Chapter 12: Guan Yingjun’s Breath Catches

Zhang Xingzong snapped his heels together, standing ramrod straight as he saluted crisply. “Yes, sir!”

Ignoring the bed head he’d acquired on the cot, he bolted into the nearby break room, yelling, “Team A, briefing!”

Figures slumped over desks or dozing in chairs inside immediately jolted upright, rubbing bleary eyes underscored by dark circles, their faces masks of exhaustion.

“Zhang Xingzong, what the hell, can’t you make less noise?!” someone grumbled in Cantonese.

“Yeah, man! Nearly gave me a heart attack!” another complained.

“Next time you’re trying to catch some sleep, I swear I’m blasting rock and roll right next to your head…”

Zhang Xingzong just grinned foolishly. “Up, up! Sir Guan actually brought the Professor Li Changyu here! I even got his autograph!”

“He really got him to come?”  

“An autograph? Nice!”

Buzzing with curiosity about the legendary professor, the team members quickly hurried back to their workstations.

Guan Yingjun addressed the assembled team. “This is Professor Li Changyu, formerly with the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit, now teaching at HKU. And beside him is his student, Jian Ruochen.”

Nods were exchanged all around, serving as introductions. A collective thought seemed to ripple through the team: Damn, this student is unbelievably good-looking! Almost androgynous, skin like porcelain, carries himself with striking grace… Exactly the type sicko killers seem to target.

Guan Yingjun tapped the whiteboard, cutting straight to business. “Alright, who’s summarizing the current case?”

Zhang Xingzong immediately volunteered. “I’ll do it, sir.”

Stepping up to the whiteboard, he began, “Our victim is a uniformed beat cop from the Sham Shui Po station, whose patrol covered the area around HKU. He was also the reporting officer who initially discovered the body in the woods homicide case.”

“The vic’s body was found at 11:00 hours today by an elderly street cleaner in the alley behind the Platinum Club, near the university campus. He was in civilian attire when found. The caller reporting the discovery was the finder himself.”

Zhang Xingzong stuck a photo of the elderly cleaner onto the board. The man’s face was deeply lined and tanned dark by years of sun and wind, his back permanently stooped.

“The old fella was clearly panicked when he called it in,” Zhang Xingzong continued. “We’ve interviewed him, but he couldn’t provide much. Initial checks show the deceased officer had no known feuds, so a revenge motive seems unlikely.”

He let out a long sigh. “Essentially, we’re starting from scratch—”

“Not entirely,” Guan Yingjun cut in. “At the exact moment I learned about the patrolman’s death, Jian Ruochen here received this invitation.”

Guan Yingjun pinned the evidence bag holding the invitation card to the board. The four large, stark black characters—A GIFT—immediately drew everyone’s attention.

After summarizing the information obtained from the delivery runner, Guan Yingjun concluded, “There’s a strong probability this invitation is linked to the officer’s murder. Right now, this and the accompanying Platinum Club VIP card are our only significant leads.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Starting an investigation with virtually no leads was standard procedure. It wasn’t uncommon for officers to pour months of relentless work into a case, doggedly re-interviewing potential witnesses, only to come up empty-handed in the end.

Jian Ruochen gazed at the vibrant photo of the murdered officer on the whiteboard, a knot tightening in his chest. A human life, as fragile and fleeting as the downy tip of an autumn hair, could vanish in an instant, yet leave behind a weight as heavy as a mountain pressing down on one’s soul.

After studying the photo for another moment, he spoke abruptly. “Assuming the killer is the sender of this invitation… what’s the motive? Why frame the officer’s murder as ‘a gift’ specifically for me?”

“Good question,” Professor Li nodded, impressed. He gestured for Jian Ruochen to elaborate.

As Jian Ruochen lifted his gaze, he found all eight members of the RCU team staring at him with focused intensity, like a field of sunflowers tracking the sun.

He hesitated briefly, then recited almost automatically, “Individuals with OCD-spectrum anxiety often demonstrate highly specific, directed behaviors. These actions typically serve as an outlet for emotional release and a means of achieving personal gratification.”

Professor Li gave an encouraging thumbs-up. “Very good.”

Inspiration seemed to strike Guan Yingjun. He tapped the table decisively. “Right. So the meticulous cutting and pasting was about presenting a positive image. And using the ‘Cherished Love’ perfume… implies they hoped the recipient would perceive some hidden affection.”

