Chapter 18: Who’s the Clown?

Chapter 18 Who's the Clown?

Twenty minutes later, Jian Ruochen followed Guan Yingjun as they drove to Sham Shui Po Police Station.

Police tape had been set up beside the marble sign at the entrance.

A patrol officer stood guard outside the line, arms outstretched, blocking reporters who were trying to push forward with their cameras.

One of the reporters, recognizing Guan Yingjun’s familiar face, craned his neck and shouted, "Officer, can you tell us about Jiang Yongyan of the Jiang clan? Was he really shot? Who's that with you? A witness helping Sham Shui Po Police Station solve the murder case?"

Hearing this, Guan Yingjun stepped back, using his body to shield Jian Ruochen from the probing cameras.

He shot a cold look behind him, and the reporters who had been jostling forward immediately fell silent.

They only dared to whisper among themselves: "So fierce, who is he?"

"The head of the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit; he was on the news the other day."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," someone in the crowd sneered sarcastically, "So imposing."

Guan Yingjun lowered his gaze, his trench coat flapping as he walked, completely indifferent to the reporters’ chatter as he escorted Jian Ruochen through the police station’s main entrance.

As soon as they entered, they saw Chen Yunchuan standing at the door, looking extremely anxious.

"Madam, I’ve brought him to you," Guan Yingjun said.

Chen Yunchuan’s eyes scanned the two of them from head to toe intensely.

Their clothes were neat, and their jackets had almost no wrinkles.

Their walking postures showed no abnormalities.

Good, she had overthought things.

The three of them walked toward the interrogation room together.

Jian Ruochen had been busy all day, his mind racing. He had been sleeping all afternoon and hadn’t eaten for a long time, so his stomach was growling.

Guan Yingjun heard it and stopped his aunt, who was about to take him directly into the interrogation room. "Officer Chen, he hasn’t had dinner yet. Make it quick, and I’ll take him to eat."

Chen Yunchuan: ...She spoke too soon.

Why did Guan Yingjun’s instincts seem both on and off?

She asked casually, "Where are you planning to take him to eat?"

"Haven’t decided yet. Dessert soup, maybe. He said he liked it before."

Chen Yunchuan’s expression changed.

Since when did Guan Yingjun remember other people’s preferences?

The only time he remembered someone’s preferences was when he was undercover, getting close to a drug lord in Bangkok, right?

But that was a mission, and this was life.

It was different.

Chen Yunchuan asked Jian Ruochen, who was spacing out from hunger, "You like dessert soup? I thought you preferred savory porridge, like shark fin congee."

Jian Ruochen snapped out of it: "Dessert soup?"

"It’s okay. I’ll have some when I’m in a bad mood."

Chen Yunchuan: ...

What’s wrong with Guan Yingjun? How could he remember wrong?

Why did these two give off such a hot-and-cold, hard-to-read vibe?

"Alright, Detective Guan, wait here." Chen Yunchuan stopped Guan Yingjun in the waiting area outside the interrogation room hallway.

She was about to say something more when the door to the adjacent officers’ office suddenly opened.

A middle-aged man in a designer suit walked out.

He looked furious, his eyebrows furrowed, trying hard to suppress his anger as he said in a hushed voice, "Even if Jiang Yongyan made a mistake, he shouldn’t have died wrongly in a police holding cell! What kind of operation are you running here?"

Jian Ruochen raised an eyebrow, sizing up the man.

Angry expressions are often complex.

When people are angry, their eye muscles tense up, and they momentarily show a mix of sadness, resentment, and disgust. Their facial muscles are working overtime.

But this man’s expression was singular—he was putting on an act.

Around fifty years old, and related to Jiang Yongyan...

Jiang Mingshan, right?

Officer Zhong, standing in front of Jiang Mingshan, was at his wit's end. "Sir, we will investigate Jiang Yongyan’s death in the holding cell as quickly as possible. Please don’t rush us. Our police work requires evidence; without evidence, we can’t proceed. Please try to calm down."

Staying calm was useless.

Jiang Mingshan grew even more agitated. "Is this the attitude you cops have toward victims’ families and taxpayers?"

Jian Ruochen was impressed.

The lines from the main characters were always as dramatic as New Year’s Eve fireworks.

As one finishes, another jumps in.

It's one thing after another.

Officer Zhong was out of options. He pointed toward the waiting area outside the interrogation room. "If you’re not in a hurry to leave, please wait in the rest area or comfort your child."

In the corner of the rest area sat a perfectly dressed young man, crying nonstop.

Jian Ruochen took a closer look—it was Jiang Hanyu.

Chen Yunchuan followed his look and frowned. "He’s the one who insinuated you held a grudge against Jiang Yongyan and killed him. Is he really your biological brother?"

Jian Ruochen said indifferently, "We have no blood relation. He’s Jiang Mingshan’s adopted son."

Chen Yunchuan was at a loss for words.

She didn’t understand why someone would favor an adopted son instead of their own flesh and blood.

You either ignore both or treat them the same.

What kind of weirdo is Jiang Mingshan?

Chen Yunchuan said with sympathy, "Li Zhangyu was here earlier. He’s already given you an alibi, and the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit has agreed to hand over the footage of your questioning of Fu Yiwei."

"I’ve seen it. You questioned Fu Yiwei at 4:50. Jiang Yongyan was shot at 4:30."

"Just 20 minutes isn’t enough time to get between Sham Shui Po Police Station, the University of Hong Kong, and West Kowloon."

Chen Yunchuan pulled out a chair in the interrogation room and sat down. "You’re not a suspect. We just need to go through a 10-minute procedure."

