Chapter 32: Guan Yingjun, Do You Want to Be a Daddy?

Chapter 32 Guan Yingjun, Are You Trying to Be My Daddy?

Inside the office.

"You're using too much strength, I'm done." Jian Ruochen tried to pull his wrist back.

He couldn't free it.

Guan Yingjun firmly held onto the wrist in his palm to keep him from pulling away. "Didn't you say it didn't hurt last night?"

Jian Ruochen's eyes watered, but a real man doesn't shed tears easily!

Holding his breath, he gritted his teeth through the pain and said, "This kind of pain always hits the next day."

Outside the door, Chen Jincai pulled back his hand from opening the door.

The patrol officer looked awkward; the two exchanged glances.

In the police station, office romances weren't exactly rare. The Senior Inspector from the neighboring ICAC (Independent Commission Against Corruption), who was great at catching corrupt officials, had even proposed to their Superintendent Lin Yazhi.

But two men carrying on like this was still a bit...

What was going on in there?

The patrol officer leaned close to Chen Jincai's ear and whispered, "What should we do, Sir Chen? Maybe you should handle the reporters?"

Chen Jincai whispered back, "Do you think I have the authority for that?"

Those reporters were clearly here for Jian Ruochen.

If Jian Ruochen wasn't available, the one to handle the reporters should be Guan Yingjun.

Chen Jincai cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. "Detective Guan, are you in there?" He knocked on the door firmly. "There's an urgent matter."

Guan Yingjun said, "Come in."

Chen Jincai: ?

That was quick?

He pressed the door handle, pushed the door open, and before even stepping inside, he was hit by a strong smell of medicated oil that made him recoil.

Chen Jincai's brain short-circuited.

He glanced at Jian Ruochen's bruised arm and suddenly understood. "Applying medicated oil?"

Jian Ruochen mumbled "yeah" affirmatively.

Chen Jincai: ...

Well, it was his own dirty mind.

Guan Yingjun was practically married to his cases—how could he possibly be dating?

Chen Jincai relaxed and smiled. "There's a bunch of reporters downstairs."

The patrol officer came in and repeated what he had just told Chen Jincai.

Guan Yingjun's office fell silent.

The reason for the commotion was extremely foolish, reeking of petty, calculated malice.

After a long silence, Jian Ruochen let out a soft laugh. "Moral blackmail?"

Guan Yingjun was taken aback.

That term was quite fitting.

Frowning, he wiped his fingers, covered in medicated oil, with a handkerchief and said to the patrol officer, "Disperse them on charges of gathering to cause trouble."

The patrol officer hesitated. "But then... they might write misleading stories."

The police station's credibility had just started to improve recently, and the higher-ups were keen on maintaining that credibility, preferring not to escalate situations.

Those reporters were making such a fuss—clearly, they had been paid. They might even be waiting to be driven away so they could write a bunch of nonsense.

If things escalated, the higher-ups would inevitably pressure Jian Ruochen to donate a little blood just to appease everyone and settle the matter.

There were no fools in the police force; everyone understood this perfectly.

Now it was up to Jian Ruochen to handle it.

Guan Yingjun let out a sigh.

This kind of vicious tactic was ignorant yet effective.

Jian Ruochen was physically weak and didn't meet the standards for blood donation.

What to do?

Jian Ruochen walked to the blinds, parted the slats, and looked down.

The crowd at the entrance of the West Kowloon Police Station was growing.

Blood donation—the term was too pointed.

It was clearly Jiang Hanyu's doing.

Was his fake brother done dropping the act and ready to confront him directly?

"I'll go down and deal with them." Jian Ruochen pulled down his sleeve, which had been rolled up for the medicated oil. "Can I talk about what happened yesterday?"

Guan Yingjun lowered his eyes in thought for a moment. "Just don't mention the lunchbox."

"Understood." Jian Ruochen put on his brand-new down jacket, walked past Chen Jincai, brushing past him.

His fingers slipped into Sir Chen's open pocket and found the voice recorder inside.

He pulled it out and shook it. "You've already copied what's on this, right? I need to use it."

