Chapter 362: Hold Onto Your Anger

Another rainy day; Wang Yan rose early as usual, lay in the pavilion all morning, and at seven, he got up and returned to his room to knock on two doors.

Inside, a rustling sound arose; soon after, several little brats ran out and lined up in the spacious living room.

Wang Yan shook his head and walked to his fourth son, Wang Ze, took off his half-sleeve shirt, turned it over, and put it back on him: "Look at how you're wearing that shirt—why the rush? And your shoes—change them yourself."

"I'm afraid I'll fall behind, Dad," Wang Ze said, sitting on the floor to swap his shoes left and right, grinning.

He ruffled the boy's head, then stepped forward: "Alright, kids, let's exercise with Dad."

He was laying a foundation for the children, teaching them his many-revised version of the children's fitness routine—primarily for seven-year-old Xiao Bai and five-year-old Xiao Yue; the third and fourth sons were just tag-alongs, barely four years old, tagging along to play.

If he didn't take them along, they'd always feel their father was secretly teaching their older siblings some legendary martial art, and burst into tears. Watching the disciplined, meticulous practice of the eldest and second child, then the clumsy, wobbling imitation and goofy grins of the third and fourth—it was perfect.

As they trained, a knock came at the door; though the nanny was busy preparing breakfast in the kitchen, Wang Yan, seated on the sofa, didn't move—only gave the third son a glance, and the fourth dashed off first. He was deeply resentful: why was he the third? He never called his brother "older brother," only "Third" or "A Chang," sticking to his own principles…

Soon, both sons' voices rang out together: "Uncle Zhu."

"Haha, you two little rascals up so early? Good kids," Zhu Youzi hugged them both as he entered, nodding at Wang Yan: "Brother Yan."

Wang Yan grunted, ignored him, and kept watching the children train.

Zhu Youzi had no urgent business and sat quietly beside the dining table, waiting for breakfast.

After the children finished exercising, Wang Yan took them to the bathroom to wash up, then everyone sat down together for breakfast.

As for Young Lady Bai… she was still in bed. The children were older now; she was thoroughly liberated. When the maternal warmth surged, she doted on them; when it didn't, she didn't bother. It wasn't that she didn't love her children—she was a Young Lady too.

The eldest and second child were already in school; seeing their older siblings go to school and make friends, the third and fourth no longer wanted to stay home—they'd gotten restless. So though they were still young, they'd been sent to kindergarten too, and the house was much quieter.

Zhu Youzi ate heartily, smiling as he watched the little competitors: "Brother Yan, the daughter of Luo Xiufen is fine now—she's out of danger."

"Hmm, were the reporters arranged?"

"Arranged. They should be on their way to Yuen Long now."

"The story hits the papers this afternoon—get the manpower ready. Don't let anything go wrong."

"Don't worry, Brother Yan."

Seeing he said no more, Zhu Youzi didn't press further, enjoying his breakfast. After eating, he received a few final instructions and left to handle his duties…

Since becoming Chief Superintendent, Wang Yan's office moved to the Kowloon Regional Police Headquarters. He no longer held the post of Sha Tin Chief Inspector—it was left vacant. At his level, unlike before as Chief Inspector, all subordinate inspectors would voluntarily hand over their major earnings. Lan Gang, Han Sen, and Li Yiwen did the same—they held no local inspector posts, and personally delivered their bribes to Zhu Youzi.

After dropping the four children at their schools, Wang Yan rarely went to the police station—but today he went. Along the way, he greeted the various Chinese officers, then entered his large office there.

He could have worked at headquarters—there was an office for him there too—but since he lived in Kowloon Tong, he rarely went.

Sipping tea brewed by his subordinate, Wang Yan picked up the phone and dialed the Sham Shui Po Police Station.

"Hello? This is Wang Yan."

"Oh, Brother Yan, Uncle is out fishing. Anything urgent? I'll go find him and get him to call you back?"

That old bastard still knows how to enjoy life… Wang Yan shook his head: "No need. You do the same—pull all the files on foreign military personnel who've committed crimes, pick out the most serious cases, and wait for my call."

"Yes, Brother Yan."

After hanging up, Wang Yan called Lei Luo at the Yau Ma Tei Police Station. Same thing—Lei Luo hadn't arrived yet; probably home with the kids. Last month, A Xia gave birth to another girl; they now had four children—three boys before, and finally a daughter, which Lei Luo doted on endlessly.

As for work, he didn't avoid it—he just came late, or popped in briefly. The police stations across the territory were running smoothly, thugs were behaving, and major incidents were rare.

Originally, Lei Luo should have been transferred to Central District, but since Yau Ma Tei brought in more money and he didn't need to show off status, he was stationed there to earn more.

Wang Yan gave the same instructions to the officer who answered, telling them to gather files on foreign crimes for later use. Meanwhile, outside the San Tin Military Camp, a scene unseen for years reappeared.

