Chapter 91: Taking the Initiative

Liu Jingye headed straight to the parking lot, and all he could see were sleek black sedans.

“Hmph. They all look like standard models from the outside,” Liu Jingye snorted coldly, “but their interiors are all over the top. That Volkswagen Phaeton was clearly designed for the mainland.”

He couldn’t drive, but he loved cars with the sort of devotion that came from the marrow.

The Secretary-General’s car was a black Volkswagen Passat sedan, its license plate ending in three—a sure sign of his rank in the office compound.

Liu Jingye walked on while chewing a wad of gum, then slipped a horn-like gadget from his pocket: a wiretap he had just bought in the electronics market. Wiretaps and pinhole cameras could be bought just about anywhere, though they were a little expensive. Even so, these homemade pieces worked well enough; their range topped out at about five hundred meters and were ideal for catching illicit affairs.

He pulled out a rough, unfinished-looking car key, clipped it to the keyring, turned it leftward at about thirty degrees, then slammed his right palm down hard onto the keyring as his left hand continued to twist. The door lock clicked open instantly.

He had opened locks like that countless times. At one point he had even thought he could make a fortune doing professional lockpicking.

Inside the government compound, no vehicle carried an alarm system—no foolhardy thief would risk stealing there anyway—and that made Liu’s job all the easier.

After opening the door, he spat out the gum, tucked the wiretap into it, and tucked it beneath the windshield-wiper control stalk. The rainy season had passed; clear skies had reigned for weeks, and no one would think to touch the wipers. The whole operation took seconds. He shut the car, turned away—and just as he did, the world seemed to go dark. Someone blocked his path.

He looked up. A heavily made-up, extravagantly dressed young woman stood before him.

“Are you Liu Jingye?”

She was pretty, at least by cosmetic standards, and dripping in gold and silver, clearly living well. Liu gave her a hard look, then frowned in recognition.

“It’s me—Wang Meichen,” she said, pointing to her own nose with a smile.

“Oh. So it’s you. It’s been ages,” Liu said, suddenly remembering. “I remember now—you’re my old classmate. We sat beside each other in high school.” His face softened. “You’ve changed a lot. You used to wear your hair in a ponytail and always in uniform.”

At once he was pulled back to those green years—the carefree span before an eight-year military career stole too many of his best days.

“And you’ve changed, all right,” Wang Meichen said, her tone edged with sarcasm.

At her expression and her tone, Liu saw through it instantly. She was looking to parade herself, to show him how far above him she had climbed.

There’s an old saying: if you hold a reunion for nothing, sooner or later one old classmate pair gets split and another forms. It fits when, after years, former classmates reunite—some successful, some not. Faded adolescent feelings, stirred up by present-day wealth, can turn easily into scandal.

Now even reunions had become stages for bragging, stripped of their old innocence.

“Ha. I’m still the same person—just driftwood, living from hand to mouth, waiting to die,” Liu said, all charm gone. He answered with a dismissive line and turned to leave.

But Wang Meichen blocked him. “Don’t rush off. We old classmates barely get to meet. Let’s at least talk. You’re here for repairs, aren’t you? What workshop are you working at? My husband is the dispatch officer for the bureau’s car unit. One word from him and every official car in town will be sent to your shop. Plenty of grease money in it, I’ll tell you.”

“No need to bother,” Liu said quickly. “I’m just a daily-wage hand. I’m just trying to get by.”

Wang Meichen was in no mood to let him go. These days, when someone doing well meets someone who is not, the successful one always drags the other along to exhibit superiority. She planted herself in his way and said, “What’s the rush? Let me have my husband call yours. Your workshop owner will show you respect.”

For the first time, Liu felt a real hatred for a woman. He wanted to punch her. Holding back his rage, he said, “Actually, I’m not here for work. I’m going to find my wife. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Oh, you’re married too?” Wang Meichen said, almost smugly. “What does your wife do? A waitress? A street vendor?”

Liu’s temper snapped. In his eyes there was no “man” or “woman,” only allies and enemies.

Then, from behind them, came a clear, sweet, sharp voice: “Honey, what are you dawdling for? Come on, let’s go.”

