Chapter 164: Golden Tongue (2 in 1)

Chapter 164: The Silver Tongue (Two-in-One)

On the second floor of the shop-lined street opposite Ming Ren Primary School, journalists aimed their cameras, holding their breath and staring intently at the scene. Several were sweating so profusely they could barely keep their equipment steady, constantly readjusting their grip.

Through the shaky camera footage, Jian Ruochen lifted his head, his gaze fixed on the reflective glass, though the view was unclear. His voice softened slightly, "Before you lies a sea of fire, behind you, no retreat—you have nowhere to go. Negotiate with me directly, and you might still have a chance!"

Fang Kaichang frowned.

So quiet!

Compared to his earlier forceful shouts, his voice was much softer.

Was Jian Ruochen afraid?

No—back at the gold shop, Jian Ruochen had faced down armed robbers fearlessly. This time, the criminals weren’t even visible; there was no way he was scared.

He was trying to lure the spies to approach the window and open it to speak with him!

Once the window was open, the sniper wouldn’t be affected by glass distortion or glare—they could make a clean shot!

Fang Kaichang had a sudden realization. Consultant Jian’s negotiation wasn’t about freeing the hostages or finding a mutually beneficial solution for the spies at all!

He didn’t care about the spies’ lives and wasn’t afraid of offending British Hong Kong authorities.

His only goal was to save the hostages!

Fang Kaichang keyed his walkie-talkie, "Detective Guan, what’s the situation inside?"

Guan Yingjun replied, "Greyman seems to be moving toward the window, but the other intelligence officer, who had brown hair, stopped him."

The brown-haired intelligence officer was named Selter.

He held a boy hostage, tightly covering the child’s mouth while pressing him against his belly, his pistol aimed at the boy’s temple.

Sweat streamed down Selter’s face, his eyes fierce like a hyena’s as he glared at Chen Jincai. "What did he just say?"

Chen Jincai’s heart raced. "I didn’t hear clearly either. Probably something about releasing the hostages."

Selter sneered, "Tell them—forget about releasing the hostages!"

But Greyman seemed tempted. "But he said he could get us back to our country..."

Selter gave him a cold glare. "Don’t you hear who’s out there? You actually believe what Jian Ruochen says?"

Greyman fell silent. It was precisely because it was Jian Ruochen that they should believe him.

If they trusted him, they might have a chance.

If they didn’t, this formidable man—who single-handedly took down four robbers at the gold shop—would surely find a way to eliminate them publicly.

Selter clicked off the safety catch of his pistol, the barrel pressing a dent into the child’s forehead. "Officer, use your walkie-talkie and tell your Consultant Jian: within one hour, have the British Consulate General in Hong Kong send someone to pick us up! Every half hour, I’ll execute one child!"

"Don’t do anything rash!" Chen Jincai raised a hand. "Don’t hurt the children—they’re innocent."

He turned and said, "Liang Xinyue, contact Consultant Jian."

Liang Xinyue was the youngest officer present; even if a conflict broke out suddenly, he wouldn’t play a key role. Having him put down his gun and use the walkie-talkie was the most practical choice.

Liang Xinyue took out the walkie-talkie but hesitated to press the talk button.

Consultant Jian’s quiet speech must have a purpose—perhaps he was trying to lure the spies to the window. If he used the walkie-talkie to relay the message, wouldn’t that undermine Consultant Jian’s plan?

But if he didn’t communicate, what else could he do?

Chen Jincai urged, "Liang Xinyue!"

These British spies didn’t value Chinese lives at all! If even one child here came to harm, British Hong Kong authorities would blow it out of proportion.

Spies in Hong Kong were in a grayer area than informants—they could easily become British citizens.

If any civilians were harmed in this operation, the entire operation's nature would change. Not only would the West Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters face serious consequences, but the Police Force would also face impeachment.

One wrong move, and both the Police Force and West Kowloon would suffer!

Chen Jincai said sternly, "Communicate! That’s an order!"

Liang Xinyue reluctantly pressed the talk button. "Consultant Jian, they can’t hear you clearly up there. They want to use the walkie-talkie to talk."

He repeated Selter’s demands.

Jian Ruochen listened to the static over the walkie-talkie, feeling a flicker of disappointment that the spies were too clever to take the bait. But he quickly devised a new plan.

He leaned closer to the walkie-talkie and said, "Mr. Selter, there’s really no need for either of us to take such extreme measures. We’re simply on opposing sides. The Connaught family still has many win-win collaborations with England."

"Your status is nothing like a few robbers from the gold shop in Yau Tsim Mong!"

