C7 The Bait Trap Operation

Ethan opened his eyes and saw Icy—he knew he was in the hospital again.

"Hey, Icy. I’m here to see you again. Still alive—surprised? We must be destined. Why is it that every time I’m on the brink of death, I open my eyes and see you? My angel." Ethan had taken to calling her Icy, uninvited but unapologetic.

"Well, hello there, my lovely black sheep. Did the Devil reject you because you’re too dark—darker than him? Since you’re back, try to stay alive. I’d rather not see you here again..." Icy teased, a smile playing on her lips.

She didn’t understand it herself—every time this man walked back from the dead, she found herself smiling more. Her nickname, the Ice Beauty, had become meaningless since he’d stumbled into her life. Icy had seen too much death and separation in the hospital; she’d grown numb to everything. Life ends in death, for emperors and farmers alike. She’d always seen people as walking corpses—until Ethan. Now, every day she came to work, she found herself checking if he was there, if he’d gotten into trouble again. His endless, creative attempts at dying never failed to make her laugh. Icy had finally realized: from birth to death, life could be fun.

"By the way, your beautiful secretary has been sitting by your bed for two days. She just left to get some sleep. Is she your girlfriend? All bosses seem to have a thing for their secretaries these days." Icy winked.

"I wish she was. Speaking of which, I’ve been unconscious for two days. Damn that rotten Japanese bastard... How is he?"

"He’s fine—looks a little like a pig, though. Internal injuries. He won’t be back on his feet for a year or two." Icy still couldn’t believe someone could cause internal bleeding with just their fists.

Just then, Eric walked in. Icy took the hint and left the room.

"Nice nurse you’ve got there!" Eric leered at Icy’s retreating figure. "No wonder you keep ending up in the hospital."

Ethan sighed, equal parts amused and annoyed. What kind of cop was this?

"Seriously, Ethan. Why do you keep playing with fire? You’re gonna get yourself killed." Eric had spent too much time with the mob; his words were rough, unrefined.

"If you die, I’ll get demoted..."

Ethan nearly choked with anger. He’d thought Eric was worried about him—turns out he just didn’t want his key witness to die. Damn cold-blooded cops.

"Spit it out. The NYPD’s full of scumbags—except Dana."

"Speaking of Dana," Eric said, "she’s been ordered to write a formal apology for fighting off-duty. And as for you..." Eric had somehow turned into a nag, a far cry from the sharp, capable detective Ethan had first met.

After what felt like an eternity of rambling, Eric finally got to the point.

"The precinct’s approved the Bait Trap Operation. We’ve leaked word through all channels that you’re alive, recovering in the hospital. We’re gonna lure the three big gangs here—then take ’em all out in one fell swoop."

"Then... then... I’ll be dead! Are you people insane? I’ve been unconscious for two days, six ribs broken... my head’s as big as a pumpkin..." Ethan’s voice cracked, close to tears.

He was a CEO, a New York City Advisory Board Member, an outstanding entrepreneur—and they were treating him like bait. He knew it was too late to object; the word was already out. This had to be the slimy fat director’s idea—Ethan would never believe this idiot cop had the brains for it.

As night fell, Ethan’s heart sank. Eric’s words hung over him like a dark cloud, filling the hospital room with a sense of impending doom...

The hospital suddenly grew crowded. Ethan was moved out of the ICU. For once, he was grateful to Eric—he’d taken it upon himself to switch rooms with Ethan, moving into the ICU while Ethan was placed in a general ward. Finally, a decent cop. The ward held ten patients—eight of them were undercover cops, and the ninth was a regular patient the hospital couldn’t relocate.

Eric had received a tip: the Dragon Tiger Gang planned to assassinate Ethan soon. The Black Tiger Hall had been mocked by the underworld for failing to kill him the first time. On the one-year anniversary of their leader’s death, they’d sworn to kill Ethan—whoever succeeded would become the new hall leader. Eric lay quietly in bed, replaying the entire plan in his mind. He was a police officer; he had to stand on the front lines of danger. He’d spent half his life running into gunfire, solving countless cases—yet he’d never gotten the credit he deserved. Eric knew his flaws: he was a womanizer, a drunk. He’d been caught with a prostitute by his colleagues, he’d yelled at his superiors while intoxicated. He didn’t want to be a cop—all cops did was step on others to climb the ladder. You had to be ruthless to survive in the force. Sometimes, he envied the gangsters—they lived by their own rules, loyal to their brothers. The strong led, the weak followed...

