FY - 23

Xue Peng had followed Si Wen’s instructions and contacted the Somali pirates. They had hijacked Zhao Youjin’s ship and taken eight of her people. They didn’t want any share of the loot, only demanding the pirates to significantly increase the ransom for the eight people, preferably to an amount Zhao Youjin couldn’t afford.

But he was overthinking it. Zhao Youjin never intended to ransom those eight people; her mind was completely on her cargo.

Si Wen remained unmoving, as if he hadn’t been the one to propose the idea, and as if he couldn’t solve Zhao Youjin’s predicament.

Xue Peng was anxious; he was used to being agitated and couldn’t calm down. His body was torn between the two outcomes of selling all his goods or being exposed and sentenced to death, a struggle more unbearable than being caught between ice and fire.

He had been warned by Si Wen the last time he called him rashly, so he dared not contact him proactively again. But at least he should give him some news, right?

How much longer would he have to endure this sunless existence in the cave?

________________________________________

Last week, when Si Wen returned from Mexico, Zhao Youjin had already sent someone to show up at his place, but he refused to see them.

He was still seething over her actions towards Zhou Yan.

Originally, his plan was that after the casino incident, Zhao Youjin would seek him out. At that point, he would refuse, and she would undoubtedly try other ways to approach him. Then, Xue Peng would step in as the broker. Zhao Youjin would be the desperate party, and he would be the one holding all the trump cards.

But Zhao Youjin was too impatient, presumptuously going to Zhou Yan first.

Perhaps it was out of jealousy, or perhaps she wanted to use Zhou Yan to control him, but whatever her motive, her actions displeased him. Would someone like him, who would burn everything down, let her off easy?

Now her goods were hijacked, and she finally knew what it felt like to be anxious. So, let her be anxious for a while.

Si Wen drained his glass of wine, then released his hand. The wine glass spun twice in the air before falling to the floor and shattering.

His secretary heard the sound and walked to the glass door: “Sir, is something wrong?”

Si Wen didn’t answer.

The secretary didn’t get a response from Si Wen, but dared not leave.

Si Wen’s temper had worsened recently; he’d smash things at the slightest provocation. A single cup cost over ten thousand, but he didn’t care, smashing them one after another. Yet, despite this, he was meticulous in his work, rarely missing any meetings.

Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals, as a representative of Qizhou’s biomedical technology industrialization, was responsible for the research and development, incubation, and production services of biotechnology drugs for numerous cities between North and Northwest China, its influence radiating across half of Asia.

Its prototype was the Qizhou High-Tech Creative Base, which was very low-key. After transitioning to pharmaceuticals, it swept through the market, directly gaining a monopoly.

Gradually, Si Wen’s status in the pharmaceutical industry soared, and his unpredictable whereabouts, always giving people a sense of elusiveness, added a touch of mystery to his “unattainable” persona.

Later, those in the underworld feared his name.

Zhao Youjin had always been someone who reaped without sowing; she always had so many dogs serving her hand and foot, so her mind was filled with nothing but men.

It was normal for her not to understand Si Wen, and it was also normal for her to be arrogant enough to think she could control him.

But Si Wen couldn’t let her think she truly had that ability.

The secretary outside returned to his post and ordered another batch of limited edition cups online.

Actually, Si Wen didn’t like smashing things; it was just the sound that brought him comfort.

He inadvertently raised his hand. His white shirt was wrinkled, and muscles defined the lines of his arm, appearing clean and smooth. His index finger casually touched his lips, and the not-so-soft sensation reminded him of Zhou Yan.

She had the most satisfying lips to his taste.

He rarely kissed her. He believed that a man, when sober, must know how to say no to temptation.

So, every time, he would take advantage of his lack of sobriety to indulge shamelessly.

Thinking of Zhou Yan, he didn’t realize that his breathing had become much calmer.

It had also been a while since he had seen her, ever since she almost died by his hand again.

________________________________________

Zhou Siyuan’s drug addiction flare-ups had become much less frequent lately.

The doctor said surgery could be postponed. If this medication was effective in controlling his addiction, surgery might not be necessary. After all, addiction surgery involves destroying a specific part of the brain, a part presumed to be highly related to drug addiction.

This procedure has significant side effects, including personality changes and mental abnormalities.

Honestly, Zhou Yan didn’t want to use this method unless absolutely necessary.

Fortunately, Zhou Siyuan was still young and didn’t have a deep understanding of drugs; he only thought he had a very serious, congenital illness.

Since Zhou Yan took him in, removing him from the drug-using environment, his condition had steadily improved.

