Chapter 112: Must Be Exciting

Chapter 112: This is Gonna Be Intense

As the words left his lips, Olivier Keith’s gaze snapped up, his pupils contracting for a fleeting moment.

He stared directly into Jian Ruochen’s eyes, unsure if he had misheard.

Jian Ruochen waited, unmoving as a mountain.

A smile played on his lips, yet his eyes were cold and piercing.

This was a silent battle of wits.

Not an interrogation, but more intense than one.

Olivier Connaught Keith’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice in the somewhat slack skin of his neck.

A chill ran down his spine.

Since stepping through that door, events had veered wildly from his expectations. In mere minutes, Jian Ruochen had seized complete control.

He couldn't even fathom the purpose behind Jian Ruochen’s line of questioning.

Olivier Keith quickly regained his composure.

He smiled, countering, "Do you think I've killed anyone?"

Jian Ruochen had observed his reaction thoroughly but ignored the counter-question. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the menu, flipping through it as he remarked, "How about honey-roasted lamb chops?"

Olivier Keith’s back stiffened, his throat feeling as if a sharp thorn were lodged within it.

He was practically paralyzed.

What did Jian Ruochen mean by this? Why was he ignoring his response?

Did Jian Ruochen know about the things he had done over the years? If so, how much did he know?

The police at Scotland Yard had been powerless to touch him regarding his affairs. What could a mere Major Crimes Unit in tiny Hong Kong possibly hope to uncover?

Olivier Keith stared fixedly at Jian Ruochen, letting a long moment of silence hang before finally saying, "Lamb chops sound good."

The young man before him looked like he’d stepped out of an oil painting, unnervingly beautiful. Those almost golden eyes, and his hair, shimmering with silver in the light, were the spitting image of that woman from years ago.

So beautiful it was eerie, like some mountain phantom—utterly terrifying.

Jian Ruochen leaned over and whispered a few words to Luo Binwen, entrusting him entirely with ordering the side dishes, before turning back to the previous topic. "I think you’ve killed someone."

Olivier Keith felt a wave of numbness wash over him. A cold sensation shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, and a mental alarm shrieked in his mind.

The West Kowloon Regional Police Station must know something!

Jian Ruochen observed Olivier Keith’s wax-pale cheeks and let out a soft, low chuckle.

Professor Keith’s reaction wasn’t overtly dramatic, but it was enough to draw a conclusion. Upon hearing the question, he had displayed clear defensiveness and resistance.

Someone who had never killed would react with surprise, disbelief, or even think the questioner was out of their mind—not defensiveness followed by a brief recollection.

Olivier Connaught Keith had definitely killed someone.

And judging by the duration of his recollection, he had killed more than one!

Jackpot!

Jian Ruochen licked his lips, his heartbeat gradually quickening.

He needed to find a way to make Olivier Keith paranoid.

Generally, when criminals begin to lose confidence in their handling of a crime scene, they often return to the scene for secondary processing and inspection.

That would be the West Kowloon Regional Crime Unit’s chance to obtain evidence!

Jian Ruochen curled his fingers and lightly tapped the table twice, drawing Olivier Keith’s attention back. He smiled, his expression relaxed. "Actually… not only have you killed someone, but I have too."

Olivier Keith was baffled. "What do you mean?"

Jian Ruochen: "Have you ever heard the saying that every person in the world has, directly or indirectly, participated in the process of killing another?"

Olivier Keith was floored.

Why the sudden philosophical turn?

Locking eyes with Jian Ruochen, he felt increasingly that this person was unfathomable.

The atmosphere in the private room was oppressive. The young man’s ambiguous questions and confident tone made Olivier Keith uncertain whether he had truly covered his tracks completely at every crime scene in the past.

The more he recalled, the more suspicious he felt.

Every single incident seemed to have some tiny detail he’d missed.

The more he thought, the harder it was to sit still.

Jian Ruochen smiled amiably. "I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable, Professor?"

His English was fluent and melodious, his voice drifting softly into the ears like a song from hell.

Jian Ruochen chuckled, "You know, I’m currently the Criminal Psychological Consultant for the Major Crimes Unit of the West Kowloon Regional Police Station. I have little interest in inheriting the family business—I’ve left all the assets to Luo Binwen to manage. Instead, I’m fascinated by studying the microexpressions of criminals."

"The moment I saw you, I felt a strange connection and got a little carried away."

Olivier Keith was horrified, sensing hidden meanings in Jian Ruochen’s words.

Indeed, Jian Ruochen was skilled in criminal psychology. Now learning from FBI criminal behavior analysis experts and having participated in multiple interrogations, he had long become something of a legend at the West Kowloon Regional Police Station.

Although he disliked Jian Ruochen, he couldn’t deny that Jian Ruochen’s abilities were not to be underestimated.

Olivier Keith’s hair stood on end. If Jian Ruochen was so adept at reading microexpressions, could he detect something from his responses?

Was that earlier question a test by Jian Ruochen?

Just as Olivier Keith was about to speak, a knock came at the private room door. Two waiters entered carrying insulated wooden plates of honey-roasted lamb chops, placing one each in front of Jian Ruochen and Olivier Keith.

Huo Mingxuan maintained a neutral expression, explaining the dish in a flat tone to Olivier Keith while his eyes did a quick, professional sweep of the professor from head to toe.

Slightly overweight but overall well-proportioned, dressed neatly in all high-end custom-tailored clothing that fit perfectly.