Speaking rapidly now, Guan Yingjun continued, “Targeting the officer who first reported the HKU woods murder… that suggests it’s because the police haven’t formally closed that case or publicized the outcome.”

He went on, “Public speculation is all over the place; some tabloids are still pointing fingers at Jian Ruochen and Chai Jinwu. Our perpetrator might believe that by eliminating the primary witness from that case, they are effectively protecting Jian Ruochen.”

Guan Yingjun released a barely perceptible breath. Good. Doesn’t appear to be any direct link between this new perpetrator and Jiang Yongyan.

Any further complications with the Jiang Yongyan case would extend the prosecution’s pre-trial discovery phase. A longer discovery meant Jiang Yongyan would remain longer in the temporary holding cells at the Sham Shui Po station.

Holding cells lacked the security of a proper correctional facility. Jiang Yongyan couldn’t remain there indefinitely – the RCU still needed leverage over him to potentially uncover evidence related to the wider Jiang family operations. Delays invited unforeseen problems.

Jian Ruochen also felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Sending the invitation right after the killing… probably an attempt to claim credit, using it as a pretext to arrange a meeting with me.”

Zhang Xingzong took a second to digest this, then slapped his thigh. “That makes perfect sense!”

Usually, their cases revolved around painstakingly tracing physical evidence. Tackling it directly from the psychological perspective was new territory!

Just as expected! Professor Li is incredible, and the student he’s mentoring is clearly exceptional too – sharp angles, rapid thinking, brilliant insights!

Zhang Xingzong turned to Guan Yingjun. “So, plan is: stake out the Platinum Club, have Jian Ruochen play along, and basically wait to ambush the guy?”

“Too risky,” Guan Yingjun countered, lighting up again and leaning against the windowsill. “The Platinum Club is too unpredictable inside. We can’t guarantee Jian Ruochen’s safety in that environment.”

He continued, “This perp is careful. That invitation changed hands twice before delivery. Your stakeout plan gives us only one chance. If we blow it, apprehending him later becomes significantly harder.”

Not to mention, what if the suspect decided to harm Jian Ruochen?

“We can’t just sit around doing nothing,” a female officer with folded arms interjected from nearby. “My height and build aren’t too far off from Jian Ruochen’s. What if I go in his place, disguised?”

“That won’t work,” Jian Ruochen immediately countered. He stated calmly, “My hair color is distinctive. Besides, someone with this level of obsessive attention to detail – noticing millimeter discrepancies in character spacing – would absolutely spot a wig or dye job immediately.”

Jian Ruochen paused, then met Guan Yingjun’s eyes directly. “Sir Guan, I can be the lure. My acting isn’t terrible.”

Guan Yingjun tilted his head down slightly, his gaze intense. “Aren’t you afraid he might try to knife you?”

“He won’t succeed,” Jian Ruochen replied with a slight smile. “You wouldn’t let him.”

Guan Yingjun’s breath hitched for a fraction of a second. His face grew solemn. He knew, intellectually, that it was just a clever turn of phrase, a calculated expression of confidence in Guan Yingjun’s abilities, yet he found himself momentarily distracted by it. Jian Ruochen’s knack for subtly influencing emotions was remarkably effective.

Guan Yingjun finished his cigarette in the charged silence, grinding the butt out in a nearby ashtray.

“Fine,” he said decisively. “Plan set.”

He issued instructions, “Attend classes as usual on Friday. Saturday morning, 10 AM sharp, report to West Kowloon HQ. We’ll finalize the operational details for Sunday night then.”

Jian Ruochen nodded his assent.

With the immediate case briefing concluded, Professor Li mentioned needing to stay and catch up with an old colleague at the station. Guan Yingjun, seemingly preoccupied, also appeared to have forgotten about formally introducing Jian Ruochen to the team in his proposed consultant capacity.

Jian Ruochen observed Guan Yingjun for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. He recognized that if he truly wanted to establish himself within this RCU team, he’d need to prove his worth through concrete results and build his own professional authority.

And if Guan Yingjun persisted in his suspicions… well, Jian Ruochen would have to devise a strategy to overcome that skepticism. Otherwise, Guan Yingjun would never regard him as a peer.

Taking his leave of the RCU team, Jian Ruochen headed home alone. After several days without access to a mobile phone (a fixture of his previous life), his hands felt strangely empty, itching to grasp something familiar.

