190: Chapter 190 Towards the Capital

Wan Chai. Hong Kong Police Headquarters building.

On the fourth floor of the Command and Control Center, six large screens were glowing completely red.

Zeng Xiangrong stood before the main screen, his tie crooked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Thirty minutes ago, he was still focused on the forced landing in Victoria Harbour.

Now, the entire city of Hong Kong was sounding the alarm.

"Report! Passengers from CX890 have been evacuated, currently verifying the list!"

As soon as the words fell, the desk phone next to him rang again.

"Report! A driverless vehicle collision occurred on Nathan Road in Tsim Sha Tsui, target suspected to be Li Li!"

Zeng Xiangrong raised his hand. "Wait."

A third call came in.

"Report! Explosion at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Central! The lobby on the first floor and the top floor are on fire simultaneously!"

The command center paused for a beat. Then it exploded into chaos.

Desk phones rang. Walkie-talkies blared. The large screens refreshed. Everyone was shouting.

Zeng Xiangrong had served in the PTU, wiped out gangs, and dealt with landslides.

But he had never seen a city go from being the global focus to spiraling completely out of control in fifteen minutes.

Senior Superintendent Xu Yongji rushed over with three sheets of paper.

"Commissioner! Three residential towers in Kowloon have reported fires simultaneously!"

"Block A of Harbourfront Horizon in Hung Hom, Block J of Amoy Gardens in Kowloon Bay, and Building 2 of Tsui Chuk Garden in Wong Tai Sin!"

"Three locations, caught fire at almost the same time. This is not an accident."

Zeng Xiangrong scanned the map. Three red dots were stuck in the heart of Kowloon.

"Have the firefighters arrived?" "Six trucks were dispatched, but something happened in Yau Tsim Mong."

Zeng Xiangrong set down his teacup. "Speak."

"A large crowd has suddenly gathered at the entrance of Langham Place in Mong Kok; there are also crowds on the southern section of Nathan Road and Portland Street."

"What is their slogan?" "Anti-war, anti-capitalism, release Snowden."

Xu Yongji paused. "There are also people holding signs that say, 'Li Li is my husband.'"

No one laughed. Zeng Xiangrong didn't laugh either.

"What about the organizers?" "Can't catch them for now. The appearance of the crowds is almost synchronized with the communication blackout."

Chief Information Systems Officer Du Wen squeezed through from the back row. His shoelaces were loose, but he had no time to deal with them.

"Commissioner, the communication issue isn't a malfunction." Zeng Xiangrong turned his head.

Du Wen handed over his tablet. "At least seven communication base stations across Hong Kong have been physically destroyed."

"The core areas of Central, Tsim Sha Tsui, Mong Kok, and Wong Tai Sin are all affected. Civil communication is suffering from widespread disruption."

"What about military channels?" "They are being jammed."

Du Wen pointed his finger at the spectrum graph. "The interference is very professional. It's not standard equipment."

Zeng Xiangrong's teacup hit the corner of the table, making a clinking sound.

"You mean someone is systematically paralyzing Hong Kong's communications?" Du Wen nodded.

"Plane in the water, communication cut, hotel explosion, Kowloon fires, street protests. Each node is separated by no more than five minutes. This isn't chaos. This is a plan."

The command center became noisy again.

Deputy Commissioner Li Wenbin, responsible for operations, pointed to the fire status screen. "Firefighting resources are insufficient! Three towers plus the Mandarin Oriental—the existing fire trucks simply can't cover it."

On the other side, Lau Kit-fai slammed the table. "We can't ignore the protests either! Someone has already flipped a car in Mong Kok; if we leave it for another ten minutes, Yau Tsim Mong will lose control!"

Deputy Commissioner Li Wenbin turned back. "Buildings are burning, people are trapped, and you want me to deal with slogans first? Who takes responsibility if a riot starts?" "Who takes responsibility if people burn to death?"

Neither side would yield, each only speaking their own piece.

Several superintendents in the middle held their walkie-talkies, their expressions growing increasingly grim.

Another message cut in. "Report! A multi-vehicle pileup on the Tsing Ma Bridge! A container truck has overturned, blocking both directions!"

Zeng Xiangrong turned around. "Where is the Traffic Unit?" "They've already gone, but the bridge deck is completely blocked, and ambulances can't get up there."