Chen Jincai felt his pocket absently. "Huh? Oh."

Damn, the A-team consultant had skills like this?

Well, the voice recorder was meant to be returned anyway, so it was fine if he took it.

Guan Yingjun still felt uneasy, his expression stern as he stood by the office window, looking down.

The glass door of the police station swung open as Jian Ruochen stepped out at his own pace.

The reporters went quiet for a moment.

Jian Ruochen was actually here at the police station?

Jiang Hanyu had been so sure of himself when he paid us, saying Jian Ruochen wouldn't have the guts to show his face—they just needed to make enough noise that the cops would kick us out, no need to even turn on the cameras or interview anyone.

But now, instead of the police coming to chase us off, Jian Ruochen had come out in person.

What now?

One reporter leaned over to the cameraman and whispered, "Bro, you think we should roll camera and interview him?"

The cameraman replied, "You wanna get us killed? Jiang Mingshan is still in detention waiting for sentencing. Have you forgotten who solved the ferry robbery case?"

Public opinion was currently with the cops on this one.

With a crooked Hong Kong tycoon taken down, the public was loving and trusting the West Kowloon Police Station more than ever.

Everyone was condemning the Jiang family. Anyone who dared criticize the police now would be seen as a public enemy, a corporate stooge.

Given the touchy situation these past few years, one wrong move could take down their entire TV station or newspaper.

Jian Ruochen stood before the couple dozen reporters and smiled. "I'm here, and now you've gone quiet?"

He reached out and adjusted a cameraman’s tilted large-head camera, then added with a smirk, "Not even turned on? All show, no go?"

The cameraman gave a nervous laugh.

The person who hired them hadn’t paid for actual coverage either...

"Did Jiang Hanyu pay you to make trouble here? How many years have you been in this industry, and you’ve already forgotten what journalism's really about?" Jian Ruochen tilted his head and gave the reporters a thin smile.

The smile was dazzling, but his eyes held a clear, icy chill, lending his unnaturally pretty, almost ethereal face a dangerous edge.

Jian Ruochen spoke softly, "Do you know what crime it is to accept money and cause trouble at a police station?"

That landed like a punch to the gut.

A young reporter asked, voice shaking, "What crime?"

"Assembly to disrupt social order—punishable by up to five years in prison." After saying this, Jian Ruochen gestured to the cameraman. "Come on, roll camera."

The cameraman wasn't about to.

He was here to make money, not to go to jail.

Right now, he just wanted to get on his knees, apologize, then go back and shove the cash right back at Jiang Hanyu’s face.

The whole group was freaking out, unsure what Jian Ruochen really intended.

Was he trying to get them to dig their own grave further on camera, or was this just a warning?

Surely he didn’t literally mean for them to start filming?

Jian Ruochen snapped, "Scared now? What were you doing earlier? Didn’t you want money? Let me teach you how to make real money."

He commanded, "Camera. On. Now."

The cameraman’s hands were shaking.

He was terrified—terrified of going to prison.

He was too scared to turn it on, but too scared not to.

Trembling under the pressure, head spinning, he finally hit the power switch under Jian Ruochen’s icy gaze.

Jian Ruochen then shot a look toward the media van with its door open and the reporters holding microphones.

The two teams immediately jumped into action, connecting cables and power sources, worried any delay would get them arrested on the spot.

A reporter, in full gear, stepped forward with a microphone and pasted on a professional smile. "We’re here outside the West Kowloon Regional Crime Unit, where we’ve lucky enough to encounter the unit’s new consultant intern. Let’s hear what he has to say."

He managed to get those words out through years of professional habit, then stood there frozen.

Internally, the reporter cursed Jiang Hanyu—five grand to risk five years in prison? What a scam!

Jian Ruochen smiled at the camera, then took the microphone from the reporter.

The reporter blinked.

Jian Ruochen spoke calmly, "Jiang Mingshan, the mastermind behind the ferry job, claimed right before they transferred him to detention that if he were acquitted, he would transfer his assets to me for inheritance."

