The middle-aged man tore off his coat, revealing a belt of explosives strapped to his body, then leveled an old-fashioned flintlock pistol straight at the young salesman.
Having worked in real estate for years without ever encountering a real firearm, the young man smirked dismissively.
“Mr. Wu, are you trying to scare me with a toy gun?”
Wu Laosan—already seething over the company’s unpaid wages—said nothing. Instead, he raised the flintlock, took aim at the crystal chandelier overhead, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
A lead bullet tore through the air, shattering the chandelier’s glass bulbs into a rain of fragments that scattered across the floor with a brittle clatter.
Then, Wu slowly redirected the smoking barrel back at the young man, his voice dripping with menace.
“Still think it’s a toy?”
The salesman’s smug composure evaporated. His face paled as he stumbled backward, hands raised.
“Mr. Wu, this is a crime—you understand that, right? Put the gun down now, or you’ll regret it!”
“Regret? If I were capable of regret, I wouldn’t be standing here with a gun and enough explosives to level this place. Stop moving. Or the next bullet goes through your skull.”
Wu’s voice was ice-cold. He’d made his peace with this path long before stepping into the sales office.
Trembling, the young man froze mid-step. “P-please, calm down. Violence won’t solve anything.”
“You’re right. Violence doesn’t solve problems—it eliminates the people causing them. Now call your boss. Immediately. Or I press this button,” Wu snarled, lifting a crude detonator wired to the explosives around his waist, “and we all leave this world together.”
The salesman’s knees nearly buckled. “O-okay! I’ll call him right now! Just… just don’t press that button!”
“Less talking. More dialing.”
…..
Meanwhile, outside the sales office…
The entire confrontation had unfolded in full view of Yan Qi’s family.
“That man’s armed with live explosives. We need to get out of here—now.”
Yan Zhenyi, a seasoned criminal investigator, didn’t wait for his wife or daughter to respond. He grabbed their wrists and dragged them away, joining the flood of panicked pedestrians putting distance between themselves and the building.
Only after sprinting over a hundred meters did he finally stop, breathing hard.
“We should be safe here.”
Li Caifeng clutched her chest. “Husband… were those real explosives?”
“I don’t know,” Yan Zhenyi admitted.
“Right. You’re not some superhuman with X-ray vision.” She swallowed hard. “But we need to report this to your superiors immediately.”
“Agreed. If that man detonates, the casualties will be catastrophic.”
Pulling out his phone, Yan Zhenyi relayed the situation to his police captain. Within minutes, a coordinated response was underway—swat teams, bomb squads, and negotiators en route to Daheng Real Estate.
As he hung up, Li Caifeng bit her lip. “Did you… tell them everything?”
“Yes. Backup’s coming.”
A pause. Then, softly: “You’re staying to help, aren’t you?”
Yan Zhenyi nodded. “The department’s stretched thin after the train station incident two days ago. They need every officer.”
Li Caifeng opened her mouth—perhaps to protest—but stopped herself. Instead, she straightened his collar with trembling fingers.
“Then come home safe.”
Yan Qi, who’d been silent until now, tugged at her father’s sleeve.
“Promise you’ll make it back, Dad.”
He ruffled her hair. “I promise. Go home with your mother.”
With that, Yan Zhenyi turned and jogged back toward the sales office—and the armed madman waiting inside.