"What about the Government Flying Service?" "They just finished evacuating passengers from Victoria Harbour and haven't returned yet."

Six screens. North: The three tower fires in Kowloon. South: The explosion at the Mandarin Oriental. East: The spreading protests in Yau Tsim Mong. West: The car accident on the Tsing Ma Bridge. Center: The distribution of damaged communication base stations. There was another screen frozen on Victoria Harbour. That boeing 777 was still floating on the water. Searchlights illuminated the fuselage. The whole world was still watching.

Au Ho-lun ran over from the management team. "Commissioner, we don't have enough manpower. Tonight's evacuation of Victoria Harbour has already pulled away 3,000 officers, and now at least six major incidents are exploding simultaneously. The mobile units can't hold out."

Zeng Xiangrong raised his hand. The command center slowly quieted down.

Phones were still ringing. Screens were still flashing. Everyone was waiting for him to speak.

"What time is it now?" "10:47 PM."

"How long until communication is restored?" Du Wen shook his head. "Hardware was bombed; four hours at the earliest."

"Firefighting shortfall?" Deputy Commissioner Li Wenbin flipped a page of data. "At least forty fire trucks, three hundred personnel."

"What about the police manpower shortfall?" Au Ho-lun reported the numbers. "The Yau Tsim Mong area needs at least 1,500 people, and currently we can mobilize fewer than 800."

Zeng Xiangrong tore off his tie and threw it on the table. When this action occurred, several Old Police Officers fell silent. The Commissioner was anxious.

"Report to the Security Bureau." Hon Hau-chung was stunned for a moment. "Commissioner, are you going to..."

"Report to Secretary Luk Ming-wah." Zeng Xiangrong said each word distinctly.

"Request support from mainland police, fire, and medical services. Request the Hong Kong Garrison to assist in the defense of key areas. At the same time, request the Southern Theater Command to provide support in locating the source of communication jamming."

He paused for half a second. "The plane that made the forced landing in Victoria Harbour was just hit by a missile; request naval vessels to approach the outer waters to establish deterrence."

The command center went completely silent. This statement carried too much weight.

Since the handover, this level of coordinated support had never been initiated for a public security incident.

Hon Hau-chung lowered his voice. "Commissioner, this decision..." "I'll make it."

Zeng Xiangrong picked up the red direct-line phone on the table. "If something happens, I'll take the blame. But if people die tonight because we were afraid to speak up..."

He pressed the dial button. "Then it won't be a matter of taking the blame or not."

The call connected after three seconds. "Secretary Luk, this is Zeng Xiangrong. Hong Kong is suffering from a systematic terrorist attack. I request full support from the Imperial Capital."

— —Shenzhen. Luohu Station.

The TV in the duty room was still playing a CNN live broadcast. The screen was frozen on Victoria Harbour.

Qin Xiaoshan was squatting in front of the TV, his mouth stuffed with half a steamed bun. "Brother Li is awesome! He really landed the plane on the water!"

Bun crumbs sprayed all over the table.

Zhong Ji sat with his legs crossed, holding his phone. "The internet is lagging, TikTok won't load."

Han Su stood at the doorway, his combat uniform zipper halfway up, a determined look on his face.

He originally thought he was working hard by joining the Fire Department. Turns out, that variety show guest from his cohort just finished flying a boeing 777. And landed it in Victoria Harbour.

Han Su held it in for a long time. "How does he know how to do everything?"

Qin Xiaoshan turned around. "That's Brother Li! What are you comparing yourself to Brother Li for?"

Han Su's temple twitched. "You don't deserve to compare either."

Qin Xiaoshan nodded, stuffing the remaining half of the bun into his pocket. "That's why I don't compare."

Zhong Ji suddenly sat up straight. "Quiet, a push notification came."

The two of them leaned in. A red news alert popped up on the phone screen.

[Breaking: Explosion and fire at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Central, Hong Kong; fires occurring simultaneously in multiple districts of Kowloon; Hong Kong firefighting forces are in a critical state.]

The three of them looked up at the same time. The next second. The alarm bell rang. Harsh. Continuous. Three long, one short. The signal for cross-regional support.

Cheng Songyan pushed the door open, his face expressionless, the transfer order already opened in his hand. "Assemble. Everyone, assemble."