"He also stated that I am actually his child, and that I forced him at the banquet to admit we have no blood relation—all because I was dissatisfied with the inheritance distribution—leading to his imprisonment."

The reporter started sweating bullets.

Starting off with such explosive clarification?

The cameraman’s legs went weak; he nearly collapsed to the ground.

Was this something you just casually addressed? Shouldn’t this be handled in a press conference?

They were a bit dazed.

Their small, struggling TV station… were they about to hit record ratings?

Jian Ruochen stared straight into the camera, his gaze sharp. "This kind of baiting is despicable."

"I hope no individual or group will use wealth as capital in an attempt to bribe the police or the courts. The West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit deals in facts. Justice and truth will never waver over mere billions."

The sound technician inside the media van felt faint.

Mere… billions…

He called that "mere"?

Jian Ruochen was practically roasting the court on the moral high ground.

Now the court couldn’t possibly give Jiang Mingshan a light sentence even if they wanted to!

This wasn’t Jiang Hanyu shooting himself in the foot—this was Jiang Hanyu lifting a rock to smash his own father.

Jian Ruochen took out the recorder. "As for Mr. Jiang Mingshan suddenly claiming that we are biological father and son, I won't comment on that. However, at the time, Jiang Mingshan admitted himself that I am not his biological son. I believe our conversation was quite peaceful, with no signs of coercion."

He faced the microphone and played back the recording from Jiang Hanyu's banquet.

The clear dialogue was transmitted through the microphone, even clearer than the copies of the recording the reporters had previously obtained and circulated.

Every sentence in the recording included names, and there were even sounds of onlookers egging them on, making any fakery impossible.

In the recording—

Jian Ruochen: "Mr. Jiang Mingshan, my mother had me in Hong Kong after running away from home. Although I truly don’t know who my biological father is, it's probably not you, since we don’t look alike. Today, could you please clarify this here?"

Jiang Mingshan: "Mr. Jian Ruochen... indeed has no blood relation to me."

After playing the recording, Jian Ruochen prompted the reporters to ask questions: "When faced with something like this, what’s the first question that comes to mind?"

A reporter asked, voice trembling: "Haven’t you done a paternity test?"

Jian Ruochen smirked, "No."

Of course, they had. Jiang Mingshan had done one but didn’t want to admit it, so he burned the test report.

"But it’s not impossible to do a paternity test now."

Jian Ruochen smiled brightly, looking completely sincere, "I heard that Jiang Hanyu, the only son of the Jiang family, has a rare blood disorder and needs continuous blood transfusions to survive. I can undergo paternity tests with Mr. Jiang Mingshan and Mr. Jiang Hanyu separately."

Some reporters nearby couldn't stay on their feet, their legs giving way as they sat on the ground, not caring about dirtying their clothes.

Jian Ruochen had actually seized the opportunity, using them to clarify the statements Mr. Jiang Mingshan made during his transfer to the court, forcing the court to hand down a harsh ruling! These reporters who came to cover the story would undoubtedly make Jiang Hanyu hate them.

This was forcing them to offend the Jiang family and pick a side!

The young man’s voice was soft, his smile like a spring breeze, yet it was utterly terrifying.

His intelligence and meticulous planning were downright terrifying.

Now he was even bringing up the blood thing voluntarily! And offering to do paternity tests?

What exactly did he mean?

The recording was full of names—had Jian Ruochen been preparing for today’s situation back when he made the recording?

·

Upstairs in the West Kowloon Region Police Station, the Major Crimes Unit A-Team office was crowded with officers from the C-Team, all crowded around the window to watch.

The news was playing on the A-Team’s television, showing Jian Ruochen’s face.

They were too preoccupied to marvel at Jian Ruochen’s brilliant strategy—they were too worried.

"No wonder that little shit from the Jiang family caused trouble to force Jian Ruochen to donate blood—it turns out he needs it himself!"

"What does Jian Ruochen mean by saying this? Is he really going to donate?"

"The Jiang family has no good people. The old one is almost dead, fine, but the young one is capable of stirring up trouble like this—he’s no good himself."

"Would Jian Ruochen really not figure this out?"

