Chapter 30: Super Transformation
byChapter 30: Quick Changes
Guan Yingjun shrugged off his trench coat, covering Jian Ruochen, who was shivering slightly from the cold. He made a swift decision: "Let's go! With this much cargo here, these people must be armed. We can't risk it."
As he was led towards the main hall, Jian Ruochen glanced back at the kitchen corridor.
The bartender's shadow stretched long under the light, cast against the grayish-white tiles. His hand hung loosely, clutching a long, narrow object.
The moment the figure emerged from around the corner, Jian Ruochen clearly saw what was in his hand—a gleaming shotgun.
Before the bartender could raise his gaze, the two stepped back into the main hall.
The revelry in the ballroom was nearing its end, and the crowd blocking the staircase gradually dispersed.
Seizing the opportunity, they ducked low and made their way upstairs.
As they stepped onto the second floor, Lu Qian finally emerged from the crowd.
He scanned the area but didn’t find Jian Ruochen on the first floor. After a moment’s thought, he immediately turned and strode quickly towards the kitchen.
Watching Lu Qian’s retreating back from upstairs, Jian Ruochen’s heart hammered violently.
Thank goodness… thank goodness they hadn't gotten greedy, hadn't tried to cut corners.
If they’d hesitated even a second, they might now be trapped, caught between a rock and a hard place, their lives forfeit.
Lu Qian truly was a seasoned criminal—his intelligence and sharpness put to no good use.
Jian Ruochen closed his eyes lightly, his fingers trembling faintly. Investigating Lu Qian’s drop point was even more thrilling than defusing bombs during the ferry heist!
Guan Yingjun let out a barely audible sigh. "Let’s go, to the private room."
"What number did that bartender give us?" Jian Ruochen fumbled through the trench coat's pockets.
The pockets were deeper than he’d expected, filled with a jumble of items clinking noisily.
He felt a matchbox, a cigarette case, a handkerchief, a portable evidence bag, and a palm-sized notebook—but no room key.
Jian Ruochen started checking the other side and pulled out a small, flat, curved flask...
Guan Yingjun silently lifted the left side of his coat and retrieved the room key from an inner pocket. "It’s here."
Jian Ruochen: ...
An inner pocket?
He stared, speechless, straight at Guan Yingjun.
This coat was like something a ’90s street vendor selling records and bootleg CDs would wear.
These people had mastered the art of concealing things in their clothes. They’d approach potential customers, fling open their coats, and eagerly pitch: "Want to buy some discs?"
The inside of those coats would be lined with rows of DVDs, clattering like a walking treasure chest.
Guan Yingjun avoided Jian Ruochen’s gaze, looking down at the number on the room key. "2123, west side."
The coat’s treasure trove of pockets greatly eased the tension of their life-and-death situation.
They walked side by side towards room 2123, stopping by the restroom along the way to check it out.
The second floor wasn’t very high up. Next to the restroom window was a steel water pipe leading straight down to the ground, and an incandescent light was visible below.
"Incandescent light?" Jian Ruochen wondered.
He leaned over the windowsill, half his body hanging out, pricking up his ears to listen.
Faint music from the ballroom downstairs drifted up through the window.
The ballroom and booths were lit with neon lights—no white lights.
The only place on the first floor with incandescent lighting was the kitchen.
This restroom was directly above the kitchen!
Guan Yingjun pulled open the stall door to check the toilet tank.
Everything seemed normal; nothing hidden inside.
Then again, with the cargo so openly stored in the kitchen, it was clear Lu Qian was extremely confident.
A criminal this brazen wouldn’t bother hiding goods in places like toilet tanks.
Guan Yingjun turned and stepped out of the stall, meeting Jian Ruochen’s bright, scheming eyes. He narrowed his gaze slightly. "What are you plotting?"
Jian Ruochen waved a hand. "Nothing."
