Chapter 54: Consultant Jian, So Impressive!

Chapter 54 Consultant Jian, So Impressive!

The vintage semi-automatic pistol was reassembled in Guan Yingjun's hands.

The dark metal felt cool to the touch.

Jian Ruochen gripped the handle, raised the pistol, and aimed at the target paper. A comfortable alignment—the rear sight's notch perfectly framed the front sight.

He lowered his hand and turned to Sir Gong. "Excuse me, Sir, I haven't had the pleasure of learning your name."

The man paused, then ran a hand through his bristly hair. "Gong Yingjie."

"Sir Gong," Jian Ruochen said, gesturing with an open palm towards the firing line. "After you."

This simple gesture instantly charged the air with a competitive tension.

Gong Yingjie had initially planned to hold back, allowing Jian Ruochen a graceful defeat. But now, his fighting spirit was ignited.

Shouldn't this cocky young man be shown a thing or two?

He smiled and stepped forward. Immediately, an assistant pulled the motorized target carrier system towards him, replaced the target with a fresh one, and set the distance to ten meters.

Gong Yingjie calmly stated, "20 meters."

He then looked at Jian Ruochen, who seemed as fearless as a newborn calf. "I'll shoot at 20 meters. You choose your distance—I wouldn't want anyone saying I bullied a junior."

Jian Ruochen smiled. "Alright."

Zhang Xingzong paced anxiously beside Guan Yingjun. "Detective Guan, why... why aren't you stopping this? Gong Yingjie is a renowned sharpshooter at this range!"

Guan Yingjun remained unperturbed. "Hmm."

"..." Zhang Xingzong choked, wiping sweat from his brow. "If Little God of Wealth loses, he'll be assigned to the Organized Crime Investigation Division for a week. What if he goes there and decides he prefers it over Major Crimes?"

He had grown accustomed to the good times with Jian Ruochen and truly didn't want to lose him.

Not even for a week!

Guan Yingjun gave Zhang Xingzong a cool glance. "He will win."

Bang!

Gong Yingjie fired his first shot.

A bullseye!

A hushed cheer rose from the Organized Crime Investigation Division's side.

After his initial shot, Gong Yingjie took a deep breath, composed himself, and fixed his gaze on the bullseye, firing nine more shots in rapid succession.

Bang, bang, bang, bang—

A faint scent of gunpowder drifted through the air. Jian Ruochen twitched his nose; it was the familiar smell that always permeated the military shooting ranges of his childhood, a scent he rather liked.

The distant target displayed Gong Yingjie's exceptional marksmanship.

An officer, looking up at the target, exclaimed excitedly, "Ten shots—eight 10s and two 9s! Sir Gong, your shooting skills have improved again! Amazing!"

"Hahaha." Gong Yingjie laughed heartily. "I come here to fire a magazine every day—of course I have to show some improvement."

He turned to Jian Ruochen. "So, Little God of Wealth, ready to admit defeat?"

Jian Ruochen's eyes curved into a smile. "I should at least give it a try, right? Face the challenge head-on."

"Good, good." Gong Yingjie laughed, hands on his hips. "Ambitious."

Those practicing nearby stopped and gathered to watch the spectacle.

A few perceptive officers sensed something.

"Huh? The way Jian Ruochen said that—it was clearly a challenge, but why does it feel so pleasant?"

They observed Jian Ruochen closely.

"His reloading technique is quite skilled."

"Don't even mention it... Sir Gong has already lost in terms of sheer visual appeal. Long hair looks really good—maybe I should grow mine out too?"

"You? Forget it!"

Jian Ruochen loaded ten bullets into the magazine, slid it into the pistol, and with a click, chambered and locked it into place.

Guan Yingjun helped him pull down the target holder and replace it with a new target. As he bent his arm, the muscles beneath his white shirt rippled, stretching the fabric smooth and taut. He pulled the controller forward. "Ten meters?"

Jian Ruochen shook his head. "Twenty meters."

The target paper rustled as it slid to a stop at the 20-meter mark.

Twenty meters sounded close, but through the sights, it was just a small white cloth in the distance.

Zhang Xingzong watched, his heart clenched. "Ah, 20 meters—when I pull the target to 20 meters, I can't even see the red dot on it!"

It was too far; just thinking about it made him nervous.

An officer practicing with Zhang Xingzong murmured, "This is what it's like for those without talent."

