Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Escape Plan

"Put the gun away!"

A calloused hand pressed down the dark barrel, and Hou San poked his head out, sweeping his gaze left and right. When the corridor outside the hospital room was finally clear of hurried passersby, he withdrew, gave Zhu Dachang a fierce glare, and said, "They’re not here for us… I’ve told you a hundred times, when something happens, stay calm. Drawing your gun at the drop of a hat—that’s what bandits do!"

Leaning against the wall, Zhu Dachang sheepishly stowed the homemade gun and grinned. "I just got too nervous… Third Brother, what’s going on out there? Why are the alarms blaring? I thought the police had us surrounded…"

"Seems there’s a fire," Hou San mused, stroking his chin. "In any case, it’s not safe to stay here. We should leave while we can. If the police really do come one day, a single homemade gun won’t get us out—what do you think I am, Zhao Zilong? Even he could barely get in and out seven times. We’d be riddled with bullets before we made it out once."

"But you’re still hurt," Zhu Dachang said worriedly, glancing at Hou San’s backside. "If it gets infected again… you’ll really lose your ass. I was too anxious earlier, but now that I’ve thought it through, maybe we should wait until you’re healed. We’re using Yellowhair’s ID anyway. The hospital’s records have his name, so the police shouldn’t know we’re here…"

Hou San wagged his finger. "It’s precisely because Yellowhair knows we’re here that it’s more dangerous."

"Huh?" Zhu Dachang’s face was full of surprise. "But didn’t he swear brotherhood with us? Even if we’re not blood brothers, we’re at least friends. He wouldn’t rat us out to the cops, would he?"

"You’re too naïve," Hou San replied, feigning wisdom. "There’s a saying these days: ‘Friends are for selling out.’ Many heroes have failed because their so-called friends stabbed them in the back. Remember, Zhu Dachang: there are no eternal friends in this world, only eternal interests."

Zhu Dachang mumbled an uncertain "oh," lowering his head and muttering, "But there are some… Aren’t we forever friends?"

"How can we be the same?" Hou San sniffed. "We…" He pointed at Zhu Dachang, then at himself. "We’re sworn brothers under heaven and earth. I’d never betray you, no matter what. Isn’t that right?"

The gloom in Zhu Dachang’s eyes vanished instantly. He nodded, eyes shining with devotion, then glanced furtively toward the door. "Third Brother, let’s just get out of here. If the fire spreads, we’ll be in trouble. There’s no one outside now; it must be pretty serious…"

"Nonsense," Hou San scoffed. "I don’t even smell smoke. If there was really a fire, I’d have dragged you out already. Someone’s probably playing a prank. Still, with all the chaos outside, no one will notice us—this is our chance."

Zhu Dachang bent down, clapping his back. "Come on, Third Brother, I’ll carry you!"

"No need," Hou San waved him off. "I can walk. It’s just a few steps to the parking lot. I’ll manage."

"Why the parking lot?" Zhu Dachang straightened up, puzzled. "We don’t have a car…"

Hou San raised his hand, about to smack Zhu Dachang’s head, but a sharp pain in his backside made him think better of it. He sighed, exasperated. "Why are you so dense? What do we do for a living? There are so many cars in the lot—can’t we just borrow one? If you hadn’t spent all our money on hospital bills, we’d have cab fare. Now look at us."

"We’re still two hundred short…"

"Idiot! You think the hospital cares about our pocket change? These days, even treating a cold means blood tests and CT scans—costs hundreds just to walk in. The hospital makes enough in a day to last us a lifetime. Let me teach you a secret to wealth, Zhu Dachang: making money is nothing. Keeping it is the real skill."

Leaning against the wall, Hou San began shuffling toward the parking lot. "Don’t dawdle. Once we get a car, I’ll take you to the South River for a feast."

Zhu Dachang’s eyes sparkled at the mention of food. He licked his lips, scooped up Hou San, and said, "Then let’s hurry! Cold meat isn’t as tasty…"

A few minutes later, they reached the hospital parking lot. Hou San patted Zhu Dachang’s hand. "Put me down. Let’s see which car suits us."

Zhu Dachang peered at the neatly lined cars, pouting. "What’s the difference? Just pick one at random."

"Don’t talk nonsense," Hou San grunted, limping past rows of cars. He stopped before a black sedan. "This one." He ran his finger over the body. "There’s almost a full centimeter of dust—means it’s been here a long time. By the time we return it, the owner might not even notice it was gone."