Guan Yingjun wasn’t entirely convinced. He bent down to rinse the dust off his hands. "Just checking our own room won’t be enough. We need to see inside other rooms. Usually, the private rooms above a drop point will have people using drugs onsite."
"Got it." Jian Ruochen turned the faucet back on, cupped some water to splash on his face, then ran his damp fingers through his hair.
The restroom’s lighting was dim and sultry, casting a murky orange glow over Jian Ruochen’s cheeks, making him look sweaty.
Guan Yingjun looked at him strangely. "What are you doing?"
Jian Ruochen made an "OK" gesture with his fingers. "I’ll pretend to be drunk and help you barge into other rooms. Remember to come rescue me."
He reached into the right pocket of the trench coat and pulled out the small flask he’d felt earlier. "Can I drink this?"
Guan Yingjun’s breath hitched. He declined tactfully, "I’ve drunk from it."
Logic warned him not to cross the line.
But another voice inside argued: It’s for the mission. What’s the harm in letting him take a sip?
Jian Ruochen shook the flask—there were only two or three sips left. "I flush easily when I drink. Even if I’m not drunk, I’ll look it. To pull this off, I should probably have a little. It’s for the mission, Detective Guan. I’ll buy you a new one later if I have to."
The boy spoke quickly, deliberately saving time.
As he exhaled, the fresh scent of grapefruit drifted faintly into the air.
His lips parted slightly, his small Cupid’s bow trembling, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.
Guan Yingjun averted his gaze, feeling that there was something unsettling about this bar—it set his nerves on edge.
He waved a hand. "Go ahead, no need to buy a new one. It’s for emergencies. It’s high-proof, so just one sip."
Jian Ruochen immediately unscrewed the threaded cap and took a gulp.
The scent of juniper followed the smooth liquid down into his stomach, making him feel as if he were in an emerald pine forest. Then, the fragrance of citrus rushed into his nostrils, the intense aroma particularly invigorating.
He exhaled sharply with a "Ha," screwed the cap back on, and put the bottle back in his pocket. He took off his coat and handed it back to Guan Yingjun. When he looked up again, his face was already flushed. "What's the alcohol percentage?"
Guan Yingjun said, "55% ABV gin. I carry it for emergency fire-starting and disinfection."
He also drank a bit when he really couldn't hold back and needed to vent.
Alcohol could inhibit the brain's transmission pathways of sexual impulses—it was quite effective.
Guan Yingjun slipped his hand into his pocket, rubbing the metal surface of the flask, thinking about those rosy lips wrapping around the mouth of the bottle.
It was just drinking from the same bottle...
Yet the presence of those lips felt so intensely vivid.
Jian Ruochen felt his face burning but remained extremely alert.
He splashed some more water on his face, gritted his teeth, took off his sweater and carried it, revealing the silk base layer beneath. He strode quickly out of the restroom.
He paused outside a few less rowdy booths before finally choosing the rowdiest one. He reached out, twisted the door handle, staggered in with a misstep, and crashed directly against the coffee table.
Someone on the sofa growled, "What's up with the security at 1892—"
His voice cut off abruptly as he stared at the person who had slumped by the coffee table.
Too beautiful—a face that couldn't possibly be human.
He even wondered if he was having drug-induced hallucinations.
It happened often, but this hallucination was exceptionally beautiful.
Jian Ruochen glanced at the coffee table, covered with water bottles stuffed with tubes, and felt his stomach churn.
He’d seen pictures of these at the police academy—they were the earliest primitive drug use setups.
So many!
The man, seeing him stare at the bottles, immediately misinterpreted his interest and purred, "Pretty thing, stick with me, and you can have as much as you want. Come here?"
Jian Ruochen stood up and took a step back.
This action angered the man, who had just had a fix and was at his most excitable.
He stood up to grab him but grabbed at empty air.
Guan Yingjun wrapped an arm around Jian Ruochen, his face hidden under a mask and cap, his tone dark. "Sorry, my person here got the wrong room."
