Chapter 23: Poverty Is Not a Crime

The man kept sizing up Zhou Andong: “You… really a reporter from Jingcheng?”

Zhou Andong smiled and pulled Jiang Yuyue to his side: “She is. I’m just her assistant.”

Zhou Andong, with clear self-awareness, pulled Jiang Yuyue in front of him—he wore work clothes underneath and a military overcoat he’d had for years; this appearance made it hard to link him with a reporter from the capital.

Sure enough, as soon as Jiang Yuyue stepped in front of Zhou Andong, the man’s dull, lifeless eyes flickered with a glimmer; his lips trembled as he said: “I’ll accept the interview—will it really be reported?”

Jiang Yuyue had already understood Zhou Andong’s plan, and she trusted him unconditionally; she declared firmly: “Yes!”

Zhou Andong said: “Gambling harms both self and others, severely disrupts family harmony and happiness, corrupts urban and rural civilization, and undermines social stability—so the state has always maintained a zero-tolerance stance. Believe us: tell us everything that happened in your home. Once reported, if it draws law enforcement attention, they will investigate, dismantle this gaming hall as a social tumor, and bring the criminals to justice. We’ll purify the social environment and safeguard social harmony and stability.”

The man nodded heavily: “Fine, I’ll accept your interview. Ask whatever you want.”

“Let’s just chat casually,” Zhou Andong said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting one for the man. “Tell us about your son—how did he get hooked on gambling?”

The man squatted on the ground, smoking silently, head down. Zhou Andong squatted beside him, not rushing, waiting for the man to speak. Jiang Yuyue held the camera, filming both of them.

“Chen Liang used to be a good kid, with excellent grades—he always ranked in the top ten of his grade…”

The man spoke softly. Zhou Andong said nothing, listening quietly. Jiang Yuyue recorded. This went on for over half an hour.

A thin figure appeared in the distance, stumbling, falling twice after only a few steps, then getting up and continuing forward—his vacant, confused gaze suggested utter helplessness.

The thin figure drew closer; Jiang Yuyue was the first to notice: “Dongzi—it’s… Chen Liang!”

The man snapped his head up, watching his son approach—covered in mud, no telling how many times he’d fallen. His eyes had no focus, staring blankly toward home, staggering past them.

The man stood, reached out to grab him—but missed. He rushed after his son, face filled with worry. No matter how great the sin, no matter how much he’d beaten or scolded him—he was still his son; it was impossible not to worry.

“Go check,” Zhou Andong said, crushing his half-smoked cigarette underfoot.

Jiang Yuyue nodded and followed Zhou Andong to the man’s house. Before even entering the courtyard, they heard wailing and angry shouts from inside.

At the door, Jiang Yuyue suddenly grabbed Zhou Andong’s hand—tight.

Zhou Andong stopped: “Scared?”

Jiang Yuyue lifted her chest proudly: “Who… who’s scared?” But her grip on his hand tightened further.

Zhou Andong’s lips twitched: “Want me to wait here for you?”

Jiang Yuyue shook her head stubbornly: “I said I’m not afraid.”

Zhou Andong pressed down her camera hand: “Don’t film the deceased. Once inside, follow me and bow three times to the dead.”

Inside the outer room, Jiang Yuyue’s body stiffened, her legs turning rigid; she shuffled reluctantly as Zhou Andong pulled her to the door. The deceased lay on a plank facing west, supported by four stools, covered in yellow cloth.

“Huh!”

Jiang Yuyue exhaled deeply; seeing the body covered, her tension eased. She obediently followed Zhou Andong and bowed three times to the deceased.

The man hadn’t expected Zhou Andong and Jiang Yuyue to come. The women scolding Chen Liang fell silent, turning to stare at them.

Zhou Andong said: “Since we’re here, pay respects to the widow, then talk to Chen Liang.”

The man hesitated, then said to Chen Liang: “They’re reporters from Jingcheng. Whether you accept the interview is up to you.”

Chen Liang stared blankly at Zhou Andong. After a long moment, he nodded and walked out, head down.

In the courtyard, Chen Liang’s voice hoarse: “Got any cigarettes?”

