Chapter 9: Seeing Off Jiang Yongyan

Jian Ruochen got it now. This wasn’t about the restaurant’s service standards; Guan Yingjun was intentionally testing him.

Guan Yingjun produced a corkscrew, opened the bottle of red wine, and poured it into a decanter to let it breathe. The rich bouquet of the wine filled the room, seeming almost like a silent challenge.

Jian Ruochen remarked lightly, “Sir Guan, you’re certainly going to great lengths just to share a little inside information with me.”

He stood, shedding his puffer jacket and the insulating vest beneath it, hanging them neatly on the coat stand in the corner. Then, he approached Professor Li, who was eyeing his own lamb shank with some apprehension.

“Professor Li,” Jian Ruochen offered, “shall I help you with that?”

“Ah, yes, please,” the professor accepted gratefully.

Such a considerate young man, Li Changyu thought. So likeable. Handles being tested with such poise, and still remembers to look after his elders.

Donning a fresh pair of gloves, Jian Ruochen quietly and expertly stripped the meat from the professor’s lamb shank. Finally, using the handle end of a small metal spoon, he carefully pried into a crevice, exposing the rich marrow within the bone.

Removing the gloves, he wiped the spoon handle clean with a napkin and placed it beside the exposed marrow before sliding the plate back in front of Professor Li. “There you go, Professor. Be careful, it’s still hot.”

Professor Li thanked him warmly.

Guan Yingjun watched, momentarily taken aback, his breath catching slightly. He’d expected Professor Li, after reviewing the interrogation footage and statement, to be at least somewhat suspicious, if not outright wary. Yet, after witnessing Jian Ruochen’s deft handling of the situation, the professor seemed not just satisfied but practically ready to claim him as his star protegé.

Smiling, Jian Ruochen poured three glasses of the red wine. He lifted one in Guan Yingjun’s direction. “Sir Guan, my sincere thanks for bringing that recording to the Professor’s attention; it allowed me the honor of meeting such a fine teacher. And thank you, too, for your willingness to brief me on the Jiang Yongyan matter. I realize, of course, that detectives must adhere strictly to regulations.”

He continued, “As the RCU Team Leader, you must set an example. I wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

With that, he lightly clinked his glass against Guan Yingjun’s. “To you, sir.”

The glasses chimed softly. Jian Ruochen tilted his head back and downed the wine in a single swallow. The elegant line of his neck was exposed as he tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple moving visibly with the swallow.

When he lowered his chin, a faint pink flush coloured his cheeks, and a few strands of silvery hair drifted across his shoulder. His amber eyes, sparkling with hidden shrewdness under the restaurant lights, held a captivating quality that made it difficult to look away.

Guan Yingjun tore his eyes away, lifted his own glass, took a measured sip, and said simply, “It causes me no difficulty.”

Professor Li focused on his meal, feigning ignorance of the subtle verbal sparring. Honestly, he thought, Guan Yingjun’s stubborn streak could use someone like this to challenge it.

Guan Yingjun prompted again, “Eat up. It’ll get cold soon.”

Jian Ruochen slipped on the gloves and tackled the lamb shank.

Well, I’m not the one footing the bill, he thought wryly. Back when I lived in the state compound eating mess hall food, we gnawed bones just like this too.

As expected of Royal Gourmet, the lamb was incredibly tender, infused with flavor, and so delicious it practically melted in his mouth.

Guan Yingjun watched Jian Ruochen’s face intently – observing the movement of his cheekbones as he chewed, the slight bulge of his cheeks, the glimpse of neat teeth, the way his lips reddened slightly from the food.

He searched for any hint of unnatural stiffness, any sign of surgical alteration, but found none. The movements were fluid, natural. A beauty that seemed entirely innate.

So, no surgery after all? Can someone really be so perfectly featured they almost look unreal?

Guan Yingjun sat up straighter, his observation sharpening.

Jian Ruochen took a bite, then reached for the condiment shakers, sprinkling chili flakes and, strangely, a bit of sugar onto the bone. He dipped a piece appreciatively in vinegar, then another into a small saucer of red wine that had apparently been poured for dipping. His palate was certainly unconventional; Guan Yingjun found himself frowning slightly just observing the odd combinations.

