Chapter 19: Can’t Just Pick Him Up, Right?

Chapter 19: He Can't Just Carry Him, Can He?

Jiang Mingshan roared, "Who told you I brought those paparazzi outside?"

He glared at Guan Yingjun, then threw an arm around Jiang Hanyu's shoulder, sweeping his gaze over Jian Ruochen. "Such ill-mannered behavior! Xiao Han, let's go home."

As for Jian Ruochen? Let him stay out there!

He wanted to see how long this dog, begging for fatherly love and affection, could endure!

Jiang Hanyu was stunned.

What was wrong with Dad?

Couldn't he see Jian Ruochen had good connections with the police department?

If they could control Jian Ruochen, the Jiang family would have influence on both sides of the law!

He had just played the good cop—how could Jiang Mingshan not understand?

Jiang Hanyu, being shorter, struggled to keep pace with Jiang Mingshan.

Stumbling to the police station entrance, he glanced back.

Jian Ruochen was looking up, talking to the tall, imposing officer beside him. "Are you really going to have the prosecution sue Jiang Mingshan?"

Guan Yingjun looked up, met Jiang Hanyu’s gaze briefly, then looked away meaningfully. "I'm afraid there won't be a chance. Jiang Mingshan wouldn't dare escalate this. The paparazzi outside will definitely be pulled back."

If not, even if the Magistrates' Court couldn't completely dismantle the Jiang family, it would certainly give them a massive headache.

Thinking of the deceased Jiang Yongyan, Guan Yingjun felt a pang of regret. He stood up and looked down, asking, "What do you want to eat tonight?"

Jian Ruochen said softly, "Anything?"

Guan Yingjun: "Anything."

Jian Ruochen glanced at him, noticing Guan Yingjun was unusually agreeable today.

It seemed the one-two punch of solving a case and showing some temper was surprisingly effective.

Jian Ruochen perked up. "Then let's go for fried chicken and skewers at the night market."

It had been so long since he’d had any.

At the police academy in his past life, it was fully enclosed—no deliveries, no going out. The cafeteria’s fried chicken batter was always soggy, completely lacking soul.

Guan Yingjun hadn’t expected Jian Ruochen to choose this. "It's not clean. How about something else?"

Jian Ruochen scoffed, enunciating each word softly, "Inspector Guan?"

Now, just hearing those three words put Guan Yingjun on edge. "Fine, the night market it is."

Jian Ruochen got into the passenger seat, rolled down the window, rested his elbow on the frame, and propped his chin on his hand, watching Hong Kong’s night scene.

The neon and colored lights, subdued by daylight, now glowed brilliantly. The layered signs seemed to float in the night sky, like something out of a cyberpunk movie—incredibly beautiful.

He was mesmerized, the tip of his nose red from the cold wind.

Guan Yingjun glanced sideways, following Jian Ruochen’s gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He couldn’t figure out what was so captivating.

After a half-hour drive, they parked near the West Kowloon Dockyard.

Here was Hong Kong’s largest night market.

Before getting out, Guan Yingjun warned, "The food here is good, but it’s a bit chaotic. Stick close to me after we get out."

Everything about Jian Ruochen might be fake, but his face was definitely real—Guan Yingjun had already verified that.

Many gang members and hidden serial killers in the city were particularly fond of this type of face.

Innocent, clean, well-behaved, seemingly naive.

It made people yearn, an urge to possess.

Jian Ruochen gave an "oh" and, after getting out, stayed close to Guan Yingjun’s side.

He knew his limits—this body was weak, gasping after three steps. Fighting was out of the question.

The night market was bustling. Many "big brothers" in leather jackets, chests bare, sat at plastic tables set up along the roadside, legs spread, toasting and calling each other brothers.

Guan Yingjun stopped at a stall with a bubbling oil wok. "See what you want?"

Jian Ruochen scanned the menu. "We solved two cases... so two fried chicken legs and two fried chicken wings. How many do you want?"

Guan Yingjun: "I’m not eating."

Jian Ruochen said, "Oh. Boss, he’ll have two portions too."

Guan Yingjun paused but paid anyway. "We’ll come back for them later."

