Chapter Seventy-Three: A Trip to the Police Station

Qin Anyi stood his ground, not dodging or flinching in the slightest, allowing the man’s hands to shove straight into his shoulders. Yet, to the man’s astonishment, Qin Anyi did not stumble back as he had expected. Instead, it was the man himself who seemed to have pushed against an immovable wall; a tremendous force rebounded through his arms, a sharp pain shooting through his hands, and, thrown off balance by the impact, he tumbled awkwardly to the ground.

“You… you dare to hit someone!” the woman shrieked as soon as she saw the man fall, her anger flaring as she rushed at Qin Anyi, her posture brimming with the arrogance of one accustomed to having her way. She raised her hand and aimed a slap at Qin Anyi’s cheek, but before it could land, an iron grip seized her wrist, holding her fast.

“Which of your eyes saw me hit him?” Qin Anyi’s voice turned cold as he held her hand firmly in place, preventing her from striking him.

The woman struggled, only to find her wrist utterly immobilized. The boy before her, who did not appear particularly robust, possessed an extraordinary strength that defied belief. Failing to wrench her arm free after several attempts, she suddenly cried out, “Help! He’s assaulting me!”

By now, the man had gotten back to his feet, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. He shouted a few furious sentences into the receiver, hung up in exasperation, and glared at Qin Anyi. “Do you know who I am? I’m telling you, you’re finished!”

Qin Anyi frowned. He had clearly heard the man’s call and gathered that he was likely related to some deputy mayor. While he didn’t know the man’s exact identity, if the other party insisted on twisting the facts, there would be little he could do. Matters like this could only be handled by Weidong. When it came to the affairs of the privileged elite, it had to be someone of their own to settle things.

Incidents involving the powerful and well-connected were rarely reported by the media. News control had always been of utmost importance in this country—especially after the era of reform and opening up, when the Propaganda Department’s role became almost synonymous with maintaining national stability. Every successive head of propaganda was afforded a rank just below the highest level of government. Unless political necessity dictated otherwise, only select pieces of such news would ever reach the public through various channels. For ordinary citizens to expect the media to reveal the truth of such matters was pure fantasy.

The two sides simply lived in different worlds. Even though they shared the same blue sky, their lives were divided by invisible yet insurmountable lines of class and status. The likelihood of an average person clashing with these scions of privilege was so minute as to be almost negligible.

In fact, had Qin Anyi lived as an ordinary person, he would never have become entangled with these people at all. Both his previous confrontation with Guo Qingyuan and this current dispute with the Audi-driving man had arisen only because fate had granted Qin Anyi power far beyond the norm, and thus he had been inadvertently drawn into their world.

Sometimes, the world’s divisions were so stark. The physical distance might be nothing more than a brief encounter on the street, but in reality, it was as vast as the ends of the earth.

He released the woman’s hand, took out his phone, and sent a text to Weidong. Then he turned to the elegant young mother who was still holding her son, showing no intention of leaving.

“Well? If your child is all right, perhaps you should take him and go.”

“It’s fine. Are they planning to call the police? I’ll stay and testify for you, so they can’t frame you,” the young mother replied, her cheeks puffed in indignation. Even in her anger, she was undeniably charming.

“A witness? That won’t be necessary. I have friends who can resolve these minor issues,” Qin Anyi said, surprised by her simple faith. When it came to disputes among ordinary people, even the authorities might not uphold justice, much less when the privileged were involved.

Evidence and witness testimony—such things only carried weight when both sides were evenly matched.

The man’s aggressive bluster cowed the onlookers into silence, each afraid to provoke trouble. Though many were indignant, none dared voice their discontent. After thousands of years of indoctrination, these compliant citizens had learned to hold their tongues.

“Let’s go to the police station. It’s not good to block the way here. I trust the police will handle things fairly,” Qin Anyi spoke up suddenly. Just moments before, Weidong had replied to his message, instructing him to go with the police to a nearby station to settle the matter. Such incidents, unfolding in broad daylight, were always best resolved out of the public eye. After all, Weidong’s father was the top official in Changqing, and every honor or stain that befell the city would ultimately reflect upon him.

“I’ll go with you. I’ll testify on your behalf. You’ve done nothing wrong, and I believe the police will be fair in dealing with this,” the young mother declared resolutely, holding her child tight.