A month passed in peace. Ethan’s body healed at an astonishing rate. They said broken bones take a hundred days to heal, but Ethan was almost fully recovered in just one month—a medical miracle. The gangs had not made a single move, contrary to the NYPD’s expectations. Had they let him go? Impossible.

Ethan was in high spirits these days—not because of Icy’s daily visits, but because of Yamada. The Japanese man had come to say goodbye; the contract still stood. He was returning to Japan for treatment. Before leaving, Yamada shook Ethan’s hand, his expression sincere. "Mr. Ethan, you are a true Chinese man. I will think of you when I return to Japan. I hope we can become good friends, and that our cooperation will last a lifetime. You are always welcome in Japan—I will be your host."

Ethan stared at Yamada’s genuine face, touched (though he still thought: Japanese people are pathetic. They only learn to respect others when they get their asses kicked).

Ethan vowed to Yamada that the Chinese and Japanese people would always maintain friendly relations. China and Japan, neighbors in Asia, would develop together side by side. As he spoke, he felt like a diplomat—wasting his talent not working for the UN.

The bored undercover cops had grown complacent. They smoked and played cards in the ward, and they were damn good at it. Ethan lost over $3,000 in just a few games. He’d learned these cops had low salaries, yet they risked their lives every day. Now, he let them win on purpose—they deserved it, after all. They were protecting him.

Ethan noticed the ninth patient sitting by the window, staring into space. For a month, he’d watched the young man brood, sitting by the window every chance he got, oblivious to the world around him. Ethan walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Li, you okay? You’re almost fully recovered—you’ll be out of here in a few days! Cheer up. Talking about your problems will help."

Li Yizhu was from Xinjiang, China. He’d lived in New York for eight years, but he’d kept the simple, honest nature of his hometown. He worked at Tiger Hill Photo Equipment, had a steady income—a completely ordinary man. Ethan knew immediately it was a girl problem.

He was right. In the hospital garden, Li told him everything.

Two girls were in love with him, and he loved both of them. The problem? The two girls—once best friends—had turned on each other in their fight for his love, their rivalry growing more bitter by the day.

Li was torn between them, exhausted. A month ago, the two girls had fought violently. Li had tried to break it up, only to fall three stories from a building—and end up in the hospital.

Ethan was stunned. He’d never guessed the short, slightly chubby young man was a ladies’ man. He couldn’t even win over one woman, and Li had two fighting over him. Ethan had only heard of men fighting over women—never the other way around. No wonder Li ran and hid every time a woman looked at him.

Ethan lectured Li on love and life. "The old days were better—men could have three wives and four concubines, no problem. Just talk to them—take both! ...And teach me how to win a woman’s heart."

Ethan gave advice and asked for it in return, all at once.

Li Yizhu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This wasn’t advice—this was pure mischief...

Night fell... Ethan couldn’t sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of his own love life.

How was Dana? Had she finished her apology? Was her suspension over? Why hadn’t she come to see him? Did she not care about him at all... What was Icy doing now...

His thoughts were a jumble, and he suddenly understood Li’s pain. Would the two of them fight over him... Icy would never stand a chance against Dana...

As Ethan’s mind wandered, a deafening explosion echoed in the distance... Paul burst into the room, yelling. "It’s a disaster! The NYPD precinct is bombed! Gangsters are attacking—we need backup, now!"

The undercover cops in the ward scrambled into action. The plainclothes officers stationed outside raced to the precinct. What a world—criminals were so bold they dared attack the police. Ethan remembered he was an Advisory Board Member; he’d have to file a formal complaint about this.

Gunfire rang out in the distance. Only four or five cops remained in the hospital—Eric had been called away, too. Ethan caught Paul’s hateful glare as he left, and a small smile tugged at his lips (he knew Paul was in love with Dana).

But his triumph was short-lived. A cold feeling of unease crept over him. Something was wrong. What? he asked himself.

"Ach!" Ethan gasped. He realized the mistake. It took ten minutes to drive from the precinct to the hospital—but Paul had burst in the second the explosion happened. And Paul was not part of the Bait Trap Operation.

"Everyone, watch out!" Ethan shouted. "The Dragon Tiger Gang is here! Paul’s a traitor..."

The cops stared at him like he was crazy. The man was so afraid of death—nothing like the fearless hero they’d heard about. So undignified (they all knew about Ethan and Paul’s rivalry over Dana).

"He’s right."

Paul stood in the doorway, an AK-47 in his hands. The cops didn’t have time to react. The AK-47 roared, muzzle flash lighting up the room...

