Eyes That See All

Chapter 7: The Accident Car Trap

Wang Defa called the very next day.

"Zhang Lei." That voice — not quite hostile, not quite neutral. Something oily in between. "Heard you came by yesterday to pick up your things. Had a nice chat with one of our customers too?"

Zhang Lei stood in the kitchen gripping his phone. His mother was in the living room doing piecework. He kept his voice down. "I just said hello to someone."

"Said hello?" Wang Defa laughed once. "She went home and got the thing inspected, you know that? That was a done deal. Eighty-eight thousand."

Zhang Lei said nothing.

"You worked for me three years. Ate my rice, drank my water. And this is how you repay me — sabotaging my business after you leave?" Wang Defa's voice spiked for a moment, then quickly leveled out again, as if someone else was in the room. "Fine. Lei. I'll remember this."

The line went dead.

Zhang Lei stared at the darkened screen. The old range hood droned overhead, a haze of oil smoke and steam from boiling noodles drifting out. In the living room, Liu Guifen's small hammer kept tapping away at her assembly work — steady rhythm, unhurried.

She hadn't heard a thing. Good.

He'd expected this. A man like Wang Defa held grudges but never made open moves — an eighty-eight-thousand-yuan deal gone sideways, it would've been stranger if he hadn't called to posture. But that should be the end of it. That's what Zhang Lei figured.

He was wrong.

On the third day, a call came from an unfamiliar number — a dealership customer. A middle-aged man Zhang Lei had dealt with a few times before, surname Liu, ran a small hardware shop on the north side of town. Drove an older-model Passat and had brought it in for maintenance twice. Zhang Lei remembered him — the guy always showed up with a bottle of mineral water and a newspaper, sat in the waiting area reading until his car was ready, never rushed anyone.

"Xiao Zhang, aren't you still at Defa's? Boss Wang says he can knock five thousand off that black Accord for me, but I need to get it inspected first — says you can do the inspection."

"I don't work there anymore."

"Huh? But he told me to call you. Said the inspection fee comes out of what you owe him for work uniforms..."

Zhang Lei understood.

He leaned against the iron railing on the balcony, his fingernail picking at the flaking rust-colored paint. Chips fell away one by one.

Wang Defa was setting a trap. Elegant in its simplicity — a squeeze from both ends.

If Zhang Lei agreed to do the inspection — that black Accord was almost certainly another accident car. Zhang Lei "inspects" it, says it's fine, and when something goes wrong down the road the blame lands on him. Wang Defa might even have that phone invitation recorded as proof. "Zhang Lei did the inspection himself. Nothing to do with me."

If Zhang Lei inspects it, finds a problem, and the customer walks — then Wang Defa has his confirmation that "this kid is deliberately tanking my sales." One word spread around the trade circle, a reputation as someone who bites the hand that fed him, and Zhang Lei would never work in this industry again.

And even if Zhang Lei refused — like right now — Wang Defa still didn't lose. He could tell Mr. Liu, "See? The guy won't even help a former colleague. Character problem."

Boxed in from every angle. No matter which way Zhang Lei moved, Wang Defa had a line ready.

"What Boss Wang said isn't accurate. I have no connection to the dealership anymore." Zhang Lei kept his voice even. "I can't help with this. Get a third-party inspection done."

After hanging up, he stood on the balcony for five minutes.

The sun was brutal, bleaching the white wall of the building opposite until it hurt to look at. Down in the alley a junk collector's three-wheeler puttered past, its speaker blaring "buying old fridges, old washing machines, old computers" on repeat. The speaker was half-blown — crackling and distorted. The tarp over the cargo bed was patched in several places, the bed itself piled with flattened cardboard and a few rusted electric fans.

Not so different from his father's three-wheeler. His father's was worse — the bed had a crack running through the floorboards. On rainy days everything had to be covered with woven plastic sacks.

Zhang Lei pulled his gaze away from the three-wheeler.

Wang Defa wasn't going to let this go. That type of man kept grudges specific — who cost him how much money, that ledger stayed open forever. And he'd been in the business for over a decade, connected to every dealer, repair shop, and body shop in Binjiang City. Zhang Lei had zero background and zero network in this world — he was just a former car-wash grunt who'd put in three years. If Wang Defa wanted to make his life difficult, it would be as easy as breathing.

But Zhang Lei wasn't about to go crawling to Wang Defa either. It wasn't about pride or toughness. From the day he'd left home at eighteen to find work until now, he'd never bent that way. Neither had his father. The year the factory restructured and let people go, Zhang Jianguo had turned in his employee badge without a single extra word and gone straight to pedaling a three-wheeler for a living. This family was like that — not arrogant, just incapable of that particular kind of bowing.

What did he have right now? Eighteen hundred in the bank (what was already there) plus three thousand from the card games. Total: forty-eight hundred. Setting aside the twenty-thousand debt, he was actually better off than the day he'd been fired.

The card games could keep paying out. But Zhao Si...

Zhang Lei went inside to plug in his phone.

At three that afternoon, Su Qing sent a WeChat message:

"Boss Wang said in front of me today that you stole something from the dealership. Told me to check the records for any missing tools. I checked. Nothing's missing. But he doesn't seem like he's dropping it."

"I didn't steal anything."

"I know. The records all match." Su Qing typed fast. "But watch your back. He made two phone calls today — I don't know who to, but he mentioned your name. Didn't sound friendly."

Zhang Lei stared at the screen for a moment. A brand-new employee, barely a week in, going out of her way to keep tabs on the boss's movements for him — this woman paid attention.

"Thanks," he sent.

"No problem." A few seconds later she sent another message: "Those cars he's selling... it's not just the one with problems, is it?"

Zhang Lei didn't reply to that one.

He turned off the screen and leaned back against his headboard, thinking.

Su Qing's question had stirred something. Not just one car — that day his three-second scan had only covered the Corolla up front. He hadn't looked closely at the rest. But three years of experience at that dealership told him Wang Defa's operation sure as hell didn't stop at one accident car.

If he could get more evidence...

Not to report anyone. Zhang Lei had no interest in playing vigilante.

It was about self-protection. Wang Defa wanted to come after him? Then Zhang Lei needed something in hand that could shut the man up.

He decided to find a chance to go back to the dealership. Not for his belongings — to put the vision on every car in that lot.

Every problem vehicle's plate number, the type of defect, the exact location — all of it noted down. Stored on his phone.

That would be his shield. Next time Wang Defa reached for him, he wouldn't have to dodge — just raise the shield.

Outside, the junk collector's three-wheeler had long since rumbled away, its speaker fading to nothing. Zhang Lei closed the balcony window and went inside to charge his phone.