The high-tech surveillance room at the Le Mansion had become a theater of agony. The hum of cooling fans and the frantic clicking of mechanical keyboards provided a rhythmic backdrop to the unfolding nightmare on the wall of monitors. It was 23:05, and the digital map of Shanghai was bleeding red icons as the pursuit intensified.
The two lead officers—Chief Inspector Zhang Tie, a veteran with a face like weathered granite, and Senior Superintendent Lin Feng, known for his surgical precision in high-stakes crises—stood at the helm of the console.
The silence was shattered by the harsh static of the wall-mounted radio.
"Command, this is Unit 7. We have visual! Two Jinbei vans with fake 'Gongwu' stickers. One is tearing down the G60 Hukun Expressway toward Zhejiang; the second has been spotted weaving recklessly through traffic on the G15 Shenhai Highway heading North toward Jiangsu. They are driving like madmen, forcing civilian cars onto the shoulders!"
The room collectively gasped. Li Meiling clutched her chest, her knees nearly buckling, while Lin Xia gripped the back of a chair so hard her knuckles turned white.
Chief Inspector Zhang Tie grabbed the radio, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Unit 7, maintain distance but do not lose them. Senior Superintendent Lin, get me the bird's eye view! I want every satellite and traffic camera from Minhang to the provincial borders locked onto those coordinates!"
The parents stood in a semicircle, their expressions a haunting gallery of Shanghai's broken elite.
Madam Le stood at the very front, her eyes red-rimmed but sharp. She wasn't crying; she was vibrating with a lethal, cold fury. "Splitting them up," she thought, a frantic prayer. "They are splitting our children to divide our strength. If they cross the provincial line, the jurisdictional nightmare begins. We have minutes, not hours."
Mr.Gu stood with his arms crossed, his jaw set so tight it looked like stone. Beside him, Mrs.Guwas whispering a silent mantra, her eyes closed. "Wei-er, you were always the smartest. Find a way. Please, find a way."
Jiang Rou looked at the digital map, his scholarly mind analyzing the trajectories. "They're heading for the major veins out of the city," he whispered to Mr.Zhang. "If they reach the toll gates, they might use the chaos of the heavy logistics trucks to switch vehicles again."
Mr. Zhang didn't respond; he simply glared at the screen, his hand trembling as he reached for his phone to call his private contacts one more time.
Chen Jian's face was a map of broken pride. His hands, which usually commanded a multi-billion yuan real estate empire, were shaking so hard he had to shove them into his trouser pockets. "Bo... my stupid, brave son," as his thoughts whispered, a sharp contrast to the stern mask he usually wore. "I scolded you for your grades this morning. I called you a disappointment. If you don't come back, that's the last thing you'll remember of me."
Mei Ling and Wang Ruolan hold their hands while praying to God, so that their children can return safely .
Superintendent Lin Feng leaned over the technician's shoulder. "Access the S32 Huyuan Expressway cameras now! If the G60 is congested, they'll pivot there."
He turned to the parents, offering a curt, professional nod—a gesture of calmness meant to stabilize the room. "We have the eyes of the city on them now. They have caused three accidents in the last five miles. Their recklessness is their undoing; they are no longer ghosts."
"Catch them," Madam Le whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't care about the vans. I don't care about the damage. Just bring my daughter back."
Chief Zhang Tie spoke into his walkie-talkie with iron determination. "All units, this is Chief Zhang. The targets are identified. Implement a 'Rolling Blockade'—do not trap them in a way that endangers the hostages. We move as one. Shanghai does not let its children go this easily."
At the International Charity Event
The air inside the crystal ballroom of the Grand Hyatt was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and the suffocating weight of social networking. Gu Hang stood like a decorative pillar beside his father, Gu Jian, younger brother " Gu An", as they entertained Minister Tan.
"Hang-er," his father said, his voice booming with a jovial force that didn't reach his calculating eyes. "Don't just stand there like a statue. Take a photo of me and Uncle Tan. This is a moment to remember for the Gu family archives."
Minister Tan offered a practiced, humble wave of his hand—the classic Chinese polite refusal. "Oh, no need, no need. We are here for charity, not for vanity."
"Nonsense, Minister! It's for the children," Hang's father insisted, his hand firm on the Minister's shoulder.
Hang felt a familiar prickle of weariness behind his eyes. He masked it instantly with the "Good Son" smile he had practiced since he was six. He pulled his phone from his silk-lined pocket, the screen dark and silent. "Wei-ge and the others are probably laughing over cake right now," he thought bitterly. "While I'm here playing paparazzi for a bridge contract."
