Chapter 7: Professor Li Doesn’t Fall for That

Jian Ruochen froze. The camera had perfectly captured the moment he was wiping Huo Jinze’s tears—along with the cool detachment, bordering on indifference, visible in his eyes at that exact moment.

Since when did the 90s have cameras this clear?! If he’d known he was being filmed for later scrutiny, he would have fully committed to the sympathetic act while questioning Huo Jinze! The whole transmigration business was baffling enough, but now… would Professor Li think him unprofessional?

Jian Ruochen clutched the small gift bag tighter, his regret momentarily visible. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the barest flicker of amusement on Guan Yingjun’s lips.

Today, Guan Yingjun was dressed down in a loose-fitting, light grey V-neck cashmere sweater. The drawstring of black sweatpants peeked out from beneath the hem, and he wore grey-blue sneakers.

Drab style, Jian Ruochen assessed, makes him look even more dangerous. Best not to provoke him for now… Jian Ruochen subtly shuffled a step to the side, increasing the distance between himself and Guan Yingjun.

Professor Li had just finished viewing the recording when he looked up to see the very subject of the video subtly edging towards the exit. Today, the youth was dressed neatly. A pristine white puffer jacket enclosed his slim form, its hood edged with a fluffy fur trim. His face was half-buried in the jacket’s collar, the lower portion completely obscured.

The visible upper part of his face was flushed pink from the warmth inside the office. His round amber eyes, tilted slightly up at the corners, openly displayed a mixture of chagrin and surprise. He looked like such a proper, clean-cut young man.

Neither the professor nor Guan Yingjun broke the silence. Jian Ruochen decided he’d have to make the first move.

He stepped forward, gift bag in hand. “Professor Li, good morning. My name is Jian Ruochen. I saw the announcement about your plans to launch a new criminal psychology program here, and I wanted to come and pay my respects.” He placed the gift bag gently on the desk near the professor’s hand. “Since this is our first meeting, I wasn’t certain of your preferences, so I took the liberty of selecting a small tea tray ornament.”

He scratched his cheek lightly with a bent finger before getting straight to the point. “I was wondering… what did you think after viewing that recording? You see, I have a keen interest in criminal psychology, but I haven’t had the chance for systematic study. Now that you’re establishing this program, I feel I absolutely must seize this opportunity. Transfer majors as soon as possible while still in my first year… I hope perhaps I might be worthy of becoming one of your students?” He added the last part with a hopeful, almost pleading lilt.

Thanks to Guan Yingjun bringing that tape, I didn’t even need a formal introduction! What a godsend!

Seated on the visitor’s sofa, Guan Yingjun noted the deliberately sweet, upward lilt on the final syllable – a clear attempt to sound endearing.

Professor Li had encountered more criminals than most people had eaten grains of rice; he was renowned for his incorruptible integrity. Numerous suspects had attempted bribery over the years, all unsuccessfully. Would he really fall for this act? Guan Yingjun thought skeptically.

Professor Li accepted the gift bag with a warm smile, peering inside. “Ah, a little tea pet! Is it a persimmon?”

Jian Ruochen explained, “Persimmons symbolize ‘everything going as you wish’. Just a little something for good luck.”

Hong Kong etiquette tended towards British norms, and Professor Li himself had spent time in the US; neither culture practiced the elaborate, polite refusal of gifts common in some other parts of Asia. True to form, the professor unwrapped it immediately. After admiring the small clay persimmon, he placed it fondly on the tea tray already sitting on his desk, clearly quite taken with it.

Guan Yingjun cleared his throat. He looked pointedly at the professor. “Teacher Li,” he reminded him, “you still haven’t addressed my earlier concerns.”

Someone this suspicious is hardly suitable student material.

“Patience, patience,” Professor Li replied without looking up, already fiddling with the office electric kettle, clearly eager to give his new tea pet its first ‘drink’.

The professor gestured towards Jian Ruochen. “Have a seat on the sofa there. We’ll talk in detail shortly.”

The disparity in his treatment of the two visitors was palpable.

Jian Ruochen smiled and nodded, heading towards the indicated sofa. The reception area held just two pieces of seating: a single armchair, currently draped with a leather jacket and accompanied by a leather briefcase leaning against it – obviously the professor’s spot – and a two-seater sofa.

Left with no alternative, Jian Ruochen sat down on the sofa next to Guan Yingjun.

The sofa wasn’t very wide, and cramped further by a glass coffee table in front. Guan Yingjun, with his long limbs, couldn’t comfortably stretch out and had resorted to sitting with his legs angled slightly apart. As Jian Ruochen settled onto the cushion, his knee inadvertently brushed against Guan Yingjun’s leg.

