Chapter 49: The Bad Ideas in Jian Ruochen’s Mind Are Bubbling

Chapter 49: Jian Ruochen’s Scheming Mind at Work

"Heh." Bro Ying sneered, collapsing weakly to the ground, his expression shifting repeatedly before finally settling into a blank mask. "You cops can't just shoot whenever you want. Holding a gun is nothing but posturing."

Jian Ruochen smiled faintly. "But I'm not a cop."

He withdrew his smile, thumbed the safety off with a flick, and took a step forward.

Bro Ying's expression changed subtly, but Jian Ruochen could still detect hesitation and fear in his face.

Jian Ruochen stared coldly at him, suddenly reminded of the car blown up at the quarry entrance.

...I wonder how the cops inside are doing.

Bro Ying hardly dared to meet Jian Ruochen's gaze. His eyes darted rapidly, scanning the room with his peripheral vision.

All the cops who had been held hostage earlier had now turned the tables.

No—perhaps there was no turning of the tables at all. The cops' apparent weakness when they first entered was an act!

Now, all the thugs in the room were handcuffed. Those in better shape crouched with their hands on their heads, while the worse-off could only lie on the ground.

Jian Ruochen held the gun steadily, then suddenly shifted the muzzle slightly and fired a shot at Bro Ying's thigh.

The bullet precisely sliced through Bro Ying's pants, leaving a moderate wound on the side of his thigh.

The gunshot echoed through the building.

The air fell silent for a moment.

Chen Jincai raised an eyebrow. Jian Ruochen's skill with a gun was no worse than any of theirs!

A single shot, and the bullet seemed to lightly slice through the man.

What kind of precision control was that?

Bro Ying stared blankly as blood gradually seeped from the wound on his thigh.

A streak of red spread across the edge of his jeans.

Only then did he seem to feel the pain, curling up abruptly, clutching his thigh, and letting out a hoarse, soundless scream: "...Ah... ah!"

Jian Ruochen looked down at him. "What's your name? What are you doing here? What's in this place? Where are the goods diverted from the factory hidden?"

Jian Ruochen would always remember the words on his mother's phone wallpaper after she was sacrificed: "To show mercy to criminals is to commit a crime against the people."

He shifted the muzzle, aiming it at Bro Ying's head.

"Yao... Yao Yingzhe..."

Yao Yingzhe finally felt the fear of death.

He curled up on the ground, half of his lower body numb, dragging his injured leg as he tried to scoot backward. That narrow gap was easy to enter but hard to exit, turning the entire space into a fish trap that only let things in.

What was once a means to restrain enemies had now become a tool for entrapment.

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone was stunned by Jian Ruochen's imposing presence.

Chen Jincai swallowed hard.

Rationally, he knew Jian Ruochen wouldn't casually shoot a suspect.

But emotionally, he felt Jian Ruochen might truly kill Yao Yingzhe in a fit of anger.

Yao Yingzhe remained silent for too long. Jian Ruochen raised his left hand and pulled back the slide. The empty shell casing ejected and fell to the ground with a clink.

Like a warning.

Everyone knew that once the casing was ejected, a second shot could be fired.

Yao Yingzhe was driven nearly mad by the life-or-death urgency. He turned to look at the two other notoriously famous cops.

Chen Jincai stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by a huddle of crouching thugs.

Guan Yingjun stood behind Jian Ruochen, his gun loaded and gripped tightly in his hand, like an enraged king of hell.

Yao Yingzhe closed his eyes slightly and spoke rapidly, "We... we stash goods here. Brother Lu... Brother Lu sent me to move the goods, to hide the lunchboxes here."

Jian Ruochen, not hearing anything about the drugs, lowered his eyelids and said softly, "How pathetic. Even in this state, you're still covering for Lu Qian's drugs? Do you think he'll thank you?"

Yao Yingzhe shivered all over. He opened his mouth but shook his head desperately, tears and snot streaming down his face, a pitiful sight.

How would Lu Qian ever thank him? That man would only see him as useless.

Jian Ruochen's eyes curved into a smile as he asked lightly, "Going to talk?"

An aura of authority and pressure filled the room, yet Jian Ruochen's expression remained unchanged from usual.

When he smiled, his eyes curved, his brows lowered, and the ends drooped slightly. If one ignored those captivating eyes, his face could almost be described as gentle.

Guan Yingjun's gaze lingered on Jian Ruochen, as if nailed there.

Under immense pressure, Yao Yingzhe finally crumbled. "The lunchboxes are all on the fifth floor. Pork and watermelons are scattered between the eighth and twelfth floors. Eggplants and grass are on the thirteenth floor. There are also some golden eggs and fruits on the top floor."

Jian Ruochen: ...