The date was December 5th, 1992. He recalled that the first mobile phone capable of sending text messages had just recently made its debut.

Jian Ruochen hailed a cab and directed it to Hong Kong’s premier electronics market. Deep within its maze of shops, he located what he was looking for: a Nokia 1011. A glance at the price tag showed HK$13,000.

Pocket change, he thought wryly. Compared to the inheritance, it’s less than a drop in the bucket. Haven’t even touched today’s interest earnings. I’ll take two!

Who could pass up the chance to own a piece of history – the world’s first mass-market GSM mobile phone, capable of storing 99 contacts, providing 90 minutes of talk time, and sending SMS messages?

This wasn’t one of those bulky “brick” phones; this was a truly portable device you could slip into a pocket.

Jian Ruochen purchased a phone card, slotted it in, and immediately started experimenting with the keypad, tapping out messages, watching the small pixelated text appear and vanish on the monochrome green-grey screen.

He amused himself with the novelty of it all the way home.

---

The following day, Jian Ruochen awoke to Luo Binwen’s soft knock at his door. Today marked his final day affiliated with the Faculty of Medicine. He first collected the necessary transfer application form from Professor Li. Once completed, he proceeded to the advisor’s office for the Clinical Medicine program, respectfully presenting the form with both hands.

“Professor,” he stated clearly, “I wish to transfer to the Faculty of Social Sciences, to study under Professor Li.”

The advisor stared, silent for a long moment, clearly suspecting she hadn’t heard correctly.

Jian Ruochen added calmly, “And please remove my name from eligibility for this year’s special Faculty of Medicine scholarship.”

The advisor felt a wave of faintness. “But… you’re the top-ranked student in the program! And listed as needing financial assistance! Don’t you need this scholarship funding?”

Jian Ruochen adopted a bashful expression. “Not really, no.”

Academically, aside from maybe psychology, I’m useless in medicine. Financially… well, money’s no object now.

The advisor seemed to be struggling for breath, utterly perplexed. “But why transfer? Doctors earn excellent salaries, command great respect in society… Isn’t that what you want?”

The advisor had barely finished speaking when the campus PA system crackled to life with a brief musical jingle, followed by the resonant, enthusiastic voice of an announcer.

“Today,” the voice declared, “the HKU Faculty of Medicine received a formal letter of commendation from the West Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters! The letter states: ‘On December 2nd, 1992, HKU Faculty of Medicine student Mr. Jian Ruochen provided invaluable assistance to police in the investigation of a heinous crime, ultimately leading to the identification and apprehension of the true culprit responsible for the homicide discovered in the woods near campus…'”

The enthusiastic broadcast continued for a solid ten minutes – eight detailing the case, and two filled with effusive praise for Jian Ruochen’s contribution.

Jian Ruochen would bet his inheritance this flowery prose wasn’t penned by Guan Yingjun. More likely the handiwork of that eager-to-please, seemingly more literate constable, Zhang Xingzong.

The tips of his ears flushing slightly, Jian Ruochen gently placed the transfer form back on the advisor’s desk. “So, Professor… that’s essentially it.”

The advisor stared, completely bewildered.

Was the Jian Ruochen on the radio the same Jian Ruochen she knew? The quiet, timid, solitary student? Could someone like that truly assist in a homicide investigation? Did I hear that right?

A few seconds later, as if for emphasis, the announcer’s enthusiastic voice repeated the entire commendation. The advisor tilted her head back, studying Jian Ruochen’s face intently. Was this the same student she remembered? This version seemed filled with youthful confidence, radiating energy, sharp and assertive?

“Professor?” Jian Ruochen prompted again softly.

After another prolonged silence, the advisor finally asked, “Are you certain you prefer criminal psychology to clinical medicine? Consider this carefully. Students are only permitted one faculty transfer during their studies. Once you make the switch, there’s no changing back.”

“Yes,” Jian Ruochen confirmed without hesitation.

“Very well.” The advisor picked up a pen, uncapped it, and signed the application form. “Don’t forget to prepare for the transfer assessment examination. It takes place after the winter holidays.”

“Thank you, Professor. Goodbye.” Jian Ruochen had gotten what he came for.

---

At the same time, Jiang Hanyu sat distractedly in an AV classroom within the Faculty of Music building, half-listening to the same campus-wide broadcast. The murmurs of nearby classmates buzzed around him.

