Chapter 129: Capitalists Drawing Big Pies (2 in 1)

Chapter 129: The Capitalist's Empty Promises (2-in-1)

Jian Ruochen perked up, rummaged through the snack drawer, and pulled out a hawthorn roll from a pile of lemon slices.

Carefully peeling back the plastic, he popped it into his mouth, chewed it quickly, and swallowed it whole.

He was hungry.

Guan Yingjun raised an eyebrow, scanned the office, and tilted his head towards the desks, signaling everyone to pack up and leave.

Holding the phone, he leaned casually against the desk's edge. "That's a murderer. We can't release him."

Lei Jinwen murmured, "Oh," then asked, "Any other identity? The Secretary for Security called personally."

"Probably a British noble," Guan Yingjun replied, feeling a warm body press against him, half-leaning into his hip, ear cocked to eavesdrop.

Guan Yingjun's annoyance vanished at the sight. Jian Ruochen's lips were stained with the plum hue of the fruit leather, darker than usual, almost as if he’d just been kissed.

He glanced around, seeing everyone returning to their places, tidying files. He then reached out and lightly tweaked Jian Ruochen's chin.

Jian Ruochen, ticklish, flinched back, letting out a soft laugh.

Guan Yingjun took a wet wipe, pressed it to the corner of Jian Ruochen’s mouth, and wiped as he spoke. "Why would the Security Bureau call you? Wasn’t Deputy Director Ban Jiayu ousted?"

Ban Jiayu, the former Deputy Director of the Security Bureau, had colluded with Lu Qian in illegal organ transplants and trafficking, and had long since been arrested.

The mainland had seized the opportunity to replace the Deputy Director with one of their own, so why were there still calls to release him?

Lei Jinwen said, "Isn’t there still a Director?"

Jian Ruochen’s stomach rumbled loudly.

Guan Yingjun smiled silently. "Uncle, figure out a way to handle it for now."

Lei Jinwen: ?

What did this brat just say?

Jian Ruochen leaned close to the receiver. "Director Le, just tell him directly—say this person has a grudge against me, pin it on me. If they can’t persuade you, they’ll naturally send someone to find me."

Lei Jinwen opened his mouth, momentarily speechless.

Guan Yingjun said, "Something’s come up. I have to go." And hung up.

Lei Jinwen: ...

The difference is obvious, absolutely clear!

Looking at it this way, these two kids complement each other’s personalities—quite a match.

He shook his head with a smile and glanced at the salt-and-pepper-haired man in front of him. "Director, you heard it yourself. The younger generation in our family is quite stubborn, hard to manage."

Turns out, the Secretary for Security had come in person!

Noranda Weir was seething but forced himself to hold back. Behind him stood two armed Police Force officers guarding the door, keeping a close watch.

He managed a strained smile. "Mr. Le, you should really discipline your juniors properly."

Lei Jinwen said, "I’m old. I can’t teach them anymore."

He slumped in his chair and pointed toward the door.

Noranda Weir left in a huff, with a dark expression.

·

West Kowloon Regional Crime Unit.

Team A finally wrapped up and headed out.

Jian Ruochen, having talked all day, ordered a mint-infused water as soon as they reached the restaurant and downed half the glass.

The locations of all 9 bodies had been confirmed, and Oliver Keith’s cases were partly wrapped up. Guan Yingjun handed the menu to Zhang Xingzong. "Order."

Zhang Xingzong’s eyes lit up. "Detective Guan, you’re treating?"

Guan Yingjun glanced sideways.

Jian Ruochen smiled, two dimples appearing. "Yeah, Detective Guan’s treating!"

Ding Gao rubbed his hands together.

Heh heh, then he wouldn’t hold back.

It was just a casual restaurant—a big meal wouldn’t break the bank.

When the menu reached Jian Ruochen, he picked up a pen and ordered beef brisket noodles, rice cakes, and curry fish balls, then turned his head. "What do you want?"

Guan Yingjun: "Wonton noodles with an extra serving of noodles and vegetables."

Jian Ruochen: ...

You’re still stuck on noodles and vegetables.

