Chapter 44: You Can Do Whatever You Want to Me

Chapter 44: You Can Do Whatever You Want to Me

Guan Yingjun whipped out his service weapon and strode in the direction Jian Ruochen had left, veins popping out on his neck and the back of his hand. "Jian Ruochen went to the public restroom."

Zhang Xingzong cursed under his breath, reaching back to draw his own service weapon. "The killer is rushing to show his hand because Jian Ruochen hit a nerve earlier and made him furious. Ah Ji really isn’t the killer!"

Guan Yingjun’s expression remained stoic, his lips pressed into a tight line, showing no emotion. But the hand not holding his service weapon trembled slightly. "Pair up and flank the area. Bi Wanwan and Ding Gao, stay here and secure the crime scene."

He suddenly felt as if his very breath seemed to tremble.

The scene was like a battlefield.

Anything could happen.

He had worked undercover and served as a detective for a year—he should have been used to it. But with Jian Ruochen involved, he felt a fear like never before.

Was fear of loss also a side effect of "love"?

Guan Yingjun didn’t dare dwell on it. He hurried toward the restroom’s main entrance with Zhang Xingzong.

…

Inside the restroom.

Jian Ruochen was washing his hands at the last sink.

Water dripped softly, making a faint sound.

Soon, that sound was drowned out by a heavy, dragging noise.

Jian Ruochen froze, quickly turned off the faucet, and ducked out of sight into a blind spot.

This sound was wrong—it sounded like someone dragging a hammer.

"Thud—clunk."

A dull impact struck the floor tiles, followed by a muffled, greasy voice at the entrance. "Hello."

"Anyone here?"

This was definitely not how a normal person would behave upon entering a restroom.

He was the target.

Jian Ruochen lowered his gaze, patted his pocket, and pulled out a pair of shiny silver handcuffs.

Luckily, he had come prepared, having taken Guan Yingjun’s handcuffs earlier.

When he hinted to the reporter that "Ah Ji isn’t Ah Ji," he had anticipated this might happen.

People with Asperger’s syndrome often struggle to control their emotions.

When faced with a problem, they either flee frantically or act erratically.

If the killer with Asperger’s was present and heard what he said to the reporter, he would be provoked and reveal himself.

The forensic work was complex and slow.

Who knew how long it would take to reassemble the body? Waiting for clues wasn’t his style.

The person at the entrance grew impatient and let out a low, grating laugh.

"I saw you come in."

He dragged the hammer, knocking on the first stall door. "Bang, bang."

"Bang, bang…"

Footsteps drew closer, heavy breathing grew more distinct, and the sound of the hammer being dragged sent chills down the spine.

Jian Ruochen held his breath, focusing intently.

The killer was fat, slower than most. As long as he could move nimbly and strike decisively, he would be fine.

He closed his eyes, adjusted his breathing, and pressed himself against the wall, standing straight.

When the fat man reached the second-to-last stall, he finally lost patience and let out a sinister chuckle. "In the last one?"

He walked to the last stall’s door and suddenly bent over.

He was so fat that when he bent, his stomach folded up, restricting his movement.

But he didn’t care. He crouched down, pressing his face to the gap between the stall door and the floor to peer inside.

His eyes, narrowed by fat, suddenly widened.

No one!

How could there be no one?

His eyes darted around, and he suddenly spotted—

A pair of feet near the mop sink behind the stall!

The fat man pushed against the floor, trying to stand, but his movements were extremely sluggish.

Jian Ruochen aimed for the fat man’s wrist, darted out nimbly, and cuffed him to the welded support bar under the stall.

His heart raced wildly.

Sweat drenched his back, and his hair clung to his temples.

The fat man sat crouched on the floor, a ferocious smile spreading across his face.

His left hand gripped the dark iron hammer tightly, and he suddenly yanked his right arm.

"Bang!"

The welded steel support bar under the stall let out a loud noise.

Jian Ruochen hurriedly backed away, out of the hammer’s range.

How was this fat man so strong?

Jian Ruochen pulled out his pager, quickly entered Guan Yingjun’s address, and typed succinctly: Come!

"Bang!"

The fat man violently jerked his arm again, the immense force causing the wooden door panel to crack.

Jian Ruochen made a split-second decision and turned to head for the door.