“Eh? Wasn’t that your brother they were talking about on the radio?”

“Seriously? Him? Does he actually have skills like that?”

“Nah, couldn’t be. Isn’t the rumor that he sleeps his way to good grades? Probably just got the exam answers beforehand, right?”

Ripples of hushed laughter echoed through the tiered classroom as students exchanged knowing, sidelong glances.

Hidden within the sleeves of his shirt, Jiang Hanyu’s hands clenched into tight fists. The Jian Ruochen of the past… when had he ever attracted this kind of attention?!

Grinding his teeth in silent fury, he murmured quietly to those nearby, “I… I wouldn’t know. Father doesn’t permit us to reside in the same house.”

“Well, obviously,” one chimed in knowingly. “Can’t have the illegitimate son living under the same roof as the proper heir, can you?”

Jiang Hanyu dropped his gaze. “Please don’t say that…” he whispered. “He’s not…”

“Ah, don’t stick up for him,” another student advised.

“You’re just too nice.”

“Yeah, show some backbone!”

Jiang Hanyu managed a weak smile, but inwardly his thoughts churned around Jiang Yongyan.

Damn it! Jian Ruochen actually succeeded in getting Yongyan locked up!

Even if Father hadn’t formally recognized Jian Ruochen, they still shared the Jiang name! Jiang Yongyan was his own blood relative!

The Jian Ruochen of the past had yearned so deeply for acceptance and love, practically baring his soul to any Jiang who showed him the slightest kindness… How could he have turned so cold-hearted?

Even if this was some elaborate game of playing hard-to-get, designed to recapture Lu Qian’s or his father’s attention, surely he didn’t need to go to such extremes?

Unable to remain seated, Jiang Hanyu wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck and rushed out towards the medical faculty building.

“I need to find out what’s going on with him,” he tossed back to his classmates. “Could you make my excuses to the solfege tutor? I’ll buy everyone coffee later!”

He sprinted all the way to the entrance of the medical building and waited there anxiously. He stayed until the campus lamps began to glow in the twilight, his face numb and pale with cold, but Jian Ruochen never appeared.

Never having been ignored like this before, Jiang Hanyu kicked the curbstone in frustration. “Where the hell did he go?!”

---

Jian Ruochen, meanwhile, was home. Basking in the pleasant warmth of the villa’s heating, snacking on sweet strawberries, he lounged comfortably on the sofa, watching TV. Pure bliss.

Flipping idly through channels with the remote, Jian Ruochen suddenly stopped. Guan Yingjun was on the screen, dressed sharply in what looked like police ceremonial attire, standing at a podium in what appeared to be a press conference.

Guan Yingjun spoke gravely into the microphones. “We will now provide a public briefing concerning the case of Jiang Yongyan inciting murder. Please direct your questions to the podium.”

Camera flashes popped continuously. A lucky reporter who was called on stood. “Inspector Guan, the swift resolution of this case – is it true, as rumored, that a key witness actively participated in the investigation and provided crucial assistance?”

Not an easy question to answer, Jian Ruochen thought. Guan Yingjun likely wouldn’t be entirely forthcoming; admitting reliance on civilian help could be seen as acknowledging departmental shortcomings, earning him flak later.

Guan Yingjun replied curtly, “Yes. However, to protect the privacy of the individual involved, no further details will be released. Next question.”

Jian Ruochen raised an eyebrow, sitting up straighter on the sofa.

Guan Yingjun was actually admitting it? Interesting.

Biting the tip off a strawberry, he turned to Luo Binwen, who stood attentively nearby. “Butler Luo, what do you imagine Lu Qian’s reaction will be when he sees this public statement?”

Luo Binwen pondered briefly. “I suspect he wouldn’t have dared imagine such an outcome.” He elaborated with quiet satisfaction, “Not only did his attempts to buy silence fail spectacularly, but the police have now publicly showcased the case as a major success, boosting their own stats. If Lu Qian doesn’t lose his mind over this, I don’t know who would.”

The butler smoothly shifted topics. “Young Master, about tomorrow night… are you certain about going to that club? How do you intend to play your part alongside the police?”

Isn’t a place like that rather… extreme for my naive, lovesick Young Master? Will he be able to handle it? Luo Binwen worried inwardly.

Holding the plate of strawberries, Jian Ruochen thought for a moment, then said, “First, let’s get ten male models?”