Chapter 155: Because of Love

Chapter 155 For Love

Jian Ruochen recalled the fire evacuation map he had seen when first entering the casino.

That diagram was imprecise and sloppily made; along the way, at least four or five spots didn’t match the actual layout.

But the key wasn’t the evacuation diagram—it was the fire safety inspection certificate hanging next to it.

This indicated that the New Victoria Harbour Casino, in order to remain "compliant" and operate legitimately long-term in Hong Kong, had properly installed a fire alarm system.

A fire alarm system...

Outside the door.

Moer Kelin frowned at Chen Jincai’s suddenly raised voice.

He glanced at the office.

The door was tightly shut, and the henchman sent to investigate hadn’t given any alarm signal—everything inside should be normal.

But just in case...

Moer Kelin rejected Chen Jincai’s proposal to sign the contract on the first floor. "The office works better."

Chen Jincai frowned tightly, instinctively looking around, looking for some way to delay Moer Kelin.

But there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

He could only watch helplessly as Moer Kelin headed toward the office.

Chen Jincai silently moved his hand to his waist, resting on his gun grip.

The footsteps grew closer and closer.

The sound pierced through the walls, filtered through the door cracks, and reached his ears, each footfall pounding against his eardrums.

The air inside the office felt thin.

Jian Ruochen didn’t bother to wipe the sweat from his hands. As he reached for his phone, he accidentally dropped it on the floor. Just as he crouched to pick it up, he met the half-open eyes of the henchman.

He was awake.

The henchman had also heard the sounds outside. He opened his mouth, about to shout a warning.

Jian Ruochen grabbed the phone with one hand and raised his gun with the other. Sweat covered his forehead and brows, his expression cold and detached as he looked down at the henchman and whispered, "If you make a sound, I might still get away, but you will definitely die."

He had no reason to shoot the henchman first unless these people drew their guns and engaged in a firefight.

West Kowloon was under intense scrutiny, Hong Kong had not yet been returned, and he lived in the public eye.

He could get injured, but he absolutely could not be the first to shoot to kill.

Jian Ruochen looked down.

The henchman’s eyes went wide with fear. He swallowed hard and slowly closed his mouth.

This man would really kill him!

He had seen plenty of tough guys in the casino, but none had eyes as sinister as his.

Not brown, not blue, not black.

Golden, like some ghost or deity, but not human.

It was terrifying.

Jian Ruochen feared that looking down to send a text would give the henchman a chance to fight back. So, with his peripheral vision, he found Guan Yingjun’s number, put his foot on the henchman’s neck, pointed his gun at the henchman’s forehead, and kept his eyes locked on him while waiting for Guan Yingjun to answer the phone.

Outside, Chen Jincai and Ren Qiuhua were doing their best to stall, their voices coming through the door.

Moer Kelin seemed to be getting suspicious.

Inside, the dial tone rang only once before the call was answered.

Guan Yingjun’s breathless voice came through the receiver. "What’s wrong?"

Jian Ruochen whispered, "I'm trapped but not made yet. There’s a fire alarm system here. I have at most 30 seconds."

He spoke quickly and sparingly, but Guan Yingjun got the whole message.

—The fire system here was pretty good. Jian Ruochen wanted him to find a way to set off the fire alarm as a distraction.

30 seconds.

Moer Kelin and Jian Ruochen were likely only a door apart!

If Jian Ruochen were discovered, Moer Kelin could easily accuse him of trespassing.

They didn’t have a search warrant for the top floor. The British were notoriously tricky and would likely use this to discredit Jian Ruochen.

Guan Yingjun hung up and turned to Song Xuyi. "Set a fire!"

Song Xuyi froze, temporarily confused about why they needed to start a fire.

Guan Yingjun ran to the stairwell in a few strides, where there was a fire alarm button.

Pressing it would automatically set off an alarm, and the building’s alarms would go off.

But if the detectors didn’t detect a fire, the alarm would only ring for a moment.

Guan Yingjun smashed the fire alarm with the butt of his gun, and it immediately began blaring loudly.

The alarm rang through the casino!

He turned and saw Song Xuyi still standing there dazed. Raising his voice, he shouted, "Set a fire—"

Guan Yingjun had been shot in the arm, and his voice was hoarse.

He took out a small bottle of hard liquor he carried with him, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and splashed the rest in the private room nearest to the stairwell.

Only after the carpet was soaked with alcohol did Song Xuyi snap out of it. He struck a match and tossed it onto the carpet.

As the match hit the ground, the carpet emitted a scorched smell.

In an instant, flames shot up.

Guan Yingjun glanced at Zhang Xingzong, who was supporting Li Feiquan. The gunfight on the third floor had been too intense; everyone was injured.

Only Zhang Xingzong was the least injured and still had the strength to prop someone up.

"Retreat," Guan Yingjun barked. "Once we get downstairs, anyone who can still move should immediately help evacuate the gamblers. Exaggerate the fire, make it seem uncontrollable."