Someone leaned in beside Zhang Xingzong. "Is your Little God of Wealth a bit too concerned about saving face? Was 20 meters really necessary?"

"Exactly. Sir Gong was going easy on him—why not take the offer? At ten meters, even if he loses, his score would look better."

Zhang Xingzong clenched his fist.

Although he didn't think Consultant Jian could win either, it was still infuriating to see their Major Crimes Unit looked down upon like this.

If only Consultant Jian could win.

That would teach these people who look down on juniors and talk trash just because they've been in the field longer!

Even if it's just for pride's sake.

Heaven, please let him win.

·

The moment Jian Ruochen raised the training gun,

all the whispers in the training ground instantly ceased.

Most people believed Jian Ruochen would lose, but in their hearts, a voice lingered.

Haven't there been plenty of unbelievable feats this person has created in West Kowloon?

Will there be one more in a moment?

The intense stares fell on his back, yet Jian Ruochen acted oblivious.

His back was straight, left foot forward, right foot back, legs apart, left hand extended to support the right, the lower three fingers of his right hand gripping the gun, the web of his thumb pressed tightly against the grip, his index finger resting lightly outside the trigger guard.

Jian Ruochen took a soft breath, then slowly exhaled, closed his left eye, and lined up the sights.

The young man's breathing was particularly audible in the silent shooting range.

At that moment, a conclusion surfaced in everyone's mind—he had practiced.

His posture was so textbook-perfect it seemed lifted straight from a training manual!

"Bang!"

As if in response, the bullet left the barrel with a "thump," punching a hole in the target.

Zhang Xingzong glanced up. "Bullseye!"

Twenty meters, a bullseye, and the shooter hadn't even attended police academy!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" A rapid succession of shots followed, two per second, approaching rapid-fire pace.

After eight shots, the bullet holes in the center of the target merged into one ragged hole.

The bullseye zone was completely shot out.

The ten-ring has an area—in shooting competitions, a perfect bullseye is called a 10.9 (maximum score).

Senior Inspector Gong Yingjie's ten-rings were scattered across the ten-ring zone, but Consultant Jian Ruochen's were all grouped tightly in one spot.

Even among ten-rings, there are differences.

Zhang Xingzong stared in awe, dumbfounded.

What had he been worried about earlier?

No wonder Detective Guan was so calm and composed—he must have seen Consultant Jian's skills before!

If he'd seen it, why keep it so secretive?

So standoffish! Making him worry for nothing!

Two shots left!

Gong Yingjie clenched his fists, silently muttering, "Miss, miss, miss..."

Losing face wasn't a big deal; what mattered was that his department was eager to get the Little God of Wealth.

He really needed him!

As long as Jian Ruochen shot a seven-ring, even if the last shot was a ten-ring, he would still win.

Miss, miss, miss...

"Bang!"

Jian Ruochen pulled the trigger.

Everyone looked up in unison at the screen of the distant monitor.

Another perfect ten-ring bullseye!

The center of the target was practically blown open.

Jian Ruochen glanced sideways at Gong Yingjie's face and ultimately chose diplomacy over humiliating him.

He slightly adjusted the muzzle, landing the final shot on the black line between the bullseye and the nine-ring.

Gong Yingjie: ...

When extending courtesy, no need to make it so obvious.

He took a breath and gave a salute toward Jian Ruochen. "I admit defeat."

Zhang Xingzong muttered in disbelief, "If I could have just a fraction of that talent, I wouldn't have needed three years of practice to get my firearm qualification."

Life's so unfair—I almost want to cry.

Jian Ruochen laid down the weapon. "I missed the target at first too. More practice is all it takes."

Zhang Xingzong: ...

"That's kind of you, still willing to lie to me."

As these words fell, the officers watching Consultant Jian Ruochen and Senior Inspector Gong Yingjie seemed to snap back to reality, erupting in laughter and amazement, all talking at once:

"Incredible skill!"

"Got any pointers? Can you teach us?"

"Wow, I thought you were going to lose."

More than just thinking he would lose—they’d even felt Jian Ruochen was overreaching by challenging Gong Yingjie at 20 meters.

But this was no overreaching; the guy knew his own abilities perfectly.

"Damn impressive..." Gong Yingjie hissed to his team members and shrugged, "I don’t have what it takes to win the Little God of Wealth for you all."

Who would have thought Detective Guan brought into the team would be such an all-around talent?

This Consultant Jian was truly the real deal.