"They had already opened fire and killed people, while you haven’t fired a single bullet."

"I don’t know if you still have ties back home, but I understand how hard it is living far from home."

"Your hometown might be in Devon, with beautiful coastal roads by the sea. If you lived inland, you’d see golden autumn foliage in fall. If your father was a lumberjack or owned a forest, you must have followed him as a child, cutting down tree after tree."

"Perhaps you lived in bustling West London. Before coming to Hong Kong on assignment, you could go with your parents, wives, and children to the West End theatres—as famous as Broadway—to watch the latest musicals and host parties."

"If you hadn’t come to Hong Kong, you might have married the girl who sat next to you in school."

"Your friends and family—they must be waiting for you to return home."

With the walkie-talkie, Jian Ruochen’s voice grew even softer, like a warm breeze from the English Channel, making noses tingle.

Greyman, already wavering, involuntarily relaxed his grip over the hostage’s mouth and nose.

The little girl immediately worked her fingers free, gasping for air as her flushed face slowly returned to normal. She coughed softly.

Selter was momentarily dazed, then flushed with rage. "Turn it off! Turn off that damn walkie-talkie!"

For a moment, he truly seemed to smell the scent of freshly picked olives in Devon and hear the opening notes of a musical from the West End theatres!

What a silver tongue this man had!

Seeing Greyman’s expression, Selter regretted forcing the police to use the walkie-talkie. What did it matter if the voice was softer?

It was better than this clear, emotionally charged speech in perfect British English, describing their homeland!

How could Jian Ruochen speak as if he’d seen England with his own eyes!

Liang Xinyue glared coldly at Selter, his boyish face icy. "You complained that Consultant Jian's voice was too quiet when the walkie-talkie was off, and now you're complaining he's too detailed when it's on."

These words were transmitted through the walkie-talkie, reaching every officer waiting downstairs.

Le Jinwen couldn't help but chuckle. Ever since he noticed Guan Yingjun had given his coat to someone else in the dead of winter and walked back in just a sweater, he had been paying attention to Jian Ruochen.

He knew this person's specialty was verbal battles, offering two equally unfavorable choices for the opponent to pick.

Whichever they chose, there was no chance of escaping punishment or getting away unscathed.

Hearing this, Jian Ruochen said softly, "It's fine, turn it off."

Only then did Liang Xinyue angrily switch off the walkie-talkie.

Jian Ruochen also turned off the amplification and broadcasting equipment and asked Fang Kaichang, "Do you have a signal jammer?"

"Yes." Fang Kaichang reached to his waist.

The Special Duties Unit carried equipment weighing up to 20 kilograms, prepared for any eventuality.

Jian Ruochen took it and adjusted the bullhorn.

Selter's earlier bluster showed he was already swayed.

Now, turning the discussion to releasing the hostages should throw them into disarray.

He picked up the walkie-talkie, switched to Group C's frequency, and said in Cantonese, "From now on, if they get any chance to change communication devices, rescue the hostages immediately." Then he switched to the first frequency: "Snipers, get ready."

The British, arrogant and exclusionary, never bothered to learn Cantonese no matter how long they stayed in Hong Kong, which gave the Chinese a communication system that isolated them.

Hundreds of meters away, Guan Yingjun's Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

He could almost picture Jian Ruochen's calm and composed expression as he said those words. Just the thought stirred something in him.

Guan Yingjun tilted his head, lying prone behind his sniper rifle, staring fixedly at the slightly reflective window on the top floor.

The glare from the window was a bit harsh; he wondered if it bothered Jian Ruochen.

The thought didn't stop him from placing his finger inside the trigger guard, nor from slowing his breathing to nearly imperceptible.

Jian Ruochen tapped the bullhorn, raised it, and shouted, "Since you don't want to return home with dignity and insist on taking hostages to force a deal, we can make concessions."

"As long as no harm comes to the hostages, everything is negotiable!"

"I can help you contact the British Consulate General, on the condition that you release one hostage first! Please first... bzzzt..."

As he spoke, Jian Ruochen turned on the jammer, and the bullhorn immediately emitted a sharp, grating noise.

Every officer present slightly turned their heads to avoid the sound.

Jian Ruochen fiddled with the jammer's switch, his words coming through the bullhorn intermittently: "If... you... are willing... to release the hostages, we can..."

None of the key words got through.

Greyman couldn't take it anymore. "What the fuсk is he saying!"

Selter said, "Tell him to get a damn clearer bullhorn!"

Chen Jincai said, "We only brought one."

"Give me your walkie-talkie!" Selter thought, surely the walkie-talkie would work.