What kind of grocery market is this?

Aside from pork, he didn't understand any of it.

Come to think of it, it was Guan Yingjun who taught him what pork represented...

The old-fashioned pistol was quite heavy, and his arm was tired from holding it up.

Jian Ruochen lowered the gun.

Yao Yingzhe immediately breathed a sigh of relief, a faint glimmer of hope rising in his heart that the people in the room would disperse because of the information he provided.

Maybe then he could seize the opportunity to escape unnoticed.

Chen Jincai also breathed a sigh of relief.

Jian Ruochen had played it so convincingly—he was genuinely afraid the criminal might get killed.

This was the first time he'd seen Jian Ruochen interrogate someone. The pressure was indeed as rumored, but Jian Ruochen didn't say much either...

He walked over to Guan Yingjun and nudged him with an elbow. "Hey, this Little God of Wealth interrogates people pretty much the same way you do, huh? It's all coercion. Fire a shot, ask a question."

Guan Yingjun cast a glance of pity at Chen Jincai.

Chen Jincai: Huh?

What was that look for?

What does this momentary scorn mean?

Guan Yingjun said, "Jian Ruochen's questioning has a rhythm to it, and even seemingly useless actions serve a purpose. The timing of him ejecting the casing just now was perfect—the room was quiet, and the sound of the casing hitting the floor had a psychological suggestion. If it were you, you'd have ejected the casing immediately after the first shot."

Chen Jincai: ...

The police academy instructors repeatedly emphasized ejecting casings immediately, always being ready for the next bullet...

As if you don't do the same, he thought.

He found Guan Yingjun utterly bizarre, to the point of making his skin crawl.

Chen Jincai changed the subject, "Should we stay here to stand guard while I take some people upstairs to secure the contraband?"

Jian Ruochen shook his head, "There are too many people in the building. Let's not split up. Wait until CIB arrives."

Securing goods—Ji Bailou and Guan Yingjun were the professionals. Unfortunately, Detective Guan was practically a commander without troops now, with only him and Song Xuyi by his side. All that skill with nowhere to apply it.

In the corner, Yao Yingzhe leaned against the wall, his eyes glazed over. The last shred of hope in his heart was shattered by Jian Ruochen's words. He sat slumped against the wall in a daze.

He was just a minor player in the underworld, his status insignificant. He had sold too much, been caught red-handed, and now, in police custody, it wouldn't end well.

What was even more terrifying... the Criminal Intelligence Bureau (CIB) was actually coming...

But what about their mole in the police station?

Why hadn't they passed along the message?

Had the mole been caught?

But why would their undercover agent in the police be exposed?

Yao Yingzhe thought of the lunchbox lost at the 1892 Bar.

Jian Ruochen and that unidentified drug kingpin had just been there, and their stash house was exposed.

Jian Ruochen had caused a big commotion in the lobby, and they lost a lunchbox during their retreat.

During the retreat, Lao Ba was clearly lounging around in the outer room, but the people in the kitchen said the window was cracked open because Lao Ba felt hot...

Thinking carefully, the black-clad man who claimed to be a drug lord beside Jian Ruochen over half a month ago had a physique almost identical to Guan Yingjun's.

There weren't many Asians in Hong Kong who stood at 6'5"!

The more Yao Yingzhe thought about it, the more horrified he became. The more he looked, the more Jian Ruochen and Guan Yingjun seemed like death demons.

His defeat today was all because of this young man who wasn't even twenty years old!

The group waited for a while. During this time, Guan Yingjun applied menthol balm under his nose twice more, making Jian Ruochen curious.

He leaned over, thinking the item looked like a Thai nasal inhaler—a small plastic tube, simple and familiar.

One side was menthol oil, the other a tubular inhaler.

In his past experience, before university exams, the library was full of people using these.

When a 70-year-old retired expert came to give a drug enforcement lecture at China's Criminal Police College, he was nearly frightened by the young male students in the front row.

The thing looked so similar when inhaled...

Jian Ruochen thought about the taste of the menthol agent. It seemed to only have a cooling sensation when smelled, and the menthol oil on the other side seemed odorless. Could it really mask odors?

Maybe the version from the '90s could...

The prolonged silence was nerve-wracking.

Chen Jincai, who enjoyed liveliness, couldn't hold back and said to Jian Ruochen, "It's all thanks to Detective Guan today. Ah... Luckily, he kept his habits from his CIB days and brought all his equipment. Otherwise, I wouldn't have known what to do."

Jian Ruochen murmured "Mm-hmm" but didn't add anything.

Guan Yingjun stood straight and unmoving, steady as a rock.