The man sneered, "Your person? Do you know who I am?"
Guan Yingjun turned, his coat shifting just enough to reveal his service weapon. "Who are you?"
The man immediately fell silent, staring intently at Guan Yingjun.
His wounded pride wouldn't allow him to back down now, but even in Hong Kong nowadays, not everyone could carry a gun.
Guan Yingjun guided Jian Ruochen and walked out, continuing toward room 2123.
Jian Ruochen reached up and pinched the nape of his neck, shaking his dizzy head. "Call the cops. He's doing drugs."
Guan Yingjun:...
A bit drunk, but his legal awareness hadn't faded at all.
Still, it wasn't a bad idea.
Lu Qian was cautious; after tonight, he would definitely change the distribution point and no longer consider 1892 his most important transaction location.
While they hadn't moved all the goods yet, calling in the CIB...
Even if the CIB couldn't intercept the entire shipment, they could still arrest a bunch of users.
They wouldn't return empty-handed.
Guan Yingjun took out his phone, found a contact he hadn't called in half a year, and dialed. "Inspector Ji, it's me..."
Jian Ruochen leaned in, eavesdropping intently.
Guan Yingjun glanced down but let him be. "Yeah... not bad. We're also tracking Lu Qian. Right now, we're at 1892 Bar on the bar street in West Kowloon. This is Lu Qian's drug distribution point—most of the drugs in West Kowloon pass through here."
"Lu Qian's underlings buy here, then mark it up and distribute it through the layers. After tonight, Lu Qian will probably change locations. Get your team down here to investigate, quick—within half an hour."
"Yeah..." Guan Yingjun chuckled. "Just throw some of the credit my way after this is done."
The person on the other end laughed and cursed.
Guan Yingjun ignored it, hung up, and swiftly slid the card to open the door.
The electronic lock beeped as it unlocked.
Jian Ruochen looked up, but before he could finish scanning the interior, his eyes met those of the man sitting in the center.
It was Lu Qian.
Wasn't he supposed to be at the back?
How did he get here first?
Jian Ruochen's mind raced. He reached out and looped his arm through Guan Yingjun's, almost clinging to him, and tsked in disdain. "What are you doing here?"
"Here to see you."
Lu Qian folded his hands over his lap, his left leg slightly raised, the back of his knee resting on his right knee.
The crossed-leg posture revealed a glimpse of his ankle, clad in black dress socks and leather shoes.
Jian Ruochen scoffed inwardly.
Really, birds of a feather flock together—this Lu Qian was just like Jiang Hanyu, every move carefully calculated, full of scheming! Scheming man!
"What are you looking at me for?" Jian Ruochen all but buried his head in Guan Yingjun's shoulder.
Lu Qian's smile faded, finding the scene particularly irritating.
He refused to believe someone could change so much.
This person had been hung up on him alone for over three years—that clingy, burning passion had defined Jian Ruochen's entire adolescence. How could he just stop loving him now?
Perhaps it's a case of feigning indifference.
Lu Qian scowled impatiently, "What are you really up to? How’d you track me down here?"
Something felt off. His gaze swept over Jian Ruochen's flushed face, his cheeks glistening with sweat under the light, dewy and glowing.
His hair was damp, strands clinging together, and there was a reddened, swollen mark on his neck.
His sweater was draped over the man's arm, and his shirt was unbuttoned a few buttons.
The two looked as if they had just finished a heated encounter.
Lu Qian gritted his teeth, sneering, "I thought you didn’t fool around with bedmates?"
Jian Ruochen found Lu Qian utterly baffling.
He retorted without hesitation, "I just don't want to get tangled up with cheap men. You don't think everyone's the same, do you?"
Guan Yingjun looked down at him, his pupils trembling, his fisherman's hat tilting slightly.