This thing shouldn't fail.

But as soon as the walkie-talkie was in his hand, it also started crackling, not a single word clear.

Jian Ruochen expressionlessly fiddled with the signal jammer, his words devoid of substance, making Le Jinwen, standing nearby, dizzy and wanting to shout, "Master, stop chanting!"

After trying for a while and switching several walkie-talkies, Selter finally realized the signal was jammed. He eyed Chen Jincai suspiciously: "Are you using a signal jammer?"

Chen Jincai's eyelid twitched, cursing these bastards inwardly.

Liang Xinyue held back but, being young, couldn't help cursing: "Where would West Kowloon get the money for that! Half our funds are withheld by British Hong Kong, feeding you lackeys! When would we have spare cash for something like that!"

His blood pressure rose, his face flushed, and he broke into a sweat from shouting.

It was all genuine, with no acting involved.

Chen Jincai glanced over silently, inwardly praising it as brilliant.

This performance was truly worthy of Consultant Jian's teachings.

Selter believed it but saw how much West Kowloon valued the hostages. Instead of releasing them, he held the child tighter.

They were his only lifeline.

He walked to the window, didn't open it, but held the walkie-talkie close to the gap.

Guan Yingjun immediately said, "One person near the window, reduced margin of error, confident to take the shot."

Another sniper adjusted his aim toward the other. "Greyman is sideways to the window, vigilance lowered, but he's farther from the barrel. Margin of error, might miss. Chest shot accuracy 100%."

To communicate with his team, Jian Ruochen temporarily turned off the signal jammer.

Watching the faint shadow in the window, he said softly, "We will discuss with the Consulate General of England in Hong Kong, but since it's come to this, it's escalated to a diplomatic... bzzzt issue, bzzzt specific details, you bzzzt..."

The jammer was turned back on, committed to the act.

Selter slammed the walkie-talkie against the windowsill twice, but the static only increased.

He had to send Greyman, who was closer to Chen Jincai and holding a hostage, to exchange for another walkie-talkie.

Greyman thought Selter was making things difficult. Why not just open the window and talk directly?

Would these Hong Kong people really shoot them without provocation?

But remembering it was Selter who noticed the suspicious traffic outside, giving them leverage to negotiate, he reluctantly held the boy and walked step by step to Chen Jincai to exchange the walkie-talkie.

To get a new walkie-talkie, he had to free either the hostage or the gun.

Greyman chose to use his gun hand to take the walkie-talkie. "Give it to me."

Liang Xinyue gritted his teeth, body tense, slowly unclipping the walkie-talkie to hand over.

The sound of fabric friction transmitted through the walkie-talkie. Jian Ruochen turned and locked eyes with Le Jinwen from afar.

Le Jinwen's heart jumped. He raised his walkie-talkie and switched to the public channel: "Move!"

In an instant, chaos erupted.

Liang Xinyue slammed down the walkie-talkie and, alongside Chen Jincai, raised his weapon and opened fire.

As he shot, he kicked Greyman in the abdomen—the thick bulletproof vest beneath his shirt absorbing the impact with a dull thud.

He swiftly wrapped a protective arm around the boy who was nearly dragged away by Greyman, shielding the child beneath his body.

At the same time, Guan Yingjun fired at Selter near the window.

The bullet ripped through the air with a deafening crack, shattered the glass, and streaked toward Selter’s temple.

By the time he sensed danger, it was too late.

He barely managed to jerk his head aside, but the bullet tore through his ear, angled upward, pierced his skull, exited through the top of his head, and lodged into the ceiling.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

The child crouched in the corner, who had felt abandoned, let out a piercing scream.

The bullet had missed Selter’s central nervous system—he remained partially conscious.

In that moment, as darkness closed in, he finally understood.

Jian Ruochen had never intended to negotiate their release from the start.

Every word had been a ruse—to lure them into exposing a weakness, to draw them closer to the window!

The claim about no signal jammer was a complete lie.

The West Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters was filled, from top to bottom, with deceitful bastards!

Selter watched the scene unfold in the office. He saw Greyman shot in the chest. Even with a bulletproof vest, the sniper rifle’s high caliber delivered such force that fractured ribs were driven into his lungs.

Greyman spat a mist of blood and collapsed, barely managing to grab Chen Jincai’s ankle.

Chen Jincai kicked the gun from his hand and turned to protect the hostage.

Selter watched in despair.

He couldn’t let it end like this.

He had to make the West Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters pay.

Killing police officers wouldn’t work—if officers died, they’d only gain public sympathy and become martyrs across Hong Kong.