But his mind flashed to Jian Ruochen leaning against the car door a month ago, praising someone, and then to Jian Ruochen's all-business attitude these past few days. His breath caught slightly. He turned and cuffed Yao Yingzhe, pulling his wrists outward slightly—the cuffs locked tightly instantly.

Jian Ruochen watched, a slight curve forming on his lips.

Detective Guan was quite interesting, getting wound up about himself.

Hong Kong was progressive; even in the '90s, it was rare for someone to be single at 26.

So when the Sham Shui Po officers squatting outside said Guan Yingjun had never been in a relationship, he took it as a joke.

But now, looking at it... Detective Guan really didn't seem like he had ever been in a relationship.

Jian Ruochen felt an impulse to tease Guan Yingjun.

He turned to Chen Jincai and said, "Sir Chen reacted so quickly—you followed Yao Yingzhe as soon as you said you would and even helped us box the car in. Without Sir Chen, we might not have made it here."

Chen Jincai felt a tingle in his scalp from the praise.

What a silver-tongued man.

He scratched his head, "So, would you consider working with me?"

Guan Yingjun tore off a strip of black tape and expressionlessly taped Yao Yingzhe's mouth shut.

Jian Ruochen curled his lips slightly.

Chen Jincai: ...

He looked at Jian Ruochen, then at Guan Yingjun, feeling more and more uneasy. He fell into an awkward silence.

Fortunately, Ji Bailou arrived soon.

He moved silently, making almost no sound as he came.

Ji Bailou also brought a large contingent of Narcotics Bureau officers, a bustling crowd, all heavily armed.

For a moment, Jian Ruochen only heard the chorus of shouts around him:

"Don't move! Don't move!"

"Hands on your head!"

"On the ground, now!"

With a "bang," someone fired the first shot.

Immediately after, a rapid series of "pop-pop-pop" echoed in their ears.

Jian Ruochen craned his neck but couldn't see much, only the flickering lights from a nearby partition.

"Sir Ji! Someone on the 13th floor is chasing the dragon!"

Ji Bailou glanced at Jian Ruochen's confused face and explained, "'Chasing the dragon' is drug slang for currently using."

Jian Ruochen suddenly understood and asked curiously, "What about 'eggplant,' 'watermelon,' 'fruit,' 'golden eggs,' and 'grass'?"

Guan Yingjun whispered, "They refer to ketamine, heroin, magu, golden eggs (gold watches), and marijuana."

Ji Bailou: ...

Look at yourself—who asked you? Wasn't it Xiao Chen who asked him? Since when do brothers jump in on each other's lines?

Jian Ruochen watched Guan Yingjun's tense, suppressed demeanor and felt a mischievous urge bubbling up inside.

He turned to Ji Bailou and asked, "Is that true?"

Ji Bailou felt instantly satisfied. How evenly balanced—Little God of Wealth really knows how to spread attention evenly.

He smiled and said, "It's true."

Guan Yingjun licked his upper lip, his tongue stung by the mint oil he'd applied there.

"Sir Ji! Floor 5 all clear!"

"Sir Ji! Floor 6 all clear!"

"...Floor 12 swept clean."

"Floor 14 all clear, the entire building secured! Awaiting further instructions!"

Jian Ruochen scanned the area. Ji Bailou had brought at least 30 people, divided into five teams of six.

He looked up, feeling inexplicably disappointed.

Ah, if only Lu Qian hadn't been so cautious. If only Lu Qian had come himself to oversee the transfer.

If Lu Qian were here, he'd probably be forced onto the rooftop, hearing someone say, "Give it up, Brother Lu. The place is surrounded by police."

Jian Ruochen walked beside Guan Yingjun, trailing behind Ji Bailou as they descended.

Around the fourth floor, there was a small balcony. Yao Yingzhe, sandwiched between Song Xuyi and another junior officer, suddenly broke free and desperately made a break for the balcony, trying to jump.

Jian Ruochen's eyes went wide.

But Guan Yingjun swiftly stepped forward, grabbed Yao Yingzhe by the collar, yanked him back, and with both hands, lifted and slammed him to the ground with force.

Seething with frustration he couldn't express, he coldly snarled at Yao Yingzhe, "Your life isn't yours to end. Only the court can decide when you eventually die."

"You don't get to make that choice."

Yao Yingzhe gazed emptily at the dim sky over Kowloon Walled City, now completely dark.

He suddenly let out a choked sob, a single tear falling.

Jian Ruochen knew it wasn't a tear of remorse for his crimes, but merely one of fear.

January 1993.

Team Three of the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit, along with the Criminal Intelligence Bureau and Narcotics Bureau, conducted a coordinated raid on Kowloon Walled City. Officers arrested 60 drug dealers and accomplices in the west building, all taken to the precinct lockup.