"Maybe he’s doing it for the reputation of West Kowloon..."

"Then we’d be worthless, relying on a 19-year-old outsider to protect us."

Someone glanced back at Guan Yingjun, noticing his tightly clenched fists.

On television, Jian Ruochen looked right into the camera, as if knowing there were people there waiting to hear him speak.

Jian Ruochen: "If I have no blood relation to Mr. Jiang Mingshan and Mr. Jiang Hanyu, then I am willing to see if our blood matches with Mr. Jiang Hanyu."

As he spoke, the corners of his lips curled into a knowing smile, "If Mr. Jiang and I are truly brothers... he’ll probably have to find another blood source."

Jian Ruochen said each word slowly and clearly: "Because, generally, siblings can't donate blood to each other, as it may increase the risk of 'transfusion-associated graft-versus-host disease' (GVHD)."

·

Jiang Ting Mansion.

Jiang Hanyu stared at the face on the television, gritting his teeth so hard he tasted blood spreading in his mouth.

Jian Ruochen was vicious!

First, he got the reporters on his side, then clarified the blood relation issue, and now brought up blood donation.

He was banking on Jiang Hanyu wouldn’t dare to get paternity tests done with all three of them!

Once these tests were done, his status as an adopted son of the Jiang family would be exposed to all of Hong Kong!

By then, the inheritance rights he had just secured would be handed over because of 400cc of blood.

Would Lu Qian, who's now behind bars, want an adopted son with no inheritance rights?

Jiang Hanyu couldn’t be sure.

Jian Ruochen was forcing him to make a choice!

Jiang Hanyu threw the book in his hand at the television, his vision going dark. Breathing heavily, he tightly gripped the armrest of the sofa.

The taste of blood in his mouth grew stronger.

The move he had made was a desperate move, but it had been effective. If Jian Ruochen wanted to resolve it, the best way would have been to donate blood and make it go away.

Who would have thought he could fight back this hard?

What should he do?

What should he do now?

Jiang Hanyu’s mind went completely blank.

He thought of Jian Ruochen’s intense stare and shivered, looking up at the screen again.

On television, Jian Ruochen said: "You've all come a long way to be here. Just talking about ancient history isn’t very interesting."

Nearby, an elderly technician took out a bottle of blood pressure pills, trembling as he shook out one pill. He chewed it up dry and swallowed.

Ah... that's not enough.

One more.

He shook out another pill.

Jian Ruochen: "Yesterday, 1892 Bar on the West Kowloon bar street was shut down, and many criminals involved in drug use and dealing drugs to fund their addiction were arrested."

Jiang Hanyu listened, a sudden sense of dread washing over him.

1892? Isn't that Lu Qian's territory?

Jian Ruochen continued, "This bar is an extremely important revenue source under the Lu Corporation. I'm not sure if Lu Qian was aware of the chaos in the bar, nor do I understand whether Lu Qian deliberately tolerated drug dealing to fund addiction. You can all go ask him."

He chuckled and clapped his hands lightly. "The Organized Crime Bureau (CIB) has never been fond of giving interviews to reporters. If you hadn’t come to ask me today why I didn’t donate blood, I wouldn’t have known how to share this good news with everyone—"

Jiang Hanyu completely lost his composure. His vision blacked out, and he collapsed onto the sofa.

Jian Ruochen was actually stirring up trouble!

Once these words were spoken, Lu Qian would surely figure out that the reporters were sent by him.

With 1892 being investigated, Lu Qian was already swamped. Now, because of his actions, he would have to face the media under public scrutiny…

Jiang Hanyu tilted his head slightly and caught a glimpse of Jian Ruochen’s face on the television. The double vision made it look like a terrifying ghost.

***

Jian Ruochen smiled and repeated his earlier words as a closing statement: "Here in West Kowloon, we do not accept any individual or force using wealth as capital to shake the foundations of justice and truth. I hope reporters will also stick to their principles."

Upstairs, the police officers of the Major Crimes Division, Team C, felt a surge of excitement upon hearing this.

They slapped the windowsill and exclaimed, "Badass! Those words were so cool!"

