Good and Evil Chapter 133: Finding Zhou Hongwen

Even the cunning fox cannot escape the hunter’s grasp.

After leaving the train station in Y City, Zheng Lei and Xu Lang did not hail a taxi. Instead, they crossed the street to a parking lot where Wang Yiming retrieved the keys to a Volkswagen sedan from his backpack. It was clear the car had been parked there long ago.

Once inside the car, Wang Yiming took the wheel, Zheng Lei sat beside him, while Xu Lang and Zheng Maocai settled in the back seat. Wang Yiming drove directly to a hotel. After booking two rooms, he and Zheng Maocai escorted Xu Lang to his room, while Zheng Lei drove off alone.

Xu Lang was given a room to himself; Wang Yiming and Zheng Maocai shared the other. Once Xu Lang entered his room, Wang Yiming confiscated his phone. As for Xu Lang’s ID card, it had been taken by Wang Yiming at the S City train station and never returned. Of course, the ID was fake, but not entirely so, as it was crafted by Ning Yanran and her associates under the name Xu Minghao.

Although Xu Lang objected when Wang Yiming took the phone, he ultimately allowed it. It wasn’t that Xu Lang was overly attached to the device, but refusing might have exposed a flaw in his cover. Now that he was in Y City, Zheng Lei and his group held all the cards. Y City was their turf; they had no fear of Xu Lang causing trouble, or they wouldn’t have arranged things this way.

With everything settled, Wang Yiming and Zheng Maocai took Xu Lang out for lunch. To be honest, Xu Lang was truly hungry. From leaving the hotel at five in the morning until now—well into the afternoon—he hadn’t eaten a thing. Even an ordinary person would struggle after going seven or eight hours without food.

After the meal, Xu Lang returned under the watchful eyes of Wang Yiming and Zheng Maocai. Unlike others, he was not restless or anxious; he ate when he should, drank when he should, and rested when he should. There was no point in panic—things had reached this stage. Now, Xu Lang was curious to see what tricks Zheng Lei’s gang might play next.

For the following two days, Xu Lang remained in the hotel. Meals, cigarettes, and alcohol were delivered from outside or bought and brought back by Wang Yiming. The food was decent, the tobacco and liquor of respectable quality—not extravagant, but certainly adequate.

During these days, neither Zheng Lei nor Feng Liang came to see Xu Lang. It was as if he had been forgotten. At first, Xu Lang remained calm, but after two days, a trace of worry crept in. Still, he did not dwell on it.

On the third day in Y City, Zheng Lei finally appeared. This time, he did not come to chat idly, but brought several documents.

Entering Xu Lang’s room, Zheng Lei handed him the papers and said, “Take a look at this.”

Xu Lang glanced over the documents. First was a photocopy of an ID card bearing the name Zhong Shan. Except for the photograph, which was Xu Lang’s, everything else—the name, place of registration, and ID number—was fabricated and obviously forged. Beneath the ID copy was a consent form—a voluntary donation letter in which Zhong Shan pledged to donate a kidney to a man named Zhong Yue.

Reading these papers, Xu Lang instantly understood. It appeared Zheng Lei had come to ask him to donate a kidney to this Zhong Yue man. Though Xu Lang did not know Zhong Yue personally, he recalled reading about him in newspapers.

Zhong Yue was a well-known entrepreneur in Y City. If memory served, he was about sixty-five years old this year. A self-made man, he had risen from a humble vendor pushing a cart to a wealthy businessman. His story was legendary. Yet, unbelievably, despite his wealth, Zhong Yue could not find a suitable kidney transplant in any legitimate hospital—a bitter irony.

“Zhong Shan?” Xu Lang frowned and looked at Zheng Lei.

“Yes. From now on, you’ll be Zhong Shan, Zhong Yue’s nephew. You’re voluntarily donating one of your kidneys to your uncle,” Zheng Lei declared with an air of finality.