"Luohu Station has received a transfer order from the Guangdong Provincial Fire Brigade to support the Mandarin Oriental Hotel fire in Hong Kong."

Qin Xiaoshan almost choked on his bun. Han Su paused for 0.5 seconds, then turned and rushed to the equipment room.

Zhong Ji stuffed his phone into his pocket. "Can we really go over?" Cheng Songyan nodded. "Special passage. The Hong Kong Garrison is coordinating the passage. Move fast."

Three minutes later. Everyone boarded the vehicles. Two fire trucks rushed out of the gate, sirens blaring, pressing into the night of Luohu.

On the truck, Qin Xiaoshan couldn't sit still. "I've never been to Hong Kong."

Han Su fastened his air respirator straps. "This isn't a vacation."

Qin Xiaoshan fished out the bun from his pocket and took a bite. "I get it. I can see it after we finish the rescue."

Zhong Ji leaned against the back of the seat and raised his hand to cover his face. "Can you stop eating?" "No." "Why?" "It's free."

No one in the truck responded. Cheng Songyan sat in the passenger seat, looking down at the dispatch information.

Mandarin Oriental. First-floor explosion. Top floor on fire. Suspected multiple people trapped. Potential structural damage.

His finger stopped on the four words "Enter Fire Scene." He flipped the page down.

The fire trucks headed south along Shennan East Road. When passing the small alley two kilometers south of Luohu Station, the barbecue stall on the side of the road was still lit.

Former Captain Meng Yancheng stood behind the grill, flipping lamb skewers. Sirens pressed over from the street corner. He looked up.

Two fire trucks roared past the stall. The window rolled down. Cheng Songyan leaned out half his body. "Brother Meng!"

Former Captain Meng Yancheng held up a steel skewer. "Where are you going?" "Hong Kong! The Mandarin Oriental is on fire!"

Former Captain Meng Yancheng's hand with the steel skewer stopped. Professional instinct kicked in first. "Which floor? Is anyone trapped?"

"Burning top and bottom! The situation is unclear!" Cheng Songyan shouted to him. "Wait for us to come back, grill more skewers! To celebrate our support for Hong Kong!"

The fire truck taillights disappeared at the intersection. Former Captain Meng Yancheng stood behind the smoke and fire, not moving for a long time.

One lamb skewer burned. He took the burnt one off, threw it into the iron tray. Turned and went into the back kitchen.

At the very bottom of the cabinet, there was an old combat uniform pressed down. Folded very neatly. The cuffs were worn, and there were old marks where the epaulets used to be.

Former Captain Meng Yancheng took the clothes out and placed them on the table. His palm pressed onto the number on the chest.

A customer shouted outside. "Boss, are the lamb skewers ready?"

Former Captain Meng Yancheng put the combat uniform back into the cabinet. Closed the door. Locked it. He returned to the grill. "Almost there."

The charcoal fire flared up. Smoke pressed over his face.

At the entrance of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. The fire was still burning. Shattered glass covered half the street.

Black smoke sprayed out from the first-floor lobby, and the flames on the top floor were licking up the building structure.

Li Li stepped over the glass and walked to the steps of the main entrance. Heat waves rushed toward him, and the wound on his forehead began to ache again.

He bent down and picked up a fire extinguisher that had been knocked over by the blast from the edge of the steps.

People were crying on the street. People were running. A security guard was lying by the flower bed, half of his uniform covered in dust.

Li Li scanned the area. The main entrance had been blown open. Smoke was coming from the side door. The fire escape door was deformed.

There were still people inside the hotel. Jiang Rumu might be inside too. The phone had no signal. Police channels were full of static.

"You certainly know how to pick a place." He pulled the safety pin on the fire extinguisher.

Another explosive sound came from the lobby. Not a bomb. The ceiling had collapsed.

Tongues of fire rolled to the entrance, and black smoke surged out along the ground.

Li Li lowered his body and rushed to the entrance. Someone inside was shouting in Cantonese.

"Help!" "There are people in the banquet hall!" The next sentence was choked off by smoke.

Just as Li Li was about to enter, a woman was frantically hitting the glass from a broken window on the second floor. Her voice was tearing.

"Ms. Jiang!" "Ms. Jiang is still upstairs!"

Li Li's steps paused for half a beat. The next second. He grabbed the fire extinguisher and stepped into the black smoke.