Jian Ruochen had some nerve—daring to point at the drug lord and call him a cheap man... In all his years as a cop, he'd never seen anything like it.
But perhaps it was this very audacity that kept Lu Qian from suspecting his intentions.
This was probably Jian Ruochen's carefully calculated move.
Lu Qian picked up the whiskey on the table and took a sip, trying to suppress his anger.
He couldn't afford to lose face in front of a rival. He forced a smile, "Buddy, West Kowloon is my turf. Poaching clients isn’t respectful, is it?"
Guan Yingjun glanced up at him.
A pair of sharp eyes scanned from under the brim of his hat, sending a chill down Lu Qian's spine.
Those eyes looked familiar, but the eye shape wasn't distinctive enough, and without the rest of the facial features, it was hard to pinpoint who he was.
From the Liu family on Lantau Island?
No, the Lius supposedly went legit ages ago.
Who the hell is this?
Lu Qian lit a cigarette, clamping the filter between his teeth, "Buddy, if we’re talking business, we gotta show some sincerity, right? We can't keep hiding our faces."
Guan Yingjun strolled over and sat on the sofa next to Lu Qian.
It was a single-seater. He spread his legs, and Jian Ruochen immediately understood, sidling over to sit sideways on his lap.
Lu Qian's face contorted briefly.
What was this?
Acting all chaste and virtuous in front of him, but sweet and submissive for this guy? Soft and boneless—nothing like the stiff statue he used to be.
If Jian Ruochen had been like this before...
Lu Qian couldn't help but compare the current Jian Ruochen to Jiang Hanyu.
The two were always weighed against each other.
In the past, Jiang Hanyu always came out on top.
But this time, Lu Qian was surprised to find that Jian Ruochen, who had been raised with care, was poised in public but knew how to give a man face in private. He couldn't find a single flaw.
Except for being a bit tall.
But that was relative. At over 1.7 meters, Jian Ruochen still looked small curled up in the arms of the man in black.
Lu Qian thought of the inheritance Jian Ruochen had come into.
He couldn't help but calculate: if Jian Ruochen still liked him, Tianquandu Entertainment City wouldn't be struggling like it was now.
A miscalculation. He shouldn't have sent the driver to kill him.
But since Jian Ruochen was sitting here, it meant the driver hadn't succeeded. Maybe he could still string Jian Ruochen along like before.
But... first, he had to confirm the identity of the man in black.
If he was just another businessman like him, fine. But what if he was a cop?
Lu Qian stood up and walked over to the single-seater sofa, looking down at the two, "Buddy, you won't even show your face? You're not a cop, are you? The one in your arms has been awfully cozy with the cops lately."
Jian Ruochen was pressed tightly against Guan Yingjun. He was about to speak when his mouth was covered, and his upper body and head were pulled into Guan Yingjun's embrace.
He froze for a moment, then felt the chest beneath his cheek vibrate.
"How do you know he isn't an undercover I planted in the police station?" Guan Yingjun scoffed. "What? The biggest kingpin in West Kowloon doesn't have anyone inside?"
Jian Ruochen:...
When it came to playing undercover, Detective Guan was the master.
If Lu Qian said he did, they could start investigating as soon as they got back.
Lu Qian fell silent for a long moment. "You're bluffing me?"
Guan Yingjun laughed, "Just comparing notes. Don't be so tense, Boss Lu. I just heard this little thing was playing the field, so I came to check out the rumors and have a bit of fun. Nothing serious."
Jian Ruochen glanced at his wristwatch. Almost 15 minutes had passed since they called the police.
CIB would be here soon.
His heart raced as he thought of the restroom directly above the kitchen.
If he could get the lunchbox...
Jian Ruochen straightened up, wiped the sweat from his neck, and smiled at Guan Yingjun, "I need to use the restroom."
When the young man smiled, it was genuine and charming. Perhaps because he had studied microexpressions, he paid extra attention to synchronizing his eyes and facial muscles when smiling—his eyes slightly curved, his smile muscles lifting.