The fleeting contact was slightly uncomfortable. Guan Yingjun frowned, shifted, removed the small cushion supporting his lower back, and scooted back slightly, managing to put a few more centimeters between them.

It was a futile gesture. Jian Ruochen’s puffy jacket took up space, making him seem like a fluffy cotton ball nestled into the sofa, and the edge of the coat still brushed against Guan Yingjun’s side, radiating a steady warmth.

Guan Yingjun suddenly found the air in the room rather close. He slid a hand into his pocket, fingers brushing against his cigarette case.

Jian Ruochen noticed immediately. “Thinking of having a cigarette?”

As Jian Ruochen turned his head slightly towards him, Guan Yingjun’s personal scent seemed to intensify. That black tea note was potent – deep and resonant without being harsh, yet it seemed to bore directly into his senses with an almost aggressive intimacy.

Jian Ruochen voiced his confusion. “You don’t drink black tea, yet you carry its scent. Why is that?”

Guan Yingjun hadn’t planned on responding, but Jian Ruochen tilted his head inquiringly as he spoke, closing the small distance between them even further.

Fine, just answer, Guan Yingjun thought. Then maybe he’ll turn his head back.

Guan Yingjun stated flatly, “They’re black tea-flavored cigarettes.”

So that explained the tea fragrance. Guan Yingjun must be fairly wealthy; a pack of those niche cigarettes probably cost 200 HKD at least. Two hundred dollars in the nineties…

Jian Ruochen suddenly changed tack. “You’re not actually attached to the Sham Shui Po station, are you?”

Guan Yingjun shot him a sideways look but didn’t answer. The silence stretched. For a moment, the only sounds in the office were the hum of the air conditioner and Professor Li pottering about with the kettle.

After a pause, Guan Yingjun finally asked, “How did you figure that out?”

“Inspector Guan,” Jian Ruochen answered readily. “A person’s attire and accessories often provide clues about their background and salary. While the pay at Sham Shui Po might support Inspector Guan’s clothing budget, it certainly wouldn’t stretch to cover half a pack of premium tea cigarettes daily.”

Clothes last; cigarettes are burned through.

Professor Li, having finished preparing the hot water, overheard this as he approached with the tea tray. He chuckled appreciatively. “Nicely deduced. Seeing the larger picture from the minute details. Guan Yingjun here is Team Leader for the West Kowloon Regional Crime Unit.”

Jian Ruochen rose to help the professor set down the tea tray, remarking casually, “That’s impressive.”

Guan Yingjun, impassive as ever, frowned slightly. “Uncle Li,” he began, clearly displeased. How could you just state my position outright? Jian Ruochen was already on guard around me. Now that he knows who I am, how am I supposed to probe any further?

Professor Li poured a cup of tea, setting it in front of Guan Yingjun. “I’ve reviewed all the footage you brought. I see no problems. You, my boy… are far too suspicious.”

The professor sighed, then advised kindly but firmly, “I understand that your time undercover changed you. But that assignment is finished. You need to try and live a normal life again.”

Jian Ruochen discreetly tuned his ears, eager to catch any juicy backstory.

“Let’s drop it, Uncle Li.” Guan Yingjun slowly finished the cup of green tea the professor had poured, then rose to collect the videotape from the playback machine.

He picked up his trench coat from where he’d left it. “Uncle Li, let’s set aside the video discussion for now. Have you given any more thought to joining the West Kowloon RCU as a criminal psychology consultant?”

Jian Ruochen glanced between Guan Yingjun and Professor Li. Clearly, their relationship went deeper than just professional colleagues.

Still, Jian Ruochen mused, even if you’re asking a favor from someone you know well, you should show some proper courtesy. If I were asking, I’d at least bring some decent tea. Just asking verbally can turn a sure thing into a non-starter.

Besides, Professor Li had presumably left a prestigious position in the States to teach in Hong Kong. That strongly suggested his passion lay in academia, not police consultancy. If he’d wanted to work with law enforcement, why not stay in the US?

Sure enough, Professor Li waved off Guan Yingjun’s offer. “My desire is to teach. Here at home, the field of criminal psychology is still in its infancy. Other countries are far more advanced. It’s high time we started nurturing our own experts.”

Guan Yingjun didn’t mince words. “Criminal psychology isn’t prioritized here. The career prospects are limited. Besides West Kowloon, no other district command would even consider adding such a specialist to the payroll for seemingly little return.” He paused before adding pointedly, “Uncle Li… you may find yourself unable to attract any students.”

The professor remained unperturbed. He simply cocked his chin towards Jian Ruochen. “What about this one right here?”

Jian Ruochen’s face instantly brightened, his eyes crinkling with joy. “Professor Li! Does that mean you’ll accept me?”