Hearing this, Xu Lang nodded at first, then frowned again, waving the ID copy in his hand. “What’s going on? Why do I have to assume a new identity?”

Zheng Lei smiled and explained, “Changing your identity is necessary. Organ donation is governed by strict regulations. You can’t just donate to anyone you want. To donate to a specific individual, you must be their relative.”

Xu Lang nodded, acknowledging the truth in Zheng Lei’s words. Indeed, organ transplantation and donation were tightly regulated by the state. When someone fell seriously ill and required a transplant—especially for vital organs like kidneys—there was a formal process. First, patients queued in hospitals to await a compatible organ. If luck favored them and a match was found, they could receive the transplant; if not, they had to continue waiting. Even then, not everyone got priority. This was unavoidable—a vast country with a huge population meant many in urgent need, but few organs available. This scarcity fueled the existence of a black market for human organs.

The second, less rigid route involved relatives, especially close family members. If a patient’s kin willingly donated an organ and the match was suitable, priority was given to the patient. Though this method did not solve the root problem of organ shortages, it alleviated some pressure. However, related regulations were far from perfect, and Zheng Lei’s gang exploited these loopholes to profit from illegal organ trafficking.

Beyond these two official channels, only the black market remained—and that was Zheng Lei and his cohorts’ business.

By now, Xu Lang finally grasped the operation of Zheng Lei’s group.

Zheng Lei, Zheng Maocai, and Wang Yiming were responsible for locating and confining donors—they supplied the source. Feng Liang acted as the intermediary, holding detailed information on patients urgently needing transplants. He would contact patients he deemed exploitable, negotiate prices, then liaise with Zheng Lei’s group to provide donors, facilitating the illicit trade.

Yet Xu Lang remained puzzled about the role of Boss Wen. The donors were handled by Zheng Lei’s team; Feng Liang contacted patients and negotiated prices. What was Boss Wen’s function? Was he merely the collector of payments? Xu Lang doubted it. Organ trafficking was a criminal enterprise; Feng Liang and his associates knew the risks well. If caught, they would face serious consequences. They operated with their necks on the line and hardly let anyone else share the profits.

This thought only deepened Xu Lang’s curiosity about Boss Wen.

After a moment, Zheng Lei noticed Xu Lang’s distraction and asked, “Finished reading?”

“Yes,” Xu Lang replied.

“Good. Then it’s time to move somewhere else,” Zheng Lei said.

“Where?” Xu Lang asked nervously.

“Don’t ask so many questions. Just come with me,” Zheng Lei said, rising and heading for the door. Xu Lang reluctantly followed.

Outside, they entered a different car, a Peugeot parked at the hotel entrance—unlike the previous Volkswagen. As he got in, Xu Lang instinctively memorized the license plate number.

Zheng Lei drove this time, with Wang Yiming and Zheng Maocai flanking Xu Lang on either side. Once seated, Wang Yiming abruptly placed a blindfold over Xu Lang’s eyes without explanation. The car started moving.

After about an hour, the vehicle stopped. During the journey, the city’s noise faded away; all that remained were faint dog barks and rooster crows. Xu Lang guessed they had been taken to a rural village.

The blindfold was removed, and before Xu Lang’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, Wang Yiming pulled him out of the car.

Closing his eyes instinctively, Xu Lang waited for about ten seconds before opening them. He found himself indeed in the countryside, surrounded by old red-brick houses with black tiles. The area was deserted, giving off a desolate vibe.

Looking ahead, Xu Lang saw a compound resembling a traditional courtyard house. The building was old, clearly aged. Surrounding it was a wall over two meters high, constructed from bricks—impossible to scale without assistance.

“Where is this?” Xu Lang asked, scanning the surroundings.

Zheng Lei smiled faintly but offered no explanation. He walked straight to the gate, unlocked it, and entered.

Zheng Maocai followed him inside. Xu Lang wanted to look around but was nudged forward by Wang Yiming. Reluctantly, he followed.