He handed the menu to the waiter standing by and leaned lazily against the chair back. The red tablecloth draped over the round table hung down in front of everyone’s knees.

Bored while waiting for the food, Jian Ruochen fiddled with a corner of the tablecloth, playing with it.

Guan Yingjun couldn’t take it and reached out to grab his wrist, whispering, "It’s dirty."

He took out a wet wipe, ripped open the packaging, and meticulously cleaned Jian Ruochen’s hands, then his own. After that, he spread his large hand, grabbing both of Jian Ruochen’s wrists, holding and toying with them.

Jian Ruochen, watching this, was inexplicably reminded of the scene in the bathroom where Guan Yingjun had pinned his wrists overhead, facing the tiles, moving up and down.

Vivid as if it were yesterday!

The memory made his thighs ache faintly!

That burning rod punishment!

Guan Yingjun rubbed the two captured wrists, watching as the small mole on Jian Ruochen’s ear grew increasingly red.

The table was round, and Bi Wanwan, sitting directly across, nibbled on a freshly served egg tart while sneaking glances at the opposite side.

Detective Guan’s hand was hidden under the tablecloth, likely reaching toward Consultant Jian. Then Detective Guan lowered his gaze and chuckled softly.

Consultant Jian’s ears flushed crimson, a flicker of faint anger in his eyes.

Bi Wanwan: Hee hee.

Sneaking a feel on someone's leg in public, huh? She caught you, didn’t she?

She ate the filling of the molten egg tart.

So sweet. Love it.

The noodles arrived quickly. Everyone had worked all day and were so hungry their chests were practically touching their backs. They didn’t even mind the heat, lowering their heads to slurp up the noodles.

Zhang Xingzong, eating cart noodles with pork knuckle and two eggs, said with teary eyes, "If only I could eat like this every day without working and still get promoted..."

Bi Wanwan was at a loss for words. She picked out a braised chicken heart and braised pork liver from her assorted braised dish and handed it to him. "Look at you, heartless and gutless. Eat some to replenish."

How could he say something like that in front of the supervisor?

Luckily, Team A had a good atmosphere, and Detective Guan only cared about capability, not these trivial matters.

Jian Ruochen found it amusing and had just started to smile when a piece of greens appeared in his bowl.

He turned his head and glared at Guan Yingjun.

Guan Yingjun said, "Eat some vegetables. Not eating them can cause internal heat."

Jian Ruochen grumbled as he ate the greens, "Eating so many greens every day, and I still haven’t seen any sign of becoming more clear-minded and desireless."

Guan Yingjun chuckled.

Meaningfully.

The meal was lively and harmonious.

Everyone tacitly avoided mentioning the Security Bureau’s call to Director Le demanding the release of the suspect.

Evening.

Jian Ruochen returned home and leaned against the headboard, reading the financial statements Luo Binwen had insisted on giving him. After a while, he sighed, "Uncle Luo, just tell me straight—did we make a profit or a loss? How much did we make or lose?"

He really had no affinity for finance in this lifetime.

Luo Binwen said, "In July, the net profit of all Kang Nate’s industries was 4.2 billion, an increase of 800 million from the previous month. The daily net profit was 1.4 billion, of which the net profit from Hong Kong operations was only 800 million USD."

Jian Ruochen confirmed, "USD?"

Not HKD?

Luo Binwen said tactfully, "The current situation is unstable. The HKD fluctuates too much and isn’t suitable as a unit of calculation."

Jian Ruochen: ...

Such obscure wording.

Annoying.

How was the money growing faster than he could spend it? He hadn’t even been trying that hard.

Luo Binwen, sitting on a chair by the bed, said, "Your vision is excellent. The electronic technology company you acquired has begun to make inroads into the international market. The mute vibration function on the phone has also received widespread praise, and sales have skyrocketed."

"I originally didn’t have high hopes for these projects. I never expected phones and computers to bring in an increase of 800 million."

Jian Ruochen sat up straight. "They’re selling that well?"

No wonder there was a saying: when you catch the right trend, even a pig can fly.

