, that's other stations' problems. After all, he's just a police officer of Balihe Police Station—not the Public Security Bureau chief of Ping'an City.

But honestly, even if he reached the position of Public Security Bureau chief, entangled in political struggles, honestly, with Officer Wang's current ability, if he took that post, he'd still manage Ping'an City's public order flawlessly. Though modern Chinese society, with its inherently peaceful people, naturally has good public order, "good" and "better" are two different things.

Even if he reached the position of Ping'an City Bureau chief, he'd still conscientiously visit the public—just that five million people would be hard to cover one by one. But at that level, he wouldn't visit individually; he'd likely use public dialogues: he'd show up at a neighborhood, sit on a stool, bring a speaker, summon the local police station, community, and street staff, directly address public concerns, and solve problems on the spot.

Of course, that's just talk—if actually implemented, it'd be extremely difficult. The simplest point: he'd be overstepping his authority. This isn't a public order issue, it's a livelihood issue. Though he holds the title of Standing Committee member and vice mayor, he's only responsible for public security organs. Such popularity-building must be done by top city party leaders…

But then again, if he truly rose to that position, he wouldn't care about top party leaders. Come on—once he's unrestrained, who could match him? Don't talk about connections; even if behind him stood Mount Everest, to him it'd be nothing but a small hill.

Fantasy must be bold; boasting must be loud…

Back to the topic: Balihe's public order is now the "better" kind. Little Officer Wang has visited nearly 40,000 people and nearly resolved all their conflicts. For ordinary people, "finding someone to help" now means finding Wang Yan. Any reasonable, legitimate issue that should be resolved but is artificially delayed or made difficult—Wang Yan doesn't even need to show up; one phone call fixes it.

At the city and district levels, no exaggeration: Wang Yan can call directly to leaders of municipal agencies. Ninety-nine point nine percent of Ping'an City residents' problems are district government issues. And the district government? To be modest, Officer Wang walks through it like flat ground.

That's why he had the nerve to tell Wang Suo he wanted to form a multi-department joint enforcement team—even though he didn't clarify it clearly, note this: the force he'd assemble would be a joint city-district enforcement unit.

This isn't hard to understand: to target subsidiaries of Wan Chun Group, the district government lacks authority and can't effectively intervene—but with both city and district forces together, the problem dissolves. And he achieved all this solely through his iron-willed reputation and supporting articles. Relationships were cultivated only after contact—but before that, he simply forced them into action by threatening exposure. He, Ironhead Wang, is Ping'an City's biggest troublemaker, always talking about reporting.

In fact, precisely because Wang Yan served as "the person" for nearly 130,000 people in Balihe, he forced district agencies into reform, greatly increasing administrative speed, strength, and transparency—benefiting the people of other areas in Guangming District.

And these achievements must be credited to district agency leaders—and even more so to district party committee leaders—with the greatest credit going to the top district party leader. This political achievement is enough to propel him to a higher rank, indirectly extending his precious political life.

Though the process wasn't pleasant—it was Wang Yan's relentless tiered reporting that forced their changes, because Wang Yan's supervision was harsher than public supervision, his reporting more effective; if they failed to act, resignation was lucky, failure meant prison. Anyone with status and resources would feel terrible under such naked threats. But the outcome was truly beyond their expectations.

After all, doing nothing is safe—but being forced to act, and acting correctly, feels like an unexpected bonus. Of course, they claim it was entirely their own initiative, wholeheartedly serving the people and solving bureaucratic difficulties—completely unrelated to Wang Yan…

Here, serving the people of Balihe and using problems to pressure government agencies, after their reforms, benefits over a million people across Guangming District. As for higher-level municipal agencies, Wang Yan still can't pressure them.

He can scare them into action—that's enough. Push too hard, and he's challenging the city party committee. Though he isn't afraid, it's troublesome and unnecessary—he's still just a lowly police officer of Balihe Police Station.

He's essentially taken on the role of a traditional Chinese doctor again—this time not treating arrogance or boasting, but curing bureaucratic inertia. This old doctor sounds different—suddenly, he seems far more noble…

Wang Yan walked down the street—it was another duty day. Ping'an City lies in the north; it was now deep autumn, temperatures not high, and even in the mornings and evenings, breath formed faint white mist. But the people-serving Officer Wang never stayed inside the station waiting for cases—he insisted on patrolling outside, randomly visiting nearby shops.

Put it this way: even if knives fell from the sky, he'd hold up an umbrella and walk out to endure a thousand cuts. And if knives really did fall from the sky, the People's Police must step forward to endure them—he goes first, because he's a Party member.

"Brother Liu, your old habit is acting up again—don't use that interrogating tone. Maybe you've been at it so long you're used to it, but you need to keep this in check as much as possible. What we need to…"

This Liu-surnamed auxiliary officer was the one who had been following him before; from now on he'd be under Wang Yan's command. Wang Yan had already taken the four newbies—Xia Jie and the others—through one round of training, and with nothing better to do, he started giving this subordinate auxiliary a lesson, to groom him a bit. Contract worker or not, no law enforcement authority or not—he was still a cop.

Just then, the phone in his pocket rang. He glanced at the caller ID, put it to his ear and answered: "Chief, what are your orders?"

"Army Supervisor found a suspect who looks like a murderer. It's already been reported to the sub-bureau; we're launching a citywide manhunt now. Bring Liu back right away. Hanging up—hurry up."

Wang Yan thought for a moment—this was the case from the original drama where Cao Army Supervisor earned his second-class merit.

Ever since Wang Yan had scolded Cao Army Supervisor, the kid had changed a lot. Word was he'd even quit drinking, terrified someone might eye his pretty wife. He knew Wang Yan wouldn't do something like that, but who could be sure Wang Yan wouldn't? Who could be sure others wouldn't? He was genuinely scared—the consequences were too horrifying.

And after that, the two of them had started talking, no longer the old seven-dissatisfied-eight-resentful dynamic. Not much, but it had some effect. And last time, after the raid on Lanting Yase, Wang Yan had called the mother-in-law's character right on the mark, and Cao Army Supervisor had even muttered about it to Wang Yan—relations had eased further.

As for Cao Army Supervisor's death tribulation, that perverted murderer named Yue Wei had already been dealt with by Wang Yan. Once this matter passed, there probably wouldn't be any more problems.

After all, Wang Mou was right here. A second-class merit wasn't going to make Cao Army Supervisor so cocky he couldn't find his way home. As for earning an individual first-class merit later—Wang Yan could say with certainty: impossible.

A first-class merit isn't that easy to earn. And at Balihe Sect, if there's a first-class merit to be had, it absolutely wouldn't land on Cao Army Supervisor's head. Because that kind of thing isn't just dangerous—it's fatal. You earn the merit but don't live to enjoy it. This job is basically Wang Yan's exclusive territory.

The simplest example—would Zhao Changyi and the others dare to move? Dare to arrest the richest man's son? When something that big blows up, involving so many second-generation rich kids, would they dare handle it?

They're all ordinary people with families. Bravely catching thieves and murderers is already rare enough—how can you demand they stand up to people with power and money? Isn't that exactly why he, Wang Iron Head, has to step up to the front line…