Light and sweet.
Guan Yingjun reached out and very naturally smoothed his damp hair, "Go ahead. Don't go too far."
Lu Qian's jaw ached.
His mind flashed back to a year ago—the image of the refined Jian Ruochen being coldly brushed aside.
Then, the image of Jian Ruochen now, nestled in someone else's arms, soft and sweet.
Jian Ruochen stood up and shot Lu Qian a dirty look before leaving.
The door of the booth slowly closed behind him.
As soon as the latch clicked, Jian Ruochen quickly ran to the first floor, retrieved the down jacket hanging in the coat check, put it on, and then returned to the second floor.
He had calculated earlier: this window was directly behind the kitchen door, facing away from it.
If he was careful, he wouldn’t be noticed.
He hung the down jacket on the hook inside the bathroom stall, wearing only his shirt, placed one foot on the windowsill, and took a deep breath as he looked down at the concrete ground below.
Just the second floor.
He’d trained for worse—no problem.
Jian Ruochen turned slightly sideways, stepped onto the water pipe fixed to the exterior wall, and began climbing down.
The weight he had gained from a month of Luo Binwen’s good cooking and care was enough to support him from the second floor to the first.
The cold wind hit his back; the alcohol made him both extremely excited and extremely calm.
Jian Ruochen gasped, breathless, his legs feeling weak as he finally stepped onto the ground floor.
Detective Guan was right—he really needed to get back in shape.
As he thought this, he hid in the shadows, peering through the window into the kitchen.
Many of the aluminum lunch boxes were gone; most had been moved. Only about thirty remained, scattered on the elevated wooden board.
The kitchen was temporarily empty.
Jian Ruochen pushed the window open a bit further, braced his wrist, and climbed inside. His feet had barely touched the ground when he heard voices outside the kitchen door.
“What’s going on?”
“The corrupt police sent word—CIB is on its way here!”
Jian Ruochen froze.
Corrupt police—usually referred to as insiders planted by drug dealers within the police force.
Lu Qian really had placed a mole in the police station!
He grabbed one of the lunch boxes, tucked it into his waistband, and secured it with his belt.
The approaching footsteps made his nose sweat. Just as the bartender and the henchman were about to enter, Jian Ruochen climbed back out through the window and gently closed it.
Having a cold box digging into his stomach was uncomfortable, and climbing back up the pipe was harder than climbing down.
Just as Jian Ruochen grabbed onto the pipe, he heard someone inside the kitchen say:
“Huh? Who opened the window? Was it open when we left?”
“It’s just a small gap—you’re overthinking it. Who would guess Boss Lu stored so much stuff in such a prime location?”
Jian Ruochen swallowed hard, hauling himself up the pipe.
The pipe was somewhat old; he had to move lightly to avoid making noise.
When he was halfway up, he heard the window being slid open.
Jian Ruochen froze, hardly daring to move, his mind vividly imagining the bartender leaning out, spotting him, and blasting him off with a shotgun.
Just one more meter…
Jian Ruochen gasped as he heard someone below say, “Boss, no one’s out here.”
“Lao Ba hates the heat, right? Maybe he cracked it open for some air.”
“Forget it—the cops are coming. Hurry up and move the last batch!”
The sound of the window sliding shut echoed again.
Then came the thud of the window closing.
The window was closed.
Jian Ruochen breathed a huge sigh of relief, mustering all his strength, he lunged upward and grabbed the windowsill of the second-floor bathroom.
He peered in to make sure no one was there before climbing in, then leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, gasping for air.
That was intense.
His lungs felt like they were about to give out.
But he’d been in the restroom for quite a while—he’d need to find a way to make an excuse to Lu Qian later.
Jian Ruochen walked to the stall where his jacket was hanging, put on the down jacket, and zipped it up carefully.