"Ready? One... two..." Hang clicked the shutter. The flash reflected off the Minister's gold-rimmed glasses.
"Let me see," his father said, reaching out with an expectant palm.
Hang began to extend the phone, his thumb hovering over the gallery icon. But as the screen stayed awake, a banner notification slid down from the top—a string of characters from an unsaved number that stopped his heart mid-beat.
To: Gu Hang
[URGENT]This is Brother Wei, We were kidnapped. Two Jinbei vans. Heading to Xuanchi Logistics Zone. Follow this signal. FIND US ASAP.
Hang's hand jerked back as if the phone had turned into a hot coal.
"Hang? What are you doing? Give it here," his father snapped, his eyebrows knitting together in a public display of annoyance.
Hang didn't hear him. The words "Kidnapped" and "Xuanchi" were screaming in his mind. He turned on his heel without a single word of apology—a massive breach of etiquette that left his father gaping in front of the Minister.
"Gu Hang! Get back here!" his father hissed, but Hang was already sprinting toward the gilded exit, his dress shoes skidding on the polished marble.
Outside, the cool Shanghai night air hit him, smelling of rain and exhaust. The neon lights of Lujiazui flickered in the distance, but Hang's eyes were darting left and right along the curb.
"Taxi! TAXI!" He waved his arms frantically, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Is this a prank? A cruel joke done By Bo? No... Bo is too lazy for this. And the tone... it sounds like Wei-ge. But whose number is this?"
A yellow Volkswagen taxi screeched to a halt. Hang lunged inside before the car had fully stopped.
"Le Mansion! The private estate district! Drive! Faster!" he shouted. The driver, a middle-aged man with a weary face, caught Hang's panicked expression in the rearview mirror. He didn't ask questions; he shifted into gear and merged into the late-night traffic of the Yan'an Elevated Road.
Hang sat in the back, the stolen phone trembling in his grip. His thumb hovered over the 'Call' icon.
"Should I call? If they're kidnapped, a ringing phone is a death sentence." His inner thoughts were a chaotic storm. "But if I don't call, how do I know it's real? What if this is a trap for me too?"
He stared at the unknown digits. In Chinese culture, numbers often hold hidden meanings, but these were random—cold and terrifying. He looked at the 11:15 PM timestamp. The "Unified Alliance" was in trouble, and he was the only one with the map to their grave.
His finger descended, a fraction of an inch away from the green icon.
Back at the Jinbei
The air inside the Jinbei was suffocating, a mix of lingering sedative and the hot, metallic smell of an overworked engine. Outside, the night was no longer a silent ally to the kidnappers. As they reached a major intersection leading toward the industrial outskirts, the world turned into a chaotic gridlock of yellow and green light.
A sea of Shanghai taxis—the ubiquitous strikers of the night—had swarmed the intersection. Whether by coincidence or a sudden shift in the city's nocturnal pulse, the Jinbei was suddenly boxed in. To the left, a Volkswagen Santana honked incessantly; to the right, a row of delivery scooters hemmed them in like a school of frantic fish.
Damn you!" the driver roared, slamming his palms against the steering wheel. The rhythmic thud-thud of his hands echoed the frantic beating of Gu Wei's heart in the back.
The passenger checked his watch, his face twisting into a mask of anxiety. "We're ten minutes behind. The Boss doesn't like waiting, and the second van is probably already at the Xuanchi gate. If we're late, it's our heads."
Frustration reached a breaking point. The passenger kicked his door open and stepped out into the humid air, shouting at a taxi driver who was leisurely lighting a cigarette. A moment later, the driver followed suit, his patience snapped. Both men were now standing on the asphalt, engaged in a heated, verbal shouting match with the surrounding drivers.
This was the opening.
Gu Wei sat up with agonizing slowness, his muscles screaming from the sedative's after-effects. He stayed in the "dead zone" of the windows, his eyes darting to the silhouettes of his captors. They were preoccupied, their backs turned as they gestured wildly at the traffic.
He pulled the stolen phone from his pocket. The screen felt like a beacon of forbidden light in the dark van. He checked for a reply from Hang.
"Nothing."
"Hang, you are my only hope,"Wei thought, his thumb trembling over the keypad. In Chinese families, the elder brother is the shield, the one who knows all the answers. For the first time, Wei was the one reaching out from the darkness, his role reversed. "I've spent my life being the 'Selfish King,' manipulating everyone for a peace they didn't ask for. If I die here, the last thing my brother will remember is me being a shadow."
He typed with blurred vision: [SENDING LIVE LOCATION] Hang, find us ASAP. Don't call. Just come.