Zhou Andong pulled out a pack, handed Chen Liang one, and lit one for himself: “Say whatever comes to mind. Don’t say anything you don’t want to.”

Chen Liang took a deep drag, then tilted his head, eyes lost in the empty sky.

“I first entered the gaming hall during the summer vacation of my second year of junior high—went with my classmate’s older brother…”

Chen Liang’s account was far more detailed than his father’s—he was describing his own life.

Zhou Andong patted Chen Liang’s shoulder: “Of all ways to ruin a family, none is faster than gambling; of all ways to corrupt virtue, none is worse than betting. Some still cling to luck, dreaming of instant wealth through gambling—yet they forget: nine out of ten gamblers lose; prolonged gambling guarantees loss.”

Chen Liang squatted on the ground, hands over his face, sobbing: “I killed my mother. I betrayed her. I betrayed her…”

Zhou Andong sighed: “Child, admitting fault and changing is the greatest good. Mistakes aren’t terrifying—what’s terrifying is refusing to change. Your mother watches from above. If you never gamble again, if you study hard from now on, she won’t blame you—she’ll be proud.”

When Zhou Andong and Jiang Yuyue returned to the city, night was nearly upon them.

Jiang Yuyue asked: “Where to now?”

Zhou Andong said: “Chen Liang mentioned a woman named Du Jie—she worked for a public institution, had twin children, and her husband was manager of the city’s aquaculture company—seemingly a happy family. But she became addicted to slot machines, lost everything, lost her job, and her husband divorced her, transferred away, and took the kids. Now, crushed by massive loan-shark debts, she’s been forced into prostitution.”

Jiang Yuyue said: “We go find her?”

“Yes,” Zhou Andong said grimly. “I have a question only she can answer.”

“What question?” Jiang Yuyue asked curiously.

Zhou Andong said: “Chen Liang said his classmate’s older brother brought him to the gaming hall. When he ran out of money, that same brother lent him cash. And it wasn’t just him—many of his peers were brought there by that same brother. I suspect a hidden black network.”

Jiang Yuyue frowned: “Black network?”

Zhou Andong nodded: “Pimping—plainly put, middlemen. They lure people into gambling halls, skim profits, or lend at usurious rates.”

Jiang Yuyue said: “You think Du Jie was lured in too?”

Zhou Andong said: “Very likely. She worked for a public institution, her husband was an aquaculture manager—wealthy, respected. Perfect targets.”

Jiang Yuyue stared at Zhou Andong with sparkling eyes: “Let’s go find her now.”

Zhou Andong said: “We haven’t eaten all day. First, eat.”

They grabbed a quick meal, then arrived at Longting Nightclub.

Jiang Yuyue said: “This is also Zhao Jianlong’s business.”

Too early for opening; few patrons, scattered and sparse.

Zhou Andong and Jiang Yuyue sat down anywhere. A server approached: “Sir, Madam, what would you like to drink?”

Zhou Andong waved him off: “We’re waiting for someone. We’ll order later.”

“Understood,” the server said, turning away.

Jiang Yuyue said: “Why didn’t you ask the server?”

“The server won’t know who Du Jie is,” Zhou Andong said, nodding toward a woman nearby in revealing clothes and heavy makeup. “See her? She might know where Du Jie is.”

Jiang Yuyue said: “I’ll ask her.”

Zhou Andong said: “How?”

Jiang Yuyue blinked: “How else? Just ask where Du Jie is and when she comes.”

Zhou Andong smiled: “You ask like that, she’ll say she doesn’t know. Women like her are highly cautious—they guard their privacy fiercely. So tell her we’re friends of Du Jie’s ex-husband. The kids are sick, desperately miss their mother, and after searching everywhere, we found this place.”

“Will that work?” Jiang Yuyue doubted.

Zhou Andong shrugged: “Don’t know. Try it.”

Jiang Yuyue gave Zhou Andong a dirty look, then stood and walked toward the woman.

She said something—then the woman left, entering a room and not returning. Jiang Yuyue returned, her expression strange, sat down, and said nothing.

Zhou Andong blinked, smiling: “What happened?”

Jiang Yuyue took a deep breath, then sighed: “Du Jie died. Six months ago. She jumped into the river.”