"Brilliant!" Zhu Dachang gave a thumbs-up, tugged on the door, and blinked. "But Third Brother… we don’t have the key. How are we supposed to borrow it?"

Hou San grinned slyly. "Didn’t someone ‘borrow’ our taxi without a key? I’ve checked into it and learned the trick. Live and learn. Watch and be amazed!"

He pulled a piece of wire from his pocket, bent it into a hook, and slid it through the window seam, fishing for the lock. With a deft upward pull, the door popped open.

Zhu Dachang clapped. "Amazing, Third Brother! Why didn’t I think of that?"

"Keep it down!" Hou San hissed. "Do you want everyone to know we’re stealing a car? Wait till you see what I do next—I’ve rehearsed it in my head a thousand times. Time for a real show."

Obediently, Zhu Dachang slapped a hand over his mouth and watched in anticipation.

Hou San crouched under the steering column, pulled out a small knife, and slit some wires. He held two ends together, but after several attempts—sweat beading on his brow—there was still no ignition. His throat grew dry. "Impossible… It always works in the movies…"

Zhu Dachang pointed at another wire, whispering, "Third Brother, maybe you need to cut that one too, and use both ends to start it. I think that’s how the guy who ‘borrowed’ our taxi did it…"

"Why didn’t you say so earlier?" Hou San wiped his forehead, glaring at Zhu Dachang. "Are you making a fool of me?"

"I wasn’t sure," Zhu Dachang replied, scratching his head. "I didn’t actually see how he did it. I just noticed, after we caught up and knocked him out, that both wires under the taxi were cut. I guessed that’s how it worked…"

"Let’s try." Hou San clicked his tongue, sliced the other wire, and touched the two ends together. Sparks flew, and the car roared to life. He quickly wrapped the wires with tape, then slid into the driver’s seat, amazed. "It really works… Get in!"

Zhu Dachang scrambled into the back seat and closed the door.

Hou San licked his lips, excitement shining in his eyes. "South River, here I come!" He started the car and headed for the exit. At the gate, he stopped, eyeing the barrier and the empty guard booth. He muttered, "City folks will charge you for anything—even parking." Then he told Zhu Dachang, "Get out and lift the bar."

Zhu Dachang flashed an ‘OK’ sign, hopped out, and raised the barrier with all his strength. "All set, Third Brother!"

At that moment, a security guard in uniform appeared out of nowhere, shouting, "Who are you two? What are you doing there?"

Hou San’s eyelid twitched. He dropped the handbrake and floored the accelerator, the car shooting under the barrier with a roar.

Zhu Dachang glanced at the guard racing toward him, then at the black sedan speeding away. He dropped the bar and sprinted after Hou San, yelling, "Third Brother! I haven’t gotten in!"

Three minutes later, the breathless security guard limped back to his booth, grumbling, "Those bastards risked their lives just to dodge a parking fee—racing a car down the main road… If he runs that fast, he should play football…"

After Zhu Dachang and Hou San had left, a man in a gray jacket and blue mask entered the parking lot. He pulled out a car key and pressed the unlock button, but no lights flashed. Frowning, he walked to the other side of the lot and tried again; still nothing.

He paced the parking lot several times, repeatedly pressing the button. His expression grew darker. He looked at the car key in his hand, took out his phone, and dialed a number, barely keeping his anger in check. "What’s the meaning of this?"

"What do you mean?" came a young man’s confused voice.

"You really don’t know what I mean? Do you have to make me say it?"

"If you don’t explain, how am I supposed to know?"

"What you did is pointless," the man in gray spat, clenching his fist. "If you wanted the cops to catch me, you could’ve just told them where I am—no need for all this. You think if I’m out of the way, you’ll get Jinyue all to yourself? Dream on! She doesn’t have feelings for you—she only loves me!"

"What nonsense are you spouting? You’ve got time for this now? You’re unbelievable…" The caller paused, as if realizing something. "Wait… are you still in the parking lot? Can’t find the car?"

"Of course not!" the man in gray hissed. "I’ve searched everywhere—your car isn’t here!"

"How can that be?" the man on the line sounded genuinely shocked. "I parked it there a week early so no one would notice. When the time comes, I’d just report it stolen… Look again—it’s a black Geely, plate A16723…"

Just as the man in gray was about to reply, hurried footsteps echoed from the direction he’d come. Several officers, guns raised, rushed in. One of them said confidently, "I saw on the monitors that the suspect ran this way. He must still be in the parking lot. Stay sharp—don’t let him get away!"

The man in gray immediately hung up, hurled the car key in the opposite direction from the exit, and dashed toward freedom.