In reality, the casino’s fire safety system was excellent, with fire extinguishers and hydrants nearby. The fire in the private room would only last a few minutes, causing hardly any fuss.

There would be no casualties.

To create a bigger disturbance without harming innocent people, they could only rely on other methods for support.

"Bi Wanwan, take him," Guan Yingjun gestured. "Hurry up."

Ding Gao picked up on it. "Detective Guan, what about you?"

Guan Yingjun said, "I’m going upstairs."

As he spoke, he locked eyes with his team members for a moment, wiping the blood dripping from his forehead—an injury sustained during the brawl with the enforcers.

Ding Gao noticed Jian Ruochen was missing and recalled how the consultant and Detective Guan had infiltrated the "kitchen" alone to retrieve the lunchbox.

He popped his clip and tossed it over. "Five bullets left."

Out of all the members in Team A, only Ding Gao had five bullets remaining.

Guan Yingjun took it, removed the empty magazine, and replaced it with the new one. He shot them a deep look. "Carry out the mission."

"Yes, sir!"

Li Feiquan was shook.

He finally understood why Team A placed such importance on an informant.

It wasn’t because of his significance.

It was because they never left a man behind.

·

Jian Ruochen was counting down the seconds, even hearing the sound of Moer Kelin’s fingers pushing the door handle down.

Just as the handle was about to turn fully, the fire alarm suddenly went off!

Jian Ruochen relaxed his back, letting out a soft, relieved half-sigh.

At that moment, Chen Jincai outside the door almost cried with relief.

Finally, an excuse to get the old man out of here!

"Mr. Moer Kelin! The casino is on fire! The source is unknown! We’ll escort you downstairs first!" Chen Jincai grabbed him and pulled him toward the stairwell.

Ren Qiuhua got the message, directing Teams B and C to almost forcibly escort everyone down from the top floor.

People rushed out of the private rooms on the top floor as well. Seeing the person in charge fleeing, all hell broke loose—some didn’t even have time to dress properly, throwing on shirts as they made for the stairs.

Jian Ruochen held back the rest of his sigh.

The thug lying on the floor muttered, "You’re safe now, so why are you still pointing a gun at me? Can you let me go?"

Just as Jian Ruochen was about to speak, he felt a sudden movement behind him.

His eyes narrowed as he crouched low, whirled around with a backward kick. Another thug had woken up and was holding a gun reverse-grip, trying to strike him. The kick forced him back.

Jian Ruochen put all his weight on the leg pinning the thug’s neck. The man on the floor was gasping for air, his vision going dark as he struggled to speak.

The thug instinctively scratched at Jian Ruochen’s ankle, trying to free himself, but the foot on his neck didn't budge.

On the verge of passing out, the thug finally realized he was armed. He reached for it, loaded it, raised it, and fired.

Although Jian Ruochen quickly lifted his leg, the bullet still clipped his thigh.

He sucked air through his teeth, tumbled aside, and fired four shots at the two thugs before swiftly retreating behind Moer Kelin’s desk.

Four shots had been fired on the third floor, and now four more.

Six bullets remained in the gun.

As he weighed his options, he heard one of the thugs pick up a radio behind him. "Attention, attention, the fire alarm is f—"

"Bang!"

Before the word "fake" could be fully uttered, Jian Ruochen popped out and took the shot.

With a silencer attached, the gunshot was a muffled pop, like a fist hitting a pillow.

The bullet struck the radio in the thug’s hand.

Five bullets left.

Spotting him, the other thug immediately fired.

Jian Ruochen saw it coming and dodged quickly, but not fast enough to avoid the bullet entirely.

It struck his left shoulder.

He bit back a curse, leaning against the desk as he heard the static of a radio clicking on.

The boss must not find out the fire alarm was fake.

If he learned the truth, he would realize it was a decoy. That shrewd Brit was alert and clever, making him difficult to deal with.

If the boss returned now, not only would the evidence be lost, but Team A and the West Kowloon Region Police Station would also face trouble.

Fighting through the pain, Jian Ruochen reached around the side of the desk and fired three shots toward the source of the sound.

His left arm was injured and couldn’t be raised, making it impossible to reload. The two remaining bullets were his last hope.

Jian Ruochen took a deep breath, gripping the gun tighter.

The radio’s static turned into the distinct crackle of a live transmission.

"Attention, all teams downstairs, there is no fire," a man’s voice said.

Jian Ruochen squeezed his eyes shut, weighing his chances of bailing out the eighth-floor window and somehow surviving the fall.

Before he could even figure out how to escape, a furious roar erupted from the other end of the walkie-talkie: "Horseshit! The third floor is already burning up to the stairwell! I nearly choked to death on my way down from the fourth floor. If you want to die, go ahead! I'm outta here!"

Jian Ruochen froze.

Guan Yingjun set a fire? Pretty thorough.