"You actually have a talent for this. Why not try developing deeper in finance?" Luo Binwen persuaded. "Being a police officer is too dangerous. Besides, the larger the assets, the more important it is to keep them under your own control. Sooner or later, I’ll have to hand over the real authority to you."

Jian Ruochen slid under the covers. "No."

He mumbled, "Uncle Luo, you keep it. There’s no need to hand it over to me."

That way, if anything happened to him, with Luo Binwen still in charge, Kang Nate wouldn’t face any turmoil.

An international enterprise at this stage was tied to the fates of many people and families.

He had no interest in finance and couldn’t casually shoulder the responsibility for so many families around the world.

Luo Binwen patted the blanket-wrapped form, feeling both relieved and wistful.

It was good that the young master hadn't inherited the Jiang family’s greed.

But how could anyone feel at ease like this?

Jian Ruochen, feeling the pats, thought for a moment and decided to secretly make a will.

Stop plotting over it. If anything happened to him, he’d leave everything to Luo Binwen.

After all, the Kang Nate bloodline ended with him. He liked men and would never have children in this lifetime. As for inheritance, let the capable take it.

With these thoughts, exhaustion washed over him, and he fell into a deep sleep to the rhythm of the gentle pats.

The next noon.

As soon as Jian Ruochen arrived at the West Kowloon Region Police Station, he saw a portly British man.

The man sat imposingly in the Major Crimes Unit lounge, his legs couldn't close and his belly protruding. On the coffee table in front of him were a coffee pot and a three-tiered dessert stand.

Lin Yazhi stood opposite him, forcing a smile. "Director Weir, the police station has its rules and regulations. The case isn’t closed yet. Oliver Keith is responsible for at least nine lives. We can’t release him."

Noranda Weir took a sip of coffee and ate a flower-shaped pastry. "We’re not asking you to release him. We’re asking for extradition to the UK for investigation."

Lin Yazhi thought, I’d like to punch you in the face, you pig-headed fool.

She smiled and said, "Where’s the extradition order?"

Noranda Weir said discontentedly, "It’s naturally being processed, but the paperwork isn’t complete yet. It won’t be issued that quickly."

Given the UK’s pace, it would take at least half a month.

But they couldn’t wait half a month.

The West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit was solving cases too quickly. If all of Oliver Keith’s crimes were made public in half a month, they wouldn’t be able to take this pro-British Kang Nate heir back even if they wanted to.

They had to extradite him now!

After all, Jian Ruochen showed no intention of returning to the UK. He hadn’t even used the Kang Nate name.

Such an heir offered no benefit to the UK. By then, Kang Nate would be paying taxes in Hong Kong and boosting the mainland’s economy, while the UK would get nothing.

Hundreds of billions in assets were right there, yet they couldn’t get a single penny or any benefit from it.

Noranda Weir frowned and urged, "I’m taking him away today."

Only Lin Yazhi and Noranda Weir, the Secretary for Security, were in the lounge.

The door leading to the office was slightly ajar.

Jian Ruochen focused his gaze.

He saw Zhang Xingzong, Ding Gao, Chen Jincai, and others piled together, one head peeking over another, hiding behind the door and eavesdropping. Their expressions were contorted in fury, as if they were about to start throwing punches right there.

Jian Ruochen retreated to the stairwell and quietly took out his phone to call Guan Yingjun. "Detective Guan."

Guan Yingjun raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"I want to pull a big stunt," Jian Ruochen said, sitting in the stairwell and drumming his fingers on his knee.

"Go on," Guan Yingjun replied, walking to the door and glancing down at Zhang Xingzong and the others.

The group immediately scurried away, jostling and shoving each other as they left.

"Later, I’ll call some reporters and 'accidentally' leak some details about the case, letting everyone vent their rage about the vicious criminal," Jian Ruochen said.

Guan Yingjun: ...

"How 'accidental' are we talking?"

How could one "accidentally" leak a case so complex it would take over ten thousand words to describe?

There were a full nine victims, after all.

The stairwell was cool and comfortable. Jian Ruochen gazed absently at the glowing green exit sign for a moment before casually making up, "Let’s just say the Major Crimes Unit was burglarized."