One officer with a loud voice leaned against the windowsill, cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, and shouted down, "Well said!"

"Haha, now it’s our turn to have journalists eating out of our hands!"

The TV crew: Oh, wonderful...

After putting the court on the spot, now it’s their turn as news professionals to be grilled, huh?

Fine, fine.

Grill everyone, grill everything!

A reporter, voice weak and trembling, drenched in cold sweat, asked, "Is it over?"

Jian Ruochen replied, "Yes, is there anything else you’d like to ask?"

The reporter shook his head so hard it seemed about to fall off.

How dare he ask anything more?

One more glance and he might end up in jail; one more breath and his sentence might be extended.

No, no.

The cameraman shut off the equipment.

Jian Ruochen smiled and pulled out a red envelope (containing money). "My apologies for the drama, everyone."

He tucked the red envelope into the cameraman’s chest pocket. "This is a little something for your trouble—consider it my treat for a victory dinner. Today’s ratings are definitely going to skyrocket."

The cameraman’s eyes threatened to well up with tears.

It was just an interview, so why did it feel like a close call?

Watching Jian Ruochen disappear into the police station, he reached out and touched the red envelope, startled by its thickness. He pulled it out and muttered, "Wow, so much money."

A young male reporter leaned in, "Didn't he say it was just some small change? How much could it—" His voice cut off abruptly. "Wow..."

The cameraman counted, "110,000 yuan."

He suddenly realized something. He turned and counted the people. There were exactly 11 troublemakers. Jian Ruochen had given each of them 10,000 yuan, and on top of that, he’d handed them a story that would skyrocket their ratings.

And what had they done?

They had nearly ruined Jian Ruochen’s reputation.

Jian Ruochen’s words rang in his ears: *What is the most important thing in journalism?*

The cameraman suddenly raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face. "I’m such a scumbag."

"Should we really take this money?" the reporter whispered. They had no right to it...

After discussing it, everyone agreed they couldn’t accept it. They handed the money to the officer on duty and asked him to return it to the Major Crimes Unit upstairs, then slipped away embarrassed.

They had their ratings success, but they had completely burned bridges with both Lu Qian and the Jiangs.

From now on, they had to firmly stand with the police; otherwise, no one in Hong Kong would protect them.

Jian Ruochen reached the floor where the Major Crimes Unit was located. As soon as he stepped out of the stairwell, he was surrounded by enthusiastic members of Group C.

"So cool!"

"The Public Relations Department must be jealous that we have someone who’s such a smooth talker and also easy on the eyes."

Everyone fell silent for a moment, then hurriedly closed the door.

Hell no—they could fight among themselves for him, but if other departments tried to poach him, that would be a different story.

Chen Jincai asked urgently, "How could you make such a promise to the reporters? What if Jiang Hanyu really comes to you for a paternity test?"

Guan Yingjun’s thoughts were scattered.

Jian Ruochen has a rare blood type. What if he got injured during an operation in the future and needed a transfusion after losing too much blood?

Jian Ruochen didn’t notice anyone lost in thought and said meaningfully, "He wouldn’t dare."

Jiang Hanyu wasn’t Jiang Mingshan’s biological son. He had played wordplay with the reporters, implying he’d only agree to two paternity tests being conducted simultaneously.

Jiang Hanyu wouldn’t have the guts to go through with it.

Not only that, but Lu Qian would likely bear a lasting resentment against Jiang Hanyu over this incident.

These were two people who put profits first. Lu Qian would like Jiang Hanyu as long as he didn’t interfere with Lu Qian’s interests and could bring him enough benefits.

But what if he did?

·

Jiangting Mansion.

Lu Qian stood in the garden, for the first time not rushing upstairs to see Jiang Hanyu.

He looked at the money-nurtured roses in the garden of Jiangting Mansion, but his mind drifted back to the day of his engagement with Jiang Hanyu, when Guan Yingjun had plucked a rose and given it to Jian Ruochen.

Just one rose, yet Jian Ruochen had treasured it as if it were a priceless gem, overjoyed. But then another fellow drug lord told him that Jian Ruochen was an undercover agent planted in West Kowloon.