He picked up the teapot respectfully with both hands and poured Guan Yingjun another cup, adding with deliberate sweetness, “And I owe sir Guan a special thanks for providing Professor Li with that videotape for review.”

Guan Yingjun mentally scoffed. Trying to provoke me on purpose, are we?

His gaze locked onto the youth’s smiling, fox-like eyes as he accepted the offered cup and downed the tea in a single gulp. To remain this self-possessed under repeated scrutiny… his composure is extraordinary. And he was only nineteen…

Professor Li turned back to Guan Yingjun. “Jian Ruochen clearly possesses broad knowledge and a solid foundation. You were looking for a consultant, weren’t you? Recruit him. I’ll teach him everything he needs, groom him for your use. That way, I get to fulfill my ambition of educating the next generation, and your West Kowloon RCU gets its advisor.”

Guan Yingjun initially wanted to object. But then he reconsidered. While Jian Ruochen was undoubtedly suspicious, he was also undeniably talented. His interrogation skills alone were superior to anyone else’s in the entire West Kowloon district.

Hong Kong was currently in a state of flux, a turbulent mix of the legitimate and the criminal – a chaotic period. Guan Yingjun was too busy to realistically keep Jian Ruochen under constant surveillance, yet simply ignoring him was impossible. Taking everything into account, keeping Jian Ruochen close where he could be monitored seemed, strangely enough, the most practical approach.

First step: determine if this Jian Ruochen has had plastic surgery or is an imposter. He recalled asking his aunt once; she’d claimed the best way to spot extensive cosmetic surgery was to observe how someone eats. Apparently, individuals with full facial work often had limited muscle mobility, making actions like chewing large bites look stiff and unnatural. He needed to observe Jian Ruochen eating.

Guan Yingjun checked his watch once more. “Uncle Li, are you hungry? Shall we go to Royal Gourmet for brunch? My treat.”

Then, turning to Jian Ruochen, he added, “You’ll join us. We’ll consider it your acceptance banquet.”

Jian Ruochen made a small sound of protest. “If it’s my acceptance meal, surely I should be the one treating, not you?”

If he hadn’t already pegged Guan Yingjun as someone who couldn’t be bothered with social subtleties, he might suspect the man was intentionally setting him up to spend money.

Suggesting Royal Gourmet, of all places!

Thank goodness he was loaded now; otherwise, he’d be sorely tempted to land a couple of good punches on Guan Yingjun.

Standing there in the climate-controlled office, Guan Yingjun, having put his trench coat back on, was already feeling sweat prickle across his back after only a few minutes. His voice slightly rough, he reasoned, “Think of me as the facilitator here. Without that tape I provided, Uncle Li wouldn’t have made his decision so swiftly. You poured tea for me; it’s only right that I reciprocate by hosting the meal.”

Jian Ruochen was rendered momentarily speechless again.

The sheer shamelessness of some people in this world truly knows no bounds.

No wonder you heard gangsters quip in old HK films: “Some cops? Take off the uniform, put on street clothes, and they act worse than any triad boss.”

“Fine,” Jian Ruochen conceded, readjusting the yellow scarf around his neck. His voice was slightly muffled as he added dryly, “It would be rude to decline your generosity, then.”

Professor Li chimed in mischievously, “That’s the spirit! Once we’re there, make sure to order the shark fin congee first. Bankrupt him so he can’t afford those fancy cigarettes!”

---

Once outside the building, Guan Yingjun fished one of the slim tea cigarettes from his pocket, placed it between his lips, and struck a match to light it. Detective work was draining; cops often smoked to keep sharp.

A sudden gust of wind carried the smoke towards Jian Ruochen. Guan Yingjun flicked his wrist to extinguish the match, then waved a hand to disperse the smoke drifting near Jian Ruochen’s face.

“My car’s parked out by the main university entrance,” he said as they started walking. “It’s a short walk.”

Jian Ruochen jammed his hands together in his pockets. “Mm.”

“It’s freezing out here!” Professor Li bustled. “Let’s get moving.”

Bundled up in multiple layers, Jian Ruochen resembled a puffy marshmallow bobbing along in the wind as he walked. His white hair and white jacket made the pale-yellow scarf stand out vividly against the backdrop.

Conspicuous enough that Jiang Hanyu, waiting near the university gate, noticed that flash of pale yellow instantly. Soft, warm yellow.

Jiang Hanyu’s eyes flickered over the tall, smoking man flanking Jian Ruochen before he stepped forward. “Brother,” he called out tentatively. His voice, neither loud nor soft, seemed to die in the chilly air before reaching its target. Jian Ruochen didn’t appear to hear.

Jiang Hanyu quickly moved to intercept him, planting himself directly in Jian Ruochen’s path. “Brother Ruochen!”

Jian Ruochen halted and looked up.