This week, after the withdrawal treatment ended, Zhou Yan bought Zhou Siyuan some roasted chicken, slow-cooked in an old-fashioned furnace, a specialty of Qizhou.

Zhou Siyuan didn’t seem to like it, only taking two bites.

Zhou Yan wanted to ask him why he wasn’t eating, but she opened her mouth, then closed it again.

That night, she hadn’t responded to what Zhou Siyuan said, and ever since, he’d been a little awkward.

Zhou Yan wished she could tell him, if I leave that bad person, what will I use to buy your expensive medicine? My life? But is life worth anything?

She didn’t. It wasn’t that she wanted to bear this pain herself; it was that she knew these were all excuses.

Zhou Siyuan was pushing her, pushing her to admit that she had found too many reasons to stay by Si Wen’s side.

And too many excuses to refuse other men from getting close.

The roasted chicken was delicious. Zhou Yan ate the rest, forgetting to wipe the grease from the corners of her mouth.

She saw Zhou Siyuan sigh, then fetch a tissue and wipe her mouth.

In the end, it was Zhou Siyuan who compromised.

He couldn’t help but love her, even if she was slowly walking towards death.

________________________________________

Criminal Investigation Division.

Zheng Zhi chewed on a toothpick, his feet propped on the desk, earphones in his ears. This afternoon period was too comfortable.

Wei Lian returned from the police station, took off his police cap, neatly placed it aside, plugged in a USB drive, and spread out the “He Yis” on the desk.

Zheng Zhi spat out the toothpick and looked at him: “You copied another batch?”

Wei Lian replied perfunctorily: “Why are there so many He Yis? Can’t these parents check a dictionary? Chinese characters are countless and profound, do they have to insist on the character ‘一’ (one)?”

Zheng Zhi laughed: “It’s precisely because this name has such a high overlap rate that Fan Chang chose it.”

Wei Lian knew; he was just annoyed.

Zheng Zhi put his legs down and walked over: “I’ll do it. I have a good feeling about this batch.”

Wei Lian initially didn’t want to let go, but when he looked up at the dense pile of personal information, his eyelids twitched, and he gave up his seat.

He went to the windowsill, brought down a succulent plant, and opened the window.

Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette, took two strong drags, and as the nicotine hit him hard, he seemed to see Zhou Yan’s face.

That alluring prostitute.

He had often wondered. His parents ran a business, not big, not small, but more than enough to afford two apartments within the third ring road in Qizhou. He wasn’t ugly, and dedicating himself to the country for years had given him an iron physique. The women who liked him wouldn’t just fill a bus, but certainly a basketball team. So why was he so low, with nothing but a prostitute in his head?

Was this what they often said: a wife is not as good as a concubine, a concubine is not as good as a mistress, a mistress is not as good as one you can’t have, and one you can’t have is not as good as one you can’t buy?

Was men spending money for sexual satisfaction really a trend? Or was it just an obsession with the pleasure of consuming sexual services?

Ever since he discovered his strange preoccupation with Zhou Yan, he had been baffled. The more he couldn’t figure it out, the more she was all he saw, awake or asleep. Her slender waist, long legs, fair skin, and world-weary features haunted his dreams.

Several times he dreamt of making love to her, in various positions, penetrating her in various places.

He was ashamed to admit that as a police officer, a well-educated man, he harbored such dirty and depraved thoughts. He couldn’t even show the slightest hint of jealousy at the sight of Si Wen leading her away.

A man who had dedicated himself to the country, bearing the nation’s trust, how could he disappoint it? He could only suppress himself.

And so, he couldn’t love her, and he wasn’t allowed to love her.

After finishing a cigarette, Zhou Yan should be carried away like a tumor by the tar, right?

Thinking this, he smiled faintly. What a self-deceiving bastard he was.

He pulled out the cigarette pack, preparing to light a second one, when Zheng Zhi suddenly yelled, “Holy crap!”

Frowning: “What’s with the sudden outbursts?”

Zheng Zhi’s hand was trembling: “You’ll never guess who I saw.”

Wei Lian shrugged: “They’re all He Yis, who could it be?”

Zheng Zhi walked up to him, snatched the cigarette from his hand, lit it, took a drag, and exhaled the smoke, as if releasing the pressure of recent days. His expression was dominated by relief.

Wei Lian looked at him: “Who?”

Zheng Zhi couldn’t bring himself to say the name. He pointed towards the computer: “See for yourself.”

Wei Lian was about to kick him for playing coy, but his legs honestly walked over.

The computer screen displayed a citizen’s identity information. On the left column, “Former Name: He Yi” was conspicuously displayed.

His current name was... Si Wen.