Earlier, he had outsmarted him with quick thinking, but if the fat man broke free from the handcuffs and faced him directly, he might not win.

He ran a few steps toward the door but suddenly stopped.

The door was locked!

"Bang—"

"Creak—"

The sound of wood splintering grew louder.

Jian Ruochen gripped the restroom door handle and twisted it.

It wouldn't budge, locked tight.

What to do?

He had considered every possibility but never imagined the killer would have a key to the public restroom door!

…

Outside the public restroom.

Guan Yingjun arrived.

He reached out and tried twisting the restroom door—it was locked.

Guan Yingjun could clearly hear his own increasingly frantic heartbeat; his mouth was dry, his breath hitched, and he felt slightly dizzy. "How many doors does this restroom have?"

"Two," Zhang Xingzong said softly. "They standardly have two nowadays."

Guan Yingjun retrieved the silencer from beside his holster and attached it. He said, "Step back a bit."

Zhang Xingzong immediately moved back.

Guan Yingjun tried the door handle again—still locked. He immediately raised his hand and shot the lock, then kicked hard at the damaged lock.

The immense force knocked the lock clean off the doorframe.

The door swung inward from the momentum, hit the wall behind, and bounced back.

Guan Yingjun pushed the door aside and strode inside, seeing the second door separating the sink area from the toilet stalls.

The lock on this door was vibrating slightly, as if someone was trying to pick it from the other side.

Zhang Xingzong immediately raised his voice and called out, "Jian Ruochen?"

Jian Ruochen paused. "It's me."

He answered while continuing to work, jamming a bank card into the door gap and thrusting hard, then sliding it up and down rapidly.

Then he pressed down on the handle.

It popped open.

Guan Yingjun’s eyes scanned Jian Ruochen.

The young man was clutching a tattered black card, his eyes shining with excitement. He wasn’t injured, though his hair was slightly disheveled, and there was sweat on his forehead. A bead of sweat had gathered on the tip of his nose, about to drip…

Guan Yingjun felt sudden relief, and the tip of his nose stung slightly.

Just as he was about to speak, a loud noise came from inside the restroom—

"Bang!"

Seeing that Jian Ruochen had opened the door, the fat man erupted with astonishing strength, ignoring the handcuffs cutting into his wrist, and yanked fiercely.

The wooden plank splintered.

He straightened up and dragged the hammer forward a step.

Jian Ruochen immediately stepped aside. "Quick, the killer!"

Guan Yingjun instinctively reached for his pocket—the handcuffs weren’t there.

Not there?

He froze, turned to look at the fat man, and his gaze fell on the handcuffs hanging from the man’s right wrist.

Jian Ruochen had actually taken his handcuffs before coming to the public restroom. Thankfully, Jian Ruochen was clever and thorough. Otherwise, he couldn't imagine what might have happened.

Guan Yingjun said hoarsely, "Zhang Xingzong, use your handcuffs."

The two worked together to subdue the irrational, emotionally-out-of-control man, then helped Sizheng Liu and the others put him into the police car.

Zhang Xingzong and Sizheng Liu exchanged a glance, both drenched in sweat.

Zhang Xingzong: …

"Azheng, don’t you think Jian Ruochen is a bit unnerving?"

Sizheng Liu clicked his tongue. "I think it’s normal. He probably figured the killer might return to the scene to see how the police were handling the case, which is why he said those things to the reporters."

"Doesn’t that make it even more eerie?" Zhang Xingzong shuddered. "The last person who was this strategic was probably Director Le over a decade ago… wasn’t the Commissioner just like that when he was young? Caught so many criminals."

Sizheng Liu calculated Jian Ruochen’s age and suddenly shot a meaningful glance. "Don’t say it, but who the next Commissioner will be really isn’t certain."

Jian Ruochen was clever and capable, sweet-talking and sociable, popular with older people. He was also young and wealthy, with plenty of time to gain experience.

Not to mention his strong backing, giving him a natural advantage in political and business circles.

Jian Ruochen might really have a shot at the Commissioner’s position.

·

Guan Yingjun took Jian Ruochen to his car.

Silently, he removed the silencer from his service weapon and put it away.

A faint scent of gunpowder immediately spread through the car.

Jian Ruochen sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on Guan Yingjun’s hands.