He saw the driver's hand grip the door handle outside.
Wei didn't just lie down; he melted back into the floorboards, tucking the phone under his hip. He regulated his breathing, forcing his body into the limp, heavy state of the unconscious.
The van rocked as the two men climbed back in, their faces flushed with adrenaline and lingering anger.
"Stupid city," the driver spat, wrenching the gear shift. "Everyone thinks they own the road because they have a license. We're lucky they didn't call the Police over that fender-brush."
The passenger glanced back. His eyes lingered on Wei's shoulder for a second too long. Wei held his breath, his pulse thundering in his ears.
"Still out cold," the passenger muttered, seemingly satisfied. "Let's go. Take the left at the next light—it bypasses the main gate of the logistics zone. We'll use the side entrance near the old chemical silos."
The Jinbei lurched forward as the traffic finally groaned into motion. The vehicle tilted sharply as it took a hard left, the tires screeching against the pavement.
Wei lay in the dark, the cold metal of the stolen phone pressing against his skin. He had thrown the spear; now he could only wait to see if his brother was fast enough to catch it.
At Le's Mansion , Surveillance room
Chief Inspector Zhang Tie and Senior Superintendent Lin Feng stood like twin pillars of authority, their eyes darting between the massive glowing maps of the G60 Hukun and the G15 Shenhai.
"Target A is approaching the Songjiang interchange," a technician shouted, his fingers blurring across the keys. "Target B is bottlenecked near the Jiading industrial curve. We have eyes on both!"
The parents surged forward, a wave of expensive silk and desperate hope. Madam Le pressed her hands against the cool glass of the monitor, her breath fogging the screen. Chen Jian let out a ragged exhale, his broad shoulders finally unclenching. "Finally," he thought, his inner monologue a frantic prayer of protection. "The nightmare ends here. I'll never scold that boy again."
"Unit 7, report," Zhang Tie barked into the radio, his voice cracking with the strain of command.
"This is Unit 7. Ambush Alpha is set on the G60. Ambush Bravo is locked on the G15. We have them boxed in. Moving to intercept now!"
On the left screen, the G60 Jinbei swerved into a narrow maintenance alley, only to screech to a halt as two marked police cruisers blocked the path, officers spilling out with Type-79 submachine guns leveled. On the right screen, the G15 van slammed its brakes in front of a "Road Closed" construction barricade, surrounded by a ring of tactical officers.
Li Meiling collapsed into a chair, weeping with relief. Gu Jian shared a rare, stiff nod with Jiang Rou. The room was filled with the sound of sobbing—this time, it was the sound of a heavy burden being lifted.
Xia , Mei Ling and Wang Ruolan weeping their tears and Mr.zhang ( Hao's father ) Muttering " thank goodness "
"Open the doors!" Lin Feng commanded, his eyes shining with triumph. "Secure the children! Code Green!"
The cameras zoomed in. Simultaneously, on both highways, officers kicked the sliding doors of the Jinbei vans open.
The parents held their breath. They expected to see their children, groggy and terrified, but safe.
The doors slid back with a hollow, metallic clack.
The cameras focused. The interior of the vans was illuminated by the harsh glare of tactical flashlights.
They were empty.There were no teenagers. No silk dresses. No velvet blazers. Just a few discarded water bottles and the lingering smell of exhaust.
In the G60 alleyway, the driver—a man with a jagged scar across his cheek—didn't look afraid. As the officers forced him to his knees and pressed a barrel to his temple, he looked directly into the van's rearview camera. He flashed a slow, yellowish, evil smirk.
The silence that followed was more deafening than any scream.
Madam Le's hand slid down the glass, leaving a streak of cold moisture. Her knees gave out, and she hit the floor with a dull thud, her silver gown pooling around her like spilled mercury. Chen Jian let out a sound that wasn't human—a low, guttural howl of agony—as he slumped against the console.
"We... we have been tricked," Lin Feng whispered, his face turning a ghostly shade of grey. His professional mask shattered. "They were decoys. High-speed decoys to draw the entire Shanghai grid away from the real route."
Zhang Tie slammed his fist onto the desk, sending a coffee cup flying. "They used our own surveillance logic against us! While we chased these ghosts to the provincial borders, they moved the children somewhere else entirely!"
Min's parents sat on the floor, staring blankly at the empty vans on the screen. The realization was a physical poison: their children weren't on the highways. They were still in the heart of the city, or worse, buried in the industrial belly of the Xuanchi Logistics Zone, and the police had just sent their entire force in the wrong direction.