Late at night, the filthy streets were shrouded in a thin veil, with dense mist slowly spreading, and the dim streetlights emitting a faint glow.
Under the cover of the mist, a tattered homeless man was rummaging through a garbage bin by the roadside, carrying a sack on his back.
To make his search easier, he forcefully tipped the entire garbage bin over onto the ground with both hands.
With a clang, the rotting food scraps and discarded cartons mixed together, emitting a nauseating stench.
From a dark spot ten meters away, Zhou Qingfeng concealed himself, his figure blending into the night.
He silently observed for over half an hour, only to confirm one thing: that homeless man was not scavenging but was deliberately vandalizing.
The dirty garbage was scattered everywhere, making the already untidy streets even worse.
This immigrant community’s streets resembled a chaotic, lawless little world.
Besides this mad homeless man, all sorts of people were moving through it, sneaky like ghosts.
Some were wantonly graffitiing on the walls along the street; some were yelling like maniacs; others were drunk out of their minds, urinating in any corner without a care.
Even worse, a group of thugs had formed a circle in the middle of the street, lighting up a gasoline barrel. The flames danced wildly in the night wind, illuminating their fierce faces.
Soon, the pungent smell of marijuana drifted through the night wind, adding a further sense of depravity to this chaotic area.
Zhou Qingfeng, amidst it all, unconsciously placed his hand on his waist holster, scanning everything vigilantly, sleepless tonight.
The neon sign of the car wash had long gone out, and the shop owner was also asleep.
Only a nondescript mobile surgical van was parked in the corner, with a faint light seeping through its gaps.
Inside the van, after a three-hour surgery, the shattered bones and flesh in Karl’s head had been cleaned out, and the wound sutured.
The "Corpse Collector" removed his bloodstained gloves and exhaled a long breath.
Chief Inspector Karl, despite being inexplicably shot, had the bones in his cheek and jaw shattered, and half of his tongue mangled.
But fortunately, the bullet went through and did not cause particularly severe secondary damage.
"He won’t die for now," the "Corpse Collector" handed the finishing work to his nurse wife, walked out of the surgical van, and said tiredly and coldly:
"He’ll wake up in eight to ten hours. Our deal is done."
This meant that Zhou Qingfeng had to take the unconscious Chief Inspector Karl away. The "Corpse Collector" would not escort his "clients" around.
After the surgery, the inspector’s face was as pale as paper, his breathing weak but steady, and the bandages on his head were seeping a bit of dark red blood.
The IV drip on his arm was slowly dripping the medication, silently counting the passage of time.
"Doctor, I need to hire your nurse to continue caring for the patient," Zhou Qingfeng looked directly at the "Corpse Collector".
The "Corpse Collector" shook his head with displeasure, his tone icy: "I don’t care what trouble you’ve gotten into, and I’m not interested in knowing. But I can’t keep taking care of your man."
Zhou Qingfeng did not back down. He knew that without professional medical care, the comatose Karl could fall into danger at any time.
He took a deep breath and said more firmly, "I can pay, on a daily basis. Name your price."
The "Corpse Collector"’s eyebrows twitched slightly, seeming a bit swayed, but he still shook his head in the end: "That’s my wife, I don’t want her to take this risk."
"Three thousand US dollars a day," Zhou Qingfeng immediately offered.
"No means no," the "Corpse Collector" still shook his head, becoming impatient.
Zhou Qingfeng’s gaze shifted behind the "Corpse Collector", raising his offer: "Five thousand US dollars a day. You make money by taking high risks, why not consider it?"
The "Corpse Collector" still shook his head, but his wife suddenly spoke up, "Ten thousand US dollars a day. I can take care of this wounded man."
Zhou Qingfeng did not hesitate at all and nodded, "Deal."
The "Corpse Collector" was stunned for a moment, then looked at his wife and back at Zhou Qingfeng, a trace of surprise in his eyes: "Kid, you’re loaded?"
Zhou Qingfeng patted the "Corpse Collector" on the shoulder, "Don’t worry, I have no interest in a forty-something lady. I just need her professional skills, and I’m willing to pay for it."
The "Corpse Collector" was silent for a moment before finally saying coldly, "Alright, but I warn you, if anything happens to my wife, I’ll make you pay. I know who you are."
Zhou Qingfeng did not respond, just nodded.
A few minutes later, Chief Inspector Karl was carefully transferred onto a mobile stretcher and placed in the back seat of Zhou Qingfeng’s dilapidated pickup truck.
The "Corpse Collector"’s wife silently sat inside the car, her eyes fixed on Karl’s vital signs, as if everything around her was irrelevant.
Zhou Qingfeng started the pickup truck, its engine emitting a low roar.
As the truck slowly drove away, he rolled down the window and waved to the "Corpse Collector": "You can keep in touch with me through the ’Gray Shark’."
The "Corpse Collector" stood outside the window with a cold expression, then turned and walked towards his own surgical van.
On the road, inside the pickup, there was complete silence, only the faint breathing of Chief Inspector Karl and the dripping sound of the IV in the air.
A few kilometers later, the "Corpse Collector"’s wife broke the silence, her voice icy and direct: "Who exactly did you provoke?"
Zhou Qingfeng glanced at her from the rearview mirror, his tone calm and refusing: "Don’t ask, I don’t want to answer."