The man’s fingers were still trembling slightly, and he cleaned the service weapon too forcefully, making its parts emit strained clicking sounds.

Jian Ruochen opened his mouth to speak, glanced at Guan Yingjun’s expression, and was momentarily taken aback.

This person... it doesn't seem like a purely physical reaction toward him.

If it were just a purely physical reaction, his emotions wouldn't be so tense.

After Guan Yingjun finished cleaning the gun, he took the orange juice from the cup holder and handed it to Jian Ruochen, saying hoarsely, "Have some."

Jian Ruochen glanced at Guan Yingjun's chapped lips, thought for a moment after taking it, then opened the lid and handed it back. "You drink it."

Even though he was the one facing the predicament, Guan Yingjun seemed to need that sweet orange juice to calm his nerves more than he did.

Guan Yingjun didn't reach out to take it.

He lowered his head and took a sip from Jian Ruochen's hand.

The freshly squeezed orange juice was slightly bitter with a very distinct sourness.

He usually preferred milder flavors and had never liked freshly squeezed orange juice—a drink that was both bitter and sweet, sometimes even puckering. But this time, he found this ordinary cup of orange juice incredibly delicious.

Sweet.

It even seemed to carry a hint of honey pomelo.

He held his breath for a moment, then gulped it down, finishing half the cup in one go.

Jian Ruochen held the cup, tilting it slightly.

Seeing that Guan Yingjun wanted to drink more after finishing half, he quickly pulled the cup back. "Save some for me."

Who drinks a whole cup of orange juice in one go?

Guan Yingjun licked his lips, staring intently at Jian Ruochen. "I'm sorry."

Jian Ruochen: ...

He was reminded again of the third "shouldn't have" that he had tricked out of Guan Yingjun...

Guan Yingjun's voice had been so strained, so hoarse at the time. He had said, "I shouldn't have wanted to hold your hand..."

Now, every time he heard "I'm sorry," he thought of those words.

Jian Ruochen quickly averted his gaze. "It's just a few sips of orange juice. I'm not going to blame you for that."

But Guan Yingjun shook his head, leaning closer and choosing his words carefully. "I know you won't be angry. You just don't see me the same way anymore."

Jian Ruochen's eyebrow twitched slightly.

He turned to look at Guan Yingjun.

Detective Guan's expression was calm, even devoid of the embarrassment he had shown when saying, "I shouldn't have wanted to hold your hand."

It was as if he had analyzed their relationship like a key case study and regained his composure.

Guan Yingjun: "I'm apologizing to you. Whether you forgive me or not is up to you."

He said softly, "Whether I can make you see me in a new light depends on what I can do."

Jian Ruochen thought to himself, Well then, I’d like to see what you’re capable of.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Guan Yingjun grabbed his hand and placed it against his cheek.

His palm heated up.

The young, handsome Inspector lowered his eyes, exposing his neck, completely defenseless, offering the most vulnerable part of his body.

Guan Yingjun glanced at Jian Ruochen's expression and said quietly, "You can do whatever you want."

Jian Ruochen leaned back slightly.

This was just like Guan Yingjun—not that he didn’t know how to please people or navigate social situations; he just didn’t see the need. But when he did, he went all out, with such full force and such a stark contrast that it was hard to guard against.

Jian Ruochen cautiously withdrew his hand. "It's very late. I think it’s better to wrap things up for now. What do you think, Inspector Guan?"

Guan Yingjun suddenly laughed.

Compared to the cold "full name" or the flat "Detective Guan," he actually preferred this slightly irritated "Inspector Guan" now.

It was a good sign that he was showing emotion.

Guan Yingjun picked up the walkie-talkie, his voice unconsciously carrying a light, cheerful tone. "All units, after securing the scene, wrap up. We’ll start canvassing tomorrow, with a targeted meeting at 3 p.m."

Jian Ruochen leaned back in the passenger seat, screwed the lid back on the cup, and drank the remaining half of the orange juice from the travel mug.

Guan Yingjun watched him holding the cup with both hands, his lips pressed against the rim, and abruptly looked away.

Jian Ruochen found it amusing.

My god, Guan Yingjun was really too naive. On the surface, he seemed mature and steady, unflappable, but underneath, he was such a pure soul that even holding hands made him flustered.