No signs of a concealed firearm at the lower back, thighs, or underarms—indicating low mobility, attack potential, and danger.

Olivier Keith didn’t notice Huo Mingxuan’s scrutiny. He lowered his gaze to the sizzle of the lamb chops on the hot plate and the fat bubbling at the edges of the meat, feeling as if he himself were that piece of meat on the grill.

He felt roasted alive, the pressure crushing him.

Jian Ruochen picked up his knife and methodically cut the lamb chops into two-centimeter cubes. "Do you mind if we talk while eating? Let’s get down to business. After all, we gathered here today to discuss the research fund, didn’t we?"

Olivier Keith’s silver knife and fork scraped sharply against the iron plate.

He glared darkly at the piece of lamb in front of him, its gamey flavor filling the air. The situation was clearly not in his favor—Jian Ruochen held complete control, leaving him barely able to get a word in.

It was utterly infuriating!

Sooner or later, he would cut out that silver tongue!

With a dark expression, he sliced off a piece of lamb and stuffed it into his mouth. "I thought you invited me here for a casual chat."

In the adjacent private room.

The owner of Huangji, upon learning they were police on duty, enthusiastically sent over three platters of snacks.

Guan Yingjun didn’t refuse.

It was dinnertime, and the team members were still hungry. They could settle the snack bill at the front desk later.

So, Bi Wanwan operated the listening device with one hand while using the other to munch on fries, listening as she ate.

Meanwhile, Zhang Xingzong and Ding Gao huddled together, devouring six chicken wings in a row.

Pure bliss!

Good food and the pleasure of listening to Jian Ruochen skillfully outmaneuver the confirmed murderer, Connaught Keith, with his refined language and impeccable pacing.

Sheer enjoyment!

Guan Yingjun stood to the side with his arms crossed. He could easily imagine the intense gaze Jian Ruochen must have fixed on Connaught during their confrontation. What a pity there was no video—it would have been even better.

Definitely thrilling.

Jian Ruochen and Olivier Keith continued discussing the research fund.

People in the 1990s might not have known, but by 2030, the world had officially entered the era of space competition, with fields like astrophysics becoming highly sought-after national priorities.

His probing of Olivier was serious, and so was his intent to establish a research fund for aerospace and astrophysics.

Jian Ruochen came from the future. Even if he brought only vague concepts and impressions of future technology, it was nothing short of astonishing.

Olivier Connaught Keith watched the young man discuss serious matters with clear logic and felt a tumult of emotions.

In that moment, Jian Ruochen’s image overlapped completely with that woman from twenty years ago. Genetics is truly remarkable.

Even with a morally bankrupt, utterly selfish father, Jian Ruochen had fully inherited the Connaught Family's sharp insight into future development, as well as the benevolence, rationality, intelligence, and kindness that flowed in the Connaught bloodline.

Olivier Keith suddenly sighed.

Jian Ruochen paused briefly. "If you have further requirements regarding the amount, we can increase it further."

Olivier Keith shook his head.

His sigh wasn’t because the fund amount fell short of expectations, but because Jian Ruochen was simply too clever.

How could someone with such high emotional intelligence and meticulousness say something so offensive the moment they met?

Unless Jian Ruochen did it on purpose—he was testing him!

Olivier Keith set down his knife and fork. "I find the current amount quite reasonable. But have you considered the name of this fund? Wouldn’t 'Jian Foundation' lack a certain depth?"

Jian Ruochen hummed in acknowledgment.

He knew exactly what Olivier Keith was scheming.

For years, Olivier Connaught Keith had repeatedly emphasized his middle name, to the point where his students commonly referred to him as Professor Connaught.

If the research fund were named "Connaught," this status-conscious professor could subtly boast in a joking manner: "Look, even the research fund is named after me."

Given Olivier Keith’s habit of listing his achievements at the start of lectures, this middle-aged or elderly professor was entirely capable of such a boast.

And besides…

A man who had killed, and likely more than once, had no right to tarnish the name of a research fund.

Jian Ruochen’s expression darkened slightly. "Professor Connaught, Hong Kong will eventually return to the motherland. We are all part of the nation, and I’ve always been curious and yearning toward the motherland I’ve never seen. So…"

The more he spoke, the more uneasy Olivier felt.

"I’d like to name the research fund 'Tiangong'," Jian Ruochen said with a smile. "I’ve decided to allocate ten percent of the Connaught Family’s annual net profits to support this fund."

Connaught’s spoon clattered onto his plate. "No, that’s too much!"

Jian Ruochen raised an eyebrow. "Too much? I think it’s just right. Anyway, the money can’t be spent fast enough. The tech companies I’ve invested in are still making profits. Why are you in such a hurry?"

Jian Ruochen let out a soft hiss. "Oh, I just remembered. There’s one more thing I need to ask you."

He leaned forward, closing the distance, and whispered, "Professor, have you heard of Preludin? The kind that can be disguised as vitamins."

Their eyes locked. Jian Ruochen was so close that only two fists’ distance separated them.

He clearly saw the fine beads of sweat forming on Olivier Keith’s nose, gathering one by one. The man’s pupils dilated abruptly, his expression flashing terror.

Olivier Keith’s gaze turned grim as he slowly leaned back, putting distance between them.

A tidal wave of panic surged within him.

Jian Ruochen knew!

He must know everything!