In fact, it took even less than 10 minutes.

When Jian Ruochen finished answering the questions and walked out of the interrogation room, he was still a little out of it.

Last time, he’d spent over three hours in that little room.

How times had changed…

Jian Ruochen shuffled his feet as he walked out to find Guan Yingjun and ask for food.

When he reached the waiting area, before his eyes adjusted, he heard Jiang Hanyu’s sobbing voice:

"Sir Zhong, how could Brother Yongyan have gone over to the wall for no reason? Someone must have told him to. Jian Ruochen has been in and out of the police station a lot lately, and he has ties to the police at the West Kowloon Region Police Station. He… he…"

Jiang Hanyu’s tears pattered onto the floor tiles.

Jian Ruochen clearly saw the cleaning lady in the corner frowning hard, her fingers gripping the mop so hard it looked like she might snap it in half. Guan Yingjun was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, bothered by the racket.

This kind of vague insinuation paired with tears was the most common thing in a police station. The detectives had seen it too many times; they were numb and found it irritating.

Cops care about the truth, period. If a few tears could sway a case, then every police station in the world might as well not exist.

Sir Zhong took a deep breath and began shooing them away: "The statement is done. You can go home and wait to hear back."

As soon as he finished speaking, Jiang Mingshan’s frustration had nowhere to go.

He suddenly looked up and locked eyes with Jian Ruochen, who had already walked over to Guan Yingjun.

Jian Ruochen: …

*Don’t bother me!*

*So hungry. I need food.*

Jiang Mingshan walked up to Jian Ruochen. "How dare you show your face in front of me!"

He raised his hand to slap Jian Ruochen.

Jian Ruochen sat down on the chair behind him.

Jiang Mingshan swung and hit nothing, the momentum nearly throwing him off balance.

Guan Yingjun let out a quiet laugh.

But under Jian Ruochen’s sharp glance, it quickly vanished behind his stone-faced look.

Jiang Mingshan snapped, "Is this why you wouldn’t go home with Lu Qian? Now that you have money, you’ve found someone else?"

And not even someone powerful or useful.

Look at how sensible Jiang Hanyu was—he’d immediately gotten with the Lu family, the strongest in Hong Kong’s gray market operations.

Didn’t Jian Ruochen used to like Lu Qian?

Even if he had no sense, at least he had decent taste back then. But now?

Jiang Mingshan pointed at Jian Ruochen. "Your taste keeps getting worse. You’re getting more pathetic."

Guan Yingjun glanced at the person beside him.

If Jian Ruochen had liked Lu Qian, that would’ve been a case of a gem hidden in the dirt. What he was doing now was stepping into the light—far-sighted and wise.

Jian Ruochen went quiet under his good-for-nothing father’s gaze.

He waved away the finger pointing at him. "Stop making a scene."

His tone was level and serious.

Jiang Mingshan: …

Those words made him look ridiculous.

Maybe Jian Ruochen had said it in public precisely to make him a laughingstock.

Jian Ruochen: "This is a police station."

He pointed at the wall. "See what that says?"

Jiang Mingshan turned around. On the wall was a sign: "Quiet Please."

Furious, he roared loud enough to echo through the station: "You’re gonna lecture me?"

"Don’t think just because you came into money everything’s settled! I’m your father—your money is my money. You have no talent anyway; any amount of money in your hands might as well be confetti! You might as well—"

Jian Ruochen cut him off: "Want me to just hand it over to you to manage?"

Jiang Mingshan froze, then perked up.

He knew it! This useless disgrace would always want to come home, no matter how much he was humiliated.

Hah, if Jian Ruochen gave him the inheritance, he might reluctantly put him on the family registry and take care of him.

Watching his poorly concealed delight, Jian Ruochen sneered. "You’re really like a toad trying to eat swan meat—dream on."

Jiang Mingshan’s face fell. "You!!"

Jiang Hanyu accused, "How can you talk to Dad that way?"

His voice was shrill, unusually high-pitched.

Jian Ruochen frowned. "Dad? Sorry, I never had a dad growing up. My household register only has me on it."

For 19 years, he couldn’t be bothered. Now that Jian Ruochen had inherited a huge fortune, he suddenly remembered he had a son?

Jiang Mingshan’s face flushed red, his blood pressure spiking, his head spinning. "You did that on purpose? Waited until I finished to show me up?"

"Yeah, right. If you hadn’t said anything, would I have had the chance?" Jian Ruochen said casually. "I don’t like holding onto anger. I prefer to speak my mind."

Guan Yingjun stood up and moved away.

He was nearly amused by Jian Ruochen. If he didn’t leave now, he was afraid he’d kill the mood.

Jian Ruochen said pointedly, "You should cut back on indulging in delicacies and conserve your energy. There will be plenty more things to be angry about in the future."

Guan Yingjun stood to the side for a moment, suppressing his laughter.

He looked up and saw Jian Ruochen’s moist lips part as he said, "If you think getting angry at the police station is boring, I can always send you to a detention center to be angry instead."

The words carried quite a tone.

It would've been more intimidating if the speaker’s stomach hadn’t growled right after finishing.

Guan Yingjun could no longer hold back and chuckled softly.

He stepped forward and said to Jiang Mingshan, "Mr. Jiang, we have other business to handle. Please don’t waste our time here."

Jiang Mingshan’s face flushed with anger.

Guan Yingjun displayed his credentials. "West Kowloon CID. Please remove the media outside, or I will have the prosecution charge you with defaming the police station and obstructing justice."

Jiang Hanyu, who had been standing quietly to the side without saying a word, suddenly went pale.