Thankfully, the West Kowloon Region Police Station's detention center was built just large enough; otherwise, it might not have held so many detainees.

Superintendent Lin Yazhi of the West Kowloon CID stood upstairs, watching the groups of criminals being brought in. She glanced sideways and said dryly, "Liu Qishang, Guan Yingjun and Ji Bailou are handling the drug sweep. What are you doing?"

Liu Qishang: ...

"I'm in charge of the follow-up cleanup operation. The front lines aren't my area."

He placed a bouquet of flowers on Lin Yazhi's desk, but before he could speak, she said, "Then the follow-up cleanup of Kowloon Walled City is your responsibility. Is the ICAC really that lax? Kowloon Walled City is about to be demolished, yet it's still riddled with gangs! Have you been doing your job properly? Finish within a month, or I'll file a complaint against you with the ICAC's police commissioner."

Lin Yazhi rolled her eyes and muttered, "All you ever think about is dating."

Liu Qishang immediately relented. "Alright, alright, yes madam."

Lin Yazhi smiled brightly. "If it weren't for Jian Ruochen, I wonder when you'd ever finish cleaning up the Walled City! You should genuinely thank our West Kowloon Little God of Wealth!"

Since Jian Ruochen joined, everyone from the bottom to the top of the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit had hope for promotions and raises.

Little God of Wealth was generous with intel—despite them having barely met, he was remarkably easy to get along with.

Liu Qishang said, "Sure, madam. Can I take you to dinner tonight?"

Lin Yazhi's expression abruptly shifted. "Sorry, I have work. Let's do it another day?"

Jian Ruochen returned just in time to see Liu Qishang slumping out defeated.

Liu Qishang said, "Ah, thank you for helping us at the ICAC pull out a rotten weed (meaning eliminate a problem)!"

Jian Ruochen: What?

Ji Bailou: "You really should thank him. We all should."

This kind of massive performance, converted into money, would make your head spin.

"Yes, yes," even the Narcotics Bureau team leader came to shake Jian Ruochen's hand in thanks.

Jian Ruochen shook hands one by one until his arm grew weary.

He glanced back and saw Guan Yingjun lingering at the edge of the crowd, eyelids drooping, neither speaking nor claiming credit.

That mischievous urge started bubbling up again. The more Guan Yingjun stayed silent and restrained, the more Jian Ruochen wanted to tease him.

So Jian Ruochen put on an easy smile and said lightly, "Ah, actually, we should really thank Detective Guan too. It was all thanks to the map he brought that I noticed something off about the building! Not only did he manage to get a 3D map of Kowloon Walled City, but he also brought all the equipment—flashbangs, tear gas, things I never would've thought of."

The words came out in a rush, and everyone's gaze immediately shifted to Guan Yingjun.

Everyone exchanged looks. They had always known Detective Guan was capable, but Guan Yingjun had an infamously short fuse and often employed extreme methods, making him the department's biggest loose cannon in West Kowloon.

Guan Yingjun notoriously hated compliments.

"What's that line he always says?"

An officer whispered to his colleague.

Another officer nailed the impression, crossing his arms and saying, "Rather than wasting time praising me, why not go finish those overdue reports?"

Ji Bailou thought to himself, *How can you compare people?*

His brother here had been waiting for this very compliment this whole time!

Ji Bailou turned to look at Guan Yingjun.

Guan Yingjun stared at Jian Ruochen's smiling face, feeling his heart skip a beat.

He stared intently at that bright, glowing smile under the lights, as if trying to carve that face into his memory.

He suddenly took a step forward, but before he could speak, the television in the hall came through with a voice—

"Congratulations to Jian's Electronic Technology Group for its come-from-behind surge, skyrocketing to become the most promising stock—with shares now selling out! Today, we've invited the expert behind the development of this portable computer to introduce this truly groundbreaking product."

The expert, elderly and unsteady on his feet, bowed deeply as soon as he took the stage.

He said, "First, I must thank the discerning Mr. Jian Ruochen."

Everyone turned sharply, their gazes locking onto Jian Ruochen.

Who?

The expert seemed extremely nervous, stumbling over his words: "O-originally at Jiang Corporation, our R&D kept hitting walls. It was Mr. Jian Ruochen who bought the company at a critical moment and invested 200 million to help us complete the project."

His eyes grew moist, and he choked up: "This was the goal of my lifetime, but Jiang Corporation only used the electronics division for tax evasion. We never had sufficient funding until Mr. Jian’s team took over. Thank you, Mr. Jian Ruochen, for laying the final stone."

Jian Ruochen, under the collective gaze of his colleagues, scratched his nose. "This..."

He hadn’t even known about the 200 million investment.

If the stock had become hard to buy… that probably meant it was making a lot of money.

But he had no idea how it was earned...