The fluffy down jacket billowed around him, immediately concealing the bulge at his abdomen.
Luckily the lunch box was flat and not too big—otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to hide it.
Jian Ruochen stood in front of the sink, washing the dust off his hands and face.
Lu Qian was even more paranoid than Guan Yingjun—he’d need a reason that aligned with Lu Qian’s expectations to throw him off.
No matter what, Lu Qian’s mind was as dirty as his heart—he probably thought he and Detective Guan had been fooling around.
Jian Ruochen cleaned himself up, making sure there wasn’t a single trace of evidence, then headed back to Room 2123.
It had been 28 minutes since they called the police.
In just a little while, the narcotics officers would arrive.
He pushed open the door to 2123 and walked in a bit unsteady on his feet.
Lu Qian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What were you doing? Why are you wearing a down jacket?”
Jian Ruochen: “The restroom was so cold.”
Lu Qian’s train of thought paused.
Right, but what about the unsteady walk?
Legs sore from squatting too long? Even if he was taking a dump, it shouldn’t take nearly fifteen minutes, right?
He pressed him: “Doing something you shouldn’t have?”
Jian Ruochen tightened his down jacket, pressing the container against his stomach, and muttered, "Not as many as the dirty deeds you've done," he said.
He felt the container was about to slip, so he reached out, cupping it.
Lu Qian: "..."
He began to doubt his own judgment.
Would someone who had done something shady act so boldly?
"Why are you holding your stomach?"
Jian Ruochen: "..."
I'm hiding your evidence.
His mind raced, and he carefully buried his face in Guan Yingjun's neck, then said, "It's pushed too far in; it's uncomfortable."
Guan Yingjun: "..."
Thankfully, he had a hat and a mask; otherwise, his shocked look at this moment would surely betray their strictly professional relationship.
Lu Qian stood up with a cold face. He couldn't continue questioning; he couldn't help but start overthinking.
Facing this man who hadn't removed his mask for over ten minutes, he felt utterly defeated.
Now, he couldn't just lift the man's hat—if he were really a colleague, doing so would offend him.
In the past, he could afford to offend people, but now two of his income sources had been cut off.
The ferry robbery case was under investigation, so he couldn't operate that for now.
Jiang Mingshan was in prison, so the Jiangs couldn't be squeezed for money temporarily.
Although Jiang Hanyu had secured the inheritance, Jiang Mingshan's sentence hadn't been finalized yet, so he couldn't access all the assets.
Now, he could only rely on drug trafficking.
Lu Qian wanted to say something more.
But the sound of police sirens pierced the night sky.
Lu Qian pinched his knuckles, his heart racing.
Guan Yingjun cast a mocking glance. "Boss Lu, your security is pretty lackluster, huh? You called the police?"
Lu Qian chuckled. "Mind your own business."
He turned and walked out, leaving Guan Yingjun and Jian Ruochen behind.
As soon as Lu Qian left, Jian Ruochen immediately clutched Guan Yingjun's arm and let out a long sigh of relief. "Let's go, quick!"
He stood up, clutching the unsteady container to his abdomen. "Let's get to the car. I'll explain on the way. Lu Qian will eventually realize we were the ones who called the police. Otherwise, there's no explaining why the place got raided right after we showed up."
"Mm." Guan Yingjun led Jian Ruochen out through the bar's back door, sprinted across a street, and headed straight for the parking lot.
Jian Ruochen, carried over Guan Yingjun's shoulder, felt like his whole body was shaking and rattling. "I c-can run on my own."
"You're too slow." Within seconds, Guan Yingjun reached the Jeep, tossed Jian Ruochen into the passenger seat, got in, and started the car in one fluid motion.
He inserted the key into the ignition and was about to start the engine when a bright light shone into the car.
Jian Ruochen immediately crouched down, hiding between the seat and the dashboard.
Guan Yingjun also slid down, letting the strong light sweep over the car.