“That voice is familiar,” Liu thought, turning. A woman in military-style attire strode up, broad-brimmed cap on her head, police badge glinting, two silver bars and two four-pointed stars on her shoulders marking a second-rank police supervisor.

Even ignoring rank, her beauty was striking—bright, graceful, almost innocent—and even Wang Meichen froze.

Yuan Xiaoying stepped to Liu’s side. “Hey, husband, who is this beauty?”

At hearing her called “beauty,” Wang Meichen turned beet-red. Who in front of Yuan Xiaoying would dare to claim that title? Worse, this was no ordinary woman—an unmistakably stunning, not-low-ranking police officer—calling Liu Jingye “husband.” Wang’s face went pale.

She could nearly bite through her own tongue. Seeing how naturally Yuan leaned into Liu, arm against his, and noting the grime on his hands, Wang could only guess what their relationship was.

In an instant Liu’s fury drained away, replaced by sudden sweetness. Like a roller coaster, his mood flipped. He nearly blurted an impulse to kiss Yuan’s face.

“I just ran into an old classmate,” he said, smiling. “Just a few words.”

Yuan extended her hand with easy grace. “Oh, an old classmate? Nice to meet you. I’m Station Chief Yuan Xiaoying of Heping Road Police Station.”

Wang Meichen looked as if struck by lightning, embarrassed and speechless, wishing she could disappear.

Liu, by contrast, was thrilled by the sudden reversal. He’d never thought a perfect turn of fate could feel so thrilling.

Just then a man came over, eyeing the four of them curiously. Wang hurriedly called, “Brother Zhang, you’re leaving?”

“Yes. I’m going to Ningyuan County to pick up the Secretary-General,” he said. Then, as if remembering something, “By the way, tell your husband not to move my car tomorrow. He and the Secretary-General may inspect another county.”

He walked straight into the car behind Liu and drove away.

“So that was Zhang He, the Secretary-General’s driver?” Liu thought. “If Yuan Xiaoying hadn’t happened to be beside me in that eye-catching police uniform, he might have started to suspect me.”

Wang gave him one look. She had come to show off, and now she was the one who had been publicly outshone. Too ashamed to stay, she turned and left.

Yuan watched her go. “Who is she?” she asked. “And why block you like that, as if to make you feel small? Your standards are that bad?”

Liu shrugged and gave a wry smile. “She was my classmate in high school. We used to sit next to each other.”

“What? Sit next to each other?” Yuan snapped, grabbing his wrist as if to drag the truth out of him.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” he said quickly. “We were only classmates.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I swear.” Liu eased out of her grip. “Sister, let go. This is the police compound and you’re in uniform. If anyone sees, it’ll be misunderstood.”

“What, was she your first crush back in your youthful days?” Yuan asked.

“She barely deserves that,” Liu scoffed.

“Then tell me—who is prettier, her or me?”

“Of course, you.”

“And am I prettier than your first girlfriend?”

“Undoubtedly you.”

“Don’t tell me you said you’ve never dated anyone…”

“Sis, you have to follow the rules here.”

The two of them bickered, and for all the place was a public office compound, they displayed their affection in a wonderfully unrestrained way. Yuan, after all, was in police uniform, and there’s no order against a female officer showing her affection with her boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Liu kept one eye on the cars. Zhang He drove off slowly, no sign of suspicion. He did not notice the device hidden under the wiper control, but the cheap gadget was barely more than a toy: beyond five hundred meters, it picked up nothing. Liu had to keep his distance.

“What are you doing here?” Liu asked Yuan.

She shook the file in her hand and answered, “I came to get the leadership’s signatures on transfer orders and appointment papers. And I almost forgot—I have to take up my post right away. Anyway, not now. If you ever have business around Heping Road—household registration, replacement second-generation ID cards, half a temporary residence permit, anything—you come see me. I can handle it.”

Yuan said this and hurried off, climbing into her official car. In an instant she seemed to become the youngest female station chief this city had ever had.

Liu mounted his little scooter, marked Zhang He’s direction, and immediately followed him at speed while slipping on his headset.