In the past, Jian Ruochen had only loved him, with a naive and clumsy affection, but now he knew how to work different men.

Lu Qian lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

He used to think Jian Ruochen was foolish, but now he was startled to realize how clever he was.

Thinking back, it made sense—Jian Ruochen was content with even the slightest affection in return and willing to work undercover for a drug lord in exchange for billions.

He was starved for love.

Just a little love could make him obedient.

Lu Qian lowered his hand, flicking the cigarette ash into the flowerbed.

The tender, vibrant rose was scorched, leaving a gaping hole.

Originally… he could have been one of them too.

Lu Qian tilted his head back, holding the smoke in his lungs, then exhaled toward the window of Jiang Hanyu's room upstairs, where light glowed.

After exhaling, he gave a low chuckle.

He had doted on Jiang Hanyu so much, but what had Jiang Hanyu ever done for him?

Lu Qian's smile faded from his face.

He tossed the cigarette butt into the flowerbed, turned, and strode into Jiangting Mansion, heading straight to the second floor. He entered Jiang Hanyu's room, where Jiang Hanyu was curled up on the sofa. Lu Qian crouched down gently, staring at his tear-streaked face, and chuckled softly, "Feeling hard done by?"

Jiang Hanyu froze, sensing something was off in the atmosphere.

He took a shaky breath and stammered, "Yeah..."

Lu Qian sat down in the space Jiang Hanyu had vacated, reaching out to stroke his hair, his fingers brushing against the soft earlobe. "Those reporters outside the West Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters—you sent them, didn’t you?"

Jiang Hanyu felt the cool fingers, like a snake's tongue.

He shivered slightly, then pressed his face against Lu Qian's thigh in a gesture of submission. "I was just scared. I don’t want to die."

"Then you want me to die?" Lu Qian looked down at Jiang Hanyu, his gaze icy.

After a moment, he suddenly remembered that Jiang Hanyu didn’t know about his involvement in drugs and smiled again. "It’s fine. You don’t know anything. I won’t blame you this time."

He pinched Jiang Hanyu's cheek. "Don’t act on your own next time. And stop obsessing over Jian Ruochen's blood. He’s not to be provoked right now."

Why?!

Jiang Hanyu was losing his mind.

Why couldn’t he provoke Jian Ruochen? Just because he was close to the police?

Lu Qian cupped Jiang Hanyu's face, looking into his eyes. He wanted to kiss him, but his mind flashed to Jian Ruochen's soft lips.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. "You don’t need to worry about anything. Just stay home and stay out of trouble."

As long as Jiang Hanyu remained innocent, kind, pure, and charming, like a ray of sunshine, he could continue to dote on him.

Lu Qian said softly, "Cooperate with the doctor and take your medicine. I’ll find a way to get you a blood donor. There are plenty of people in the world—it’s not just Jian Ruochen."

"You’re not at the point where you need a transfusion yet. Let’s just drop it, okay?"

Jiang Hanyu got chills.

He suddenly realized his mistake.

Lu Qian didn’t love him—he was just keeping him as an obedient pet canary.

Lu Qian wasn’t asking for his opinion; he was saying, "I’ll overlook it this time, but you better behave."

Jian Ruochen’s scheming was masterful.

Everyone was playing right into his hands.

Jian Ruochen had succeeded.

·

Evening.

Jian Ruochen, the man of the hour, had just finished giving his statement for the "Taxi Driver Serial Murder Case" and the "Bar 1892 Drug Case."

He was now receiving a commendation from the police.

A civilian consultant, not even on the team yet, yet he was getting awards and even a small medal!

Jian Ruochen stood in the assembly area in the Major Crimes Unit hall, watching as a middle-aged man walked out with music playing, in a daze.

They even had a soundtrack…

The middle-aged man approached Jian Ruochen and snapped him a salute.

Jian Ruochen instinctively raised his right hand to return the salute.

But as soon as he did, he realized something was wrong.

Mainland salutes were different from those in Hong Kong!