The confused cops fell to the ground, cut down by the gunfire. Their eyes stared open in disbelief—they died with regrets. They wished they’d listened to Ethan. They’d died not at the hands of gangsters, but at the hands of their own brother...

Life is full of such surprises, such unexpected turns.

Paul pointed the gun at Ethan, a cruel smile on his face... Ten gangsters filed in, all aiming their guns at him...

Ethan stared at Paul, at the ten gunmen... Despair washed over him. He had no chance...

Paul laughed, his voice cold.

"Damn you for stealing Dana from me, you unkillable bastard... Hahaha... You think you’re tough? If you survive this, I’ll take your last name. Don’t think I’m just a fat fool... Hahaha..."

Ethan stared at Paul’s triumphant face, and his anger turned to resentment—at Eric. He’d thought the sharp detective would protect him in danger, but the man had a monkey’s face and a pig’s brain...

It was too late now. Ethan glanced around the room, taking one last look at the world. The white walls were splattered with the blood of fallen cops. The white sheets had turned red. Li Yizhu stood quietly by the window, still staring at the dark sky—Ethan was surprised at how calm he was. The cold barrel of a gun pressed against his temple...

"Goodbye, friend. You black bastard..." Paul raised the gun...

Bang!

Ethan felt no pain, only heard Paul’s scream. The AK-47 clattered to the ground...

He had no idea what had happened... He saw Paul’s right hand covered in blood. If he was going to die, he’d take the pig with him. Ethan threw a punch at Paul’s head... the fat man crumpled... Ethan kicked the nearest gangster in the groin... and the room erupted in gunfire...

A bullet grazed Ethan’s shoulder, and he fell to the ground, rolling under a bed... He saw Eric flash past the window... his 54 pistol firing repeatedly... every shot took a man down...

Ethan grabbed the fallen AK-47, jumped to his feet, and leaped onto another bed, firing wildly (he’d seen it in movies)... three gangsters fell to the ground...

The tide turned in an instant. The remaining gangsters were trapped at the door, caught in crossfire... they had no idea how many cops were coming...

Eric charged in, gun raised, firing as he ran—fearless, unyielding (he was wearing a bulletproof vest). Bullets bounced off his body, and he fired back with deadly accuracy...

Ethan watched Eric’s bravery, reminded of the movie hero Little Ma. Excitement surged through him. He stood up and fired wildly, side by side with Eric. The gangsters in the middle fell quickly. The two men locked eyes and smiled...

The fight was over. Ethan threw his arms around Eric, so excited he kissed him on the cheek...

Eric pushed him away, grimacing. "Gross, I’m not gay. And you’re a terrible shot—you shot me twice!" He pointed to his shoulder, where two bullet holes marred his bulletproof vest.

Eric had sensed something was wrong the second he left the hospital and raced back—and he’d been right. He stared at Paul’s body on the ground, his former partner, his brains splattered on the wall. Eric had suspected Paul for a long time. The man had changed in recent years, unrecognizable. He’d been spending money like water, and Eric had never known where it came from—he’d joined the gang, it seemed. Eric had intended to spare his life; he’d aimed for his hand (he was the precinct’s top marksman). But Ethan had blown his head off.

Three men remained alive in the room, staring at each other. The near-death experience had forged an unbreakable bond between them. Li Yizhu threw his arms around Eric, tears in his eyes.

"Thank you... thank you so much... you took so many bullets for us..." his voice cracked.

"I’m fine—bulletproof vest. Lucky none hit my head or neck."

"Is that blood on your neck..." Li smiled, reaching out to touch Eric’s neck. His smile turned cold, cruel.

"You... you..." Eric felt a sharp pain in his neck, his voice dying in his throat. He stared at Li Yizhu in disbelief, then crumpled to the ground...

Ethan froze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The gentle ladies’ man had just killed someone with a smile. A living, breathing man was gone. He couldn’t believe it...

"Mr. Ethan. Hello." Li Yizhu smiled. "I’m the son of the Black Tiger Hall leader you killed. I told you I worked at Tiger Hill—Tiger Hill, the same as the Black Tiger Hall. You’re so stupid."

Ethan felt like an idiot. No wonder the gangsters hadn’t shot Li. No wonder he’d been so calm.

"I won’t kill you yet. I’m going to take you to my father’s grave—you’ll be his sacrifice... Hahaha..."

"You’re alone? You don’t stand a chance..." Ethan’s words died as he saw his mistake. Three burly men walked in, dressed as doctors, each holding a pistol, their eyes fixed on him.

Li Yizhu threw a punch at Ethan’s head—fast as lightning, hard as thunder. Ethan’s vision blurred, and he lost consciousness.