Jian Ruochen was led to buy some skewers. When they returned, the chicken had just finished frying, hot and resting on a draining rack. The vendor packed it up and handed it over.

Guan Yingjun took the bag. "We’re not eating here. Let’s go to the seaside."

This area was controlled by multiple factions, and Jian Ruochen’s looks made him a target.

Guan Yingjun bought two beers and a juice, carried them to the car, and drove to the beach.

Jian Ruochen stood on the sand of West Kowloon’s shoreline, looking at the dockyard in the distance. He pushed aside the juice Guan Yingjun offered, picked up a glass bottle of beer, pried off the cap with his teeth, tilted his head back for a swig, and exhaled contentedly. "Ahh~"

Guan Yingjun looked down at the tooth marks on the cap, wondering how someone as fragile as tofu could have such sharp teeth.

After a moment of silence, he took out his keys, used the multifunction opener to pop open his beer bottle.

Jian Ruochen: ...

You couldn’t have taken that out earlier!

Guan Yingjun looked at those wide, round eyes and smiled, pleased. He took off his coat and spread it on the sand. "Sit."

The long trench coat was more than enough for two.

Jian Ruochen sat down, taking bites of fried chicken and sips of beer, feeling unusually relaxed.

The dark blue sky was dense with stars and nebulae.

Guan Yingjun looked up for a while, suddenly reminded of his undercover days in Bangkok.

A life of constantly facing danger was tough, but he was used to it.

After returning, there was no one in the department who could keep up with his thinking.

Even the colleague from Team C, also a retired undercover, they never quite saw eye to eye.

Jian Ruochen was the first.

Guan Yingjun used a plastic bag to grip the fried chicken drumstick, brought it to his mouth, and took a bite.

A little heavy on the salt, but not bad.

Jian Ruochen found it bland, yet the greasy, fragrant chicken leg was so delicious it was soul-stirring. "It’s this kind of dirty, unpretentious taste," he said.

Perfect—anything slightly cleaner wouldn’t have been as appealing.

Guan Yingjun looked down at Jian Ruochen, completely absorbed in the food, and caught a faint scent of citrusy lemon-pomelo amid the mix of oil and salt.

At this moment, Jian Ruochen wasn’t acting. Shedding the facade he wore around others, he revealed a glimpse of his true self.

Guan Yingjun had an obsession with "authenticity."

"Jian Ruochen," he said, taking a swig of beer.

"Hmm?" Jian Ruochen tossed the picked-clean bone into the plastic bag and turned to look at Guan Yingjun.

Guan Yingjun’s gaze drifted to the silver-white tips of Jian Ruochen’s hair, fluttering in the sea breeze. Jian Ruochen was vibrant and full of life, his acting half-real, half-fake, like a puzzle no one could fully decipher.

He wanted to see the most straightforward, genuine version of this puzzle.

When Guan Yingjun didn’t continue, Jian Ruochen turned the question around: "Detective Guan, so, tell me about your undercover work. How’d you sneak into the enemy’s ranks? By selling grilled sausages right outside their hideout?"

Guan Yingjun: …

How did he make the leap to sausages?

"As an accountant. To go undercover in a criminal group, the person closest to the boss isn’t the second-in-command—it’s the accountant. All the money in the group passed through my hands, making it easy to investigate anything."

Jian Ruochen, in high spirits, laid it on thick: "No wonder Team A is the wealthiest."

Guan Yingjun gave a half-smile. "I also have plenty of sources. My intel network is extensive."

Jian Ruochen seemed confused.

Guan Yingjun added, "Just so you know, what I’m about to say isn’t a test."

He was genuinely wary of setting Jian Ruochen off—afraid he might get angry, quit, or even partner with someone else.

Team A couldn’t afford to lose Jian Ruochen.

Choosing his words carefully, Guan Yingjun said, "I heard you used to like Lu Qian quite a bit and were pretty tight with him."

He couldn’t quite picture what Jian Ruochen would be like if he liked someone. "We’ve been trying to dismantle the Lu family’s influence in West Kowloon for a long time. Given your history with him, do you have any inside info?"