Professor Li chuckled. “Those with adventurous palates often possess thrill-seeking personalities.”

Jian Ruochen nodded agreeably. “Haiya, haiya,” he said, slipping into Cantonese, “the professor’s insight is truly impressive.”

Professor Li had nearly finished his meal by this point. The more he observed Jian Ruochen, the more pleased he became.

Eats well, speaks sweetly but knows how to handle people, intelligent, mentally tough… and can even manage Guan Yingjun.

He was practically the tailor-made candidate for that RCU consultant role!

One young man was like a son to him, the other a promising protegé he hoped to mentor; they would likely need to collaborate eventually. Not wanting bad blood between them, Professor Li decided to mediate. “Yingjun,” he began, changing the subject slightly, “I understand the HKU murder case might involve the Lu family somehow?”

Guan Yingjun acknowledged with a noncommittal, “Mm. Slightly.”

A slight smile touched the corners of his eyes. “My source tells me that after Jiang Yongyan’s crime came to light, it was Lu Qian who paid money to handle the media camped outside the station. Apparently, the paparazzi outside Sham Shui Po were arriving in organized waves back then. My guess is some media company got wind that Lu Qian was paying off reporters, and decided to exploit the opportunity for themselves.”

Jian Ruochen, the very ‘exploiter’ in question, kept his head bowed, focusing on finishing his noodles while they were still warm.

Guan Yingjun shifted his gaze away from Jian Ruochen and went on, “What’s odd, though, is that despite Lu Qian being the one distributing the funds, the subsequent media coverage almost unanimously claimed Jiang Minghan was the one buying off the press. That narrative got heavily pushed.”

Lu Qian’s motive in paying for silence wasn’t really to protect Jiang Yongyan, but rather to prevent the case from escalating and potentially dragging Tianquan City Entertainment City into the mess.

However, the resulting media frenzy not only sabotaged Lu Qian’s containment strategy and wasted his money, but it also likely made him suspect Jiang Minghan had intentionally engineered the negative press against himself.

After all, Jiang Minghan had a reputation for craving prestige and frequently used the media to polish his own image.

Professor Li tapped his fingers together appreciatively. “The Jiangs and Lus have always been closely allied. An operation like this could certainly sow discord between them. If this media contingent truly operated in an organized fashion, the mastermind behind it must possess considerable foresight and intelligence.”

Hong Kong’s crime rate has been alarmingly high lately. Every major case, especially those involving firearms, prompted media frenzies highlighting alleged police incompetence.

Under this constant barrage, public opinion had already begun to sour towards the Force. Most major media outlets were essentially mouthpieces for the city’s powerful families and corporations.

The emergence of a group seemingly willing, even subtly, to favor the police perspective was an opportunity that shouldn’t be missed – potential collaboration needed exploring.

Guan Yingjun added, “When this group showed up for the payoffs, they used IDs from multiple different media companies. They were highly alert; my source hasn’t managed to get a tail on them yet.”

Professor Li, recalling his role as mediator, turned back to Jian Ruochen. “Ruochen? Any thoughts?”

Jian Ruochen was a fast eater; he’d already finished his noodles and was wiping his hands. “Professor,” he requested quietly, “perhaps just ‘Xiao Chen’?”

The full name ‘Ruochen’ inevitably brought to mind Jiang Hanyu’s saccharine way of calling him ‘Brother Ruochen’.

“The police department certainly could use its own friendly media voice,” Jian Ruochen commented thoughtfully. “Public trust in official police communications is low right now. An independent, secular outlet could be crucial for rebuilding that bridge.”

Feeling that the napkin hadn’t quite removed the grease from the lamb, Jian Ruochen stood. “Excuse me, I need to wash my hands. Please, continue enjoying your meal.”

“Go right ahead,” nodded the professor.

Jian Ruochen opened the door and stepped out. From the corridor beyond, the faint sounds of a waiter giving directions and a softly spoken “thank you” could be heard.

After listening for a second, Professor Li sighed with admiration. “Yingjun, that young man, Jian Ruochen… he’s remarkably gifted. To have that kind of perception and judgment at only nineteen… give him time, and he’ll be truly formidable.”