Soon after, the sound of a diesel engine rumbled, and a red truck accelerated onto the street.
Jian Ruochen glanced at the truck. The metal door at the back of the container was wide open, with two armed thugs clinging to it, their eyes fixed intently outside, ready to fire at any moment.
After the truck drove away, the two emerged from the blind spot.
Guan Yingjun started the car and drove in silence.
The goods in the aluminum container had been completely moved. They didn't know when they'd get another chance like this.
Lu Qian was too alert.
Most people wouldn't move everything at the slightest suspicion.
He was too decisive.
Guan Yingjun leaned back in his seat, raised a hand to massage his temples, his temples throbbing.
Every time something like this happened, it left him with a deep sense of powerlessness.
These cancers rooted in Hong Kong had killed hundreds of police officers.
"Knock, knock."
The window was tapped twice.
Guan Yingjun almost instantly grabbed his service weapon, instinctively cocked it, and pointed it at the person outside. With his other hand, he pushed Jian's head down to protect him. "Who is it?" he asked.
The police officer outside was startled. "It's me..."
Guan Yingjun exhaled. "Inspector."
Jian Ruochen's stomach hurt from the container still pressed against it.
He straightened up, clutching his abdomen as he breathed deeply.
Inspector looked at the white-haired biracial teenager in the passenger seat. "Jian Ruochen, right? I've heard plenty about you, Little God of Wealth."
Jian Ruochen: "..."
His name had reached CIB?
Inspector looked to be in his early thirties, with a sallow complexion that suggested frequent all-nighters.
He wore a black hooded jacket and a pair of gold-framed glasses, giving off a rather refined yet villainous look.
Jian Ruochen greeted him. "Good evening, Sir Ji."
Guan Yingjun glanced at him and said to the outside, "Ji Bailou, get in the car."
Ji Bailou opened the back door and sat behind Jian Ruochen, laughing. "Now I can't even sit in your passenger side?"
Guan Yingjun said, "This is Chen Jincai's passenger seat."
"As soon as I saw this car, I knew you'd commandeered it from Chen Jincai again."
Ji Bailou sighed, "Lu Qian and his lackeys got away with the goods. This time, we only managed to catch some low-level users and small-time dealers."
Jian Ruochen glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
Ji Bailou chuckled, "What are you looking at? Do I look good?"
Ji Bailou, Chen Jincai, and Guan Yingjun were three completely different types of men.
Ji Bailou was polished, Chen Jincai was flashy, while Guan Yingjun carried a calm, unflappable cool in his demeanor.
Anyone Guan Yingjun addressed by their full name and invited into his car was likely someone he had a good relationship with.
No one would have guessed these three were actually close friends.
Jian Ruochen sized up their relationship and threw him a bone, "Good-looking."
Ji Bailou laughed and said the same thing Chen Jincai had, "You're really interesting."
Jian Ruochen asked, "What's your position in the CIB? Is it highly confidential?"
Ji Bailou looked at him in amazement, "You're being this straightforward with me? Who asks so directly?"
"Because asking directly is called chatting; probing subtly is called spying."
Jian Ruochen smiled, "Detective Guan is extremely paranoid. I suspect everyone from the Criminal Intelligence Bureau is like that, so it's better to be direct. Saves trouble."
Ji Bailou glanced at Guan Yingjun, "Chen Jincai told me you were lucky. I thought he was exaggerating, but now I believe it."
After giving his friend crap, he turned to Jian Ruochen and said leisurely, "My security clearance in the CIB used to be about the same as your Detective Guan's."
Jian Ruochen nodded, then unzipped his jacket and opened it.
Ji Bailou was shocked, "What are you doing? We—"
His voice cut off abruptly, his narrow eyes behind his glasses widening, "You?"
Guan Yingjun coughed in astonishment, "How did you get this?"
The container!
Holy shit, Jian Ruochen actually managed to get a container out under such tight security!