Realizing the thugs would also be stunned by this, he immediately stood up and fired at the standing thug.

"Bang!"

The walkie-talkie was destroyed, and the thug lost his chance to explain.

As the man came to his senses and raised his gun, about to pull the trigger, he saw Jian Ruochen's icy stare as he fired another shot.

The bullet struck the thug's hand, knocking the gun away and making him howl in pain.

Jian Ruochen had originally aimed for the head, but the silencer had thrown off his accuracy.

After firing, he immediately ducked for cover.

His shot left shoulder felt slightly cold; blood loss made his vision blur.

With adrenaline surging, he barely registered the pain of the gunshot wound.

Out of bullets, Jian Ruochen couldn't think of a way to escape. He leaned against the desk, breathing softly as footsteps approached from behind, making faint sounds.

The thug he had subdued earlier now stood before him.

A dark gun barrel pointed directly between his eyebrows.

The thug kicked Jian Ruochen's freshly injured left shoulder. "What goes around comes around, huh?"

Jian Ruochen fell to the ground. From this angle, he glimpsed the doorknob turning.

He didn't know whether it was another thug or one of his own.

No bullets left.

Jian Ruochen withdrew his gaze and stared coldly at the man before him, not saying a word.

The thug was unnerved by his gaze.

Such clear eyes, what a resolute expression.

As if he was ready to die at any moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jian Ruochen saw Guan Yingjun's shoes.

The thug pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

A splatter of blood splattered before his eyes.

In that instant, Jian Ruochen seemed to see a bullet pierce the thug's skull, exiting through his forehead and striking the glass behind.

The thug's eyes bulged in horror, trying to glance outward.

He wanted to turn his head, to blink, to fire at Jian Ruochen one last time before dying, but he no longer had the strength.

He couldn't pull the trigger.

The bullet had precisely severed his nerves, leaving him no chance to move again before he collapsed in a heap.

Jian Ruochen saw Guan Yingjun, panting heavily with bloodshot eyes, and smiled faintly. "Brother Jun, you really are the King of Guns."

So accurate.

A chill ran through Guan Yingjun as he looked at Jian Ruochen lying on the ground.

His mind went blank; instinctively, he raised his gun sideways and shot the other thug's shooting hand.

He didn't even know how he made it to Jian Ruochen's side. All he could do was reach out and cup his face, unsure where else he could touch without fearing he might break him.

Guan Yingjun's throat tightened. "Where are you hurt?"

His rationality battled his emotions.

Listening to Jian Ruochen's breathing, he knew his lungs were unharmed. Judging by his pallor, he had likely lost quite a bit of blood. His shoulder was damp, with a bullet hole—a through-and-through shot.

One leg lay flat, his pants stained with blood and torn—probably a bullet graze.

His ankle showed red scratches, the skin broken.

Jian Ruochen twitched his lips. "Just two places. Nothing serious."

He glanced at Guan Yingjun's arm. "You're hurt too."

As his tension eased, the pain in his shoulder grew more pronounced, making his vision go dark.

Guan Yingjun: "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt."

Jian Ruochen was drenched in cold sweat, feeling cold.

He stared at Guan Yingjun's dazed, pained expression and whispered, "Then carry me. Brother Jun, I can't walk."

Guan Yingjun's heart ached and softened. He handed his gun to Jian Ruochen, then scooped him up by supporting his back and knees. "Take this. There are three bullets left."

"Your arm is injured. Carrying me on your back would strain it. I'll carry you."

"Brother Jun, if you carry me back like this, everyone will figure it out." After surviving that, Jian Ruochen gripped the gun tightly, reminding himself not to faint. He said teasingly, trying to ease the tension in Guan Yingjun's mind, to pull him back from his distraught state.

Guan Yingjun's hands trembled. He couldn't feel the pain of his wound, only a deeper ache in his chest that made his breath shudder. He didn't quite process the words at first. "Figure what out?"

He waited, but no reply came.

Looking down at the person in his arms, he saw Jian Ruochen slumped against his chest, one hand holding the gun, the other protecting his abdomen. Blood stained the white sweater he wore, and his breathing was so faint it was almost imperceptible.

Guan Yingjun blinked, his mouth dry, tears falling onto Jian Ruochen's forehead.

Only now did he understand why his uncle had tried to stop him from becoming an undercover agent, why he had stopped him from killing the drug lord to avenge his parents' deaths.

After all, his mother was also his uncle's beloved sister.

His uncle didn't want him to seek glory, didn't want him winning the Bauhinia Medal, nor did he want to see him stuck being some celebrated hero.

In the end, it was out of love.

Guan Yingjun held the person in his arms and murmured softly, "I'd rather you weren't a hero either."

But if Jian Ruochen was this sharp, this decisive, brave, firm in his convictions, full of wisdom and kindness...

This time, he was the first to protect Li Feiquan, the one who retrieved the documents, the one who devised an escape plan in moments.

He was born to be a hero.