Iron-Fisted Police Chief Zhao Donglai

In the dust and smoke of the Luzhou coal mine, 19-year-old Zhao Donglai smashed the bridge of the foreman's nose with an enamel jar, killing himself. It took him thirty years to go from the training room of the police academy to the interrogation room of the criminal investigation team, from the jurisdiction of the film police to the command center of the Jingzhou Municipal Bureau. Thirty years is enough for a person to put his fists into his waist and boil his spirit into a city. From the day Chen Hai was lying in the hospital, he knew that some battles cannot be fought with blood alone. The chess game of his mentor Gao Yuliang, the guns of his senior brother Qi Tongwei, and the Han Gang were like the fog that lingered over Handong, and he had to see every road clearly in the fog and hold on to every light. Lu Yi came in halfway. She held the prosecutor's cold face in her eyes, with a heart that had not let go, and when she clinked his coffee cup together, she made the lightest snap in this conspiracy drama. This is not a story about a hero emerging out of nowhere. This is how a man stood up in the mud, turned his scars into armor, carved rules into his bones, and then told everyone: There will always be someone who will fight a hard battle for the peace of this land.