Jian Ruochen, chewing on a lamb skewer, mumbled, "No. The Lu family grew powerful because they covered their tracks well."

But… "Lately, Lu Qian must be pretty annoyed."

Guan Yingjun looked over. "How so?"

"Weren’t you always wondering why the media was pushing that fake story about Jiang Mingshan paying to suppress stories?" Jian Ruochen leaned in and whispered, "That was me."

His warm breath brushed Guan Yingjun’s ear, making him jolt. His heart skipped a beat.

Did Jian Ruochen just let something slip?

Jian Ruochen, a little drunk with flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, spoke clearly: "Didn’t Lu Qian also pay to suppress stories? Those payments… I sent people to collect them, too."

Guan Yingjun: …

Did Jian Ruochen really like Lu Qian?

Had his informant been wrong?

Maybe it was better if they were.

Guan Yingjun paused. Why would it be better if they were wrong?

Before he could process it, Jian Ruochen continued, "Now, Platinum Club is under investigation, and Tianquan Resort has to operate legally for a while to avoid scrutiny. Lu Qian is going to lose a lot of money!"

Jian Ruochen felt dizzy, realizing he might be drunk.

How could beer do this?

Frowning, he sensed something was off.

He lifted the bottle to check: Made in Denmark, strong brew, 330ml, 23% alcohol.

A sneaky strong beer!

Stronger than wine, and he’d finished a whole bottle!

Too woozy to hold the bottle, he plunked it into the sand and turned to Guan Yingjun, not yet speaking.

Guan Yingjun said, "You grabbed it yourself."

Jian Ruochen snorted. "Not your fault."

He paused, then added, "After Lu Qian loses money, his cash flow’s gonna take a hit. He’ll have to find a way to make more. What do you think he’ll do?"

Guan Yingjun found the tipsy Jian Ruochen really entertaining—genuine, candid, full of youthful energy, and wearing a 'bet you didn’t see that coming' expression.

He couldn’t help smiling, Guan Yingjun said, "He’ll flip through the Hong Kong legal code and pick any quick-cash scheme. Like robbery."

Jian Ruochen nodded. "Exactly!"

"Keep a close eye on him," Jian Ruochen slurred, as he started fading. He dumped the unfinished skewers into the plastic bag. "Watch him closely, and we’ll catch him in the act!"

He lay back, sliding down into the sand, his upper body resting on Guan Yingjun’s trench coat. His voice grew softer. "If we can’t catch him, we’ll cut off his allies, make him lose everything, and finally send him to jail… for the commendation."

Guan Yingjun heard no more. He glanced sideways: Jian Ruochen’s usually lively eyes were still, his cheeks flushed, his hair spread out across the dark coat like threads, one strand tangled around a button.

Jian Ruochen seemed particularly fond of accolades and merits—some kind of obsession, who knows why.

That day, when Guan Yingjun handed him the medal, Jian Ruochen knew he couldn’t keep it, yet he kept turning it over in his hand.

Should one use sincerity to exchange for sincerity?

Guan Yingjun picked up the beer bottle Jian Ruochen had propped against the ground, finished the remaining drink in one gulp, gathered the trash and looped it around his wrist. He hesitated for a moment as he looked at the deeply sleeping man.

He couldn’t just pick him up directly.

After only a few seconds of hesitation, his personal phone rang.

Jian Ruochen stirred uncomfortably at the noise.

Guan Yingjun pulled him upright, supporting his weight, and fished his phone out of his coat pocket.

It was Zhang Xingzong calling.

As soon as he answered, an agitated voice burst from the receiver, "Detective Guan, didn’t we snatch that lucrative assignment from Team Z? Team Z isn’t accepting this—they’ve complained to Superintendent Feng!"

"You know how Superintendent Feng is—he doesn’t dare confront you, so he escalated the matter to the Senior Superintendent. Madam Lin is summoning you for a discussion... What do we do? Is our prize catch going to slip away?"

"Hard to say," Guan Yingjun wrapped Jian Ruochen in his coat, lifted him up, and secured him by the waist. "Don’t panic. I’m heading right back to the station now."