He had to kill a hostage.

Lying on the ground, Selter kept his pistol hidden beneath him, unnoticed. Blood poured continuously; his body grew colder.

At that moment, only one thought remained in his mind.

A hostage.

He had to kill a hostage!

The little girl in the corner was shielded by three officers. The child he had taken hostage had already been escorted out of the office—only the boy under the officer’s protection still offered a chance.

He had 13 bullets left.

Selter summoned all his strength to adjust the gun’s position. Blood streamed down his face, blurring his vision.

Through the dim red haze, he whispered, "Long live the Empire on which the sun never sets…"

Gunshots rang out!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"Liang Xinyue!"

"Ah-Xin!"

Liang Xinyue shielded the child beneath him, clenching his teeth as he met the boy’s terrified gaze. "Don’t be scared. I’m solid—he can’t reach you."

"Bang!" Chen Jincai kicked Selter over, staring in disgust at his shattered skull. "Tough son of a bitch."

Who would have thought this man’s willpower was so strong that he could still fire a shot with his skull blown open?

Selter’s eyes remained wide open, breath gone, yet a faint, eerie smile lingered on his lips.

His body lay motionless, but a sliver of consciousness endured. In his fading mind, he thought he could smell the olive groves of Devon and see the autumn forests Jian Ruochen had described.

He heard the music of London’s West End.

Chen Jincai holstered his pistol. "Ambulance! Ambulance!"

He rushed to Liang Xinyue’s side, crouched, and checked his pulse.

It was there.

Liang Xinyue was the youngest member of Team C, a late addition. Both his parents were police officers, and he had been raised properly. Though seen by some as a "police legacy" here to polish his credentials, his investigative skills were exceptional, and his gentle nature made him beloved within Team C.

Chen Jincai didn’t dare move him much, fearing secondary injury. He was simply grateful Liang Xinyue wore a bulletproof vest—the bullets had entered from the side, likely injuring only his leg and arm.

Chen Jincai rasped, "Why didn’t you just run, you idiot?"

Liang Xinyue was the youngest recruit in Team C, joining later than the rest. Both his parents served as police officers, and he had been brought up with discipline. While some dismissed him as a "privileged legacy" merely padding his resume, his investigative prowess was undeniable. His kind demeanor also endeared him to everyone in Team C.

When paramedics lifted Liang Xinyue onto the stretcher, the boy he had protected stood frozen in shock, staring blankly at the scene, his pants soaked in blood.

When Jian Ruochen arrived, he found the boy leaning against the wall, eyes unfocused, refusing to respond no matter how the nurse questioned him.

The nurse lifted his pant leg and realized the blood wasn’t his.

She picked up the child, shielding his eyes from the gruesome scene, and hurried away with the medical team, taking the other two traumatized children with them.

Jian Ruochen glanced into the office, meeting Selter’s lifeless stare.

His pupils were fully dilated, yet a faint smirk curled his lips.

Blood stained the floor and ceiling. Jian Ruochen looked away, his expression unreadable.

Some people truly deserved to die.

He closed his eyes briefly, stepped aside, and allowed the Forensics team to enter and process the scene.

With so many spies embedded in the school, two were dead—but others remained for interrogation.

The on-site investigation was handed over to the Special Duties Unit and other team members.

Jian Ruochen only came up to take a look before rejoining his team.

Le Jinwen gave his shoulder a firm pat, a grin spread across his face. "Your tongue is truly made of gold."

Who could have guessed that the purpose of the negotiation wasn’t negotiation itself, but a "lure the tiger out of the mountain" play?

Le Jinwen thought again of the vengeful Brits, and a sense of dread crept into his heart.

What if England sent someone to assassinate Jian Ruochen?

Putting aside personal reasons—like how Jian Ruochen was his nephew’s sweetheart, and something happening to him would surely drive his nephew crazy—if Jian Ruochen were harmed, the hard-earned upper hand built by the Hong Kong Police Force and the Security Bureau would undoubtedly go down the drain.

Without Jian Ruochen, they couldn't hold the line on their own.

Jian Ruochen was too special.

The more Le Jinwen thought about it, the more concerned he became. He couldn’t help but warn in a low voice, "But you need to be careful. Get more bodyguards on you lately; the Police Force can assign a few to provide close protection. The Consulate General of England in Hong Kong already knows about this. They’ve taken so many hits because of you; they’re bound to get pissed and come after you."

Jian Ruochen lifted his gaze. "They wouldn’t dare."

He was now tied in tight with the mainland and held several projects inherited from his mother that were a huge asset to England.