Gong Yingjie stood to the side, thinking it over for a while, when he suddenly realized that after this match, the officers at the range had all lost their sense of threat that Jian's shooting skills posed to them.

From worrying that Consultant Jian Ruochen carrying a gun would threaten their promotion prospects to being completely won over—Jian Ruochen had pulled it off with just ten bullets.

Had he been used?

Jian Ruochen finally managed to break free from the enthusiastic district officers, worked his way through the crowd, walked up to Gong Yingjie, and extended a hand, politely saying, "Thank you for holding back, Sir Gong."

Gong Yingjie shook his hand. "You really are..."

Seeing the raised eyebrow and playful expression on Senior Inspector Gong Yingjie's face, Jian Ruochen knew this Senior Inspector had figured it out.

To move up in the West Kowloon Regional Police Station, one either has to be extremely clever and climb by racking up achievements, or have both book smarts and street smarts, standing out from the crowd as an elite far above the average person.

Guan Yingjun is the former, while Gong Yingjie is the latter.

Jian Ruochen smiled and blinked, "I'm buying afternoon tea for your unit, Sir Gong."

He pulled a prepaid card from the coffee shop downstairs out of his pocket and handed it over, "It's got 5000 on it. Enjoy!"

That tinge of awkwardness Gong Yingjie had felt vanished instantly.

He took the brown membership card, threw an arm around Jian Ruochen's shoulders, and said, "I won't pretend to be polite with you. I guess we've bonded through competition. Are you sure you don't want to consider switching to our team?"

Jian Ruochen glanced into the distance.

Guan Yingjun stood at the edge of the crowd, seeming to sense something, and lifted his gaze.

Their eyes met for a moment, and the intense, direct yet restrained emotion in Guan Yingjun's eyes was overwhelming.

Jian Ruochen averted his gaze, slipping out from under the arm around his shoulder, and deliberately frowned, "Sir Gong, the Major Crimes Unit is buried in work—I made sure I beat you just so I wouldn’t have to work two jobs!"

Gong Yingjie cracked up. Jian Ruochen was really something.

He could cheer people up without even trying.

Guan Yingjun sure got lucky!

As Jian Ruochen walked away, an officer from the Organized Crime Investigation Division approached. The one who'd egged Gong Yingjie into showing off looked embarrassed. "Boss, sorry about that..."

"What’s there to be sorry about?" Gong Yingjie patted him on the head. "Here, Little God of Wealth is buying us afternoon tea—5000 bucks."

"Whoo!"

The Organized Crime Investigation Division had never had this much money for afternoon tea!

While the officers at the shooting range were still figuring out their coffee orders...

Outside, Jian Ruochen returned to Team A and filled out the firearm application form Guan Yingjun had given him line by line.

You'd think Detective Guan's paranoia would've acted up, making him wonder, "Where did you learn to shoot?" or "How come you're so good on your first try?"

But he didn’t.

Ten minutes passed. Guan Yingjun tidied the scattered papers on the desk without saying a word, finally asking, "Thirsty?"

Jian Ruochen instinctively licked his lips—they felt a bit chapped.

He nodded, "Yeah."

Guan Yingjun grabbed a thermos and poured a cup of warm lemon water for him, setting it on the table.

Jian Ruochen held the cup and drank. It was tangy and sweet, much better than plain water.

He was never one for plain water, but Guan Yingjun seemed to prefer it.

Guan Yingjun had very plain tastes—he preferred everything plain and simple. He kept his rice separate from dishes to avoid any sauce mixing in, drank his lattes unsweetened, and kept no drinks or snacks in his office. All he had was a clean glass cup without a trace of tea stains.

Jian Ruochen downed the drink in one go. "When did the Major Crimes Unit start stocking special lemon slices?"

"We didn’t," Guan Yingjun said casually. "I bought them from a tea shop near the car wash."

"Oh." Jian Ruochen ran a finger over the glass cup. "Thanks, Detective Guan."

Guan Yingjun smiled. He tucked the application form into a personal folder, locked it in a drawer, and said, "I’ll take you to school first. I’ll submit the firearm application online this afternoon and try to get you your permit after the New Year."

He picked up his jacket from the back of his chair. "Let’s go."

Time to go to class.

The University of Hong Kong was a prestigious institution with a serious academic vibe, though the Academy of Social Sciences was a bit more laid-back than the Medical School.

