Chapter 7: Thunderous Assault

New Year’s Eve, Qiantang.

The city lay shrouded in heavy dusk snow, streets enveloped in silence. The return of the migrant workers had halved the city’s population. In every household, the sole source of sound was likely the television broadcasting the Spring Festival Gala.

In those days, without online streaming, watching the Gala on New Year's Eve was customary. Most shops on the streets had closed, and without platforms like Taobao, there were no delivery couriers working on the eve of the New Year.

Yet, a dedicated group of people remained busy in the darkness.

In a residential complex in the western part of the city, a renovated farmer’s house—formerly a “village within the city”—was rented out to a group of unidentified individuals. Each room had independently applied to the telecom company for 2 Mbps ADSL broadband under separate names. Eventually, to save trouble, the telecom company, after dealing directly with the landlord, installed a single 50 Mbps line, leaving the backend to be managed as seen fit.

As long as the telecom company was paid handsomely, they were too lazy to care about the details.

Inside, the lights blazed brightly. A group of streetwise men dressed casually gathered around a large table, drinking and chatting. To an outsider unfamiliar with the truth, their clothing might suggest the room was well-heated, akin to the communal heating in northern China.

In reality, there was no heating at all. The heat generated by rows of server cabinets was enough to keep the room as warm as spring.

A lean, bald man finished a bottle of Snow Beer, grabbed two pieces of pig’s head meat, chewed a few times, and before swallowing, picked up his chopsticks to scoop a mouthful of spicy “Mao Xue Wang” stew, swallowing the chili and Sichuan peppercorns without hesitation.

Wiping his mouth with a roll of tissue, the lean man casually greeted a more composed man wearing glasses sitting beside him:

“Feels good. Boss, we really are the most dedicated people in the world. Even on New Year's Eve, we have to keep the servers running and chat with customers on QQ, taking orders—what other industry works this hard?”

The glasses-wearing man, seeming to have lost his appetite, just kept smoking. He flicked the ash and said, “Less talk. We’re not that busy. Good food and drink, triple pay, commissions as usual. What’s there to complain about?”

The bald man’s expression tightened slightly, forcing an awkward smile. “Just saying, boss, everyone knows you’re righteous and looking out for us. Just heard from Xiao Fang that her commission today was over five times higher than usual, orders coming in nonstop. Makes me doing maintenance envy the customer service guys.

But these kids with their red envelope money really have some serious spending power. If we don’t help them find places to spend, they’ll either have it taken by their parents or get scammed by other crooks.”

In the back room, before a row of computers, a group of customer service staff, mostly without technical skills, were eating as they stared at their screens—much like the young Taobao sellers who would appear two years later.

The glasses-wearing man paid no mind to his comrade’s rambling; he knew they were just nostalgic after a few drinks, not worth responding to.

Suddenly, the rumble of cars sounded outside, followed by sweeping beams of light. Both men instantly became alert, and the other technical staff stood up.

“Could it be trouble?” a newcomer panicked, nearly losing his composure.

But a seasoned veteran quickly steadied everyone. “Relax. The local police station has no jurisdiction over this. Besides, the boss has everything well covered. The district’s economic investigation team has no legal basis to intervene here. Everyone quickly shut down your QQ chats and zombie control programs.”

They had been through raids like this a few times before, but each time it ended with just a little bribery and a slap on the wrist. After all, the law still held that “game equipment is not considered property,” creating many legal loopholes.

A loud banging on the door followed. The glasses man gave a signal; once his men confirmed all evidence of stolen goods was deleted, they obediently opened the door.

If asked, they claimed to be providing “data services,” a story that had gotten them through many such encounters.

“Hands up! Don’t move! Economic Investigation Division of the Municipal Bureau!”

A senior officer from the economic investigation, flanked by several officers, entered and ordered a search.

The glasses man’s expression darkened as he felt the thick wad of cash in his pocket. A hint of regret appeared on his face.

Looks like they’d have to pay up again. Why had these investigators become so overreaching lately?

“Officer, there must be some misunderstanding. We provide internet data services, and there are legal grounds supporting this—”

He didn’t get to finish. The officers offered no chance for private bribery. After a thorough search, they retrieved the QQ numbers used on the machines and made a call to Tengyun Corporation, demanding all server-side chat records for those accounts.

Minutes later, the glasses man and his crew were taken away.