Guan Yingjun: ...

What a clever way to make up a thief from nothing.

"And the surveillance cameras happened to be down, so no one was caught on tape," Jian Ruochen continued. "The thief panicked while escaping and accidentally dropped the case report in front of a news office."

He was getting more and more excited as he spun the tale. "Then the newspaper reporters, hearing the buzz, rushed to the West Kowloon Region Police Station for an interview. They happened to see the Secretary for Security’s car parked at the entrance of the West Kowloon Police Station, so they waited outside to interview him. Eventually, they put out the story that the Secretary for Security was intentionally shielding a murderer."

Guan Yingjun rubbed his temples and suddenly let out a quiet chuckle. "Your voice has a bit of an echo, and you already know the Secretary for Security is at the West Kowloon Region Police Station. Are you already in the stairwell?"

"Yeah."

"I’ll bring you a copy of the case report," Guan Yingjun said before hanging up. He turned on his heel and headed to the main control room, where he killed the surveillance feed in the Major Crimes Unit hallway. Then he returned to the office, made a copy of the case report, took the elevator down one floor, and looped around to the stairwell.

Sure enough, he found Jian Ruochen there.

In the dim light, Jian Ruochen was sitting right in front of the safety exit sign, one arm resting on his bent knee and the other leg stretched out loosely, as if he were lounging on an office sofa rather than in a stairwell.

All the irritation Guan Yingjun had felt because of the Secretary for Security melted away instantly.

He climbed a few steps and handed the file over.

Jian Ruochen took it and flipped through it.

It was well-prepared, containing all the necessary details while omitting any confidential information.

This "thief" was quite thoughtful.

He winked at Guan Yingjun. "You head back. I’ll go now. It’ll be too obvious if we leave together."

Guan Yingjun gave him a deep look. "Take your bodyguard with you. Be careful."

"Got it, got it," Jian Ruochen said, taking the case report and taking the stairs two at a time, ready to work the court of public opinion.

In the 1990s, the situation was chaotic. Everyone was scrambling to put food on the table, and the people of Hong Kong, long oppressed, were at the bottom of the social pyramid.

The British Hong Kong government dismissed these people and failed to understand that it was the vast number of ordinary citizens who were the backbone of the city.

They certainly didn’t realize that a massive and sustained wave of public opinion could influence the outcome of a case.

This was also a good opportunity to challenge some Hong Kong residents’ prejudice against the mainland.

Jian Ruochen’s plans were falling into place like dominoes.

From the West Kowloon Region Police Station all the way to the newspaper office.

Noranda Weir, however, had no idea what he was in for.

He finished his afternoon tea, his impatience reaching its peak. "Madam, I’m just here to pick up one person. What takes the Hong Kong Royal Police 30 minutes takes the West Kowloon Region Police Station three hours. No wonder you’ve been stalled at Superintendent for five years, and your father never made it past the Police Force’s supervisory department."

Lin Yazhi’s temple pulsed. She glanced at her palm, wondering what would happen if she slapped the Secretary for Security's face.

It wouldn’t end well.

She had to endure it a little longer.

Dammit. At this time yesterday, Oliver Keith was already cracking in the interrogation room under Consultant Jian’s questioning.

They were supposed to continue questioning him today, but now, with the Secretary for Security here, they could only leave Oliver Keith waiting in the detention center.

Lin Yazhi said, "We have our own procedures. If the Hong Kong Royal Police releases someone without seeing an extradition order, that reflects poorly on their professional standards. We at West Kowloon stand by our procedures."

Noranda Weir’s face turned flushed with anger.

Her words were practically a direct insult to the Hong Kong Royal Police, implying they were British Hong Kong's lapdogs.

Noranda Weir finished the last of his coffee. "I hope Superintendent Lin won’t regret this decision."

Lin Yazhi smiled cheerfully. "Let me walk you out."

"No need!" Noranda Weir snapped.

Lin Yazhi said, "Oh," and replied indifferently, "Suit yourself."

Without even bothering to feign politeness, she settled back into the sofa and sat firmly.