In Hong Kong, it was a British-style salute with the palm out, while on the mainland, the palm faced downward.

Jian Ruochen quickly bent his fingers to scratch the side of his ear, his eyes shining with admiration as he looked at the middle-aged officer. "That was sharp! I think I did it wrong."

Lei Jinwen laughed. "You’ll learn it properly when you enter the police academy for training."

He extended his hand for a handshake. "Let’s shake hands for now. I’m Lei Jinwen."

Jian Ruochen: "I’m Jian Ruochen."

Lei Jinwen was amused by him and turned to pick up the commendation plaque and medal from the tray. "This year’s awards had already been given out, but the Police Public Relations Branch discussed it and decided to add one more for you."

"Originally, someone from the Police Public Relations Branch was supposed to come for this, but I really wanted to see what the kid Yunchuan spoke so highly of looks like, so I came personally."

Jian Ruochen took the award plaque, taking a moment to process this.

Who? Chen Yunchuan?

Is this perhaps Guan Yingjun’s uncle?

Jian Ruochen glanced at Guan Yingjun standing in the hall. Guan Yingjun seemed to be smiling, or maybe not.

Lei Jinwen turned around again, picked up the medal from the tray, unfastened the pin on the back, and pinned it to Jian Ruochen’s left chest. "You’ve only been with the Major Crimes Unit for a month and you’ve already helped Guan Yingjun solve so many cases. That’s really impressive."

From his tone, Lei Jinwen really is Guan Yingjun’s uncle.

Jian Ruochen looked at Guan Yingjun, then at Lei Jinwen.

They say a nephew takes after his uncle, but these two don’t look alike at all.

Lei Jinwen is like the Laughing Buddha, always smiling.

Guan Yingjun keeps a straight face all day; a blank face is his usual expression.

Jian Ruochen looked down at the first medal of his police career—no, wait, his career as a Hong Kong citizen. It was silver and shiny, quite nice.

But not as pretty as Guan Yingjun’s.

He then looked at the framed certificate in his hand—a red wooden frame with gold-trimmed, embossed lettering inside.

So classy!

In the future, he’d have to get a transparent display case at home just to collect these medals.

Lei Jinwen reminded him, "Head up, we’re taking a photo. You can admire your little award later at home."

Jian Ruochen smiled sheepishly, straightened up, and moved closer to Lei Jinwen, posing seriously for the honorary photo.

Before leaving, Lei Jinwen pulled a red envelope from his pocket. "This is a 2,000 HKD bonus."

Jian Ruochen took it and exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm, "Thank you, Commissioner Lei!"

Chen Jincai, standing below, shouted to remind him, "That’s the Commissioner!"

He gave a thumbs-up. "Commissioner Ding, our Chief!"

Jian Ruochen: Huh?

The Commissioner of the Hong Kong Police Force—isn’t that equivalent to the Director of the Public Security Bureau on the mainland?

Jian Ruochen’s gaze toward Lei Jinwen instantly turned even more admiring. The Commissioner is seriously cool—even his license plate is just a single, crisp number: 1.

He immediately stepped forward, this time standing right next to Lei Jinwen. "Let’s take another photo!"

Lei Jinwen’s slight surprise at not being recognized earlier instantly faded. "Alright, alright, let’s take another one."

He put an arm around Jian Ruochen’s shoulder, and the two took a photo next to the Guan Yu statue in the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit, as if they were tourists.

The atmosphere immediately relaxed.

Jian Ruochen said to the Public Relations Section member taking the photo, "Make a large print—I’ll treat you to a meal!"

Lei Jinwen laughed again.

This kid is really something.

So likeable.

He came today not just because Chen Yunchuan had been praising him.

But also because he’d seen Guan Yingjun walking back in just a thin shirt.

His jacket was given to the consultant, he’d been drinking, his car was parked downstairs at someone else’s place, and he’d walked back alone.

So unusual.

Guan Yingjun is his sister’s orphaned son.

It doesn’t matter whether this nephew likes men or women. Whether the Guan family line continues or not has nothing to do with him.

He just wants his sister’s child to be happy, safe, and free from any emotional harm.