Inside the courtyard, beside typical rural items, four dogs were chained. These were not ordinary village dogs but German Shepherds. On seeing Xu Lang, all four fixed their gaze on him, bodies leaning forward in an aggressive stance. They neither barked incessantly like typical mutts nor lunged like Tibetan Mastiffs, but watched vigilantly, as if ready to pounce at any perceived threat.

Xu Lang surveyed the courtyard. Apart from Zheng Lei’s group, there were no other people. Initially puzzled, he realized this must be where Zheng Lei’s gang kept their donors. But why no guards?

Looking again at the dogs, Xu Lang understood. These dogs were intimidating in size and demeanor. The courtyard’s gate was locked from the outside and could not be opened from within. With these dogs and the impenetrable wall, escape was impossible—explaining why Zheng Lei’s group left the place unguarded.

As Xu Lang took in his surroundings, noises came from two adjacent rooms. Shadows flickered behind their windows. Xu Lang frowned; these must be the donors Zheng Lei’s gang had been keeping.

Soon, Zheng Lei explained.

“Brother Xu, before the operation, you’ll have to stay here,” he said, opening one of the rooms and standing at the door, gesturing for Xu Lang to enter.

Xu Lang hesitated. Zheng Maocai stood to his left, Wang Yiming to his right at the door, forming a triangle that trapped him. Any attempt to flee would be swiftly countered.

Reluctantly, Xu Lang entered. The door was shut behind him and locked from outside.

He sighed quietly, then turned to inspect the room.

There were seven men inside, plus Xu Lang, totaling eight. All appeared young; the oldest looked no more than thirty, the youngest possibly underage. As Xu Lang scanned their faces, he recognized one—a familiar face he had been searching for: Zhou Hongwen.

Seeing Zhou alive brought relief. Xu Lang had gone to great lengths with the police to find him, prepared for the worst, fearing he was dead. Now, though relieved, Xu Lang noticed Zhou’s pallor and pained expression. Most notably, Zhou sat on the bed with a dark brown bandage wrapped around his waist.

This sight rekindled Xu Lang’s worry. Zhou was alive but likely had undergone surgery—probably missing a kidney. Xu Lang’s heart ached, mingled with anger and concern.

The room was modest—nothing more than a large dormitory-style space with a bathroom, a kitchen, tables, and chairs. The table was cluttered with medicine bottles, bandages, and cotton swabs. The air was heavy with a strange, unpleasant mix: foot odor, sour sweat, and a faint metallic scent of blood, revealing their harsh living conditions.

Of the seven men, aside from Zhou on the bed, two others looked to be in their early twenties and lay on the bed too, their pallid faces moaning softly—likely also operated on. Three others sat around the bed playing a card game. The only one standing was a boy with a faint mustache, thin and short, his complexion sallow, clearly malnourished.

The three card players barely glanced at Xu Lang as he entered—unmoved by a newcomer. Their faces showed no sympathy or pity, only numbness and indifference. The boy, however, dimmed visibly at Xu Lang’s arrival. He looked at Xu Lang, opened his mouth several times as if to speak, but said nothing. Finally, he sighed and quietly approached the bed, gently feeling the foreheads of the two lying there.

Though silent, Xu Lang saw compassion and helplessness in the boy’s eyes. When he glanced at the two on the bed, he avoided looking at their abdomens, where bloody bandages still seeped.

After surveying the room, Xu Lang remained silent, walking over to Zhou Hongwen.

He sat on the edge of the bed and asked, “Are you Zhou Hongwen?”

Zhou’s eyes, initially wary and tense, widened in surprise upon hearing his name. His mouth parted slightly, silent yet clearly asking, “How do you know?”

Xu Lang’s certainty grew. Finding Zhou alive meant his journey was not in vain, and despite the room’s grim atmosphere, his heart felt a slight ease.

Remember the ultimate evil’s permanent address.