Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 178 Transoceanic Orders, The Hidden Card to Freeze Time

Tianjin Municipal Bureau Archives Building.

Two o'clock in the morning.

The special archives on the third basement floor are not open to the public. As soon as the door is opened, the smell of old paper and mold mixed together rushes out, enters the nasal cavity, and makes people's throats feel dry.

Rows of iron filing racks reached the ceiling, dividing the room into narrow alleyways. The old, dilapidated light bulbs cast weak, distorted white light that cast shadows between the racks.

Liang Qinian, wearing white gloves, stood in front of the innermost row of file shelves. His eyes were bloodshot, and half of his face was shrouded in the lamplight. The exhaustion from not sleeping all night could not suppress the tension in his shoulders and back.

Behind him, two young police officers from the Economic Crime Investigation Division squatted on the ground and dragged a metal box from the bottom shelf out.

The edges of the box were rusted black, and the bottom was pressed against the cement ground. When dragged, it made a long, piercing noise.

"Team Leader Liang, here are the bank transaction records for large sums of money from 1996."

The tin box was pried open, and the brown paper bag was stuffed full, with the glue at the seal already yellowed and brittle.

Not long after, one of the officers pulled out a yellowed receipt from the bottom, held it up to the light, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Team Leader Liang, found him. The last four digits of his account are 4589. On March 12, 1996, 20 million was transferred in. The note said it was for engineering equipment. The payer was a shell company that has been deregistered."

Liang Qinian took the paper.

The paper was so thin it was brittle, and the edges curled up slightly under his fingertips.

His hand couldn't hold it down and trembled.

Five years.

To find this money, he went to every place around Tianjin where he could investigate, asked hundreds of people who had handled the case back then, and the files he went through could fill half a wall.

His sister's portrait, the backs of the deceased workers' families kneeling in the rain—these are the nights he has repeatedly come back to look for him.

The money that Lu Haiming used to silence people, to fill holes, and to turn dead lives into bad debts, finally ended up in his hands.

"Investigate the follow-up."

When Liang Qinian spoke, his voice was hoarse from staying up all night and smoking.

The archives fell silent again, with only the intermittent clatter of keyboards.

"Less than an hour after the funds were deposited, they were split into fifty transactions, each worth 400,000 yuan, and transferred to multiple personal accounts in coastal areas."

The young officer stared at the screen, speaking faster and faster, "These accounts were all closed within three days of being opened, and the funds were all withdrawn."

The officer next to him, flipping through old case files, added, "The modus operandi of underground banks. Tracing the final convergence point back through the intelligence system, it ended up in Hong Kong, at a financial institution called East Asia Trust."

The chain of evidence has been broken.

Every point Chen Yan pointed out was so accurate it sent chills down one's spine.

Liang Qinian didn't know where Chen Yan got these things from, nor did he intend to ask.

All he knew was that this line in front of him was enough for him to pull out the venomous fang that Lu Haiming had been hiding for many years.

He turned and walked to the corner of the archives, grabbed the red secure phone on the table, and dialed the private number of the head of the Provincial Department's Economic Investigation Division.

"Director Zhang, this is Liang Qinian. There has been a major breakthrough in the Lu Haiming case. I personally guarantee that we immediately launch an inter-provincial investigation and apply to the Ministry of Public Security to freeze all real estate and corporate accounts under the name of Jinghai Film and Television. Yes, proceed now. They are transferring assets."

BJ.

Seven o'clock in the morning.

Jinghai Film and Television Building.

At this time of day, the front desk would usually be staffed with employees changing shifts, and the elevator area would be crowded with employees carrying coffee. But today, the entire building is deserted and cold, with only the lights on in the top-floor conference room.

The blinds were drawn tightly shut, blocking out the first rays of dawn.

Two groups of people were sitting at opposite ends of the long conference table.

On one side were several puppet executives of Jinghai Film and Television, their ties askew, their eyes dark, their faces pale in the light, and their coffees cold and untouched.

On the other side is the legal team of East Asia Trust.

Their leather shoes gleamed, their sleeves were neatly pressed, and their folders were laid out in order. Everyone sat relaxed, as if they had already seen their prey enter the cage.

The middle-aged man leading the group was named Zhao Cheng. His eyes, behind his gold-rimmed glasses, swept across the room, and he glanced at his Patek Philippe watch.

"Time is up."

He pushed a stack of documents to the center of the table, the pages sliding across the surface and stopping in front of the general manager of Jinghai Film and Television.

"Ladies and gentlemen, after signing this asset transfer agreement, the thirty plots of land will belong to the Overseas Asset Management Department of East Asia Trust. Your personal debts will be written off, and no one will pursue you for the rest of your lives, no matter where you retire."

The general manager of Jinghai Film and Television picked up the pen, his palms sweating so much that the pen shaft became slippery.

He knew exactly what the agreement meant.

By selling off assets at rock-bottom prices, dismantling the company's last foundation, and handing over Lu Haiming's long-accumulated escape route to someone else.