Guan Yingjun let out a short, humorless laugh. “Uncle Li, the only concern is whether his true ambitions align with law enforcement.”

Professor Li countered, “Time will tell. I know you rely solely on your own judgment, Yingjun, but sometimes you need to extend trust to earn it. He assisted Officer Chan in breaking the HKU case, which directly led to the arrest of Jiang Yongyan – someone you’ve wanted for a long time. He’s already provided invaluable help on two fronts.”

Guan Yingjun grunted noncommittally. Jian Ruochen was undeniably bright, his interrogation technique masterful – it had been a huge help.

But, Guan Yingjun knew from experience, clever deep-cover operatives often used conspicuous successes as a way to establish bona fides, a kind of pledge of loyalty.

He himself had done the same in the past. Trusting someone implicitly based on such actions alone felt… naive.

Seeing Guan Yingjun remained stubbornly unconvinced, Professor Li lapsed into silence.

Jian Ruochen returned from washing his hands. As he opened the door to the private room, a palpable silence greeted him.

Professor Li sat off to one side, arms folded, eyelids slightly lowered, lips pursed. He didn’t look particularly happy.

Jian Ruochen blinked, then decided to break the silence. “Sir Guan,” he prompted, “we’ve finished eating now. Shouldn’t we discuss the Jiang Yongyan details now?”

“Very well,” Guan Yingjun replied evenly. “Jiang Yongyan believed it was inevitable you would return to the Jiang household and eventually supplant Jiang Hanyu as the rightful heir. He harbors affection for Jiang Hanyu and couldn’t bear to see him distressed. Consequently, he decided you needed to… disappear.”

He paused briefly before adding, “However, judging from Jiang Yongyan’s statement, the person who stood to gain the most if the plan had succeeded was Jiang Hanyu. I find it difficult to believe Jiang Hanyu was completely ignorant of the scheme.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Jian Ruochen’s mouth. Sir Guan’s suspicious nature extends impartially to everyone, it seems. Fascinating. “Is Jiang Yongyan’s confession sufficient for conviction?”

“It is,” Guan Yingjun confirmed. “Your assistance was pivotal in cracking this case. I’ll ensure a formal letter of commendation is sent to the university administration. You should be able to leverage that to facilitate your transfer between departments.”

Jian Ruochen’s mood soared. Barely arrived in this world, and he’d already put Jiang Yongyan behind bars.

Performance metric: +1.

Guan Yingjun raised his glass slightly. “Jiang Yongyan serves as Jiang Minghan’s chief confidant and right-hand man. He undoubtedly holds numerous secrets vital to our operations across the West Kowloon region. For that lead, again, thank you for your assistance.”

He drained his glass and seemed about to add something further when a knock sounded at the door.

Guan Yingjun swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. “Come in.”

The waiter entered, holding an envelope. His gaze swept the room before landing on Jian Ruochen. “A letter for you, sir.”

Jian Ruochen rose to accept it. “For me?”

Tearing open the envelope, he found an elaborate invitation card inside. Affixed to the front cover were bold Chinese characters, clearly clipped from the newsprint, forming two words: “A GIFT.”

What gift?

Just then, Beep-beep-beep, Guan Yingjun’s work pager began to chirp insistently. He checked the device, his expression hardening as he read the message. He looked grimly at Jian Ruochen. “Trouble. A patrol officer from the Sham Shui Po station has been found dead.”

Jian Ruochen frowned. “Why tell me?”

Guan Yingjun’s gaze was steady. “Because it’s the officer who found Feng Jiaming’s body.”

The color drained from Jian Ruochen’s face.

Could the Jiang Yongyan case… not be closed after all?

But how?

Jiang Yongyan was already in custody; the logic of the case seemed perfectly tied up. Was it possible someone else had been pulling Jiang Yongyan’s strings?

Slowly, Jian Ruochen turned the envelope he held so Guan Yingjun could see it. “I just received this.”

The bold newspaper characters on the invitation’s front were aligned with unnerving precision, the spacing between each identical, as if meticulously measured. The black ink itself seemed unnaturally dark, almost chilling.

Silence descended upon the private dining room, thick and heavy. The earlier ease had evaporated without a trace.