Eyes That See All

Chapter 9: Turning the Tables

Wang Defa moved faster than Zhang Lei expected.

Monday morning, his phone rang. Lao Zhou.

"Lei, did you piss off Wang Defa?" Lao Zhou was his high school buddy—the same one he owed five hundred yuan. Drove trucks for a small local logistics company.

"What happened?"

"Someone came by our dispatch station yesterday asking about you. Didn't say who sent them, but they wanted your home address, your dad's tricycle license number—that kind of thing. I didn't give them anything, but watch your back."

Zhang Lei stood on the balcony. His fingers tightened around the phone.

"Got it. Thanks, Zhou."

He hung up and stood there for a full minute. Wang Defa was digging into his background—why? Revenge? Looking for leverage? He was a twenty-eight-year-old former grunt. What was there to find?

Unless—Wang Defa was testing him. Trying to figure out how much Zhang Lei actually knew about those accident cars.

After the silver Corolla deal fell through, Wang Defa must have been asking himself who leaked the information. The most obvious suspect was Zhang Lei. But he had no proof.

Now he was looking for some. Or looking for something he could use to keep Zhang Lei quiet.

Zhang Lei took a deep breath.

He'd planned to wait—pick the right moment to play his hand. But Wang Defa wasn't giving him that luxury.

Fine. No more waiting.

Two o'clock that afternoon. Zhang Lei walked straight into the dealership.

This time, Wang Defa was there.

When Zhang Lei pushed through the glass door, Wang Defa was sitting behind his desk drinking tea. He looked up, momentarily startled, then plastered on that smile he was so good at—fake as the "Honest Business" sign hanging out front.

"Lei? What brings you back?"

"Wang-ge. Let's talk." Zhang Lei sat down across from him. Su Qing and Xiao Ma were both at the front counter—but a frosted glass partition separated them. They couldn't hear a thing.

"Talk about what?" Wang Defa set down his tea cup. "Work stuff? I told you, when something opens up—"

"It's not about work." Zhang Lei cut him off. "Wang-ge, you sent people to Lao Zhou's place. I know."

Wang Defa's smile froze.

"What do you mean? I don't know what you're—"

"You're digging into my information." Zhang Lei held his gaze. "Because of that Corolla."

Wang Defa went quiet. He leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his belly. The smile hadn't fully faded from his round face, but his eyes had gone cold.

"Lei." He spoke slowly. "You worked here three years. You know how I treated you. Then you leave and trip me up—that eighty-eight thousand deal, gone. You think I wouldn't have thoughts about that?"

"That car had a welded frame." Zhang Lei said it flat.

Wang Defa's fingers twitched.

"Which eye did you see that with?"

"Which eye doesn't matter." Zhang Lei pulled out his phone, opened the notes app, and turned the screen toward Wang Defa for two seconds. Four entries. Four license plate numbers.

He didn't let Wang Defa read the details—just let him see the fact of "four cars, documented."

"Wang-ge." Zhang Lei pocketed the phone. "I'm not here to cause you trouble. The customer thing—it's done. But stop coming after me. Stop digging into my life. Stop trying to mess with me. We go our separate ways."

Wang Defa's face shifted twice. First a flash of white—the split-second look of a man who'd been caught. Then it flooded back to a forced, ruddy composure. He snorted.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not threatening. Just talking sense." Zhang Lei stood. "You don't touch me, I don't touch you. Everything's backed up—don't bother thinking about stealing my phone or anything like that."

He had no backups, of course. The notes lived on his phone, not even synced to the cloud. But that was what you said.

Wang Defa stared at him for five full seconds.

"One more thing." Zhang Lei said. "You docked my vehicle damage pool fees for three months. Three months at three hundred each. Nine hundred yuan. Pay me."

"You—"

"Nine hundred. You make more than that on a single one of those four cars."

A vein pulsed at Wang Defa's temple.

Silence stretched for about ten seconds. Then Wang Defa pulled open a drawer, counted out nine hundred-yuan bills, and slapped them on the desk.

"Take it."

Zhang Lei picked up the money. Didn't count it.

"Wang-ge." He paused at the door. "We're done here. Stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours."

Wang Defa said nothing.

Zhang Lei pushed through the door. Passing the front counter, Su Qing glanced at him—she probably couldn't hear what was said in the office, but she'd seen Wang Defa's face. That iron-blue look of a man whose tail had been stepped on with nowhere to lash out.

Zhang Lei gave her a nod and walked out.

He didn't notice his palms were soaked with sweat until he was riding his electric scooter home.

Nine hundred. Plus the three thousand from the card game, plus the eighteen hundred already in his bank account. Total: five thousand seven hundred.

He wasn't sure Wang Defa would actually let it go. Men like that said one thing and meant another. But at least for now, Zhang Lei had something that made the man think twice before acting.

Enough. For now, enough.

When he got home he lingered in the stairwell for a moment. The neighbor's apartment leaked the smell of braised pork. His mother's assembly table had a new box of parts on it—she'd taken another order. His father's tricycle sat downstairs under its tarp, a layer of dust on top. Probably hadn't gone out today.

Zhang Lei pushed open the door.

"Ma, I paid Dad's medicine money for this month." He pulled four hundred yuan from his pocket and set it on the shoe cabinet.

Liu Guifen poked her head out of the kitchen, flour still clinging to her hands. "Where'd you get money? Didn't you get let go?"

"Picked up a short gig. Loading cargo."

"Oh." Liu Guifen didn't press further. She wiped her hands and tucked the bills away. "Noodles or rice?"

"Noodles."

Zhang Lei went to his small room and closed the door. He slipped the nine hundred yuan between the pages of a dictionary. Added to what was already there, page 200 now held a thick stack.

He opened his phone and screenshotted the four entries from his notes app, then emailed them to himself. Whether they'd be useful or not, at least they were backed up now.

Then he sent Su Qing a message on WeChat:

"Didn't scare you earlier, did I?"

"I don't scare easy." Her reply came fast. "But Boss Wang sat in his office for ages without moving. Face looked like he'd been poisoned. What did you say to him?"

"Talked some sense."

"You've got nerve."

Zhang Lei smiled.

"Can't afford not to." He typed those words, hesitated a second, then added: "Thanks. You helped today."

"I didn't do anything."

"Exactly." Zhang Lei meant it. Su Qing had done nothing in front of Wang Defa, and nothing in front of Zhang Lei. She saw what she saw without making noise. She stayed silent when silence was needed.

That was enough.

He set his phone down. Outside, the sun was nearly gone. Orange light leaked through the plastic sheeting over his window, falling on the water stain on the wall.

Five thousand seven hundred. Four thousand more than two weeks ago.

But still a long way from twenty thousand.

Tomorrow. Keep going.