Having been shot down twice in a row, and recalling yesterday’s humiliation in Lei Jinwen’s office, Noranda Weir felt a wave of anger. By the time he reached the parking lot, he could no longer contain himself and shouted, "Dammit!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a crowd swarmed toward him from the side.

They wore press passes and yellow vests, followed by a few patrol officers who seemed to be making a half-hearted attempt to hold them back.

The group of eager reporters poured into the parking lot, and the one leading them thrust a microphone forward, almost cramming it into the Secretary for Security’s mouth.

He yelled, "What are you swearing about?"

"Is it because the West Kowloon Region Police Station refused to cooperate with British Hong Kong in releasing a British national murderer, that's got you so worked up?"

Another burly man bellowed, "Hong Kong University tenured professor Olivier Kang Nate Keith murdered nine people over six years! All nine victims were Chinese who had returned to the country or come to Hong Kong to study. Did you authorize the murder of astrophysics researchers and the plagiarism of the victims' academic work?"

"If you didn’t authorize it, then why are you here at the West Kowloon Region Police Station to spring someone?"

This made no sense at all.

It was like an unreasonable old man faking an accident on the street, hands on hips and yelling, "You hit me! If you didn’t hit me, why are you helping me up?"

Noranda Weir was shoved backward.

He reached out to open the car door and get in, but the experienced reporters knew exactly what he was thinking. A group of burly men pushed forward, forcibly shoving him away from the car.

The reporters were actually nervous too, but thinking of the fat stack of cash Jian Ruochen had given them, they steeled themselves and pushed ahead with their microphones.

After all, they were wearing cloth masks—no one could see their faces or identify them.

Charge!

A row of heads stuck out from the window of the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit’s lounge, looking down.

They watched as the reporters and cameramen pushed Noranda Weir from the parking lot all the way to the entrance of the West Kowloon Police Station.

The cameraman even took a few steps back, snapped a wide shot, and nodded in satisfaction as he held his camera.

At that moment, everyone’s mood went from tense to relieved.

It felt even better than slapping the Security Bureau director in the face.

Lin Yazhi turned and asked, "Who leaked the case details?"

This was against protocol.

What if the Security Bureau throws a fit and demands accountability?

Guan Yingjun replied deadpan, "There was a burglary in Group A’s office at noon. The surveillance cameras were conveniently down, so nothing was recorded."

Lin Yazhi: …

Jian Ruochen’s lies were believable because he was a good actor.

Guan Yingjun’s lies were believable simply because he said it matter-of-factly and with unwavering confidence.

Too bad the surveillance cameras at the West Kowloon Police Station don't just go down unless someone manually shuts them down in the server room.

It seemed Consultant Jian had come up with the plan.

"Has the surveillance been restored?" Lin Yazhi asked.

"It’s fixed," Guan Yingjun said, leaning on the windowsill as he looked down.

Noranda Weir was getting pushed back, looking utterly disheveled.

The more he refused to speak and struggled to explain, the more agitated the reporters became.

"Does the British Hong Kong government intend to kill talented people in Hong Kong?"

Earlier, their anger had been partly an act, but now, having gauged the Security Bureau’s attitude, their outrage was genuine.

"Those old bastards!"

The scene downstairs fell silent for a moment.

Jian Ruochen: …

Should’ve kept that thought inside—why did it slip out?

He stepped forward with a smile, feigning innocence. "What’s going on?"

Noranda Weir, pale-faced, pointed at the man who had accidentally spoke out of turn. "What did he say?"

Even though he didn’t understand Cantonese, he could tell it wasn’t anything good.

"Oh," Jian Ruochen reached out and gently pressed Noranda Weir’s hand down. "He said the British Hong Kong government is…"

The reporters’ hearts skipped a beat.

Was Jian Ruochen going to throw them under the bus?

"…completely out of touch," Jian Ruochen said with a smile.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Jian Ruochen grabbed Noranda Weir’s hand and shook it, speaking quickly, "I know the British Hong Kong government is targeting me for profit, to muddy the waters. But the handover has been decided for years—you should know it’s set in stone. No amount of struggling will change that."

