Chapter 111: Sir, Have You Ever Killed Someone?

Chapter 111: Sir, Have You Ever Killed Anyone?

Jian Ruochen finally located the clasp of the wig at the back of his head, but after a few fumbles, it wouldn't release.

Guan Yingjun reached out to help him, his fingers gently rubbing the red marks left by the tight wig. "This wig is too tight," he murmured.

Jian Ruochen raised a hand to pull off the hairnet and wig, and his platinum-blonde hair immediately cascaded out, falling into messy, curly strands that sprang up around his head.

He casually ran a hand through it, but it snagged at his shoulders. A quick tug revealed a slight tangle.

Guan Yingjun helped smooth the unruly strands at his forehead, meticulously straightening them with his fingers. "Did you get a haircut?"

Jian Ruochen hummed in affirmation, growing frustrated with the knots. He curled his fingers around the ends, ready to yank them apart.

"Wait," Guan Yingjun said, taking his hand. "Let me."

He gently worked at the increasingly tangled mass, loosening it strand by strand. As he untangled, he stole a few more glances at Jian Ruochen.

The new hairstyle suited him perfectly. Soft bangs framed his forehead, falling over his eyebrows and cheeks, the ends subtly curled against his fair skin, making the faint blush at his temples—a lingering trace of earlier kisses—even more pronounced.

It made one's heart flutter.

Guan Yingjun untangled the last strand, then bent down to kiss the top of Jian Ruochen's fluffy hair.

Jian Ruochen nudged him with his knee. "I'm sweaty."

Guan Yingjun leaned in, sniffing. "No, you're not."

The grapefruit-like scent intensified, like the lingering aroma after someone has peeled a grapefruit, separated the segments, and eaten the fruit.

"You smell sweet," Guan Yingjun whispered.

Jian Ruochen: "..."

Was there something wrong with his nose?

Guan Yingjun chuckled, then reached down to take Jian Ruochen's hand, leading him slowly through the woods. The path wasn't long, and a past murder meant few students came here to relax, leaving only the low chirping of birds and buzzing of insects.

Jian Ruochen subtly spread his fingers, lacing them with Guan Yingjun's, their hands interlocking. Soon, the man's thumb gently stroked the back of his, sending a tingling sensation up his arm.

He chuckled softly.

Guan Yingjun was quite an enigma.

Conservative, ruthless, impartial, stern, and absolutely rational.

Yet, in matters of emotion, he could be subtly passionate, gentle, and impulsive.

Somehow, these contrasting traits blended seamlessly, never feeling out of place.

It was good—someone too dull would be boring.

The quiet path soon ended. It was a little past six in the evening, and the outside world was bustling with traffic.

Guan Yingjun stopped, looked down at Jian Ruochen, and kissed his forehead again. "Alright, I'll take you home."

Jian Ruochen released his hand and agreed. "It's hard to get information about the diet pills. I don't often appear at school, my appearance is too recognizable, and everyone knows I'm the Criminal Psychological Consultant at the West Kowloon Regional Police Station. So, wherever I go, people can't help but be cautious about what they say around me."

As they walked toward the parking lot, Guan Yingjun opened the car door for him, remarking thoughtfully, "That's true. It seems we'll need officers who are less recognizable to handle this kind of thing."

"Let's wait until I've met Connaught. If he's really connected to the diet pills, things will be easier for us." Jian Ruochen fastened his seatbelt and leaned back against the seat, lost in thought. "Is tomorrow April 15th?"

"Yes," Guan Yingjun replied, holding the steering wheel and driving at a leisurely pace. "Shall I take you to take your gun license test?"

Jian Ruochen urged him, "Drive faster. I need to go home and do my homework."

The University of Hong Kong assigned quite a lot of homework.

Though Teacher Li was witty, he was also a strict instructor, assigning one video analysis paper after another.

It was tiring, but he was learning a lot—far better than simply relying on his past life's knowledge.

Guan Yingjun had no choice but to push his speed to just below the limit, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt, as if he'd lured a student home with him.

Jian Ruochen was 19 now—he didn't know when his 20th birthday was.

As for himself, he was already pushing 27.

Such a significant age difference.

Normally, Jian Ruochen exuded an air of maturity, neither speaking nor acting like a freshman in university, but more like someone seasoned by years in a government office.

He could be authoritative when needed and witty when appropriate, often making people forget his age.

But now, with him saying, "I need to do my homework," the stark reality of their age gap suddenly hit.

Guan Yingjun couldn't even remember the last time he'd had to do homework…

He parked the car at the entrance of the Lijin International mountain villa. Jian Ruochen slung his backpack and got out. "I can go by myself tomorrow. Uncle Luo has brought over the bodyguards and drivers from the UK. You focus on your work."

Guan Yingjun: ...

Did Butler Luo have something against him?

In all his years as a police officer, this was the first time he'd felt such intense scrutiny from someone who wasn't a criminal.

He sat in the car, watching Jian Ruochen's figure disappear behind the door, before finally starting the car and driving away.

The next morning at nine o'clock, Jian Ruochen took leave from Teacher Li and went to the police station to take his gun license test.

Many people were taking the exam in April, but fortunately, he had registered early and often practiced at the police station's shooting range, so he was familiar with the examiners and the other officers taking the test.

Everyone knew that, given Jian Ruochen's shooting skills, obtaining the gun license was a foregone conclusion. Surprisingly, no one was curious—they all stayed focused on their own lanes during the exam.