Zhou Andong slapped his thigh in regret: “Wasted trip. But this lead might be useful later.” He stood. “Let’s go.”

They left the nightclub. Zhou Andong said: “Tomorrow’s calendar comes out.”

Jiang Yuyue’s gloom lifted instantly: “Great! I’ll come to your place tomorrow morning.”

“Alright,” Zhou Andong said, hailing a yellow minivan. “Distillery.”

When Zhou Andong got home, it was past seven. He lit the stove, left the door unlocked, and went straight to Yao Army’s.

Yao Army’s house wasn’t far—right at the eastern end of the alley. He arrived in minutes.

Zhou Andong entered and found only Yao Army home: “Where’s Uncle and Auntie? And Yingzi?”

Yao Army said: “My cousin’s getting married tomorrow. They’re all at my grandma’s.”

Zhou Andong said: “The calendars are printed. Are people arranged?”

Hearing the calendars were printed, Yao Army perked up: “All arranged.”

Zhou Andong said: “Tomorrow at eight, go straight to the print shop. Then follow the plan.”

Jiang Yuyue climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and stepped inside—immediately sensing something was wrong. Jiang Yuhai, who hadn’t been home for nearly a month, sat on the sofa with a dark face. Her father stared at the newspaper. Her mother’s expression was grim too.

“What’s going on?” Jiang Yuyue smiled. “Jiang Yuhai, did you make Mom angry again?”

Jiang Yuhai snorted: “Jiang Yuyue, tell me—where were you today?”

Jiang Yuyue’s face darkened: “Where I go is none of your business. You’re overstepping. Why don’t you go home and mind your own wife and kids?”

“Jiang Yuyue!” Zhao Yulan couldn’t hold back—she slammed the coffee table. “Who were you with, coming home this late?”

Jiang Yuyue looked from one to the other, then suddenly understood. She spoke bluntly: “I was with my brother-in-law.”

“Your brother-in-law?” Zhao Yulan’s fury surged. “Your sister’s in America. Where did you get a brother-in-law?”

Jiang Yuyue feigned realization: “Oh right—my sister’s divorced. So I was with Zhou Andong.”

“You—” Zhao Yulan clutched her chest, gasping for breath.

Jiang Zhengmin dropped the newspaper, placed his hand on Zhao Yulan’s chest, rubbing gently: “Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry.”

Jiang Yuyue was startled, rushing over: “Mom, Mom, are you okay?”

Zhao Yulan exhaled deeply, pointed at Jiang Yuyue, teeth clenched: “You little brat—I’ll die from you one day.”

“Jiang Yuyue!” Jiang Yuhai’s face darkened. “Are you insane? What kind of trash is Zhou Andong? You hang around him constantly—don’t you care what people say?”

Jiang Yuyue roared: “Shut up! What’s wrong with Zhou Andong? When he was still married to my sister, who carried rice and flour up the stairs? Who changed the gas canisters? You? What have you ever done for this family? Last year, when Mom had a heart attack, it was midnight, raining, no taxi to be found—wasn’t Zhou Andong who carried her all the way to the hospital? What right do you have to look down on him? Just because he’s a regular worker and you’re a bureau chief?”

Jiang Zhengmin sighed: “Yuyue, your brother and mother only want what’s best for you. Think: your sister divorced Zhou Andong. You, his little sister-in-law, still cling to him—how does that look? Neighbors will gossip. What will you make your mother and me face?”

Zhao Yulan pounded the table, tears streaming: “What sin did I commit to give birth to a monster like you? When I die in your hands, you’ll be happy.”

“Look what you’ve done to Mom!” Jiang Yuhai’s face was black as ink. “Jiang Yuyue, if you drive Mom to illness or death, I won’t forgive you.”

“I get it—you look down on Zhou Andong, despise him—because he’s poor. No matter how much he’s done for this family, it’s all expected. In your eyes, he’ll always be a pauper, unworthy of the Jiang family.”

Jiang Yuyue suddenly smiled: “But is being poor a crime? Is it illegal? You all look at him through a crack—you shrink him, dwarf him, flatten him, distort him. But I believe in him. One day, he’ll grow into something you can’t even imagine.”

PS: Two chapters combined. Also, thanks to klok313 for the book’s first gift.