Lei Jinwen walked over to Guan Yingjun, and the two watched as Jian Ruochen was surrounded and playfully teased by Chen Jincai and the others. "CIB said you obtained Lu Qian’s drug trafficking evidence?"

"It wasn’t me who got it." Guan Yingjun gestured toward Jian Ruochen with his chin. "He went and got it—climbed through a window from the second floor. Neither Ji Bailou nor I knew about it. And it’s not exactly solid drug trafficking evidence—just a lunchbox."

Those people were all armed with shotguns. If Jian Ruochen had been discovered, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Just thinking about it made him shudder.

As he spoke, Guan Yingjun saw Chen Jincai hook an arm around Jian Ruochen’s shoulder. Jian Ruochen was still growing and wasn’t very tall yet. With that pull, he was practically tucked into Chen Jincai’s embrace.

He frowned, a vague, inexplicable irritation rising in his heart.

Guan Yingjun said softly, "If we can use the lunchbox as a lead and track down Lu Qian’s drug manufacturing facility, that would be solid criminal evidence."

Lei Jinwen: "Mhm."

In the crowd, Chen Jincai escalated his antics, tickling Jian Ruochen, who laughed and tried to pull away.

Lei Jinwen immediately glanced at Guan Yingjun’s expression.

Guan Yingjun’s brow was furrowed. He raised his voice and called, "Jian Ruochen."

Jian Ruochen turned around. "Hmm?"

Holding his medal, he ran over, his face flushed with happiness. "What’s up?"

Guan Yingjun looked down. "Have you finished memorizing the humanities materials?"

Lei Jinwen: ...

This excuse to call someone over is just pitiful.

Are you trying to be his daddy?

The uncle closed his eyes and thought about the age difference between Guan Yingjun and Jian Ruochen.

Well, seven years. A bit weird, but not too much.

Jian Ruochen rubbed his nose. "I’ll go back and memorize them after I examine the lunchbox."

Guan Yingjun smiled slightly. "The Forensics Section’s material comparison results are out. The residue on both lunchboxes is identical, and the materials and manufacturing process are the same."

"Oh, oh, oh." Jian Ruochen looked at Lei Jinwen, who remained silent.

The Commissioner is the Commissioner—unshakable, refined, and authoritative!

He really wants to sit in the Commissioner's position too.

Guan Yingjun: ...

That admiring, huh?

He changed the subject, raising his voice slightly, "Lu Qian has been investigated so many times recently; he's taken a heavy hit and probably won't dare to move product for a while."

Hearing Lu Qian's name, Jian Ruochen suddenly jolted back to attention, "Then we can try to investigate the lunchbox's source factory first, see if we can follow the trail to Lu Qian's drug production site."

"I remember there was a serial number on the bomb lunchbox... C-803-299? Probably a production number."

Guan Yingjun looked at Jian Ruochen and chuckled genuinely, "You noticed? I thought you were too busy disarming the bomb to see. The lunchbox we brought back this time also has one."

The feeling of having someone keep up with this kind of reasoning and thinking is addictive.

Jian Ruochen felt the medal was a bit heavy and adjusted it upward, "I saw it, but I thought it wasn't useful by itself, so I didn’t mention it."

Guan Yingjun reached out and took it, holding it for him.

Jian Ruochen shook his hand and added, "But I think Lu Qian will definitely try to move product again. He's strapped for cash now, with such huge losses, and Jiang Hanyu isn't generating any revenue for him. Lu Qian is at a critical juncture in taking over the family business—his cash flow is so tight, he must be sweating bullets right now."

The smile on Guan Yingjun's face instantly vanished from his eyes.

Jian Ruochen's understanding of Lu Qian surpassed his own, even though he had been investigating the Lu family for so many years.

Was it because he had feelings for Lu Qian before?

As soon as this thought emerged, Guan Yingjun felt that inexplicable agitation again.

He suddenly remembered the salute Jian Ruochen had given.

So sharp and deliberate—it didn’t seem like a mistake, more like an old habit slipping out.

What kind of salute was that?