Examiners from other districts had never seen officers so uninterested in their peers' scores.

After all, having a gun license made a significant difference for police officers.

It was a prerequisite for becoming a uniformed officer and opened up career advancement opportunities.

With limited positions in the police force and even fewer internal recommendations, competition was fierce. Naturally, people cared about their scores.

Yet the West Kowloon Regional Police Station was unusually harmonious—quite extraordinary.

The examiner from another district pondered for a while but couldn't figure it out until he saw the results of this batch of examinees.

Two had perfect scores, and the lowest was still above 90—remarkably high.

After all the examinees had left, he leaned over and asked the examiner from the West Kowloon Region, "How did your batch... train for this?"

The examiner from the West Kowloon Police Headquarters smiled: "We have Jian Ruochen, you know him? That kid is something else."

He proudly raised a thumb, as if boasting about his own son. "Not only is he a great shot himself, but he's also willing to share his tips with anyone who wants to learn. Everyone in the West Kowloon Police Headquarters thinks highly of him now."

"Normally, you have to be a police officer for a year before you can take the certification test, but he's special—the higher-ups made an exception for him. You'd think that would make people jealous, but now… no one is. If anyone dares to say a bad word about Jian Ruochen, these guys are the first to stand up and defend him."

Another examiner clicked his tongue in amazement. "There's really someone like that? He's still too young. Being so open and unselfish might earn him good friends now, but these same people will be direct competitors with him in the future. Who helps their own competitors?"

"You're thinking too small," the examiner from the Police Headquarters shook his head and sighed. "No wonder some people can jump three ranks at once while others spend their whole lives as shooting range instructors or examiners."

The other examiner: ...

What kind of person is this? That was a really low blow.

·

After getting his certification, Jian Ruochen went upstairs to Group A to review some case files and then holed up in Guan Yingjun's office to work on the paper assigned by Mr. Li.

The next afternoon, at Huangji Restaurant.

Jian Ruochen was the first to arrive in the reserved private room.

He wore his hair down, covering the communication earpiece hidden in his ear, and clipped the black signal transmitter under the hem of his clothes.

He then took out the listening device prepared by Guan Yingjun and hid it behind the vase in the room. After that, he turned on the voice recorder and attached it with clear tape under the table near his hand.

Just as he finished, Guan Yingjun's voice came through the earpiece: "Connaught is here. Uncle Luo is escorting him upstairs to the third floor. Is everything set up?"

"Done," Jian Ruochen replied softly.

Guan Yingjun: "Improvise as needed, and stay safe."

Jian Ruochen gave a quiet "Mm" in response. The moment he finished, the door handle on the side began to turn slightly.

Luo Binwen bowed slightly, "Professor Keith, please."

To prevent guests from misjudging the step at the entrance, Huangji had installed a row of spotlights at the door of each private room.

Thanks to those lights, Jian Ruochen clearly saw the expression on Olivier Connaught Keith's face.

The moment the professor heard the address "Professor Keith," his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. His upper eyelids lowered, one corner of his lips curled up, and the muscles at his temples tensed—a classic expression of disdain following disgust.

Olivier Connaught Keith did not like that form of address.

But for foreigners, the surname is the last word, so Luo Binwen hadn't made any mistake.

Jian Ruochen stood up. To avoid exposing the equipment he was wearing, he didn't step forward but simply gestured toward the seat in front of him. "Professor Connaught, please have a seat."

Olivier Connaught Keith's expression visibly relaxed. "Hello."

He walked over and sat down across from Jian Ruochen. "How should I address you? Mr. Jian or Mr. Connaught?"

Jian Ruochen didn't answer. Instead, he glanced at Luo Binwen, who was still standing by the door, then shifted slightly to make space and patted the seat beside him. "Uncle Luo, join us."

Olivier Connaught Keith's eyes narrowed slightly again.

He realized that the relationship between Luo Binwen and Jian Ruochen was closer than it appeared.

Neglecting Luo Binwen had displeased the young Mr. Connaught.

Luo Binwen didn't hesitate. He bowed slightly to Olivier Keith and gracefully took a seat next to Jian Ruochen.

"Professor Keith," Jian Ruochen returned to the previous form of address.

He clasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers and resting them on the table. "Today, I'm here as the Connaught heir to discuss the research fund with you, so please call me Mr. Connaught. Is that alright?"

Olivier Keith's breath hitched slightly.

For a moment, he almost saw the shadow of that woman from years past in Jian Ruochen.

So assertive, so similar.

Just as clever, just as ruthless.

After speaking sternly, Jian Ruochen watched Professor Keith's expression for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. "I'm joking. Please relax—you can call me Jian Ruochen. To be honest, I'm not quite used to the heir title or the name Connaught yet. Please take a look at the menu. I'm not sure what your preferences are."

In the adjacent private room.

Zhang Xingzong couldn't hold back a laugh.

Brilliant! This wasn't about being uncomfortable with the heir title—it was a subtle dig at Professor Keith for deliberately emphasizing his middle name despite his surname being Keith.

He loved how Jian Ruochen refused to tolerate even the slightest disrespect and settled scores on the spot. It was so satisfying, truly uplifting.

Impressive.

Just as everyone was anticipating more sharp remarks from Jian Ruochen—

Oliver Keith had just picked up the menu and turned a page, silently analyzing Jian Ruochen's intentions. Before he could make sense of it, Jian Ruochen abruptly asked:

"Sir, have you ever killed anyone?"