Noranda Weir’s expression shifted.

"I know what you want, but even if I die, Kang Nate won’t belong to Oliver Keith. Before work today, I made my will. If I die, all family assets will be bequeathed to Mr. Luo Binwen." Jian Ruochen lowered his gaze, staring straight at the man in front of him, and let out a cold laugh. "You’ve been currying favor with the wrong person."

Noranda Weir hadn’t expected him to be so resolute. His face turned pale. "How can you do this? Kang Nate is British nobility. Kang Nate’s prosperity is backed by Britain! You should bleed for Britain!"

"I have the right to do this." Jian Ruochen paused, then added, "Go back and discuss it with your superiors. Instead of taking back this useless murderer, it’s better to work together with Kang Nate. Kang Nate’s business spans the globe. If Britain wants a share, it’s best to work with us for a win-win."

Noranda Weir’s face twitched.

What a ruthless move—pulling the rug out from under us!

What was he supposed to do now?

"The rumor that I’m sheltering a murderer is already out there! How do you expect me to clean up this mess?"

"Rumor? Handle it?" Jian Ruochen feigned surprise. "Handle what?"

If you can’t handle a few reporters rushing at you, how will you sleep at night when the entire country turns on you?

Anyway, the deputy chief of the Security Bureau has been in his position for half a year—he’s due for a promotion.

The mainland will probably assign a new deputy chief.

Hope the former deputy chief can adapt to this pace of promotions.

Jian Ruochen motioned courteously. "Please go back and discuss this with your superiors. I’ll help you hold off the reporters. I think what my family’s higher-ups said applies well to Kang Nate and the British Hong Kong government."

"Kang Nate’s prosperity is the result of generations of effort by the entire Kang Nate family—it can’t be credited to the British government. On the contrary, you’ve made a killing from it. I don’t necessarily want a complete break with you. After letting go of Oliver Keith, you can do business with Kang Nate."

Whether it’ll succeed or not is another matter.

What capitalist doesn’t know how to make empty promises?

Noranda Weir’s face was deathly pale.

"What do you mean 'my family's superiors'? Just say 'China' outright."

Jian Ruochen gestured toward the parking lot with a tilt of his head and then beckoned, leading the reporters into the police station lobby.

Noranda Weir, too flustered to think deeply, left in a daze, visibly shaken.

The reporters, carrying cameras and microphones, craned their necks to watch for a while.

Impressive, truly satisfying.

What a morale boost!

They exchanged subtle glances, silently cheering inside.

The lead guy, wearing a mask and drenched in sweat, stared intently at Jian Ruochen and asked, "Is it true that the Secretary for Security intends to cover for a killer?"

"All of it is true," Jian Ruochen said meaningfully. "Everything that happened today is real, and the lost documents are real too. As for how to write it to make the most money, that depends on your skills."

He had contacted three newspapers and two news crews, deliberately steering clear of his usual contacts to avoid suspicion.

With five companies involved, surely one would prove useful.

He then took out a wad of cash, counted it, and divided it into five portions, handing them to the leaders. "You've worked hard. It looks hot out here—buy everyone some sweet drinks."

Guan Yingjun stood nearby, watching, and gave a light laugh.

This move was brilliantly executed, flipping the script in no time.

Jian Ruochen's eloquence was too good not to be in politics.

He had thought this was merely about preventing Olivier Kang Nate Keith from being rescued by British Hong Kong, but it turned out Jian Ruochen aimed to seize the moment and replace the Secretary for Security all at once.

Once the tide surged, it would be difficult for Noranda Weir to get out of the hot seat.

Guan Yingjun waved to Jian Ruochen and said, "Let's go. Continue the interrogation."

Jian Ruochen quickly walked over, fanning himself by tugging his collar. "It's so hot outside."

The young man’s scent wafted into Guan Yingjun's nostrils with the movement. Glancing down, he caught a glimpse of pale, smooth skin through the briefly opened collar, with two pink nips, the chest shiny with a light sweat.

Guan Yingjun looked away, thrown off by the view, his ears turning bright red at the tips.

He agreed, "It is indeed hot."