So what if they drank from the same cup?

Was such a big reaction really necessary?

He stifled a laugh, coughing several times in a row, his face turning red from the effort.

Guan Yingjun started the car. "I’ll take you home first."

Jian Ruochen: "Oh, thanks."

Not waiting for small talk, Guan Yingjun initiated the conversation. "You actually managed to subdue him, just with a pair of handcuffs..."

He really hadn’t expected Jian Ruochen to stay calm in that situation, protecting himself while also apprehending the criminal.

The mental fortitude to dismantle a bomb on a ferry was truly something else.

Guan Yingjun: "How did you pry the door open later?"

Jian Ruochen: ...

He pulled out his black card. "With a bank card. That old-fashioned door lock wasn’t very tight. Usually, you can just slide it in and twist to open it."

It’s just that the bank card got scratched up, so he’d need to get a new one. He’d have to go to the bank another day.

Jian Ruochen drifted off to sleep as he thought about it.

It was almost 1 a.m., and he was exhausted.

That fat guy had been scarier than he’d expected.

Guan Yingjun glanced sideways, feeling like the day had passed in a blur.

He used to always mock Liu Qishang for becoming unlike himself in pursuit of Lin Yazhi.

Now it was his turn, and he finally understood the power of the hormones of love.

For love, rationality takes a backseat, and decisions are made on raw instinct.

Becoming unlike oneself.

…

Jian Ruochen slept right through until the next morning.

When he woke up and stared at the ceiling, he felt groggy.

Huh?

Did he go out yesterday?

How did he fall asleep in Guan Yingjun's car and wake up in bed?

At the bedroom door, Luo Binwen rapped sharply and pushed in a cart with clean clothes. "Good morning, young master."

Jian Ruochen sat up, wondering if it had all been a dream. "How did I get back yesterday?"

Luo Binwen's fingers tightened around the cart. "That police officer brought you home. Of course, I didn’t let him inside."

Jian Ruochen: ... That smile somehow felt like a hidden dagger.

Luo Binwen gave four deliberate "hehehe" chuckles. "Here’s your letter for today, and someone sent you flowers."

Jian Ruochen: ?

Mail? How retro.

He took the letter and a letter opener, sliced it open to reveal precise penmanship.

"Dear Mr. Jian, Hope this letter finds you well."

"Reading these words feels like seeing you face-to-face..."

The middle contained an apology. Jian Ruochen skimmed it and found the key, useful information: "Meeting at West Kowloon at 3 p.m. — Guan Yingjun."

So yesterday really happened.

Jian Ruochen picked up the bouquet on the cart—it seemed to be yellow roses and gypsophila, a charming combination of yellow and white.

The small card in the bouquet finally didn’t say "I’m sorry" or "My apologies."

It just had a smiley face drawn on it.

Jian Ruochen chuckled. Detective Guan was quite amusing when trying to make amends.

He handed the flowers back to Luo Binwen: "Arrange these in the living room, where they're immediately visible from the entryway."

He wanted to see Detective Guan’s reaction when he saw this bouquet.

Luo Binwen said through clenched teeth: "Of course, young master."

He added, "By the way, the total investment in the electronics technology company you bought is around 400 million. This morning, we received news that the portable computer has been successfully developed."

"Oh?" Jian Ruochen got out of bed to change.

Today was truly a good day—a double blessing.

They caught someone who knew the location of the factory.

And received the good news about the successful development of the laptop.

"Market it aggressively," Jian Ruochen said with a smile, looking at Luo Binwen. "We’re about to start making money."

Butler Luo: ...

To be honest, he had doubts about this project. It felt like it wouldn't be very profitable.

The manufacturing cost was too high, and very few people could afford it.

He asked doubtfully, "Aren’t you going to go see it?"

"Maybe later," Jian Ruochen glanced at the wall clock. "The transfer test results come out tomorrow. Today’s the last day of break, and I need to go to West Kowloon to question the prisoner."

This suspect was directly linked to Lu Qian’s drug operation.

China’s drug enforcement was so strict—he’d grown up with anti-drug PSAs.

Now, whenever he saw someone involved in drug trafficking, it felt like ants were crawling under his skin.

Ah... it was the feeling of wanting drug dealers executed.