Ji Bailou, hearing Guan Yingjun's question, was even more stunned, "You didn't know??"
Guan Yingjun replied, "I learned at the same time as you."
He looked at Jian Ruochen, "So when you were holding your stomach, saying..."
"I almost blew my cover back then," Jian Ruochen exhaled, "Luckily, I acted quick."
Guan Yingjun's ears turned red.
Jian Ruochen opened the lid, revealing the drug brick inside.
Ji Bailou leaned in for a closer look, "It's a full 'pork chop,' exactly one kilogram."
He looked down at Jian Ruochen's head and repeated the same words Chen Jincai had said, "Guan Yingjun, I'm really jealous."
Guan Yingjun tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Also," Jian Ruochen turned to Ji Bailou, "When I went to steal... uh, take... hmm."
No matter how he phrased it, it sounded somewhat illegal.
Guan Yingjun corrected him, "Retrieve."
Jian Ruochen continued, "...When I went to retrieve this, I heard people inside say that the corrupt police they planted in the CIB tipped them off about the CIB raid."
Ji Bailou's expression instantly turned cold, "You're saying... there's a mole in my department?"
Jian Ruochen rubbed his nose, "Yeah."
The three of them were about to say more when the low rumble of a sports engine sounded nearby.
In a split second, Jian Ruochen bundled his puffer jacket around the container and tossed it into the back seat. Then, as if losing his balance, he slumped into the gap between the passenger and driver's seats.
He let out a grunt of pain.
Guan Yingjun grabbed him with one hand while unlocking the car doors with the other, "Ji Bailou, get going. No one can see you with me."
Ji Bailou glanced at the bundled jacket but ultimately didn't take it.
This was something Guan Yingjun had secured. Unless explicitly given, he couldn't take it.
The sports car's engine roared to a stop in front of the jeep, followed by the sound of a door opening.
Guan Yingjun's expression hardened.
They were coming for them!
He slapped on his cap with one hand, then pulled the teary-eyed guy onto his lap. "It's alright, it's okay. Go ahead and cry if it hurts."
Jian Ruochen nearly laughed despite the tears he'd just mustered.
"Tap, tap."
The driver's side window was tapped twice.
Guan Yingjun tch’d in annoyance and cracked the window halfway down. "What? Can't you see we're busy?"
Jian Ruochen's damp eyes appeared in the crack of the window, a teardrop clinging to his lashes.
Lu Qian's breathing grew heated.
He stared for a moment before suddenly sneering, "Did you take it?"
Jian Ruochen winced, "Took what? What are you talking about?"
Lu Qian cursed, "Stop pretending! Did you stash it in your puffer jacket and take it?"
He'd thought about it later, and the more he did, the more suspicious it seemed. Jian Ruochen's puffer jacket had bulged around the stomach area—it looked like something was hidden inside.
Jian Ruochen glanced at the puffer jacket in the back seat, feeling the arm around his waist tighten.
Lu Qian's gaze was cold and menacing. "We're missing a pork chop."
Jian Ruochen: "If you want pork, go to the market and buy it!"
Lu Qian scoffed, "Your man works in this business. It's understandable if you don’t know what 'pork' means, but how could he not know what it means?"
He couldn’t wait any longer. He kicked the rear lock of the Jeep, grabbed the backseat door, and yanked it open with brute force.
Guan Yingjun’s hand moved to the service weapon at his waist.
Jian Ruochen’s tears stopped instantly.
Lu Qian glanced at the piled-up down jacket on the backseat, one hand reaching behind his back to grip his service weapon. His playful gaze fixed on Jian Ruochen. "I’ll give you one more chance—get off him and tell me the truth. Did you take it or not?"
He paused, his tone almost coaxing, "Come with me from now on, and I’ll spare you."
Guan Yingjun’s arm tightened around Jian Ruochen while his other hand drew his service weapon and released the safety.
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