Anyone with a bit of sense would know that truly having a public showdown would be equivalent to picking a fight with the mainland—there’s no benefit in that.

In politics, there are no eternal friends, only eternal interests.

The British have no reason to give up billions in business, or even engage in actual fights, just for the sake of a few intelligence spies.

If they dared, they would have done it during the handover negotiations.

"Next, I will pour money into IT in England, expanding partnerships in computing and mobile. If they can give up this slice of the pie, then bring it on." Jian Ruochen’s voice was level, his tone cool.

He had already thought it through before coming.

Since spying’s a political game, it should be resolved through political deals.

Gotta spend money to make money; only by holding your ground can you command respect.

Backing down and hiding will never get respect.

Le Jinwen looked at Jian Ruochen, the weight off his shoulders suddenly lifting, his eyes getting misty.

He truly… was more than just having the right guy to take over.

He had held the position of Police Commissioner for over a decade, fighting like hell to stay in every election because he couldn’t trust handing it over to anyone else.

Too many people are drunk on power, too many don’t have the guts, and even more fail to understand politics or play the game.

Le Jinwen couldn’t help but sling an arm over Jian Ruochen’s shoulder, repeating, "Attaboy."

Guan Yingjun returned after checking his sniper rifle back in and hung back behind them for a bit without a word to him. Finally, when Le Jinwen finished, he met a pair of scrutinizing eyes.

Le Jinwen’s eyes seemed to say: He’s a good kid—probably a great catch too. If you ever dare make him sad, I’ll beat you up.

Guan Yingjun quirked a smile.

Last year, someone had used the pretext of handing out awards to snoop around at the West Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters.

The three of them looked toward the primary school.

From the underground garage, people were being hauled out in droves—those shot, barely hanging on—all handcuffed and shackled, with no chance of escape.

The teachers from the school were "invited" out. Considering their future work, they were given a respectful exit.

Parents who had received the news arrived one after another, anxiously waiting at the school gate. Only after all suspects were taken to the police station were the children called out and sent off in groups.

Parents who got their kids back first checked them over, then hugged their treasures, crying happy tears.

Guan Yingjun watched, then slid a hand around Jian Ruochen’s waist. "The Special Duties Unit found tons of bombs at the intelligence organization’s headquarters."

Jian Ruochen froze.

Guan Yingjun said, "If you hadn’t risked your life to get the evidence hidden in the casino, these bombs might have blown this place to smithereens at some point."

No one would’ve made it.

Guan Yingjun looked at Jian Ruochen, remembering how he had ordered "snipers on standby."

On the way back, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled the car over, grabbed Jian Ruochen, and kissed him hard.

He liked Jian Ruochen so much. He liked his strategic mind, his confidence, every word that came out of his golden tongue.

Guan Yingjun adjusted Jian Ruochen’s waist equipment, his eyes full of affection as he looked at him.

Because of their injuries, they hadn’t been intimate for months. Jian Ruochen, afraid he might get frisky in the car, pushed him away. "What are you doing?"

Guan Yingjun sat up straight, his tone as steady as if answering an interrogation. "Tasting what the golden tongue tastes like."

His tone was flat, almost boring.

But the words themselves were anything but boring.

Jian Ruochen wiped his mouth, his ears burning. After a moment, he realized that this man, who could play the role of a gang leader and his lover with him right after they met, couldn’t possibly be as rigid and dull as the rumors said!

This guy just… didn’t show it to others.

If Guan Yingjun wanted to, he could say any flirtatious line!

Jian Ruochen took a breath, wanting to retort: Is it sweet?

But Guan Yingjun seemed to read his mind. Before Jian Ruochen could speak, he said, "Sweet."

He started the car, stepped on the gas, and sped off toward the police station.

Jian Ruochen sat in the passenger seat, gripping the seatbelt, and rolled down the window a bit to let the wind in. He stared blankly, unable to come up with a response.

How did this happen?

It must be because he’d talked too much to the spies earlier; his mind hadn’t switched gears yet.

Guan Yingjun drove fast, catching up to the convoy in no time. The ambulance turned near the Regional Police Headquarters and rushed into Mary Hospital.

Jian Ruochen watched, his recently flushed face turning grim again.

He wondered how Liang Xinyue would fare.

Shot so many times, even if not in vital areas, the impact of the bullets was enough to cause serious trouble.

Those British Hong Kong dogs.

Jian Ruochen lowered his gaze, propping his chin on his hand as he looked out the window.

At this point, it was time to summon Lu Rong again.

As the Lu family butler, Xu Tuo probably knew a lot too—maybe he could be questioned as well.