Twenty minutes later, in the interrogation room of the Economic Investigation Division:

Two bright halogen lamps snapped on, shining directly into the glasses man’s face. He tried to shield his eyes, but realized his hands were taped to the chair, immobile.

“Name!”

“Du Ming.”

“Occupation!”

“Head of a data service company.”

“Occupation!” The question repeated impatiently.

The interrogator pushed aside the recorder, circled around the table, and poked Du Ming’s chin with a baton.

“Better be honest. You’re in deep trouble, far beyond what a small fry like you can handle. Stealing game equipment involving huge sums—we have every right to charge you with ‘illegal business operations.’”

“Illegal business operations” was a potent charge.

Since the 1997 Criminal Code abolished the all-encompassing “speculation and profiteering” crime from the planned economy era, “illegal business operations” had become the catch-all legal weapon against economic crimes unaddressed by other statutes.

If a criminal act didn’t fit neatly into other categories under the “crimes endangering social and market order,” it was swept under “illegal business operations.”

But for the economic investigators to unilaterally classify a new form of business this way, they had to wield considerable influence.

Du Ming was engaged in exactly this kind of business and naturally felt the weight of their scrutiny. Cold sweat appeared on his forehead as he sensed the interrogators had secured backing from higher authorities.

He struggled one last time: “I don’t know if my people were involved in stealing game equipment. But the Supreme Court’s prior interpretations remain uncertain on whether electronic data counts as property—I want to see my lawyer!”

The interrogator smiled. “Their latest annual profit report shows 150 million yuan in net profit, corporate income tax paid was over 30 million, along with several other emerging companies earning tens of millions yearly, paying millions in taxes. Do you really think when your case reaches trial, the interpretation will be as lenient as you say?”

“Sir, as far as I know, laws do not apply retroactively. Even if the law changes, it doesn’t affect past actions. At worst, I’ll stop this business from now on.”

But the man sent to handle Du Ming was no fool—also well-versed in the law. Calm and confident, he replied, “Non-retroactivity is true, but legislative and judicial interpretations can be retroactive. Reinterpretations of existing laws and legal concepts can apply retroactively.”

After this warning, he returned to his seat and added: “Remember, those above aren’t after small fish like you. If you cooperate in gathering evidence to expose the masterminds, you may receive leniency. Some of your gains might even be overlooked.”

“Also, we weren’t recording until now. From this moment, it’s official. Think carefully before you speak.”

From then on, Du Ming offered little resistance.

Du Ming was a master’s graduate from Qianjiang University, with an undergraduate degree in computer science before switching to law for graduate studies—a versatile talent. Unfortunately, the internet winter crushed his original startup plans, and short on capital, he turned to this line of work.

Compared to others, he was keenly aware of the situation. Half an hour later, he had said all he intended.

A secret duplicate of the case materials was sent to the principal party behind the investigation.

This was a “major client”—Director Li of the local tax bureau had personally briefed Mayor Qiu before entrusting the economic investigators with the case.

When Du Ming’s interrogation results reached Gu Cheng and Lei Jun, they were pleased; the captive was a decent catch, at least a “primary dealer” or “regional dealer” under Zhou Hongyi’s command.

Gu Cheng considered their strategy and said coldly, “Stick to the original plan. Let him keep quiet and pretend nothing’s happening. Once Park Young-kwan sells him the server program for setting up private servers, he’ll become our key witness.”

“Fine, this won’t be difficult,” Lei Jun agreed, adjusting his thinning hair.

This was top secret for Legend Entertainment, so besides Gu Cheng and Lei Jun, only Pan Jieying was present.

As Gu Cheng’s closest confidante, she was privy to all secrets.

With a girl’s keen insight, Pan Jieying reviewed Du Ming’s interrogation records and raised a question: “If he knew this kind of business would draw pressure from victims, tax, and economic investigators, why did he stay in Qiantang? Wouldn’t it be safer to operate elsewhere?”

Gu Cheng shrugged off the concern. “Sis, isn’t he your fellow alumnus from Qianjiang University? Maybe he just stayed after finishing school without much thought.”

“But he’s originally from Jiangnan Province, a neighboring region. Most of his employees are non-locals… I feel his actions are strange. We’ve traced some clues from Fu Sheng’s network. Among all of Zhou Hongyi’s primary dealers, only this one remains within our sphere of influence. That’s odd.”

The mystery lingered.