After sitting through one major-specific class and one public lecture, Jian Ruochen felt unusually at peace.

The old professor’s voice was so hypnotic...

He was so drowsy...

As he packed his textbooks, he yawned, making his eyes water from sleepiness.

Just as he bundled his books into his arms, someone sat down beside him.

Jian Ruochen turned—a familiar face, one of Jiang Hanyu’s crew.

You gotta be kidding me?

Was he about to be hit with more of that cringey protagonist talk that assaulted the ears?

Jian Ruochen started to get up.

The person pulled out a bouquet: "Mr. Jian, I believed the rumors before and said some bad things about you. I’m truly sorry."

Jian Ruochen: ?

He stopped his escape and sat back down.

Was it a ’90s Hong Kong thing to apologize with flowers?

Jian Ruochen took the bouquet, was quiet for a second, then said, "Excuse me?"

Just as the person thought he wouldn’t be forgiven—

Jian Ruochen added calmly, "What’s your name?"

The person: "..."

Jian Ruochen handed the flowers back. "Jiang Hanyu told you everything, didn’t he?"

"Yeah."

Jian Ruochen took in the person’s gloomy look and wondered if they’d broken with Jiang Hanyu, hence worked up the courage to apologize.

After a moment’s thought, he said, "Focus on your studies. Don’t get too caught up in what’s happening around you. As for the apology—I didn’t care what any of you said back then, and I won’t accept your apology now."

After all, the person who truly deserved an apology was no longer in this world.

Jian Ruochen stood. "Goodbye."

He hadn’t taken two steps before someone else stopped him—this time, an upperclassman from the Academy of Social Sciences, also holding flowers.

Jian Ruochen was getting flower PTSD. "You here to apologize too?"

The senior was startled. "No, I wanted to ask you to grab a meal and discuss switching majors. What’s the police station like? Jobs in social sciences are hard to come by. I'm thinking of switching to criminal psychology and working at the police station in the future!"

Jian Ruochen breathed a sigh of relief, reached out, and took the flowers. "Baby’s breath, oh, so pretty."

He took out the decorative card from the bouquet, wrote down Professor Li's phone number and the books needed for transferring to criminal psychology with a ballpoint pen. "First, buy the books and read through them. After you’ve memorized them, then go talk to Professor Li. Professor Li really appreciates talent and will definitely be willing to guide you."

The senior held the small card, completely stunned. Just like that, he had it?

He had been so indirect, yet Jian Ruochen handed over the key information right away, even giving him the professor's phone number?

Did Jian Ruochen have no selfish motives?

Wasn't he afraid that Professor Li would focus on other students and stop paying attention to him after accepting them?

Jian Ruochen held the baby’s breath. "I’ll take the flowers, but no need for the meal."

After saying goodbye, he hurried out of the school, before even more people could stop him.

So strange, it felt like the debuff that kept people away from him had disappeared.

Jian Ruochen ran out of the school holding the flowers and got into Detective Guan's car to go home.

After a period of life revolving between home, school, and the police station, the Spring Festival arrived in the blink of an eye.

The forensic specialists in West Kowloon finally closed the case, and Jiang Mingshan's death warrant was released just before the Spring Festival holiday.

It would be carried out in three days.

Jian Ruochen looked at the words on the news and was swept up by an ecstatic Luo Binwen, spinning around the living room.

Luo Binwen, mindful of the young master who couldn't waltz at all, simply spun around twice and said, "Young master, shouldn’t you top up your bank card?"

"Oh. Yes, yes." Jian Ruochen nodded. "Let's go tomorrow morning."

The news cut to another scene, and a sweet female voice announced: "Police report: West Kowloon Bank experienced its largest armed robbery since its establishment, with five robbers…"

Jian Ruochen: …

"Where do we keep our money?"

"Hong Kong Bank," Luo Binwen said carelessly. "Here in Hong Kong, we only keep a bit of your interest. The bulk of it is stored in Switzerland, so no need to worry. Even if these robbers target us, you won’t lose much."

Compared to being robbed, Luo Binwen was more worried that the young master, who lacked financial sense, might be persuaded by bank tellers to buy dubious financial products.

Losing money to robbery could be blamed on others—that was fine.

But losing money to a scam might lead to self-blame—that wouldn’t do.

He went on: "Tomorrow, you really shouldn’t casually buy into financial products."

Jian Ruochen: "Not even gold?"

Gold bars—what Chinese person doesn’t love those?