But the people at East Asia Trust had already laid their knives on the table. Debts, family, and travel arrangements—everything was laid bare before him. He had no other choice.

The pen tip hovers above the signature bar.

boom!

Two heavy solid wood doors were kicked open from the outside, the door panels slammed against the wall, plaster fell off the wall, and the teacups on the conference table jumped.

The general manager flicked his wrist, and the pen tip dragged a black mark on the contract.

Everyone in the room stood up in unison, their chair legs clattering haphazardly against the edge of the carpet.

"Where are the security guards? What are they doing?!"

Zhao Cheng frowned, looked up, and raised his voice.

It wasn't a security guard who came in.

More than a dozen uniformed economic crime investigation police officers entered one by one and dispersed to various parts of the conference room, guarding the main entrance and side doors.

Liang Qinian walked last.

His eyes were sunken even deeper, stubble was sticking out, and his police uniform jacket still smelled of dust from the archives, but his steps were heavier than ever.

He walked straight to the conference table with a document stamped with a red seal in his hand.

"Sit down, everyone. Put your pens on the table."

Zhao Cheng's expression changed for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure.

He stood up, slowly straightened his Armani suit tie, and distanced himself from the panicked Jinghai executives.

"Officer, we are legal representatives from East Asia Trust."

Zhao Cheng maintained a professional demeanor, stating, "A legitimate commercial debt liquidation is underway here. Do you think you can justify barging in like this?"

He pronounced the word "legal" very clearly.

Liang Qinian slammed the document down in front of him.

"What you are transferring is money laundering proceeds from the 1995 Tianjin construction collapse case involving organized crime."

Zhao Cheng lowered his head.

The red lettering at the top of the document caught my eye.

"Decision of the Ministry of Public Security on Freezing Assets of Jinghai Film and Television Culture Co., Ltd."

He planned for a week, mobilized multiple channels, and calculated the time difference to develop an asset transfer plan, but it was stopped before he could sign it by a piece of paper.

"impossible."

Zhao Cheng gritted his teeth, squeezing out each word, "The accounts were cleared so cleanly, it's impossible for you to have checked all the bank statements within twelve hours, let alone approve the highest level of freezing order."

"Save those words for when we get back."

Liang Qinian looked at him and said, "Take them all away and cooperate with the investigation."

Two police officers stepped forward and handcuffed Zhao Cheng's wrists.

Click.

Zhao Cheng did not struggle.

He stared at Liang Qinian for a moment, then suddenly said, "I need to make a phone call."

"You can contact a lawyer."

Liang Qinian nodded to his subordinates.

Zhao Cheng picked up the phone on the table and dialed an overseas number.

The phone rang twice before being answered.

"Feed".

Chen Yan's voice came from the other end; he was young, yet composed.

Airport announcements were playing in the background, a cacophony of voices that echoed through the empty waiting area even through the static.

The veins on the back of Zhao Cheng's hand bulged.

"Chen Yan, you're ruthless. You're really skilled at using others to do your dirty work."

"You're too kind, Mr. Zhao."

Chen Yan stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window at Venice Airport, watching a flight taxi at the end of the runway, its wing lights casting a red glow in the night.

"East Asia Trust has gotten used to getting the best of everything and always thinks it can just reach out and take what's in other people's bowls. I'm just reminding you to learn the rules before you sit down at the table."

"You think freezing assets means you've won?"

Zhao Cheng uttered each word through clenched teeth, "Even if the land is sealed off, you won't get it. East Asia Trust's scheme is more complex than you think. You've cut off our financial lifeline; you'll regret it when we get back home."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone.

Then, Chen Yan chuckled softly.

"Zhao Cheng, you've got one thing wrong."

He straightened up and pulled over the suitcase next to him.

"I'm not in a hurry to acquire the land. One year, two years, ten years are all fine. As long as it doesn't fall into the hands of you scavengers, this step I've taken won't have been in vain. As for what you call strangulation..."

The airport announcement of the gate change came over the loudspeaker, and a cacophony of noise swept past him.

Chen Yan's tone didn't rise, but it made Zhao Cheng slowly tighten his grip on the phone.

"Wash your neck and wait. I'm on the plane back home."

The call was disconnected.

Busy messages echoed one after another in the conference room.

Zhao Cheng put down his phone, his shoulders slumping slightly.

He finally realized that what East Asia Trust had bitten this time was not a piece of fat meat that could be easily swallowed.

Venice Marco Polo Airport.

Chen Yan put his phone back in his pocket.

Su Wan pushed the luggage cart over. Besides her personal belongings, the cart also contained a black box with the Golden Lion trophy inside. The edges of the box gleamed coldly under the airport lights.

"Boarding now, direct flight to Beijing."

Chen Yan nodded.

His gaze shifted from Su Wan's face to the black box, lingering for a moment.

Fifteen million euros have been deposited into the company's overseas account.

The Golden Lion Trophy is right here.

And those old grievances that are entangled in domestic affairs should also be settled one by one.

He took one last look at the night view of the water city outside the window, then turned and walked towards the boarding gate.

"Walk."

"Return to China and close the net."