*Snap…*

Wang Shenghong's ears rang instantly; his face burned with pain. The blow was powerful—he felt his teeth loosen. Sensing the metallic taste on his tongue, he turned and spat out blood.

Since becoming Chief Inspector, he hadn't endured such humiliation in years. This slap reminded him of the days he climbed upward. But the moment demanded no reflection—he buried the feeling deep, vowing to recall it later.

He straightened his body, facing the towering foreigner in British Army combat gear, wearing a cap, with yellow eyes, pale blond hair, a high nose, and a mocking glint in his gaze: "Captain Braun, are you certain you won't hand over the two perpetrators?"

The Chinese interpreter beside him dutifully translated Wang Shenghong's words—he'd brought the interpreter himself.

"What tone is that? You damn yellow monkey, what the hell are you?" Captain Braun kicked Wang Shenghong over, pulled his sidearm, bent down, and pressed the barrel to his head: "Listen well—I don't care who you are. You have no authority to enter our camp and arrest our men. Even if they did wrong, our soldiers won't be tried by you—only a military court can judge them. Understood? If you dare come back, I'll blow your head off. Now get out."

As he spoke, he fired a shot into the ground behind Wang Shenghong—stones flew up. Then he kicked the seated man hard, sending him sprawling. He spat on the ground, reholstered his pistol, and strode off arrogantly.

"Are you alright, Chief?" As the foreigner left, his subordinates rushed forward to help Wang Shenghong up.

Coughing twice, Wang Shenghong winced, rubbing his chest, touching his swollen face, glaring at the retreating back of the foreigner, and spat a bloody wad: "Let's go."

He hadn't expected Luo Xiufen to really go to Wang Yan. He hadn't expected Wang Yan to actually intervene—not just intervene, but send him here to demand the men.

Big brother really is big brother—truly powerful. One phone call to his home, no extra words, just: "Come get them this morning." Said to fight hard, show our stance. The result? Three slaps, two kicks, and a gun pointed at his head.

He didn't want to come—but he had no choice. Honestly, he felt disappointed, even wronged. Because of the Dragon Tower Factory's presence here, he was among the first to be infiltrated. Now that Big Brother has risen so high, an old-timer like him is stuck in this no-profit corner—heartbreaking.

But he only thought it for a moment—after all, precedent exists. It's only because this place brings little profit that he hasn't been eliminated yet—if it were lucrative, he might've been dead last time.

Thinking this, he groaned all the way back to the station in the car—he wanted others to see how seriously he took this. On one hand, defending the Chinese; on the other, carrying out superior orders. As the saying goes: the crying child gets the milk.

But before he could play the victim, he'd barely reached the station entrance when he saw Zhu Youzi leaning against a car, smoking, talking through the window. Behind them stood an ambulance, with medics waiting.

Hearing the car, Zhu Youzi turned, waved at the vehicle, and the driver smoothly shifted gears and drove off.

Zhu Youzi waved to the medics behind him, who pushed a stretcher, waiting until Wang Shenghong's car stopped. He gestured: "Quick, save him."

As he spoke, he yanked open the car door, dragged Wang Shenghong—who was about to greet him—from the back seat, and the medics followed, lifting him onto the stretcher.

Wang Shenghong was stunned—he couldn't process it until the stretcher jolted, shaking him awake. He looked at Zhu Youzi, who walked beside him: "Brother Zhu…"

"Chief Wang, you're badly injured. Don't talk."

Wang Shenghong looked confused, but Zhu Youzi was Dragon Tower's chief manager and Wang Yan's top lieutenant—so he swallowed his questions. Whatever Zhu Youzi said, he'd obey. Thinking this, he even cooperated by screaming loudly, as if he'd die any second.

Since Zhu Youzi arrived, everyone at the station had noticed—especially with the ambulance. Curiosity is universal; they'd all been watching. Now, seeing their own chief carried away, they were baffled—and their gossip flames burned fiercely.

Zhu Youzi helped the medics load Wang Shenghong into the ambulance. Watching it speed off, he turned to the officers who'd accompanied Wang to the camp, all equally confused: "The foreigners went too far—Chief Wang is badly hurt. Remember that."

They nodded vigorously like chickens pecking rice. One bolder officer asked: "Brother Zhu, is something big happening?"

"Why did Chief Wang go to the foreigners?"

"Didn't two foreign devils rape a fourteen-year-old girl?"

"Are you angry?"

"How could I not be angry, Zai-ge? The foreigners are bullying us too much. Fourteen years old—that's how old my Miss is. Damn it, I really want to kill them."

"Very good, just like that, keep it up." Zhu Youzai patted his shoulder with satisfaction: "Comfort the brothers, then go back and write a report on today's events and send it to Brother Yan. Also, dig out all the case files of the foreigners' crimes over the years, then wait for word from above."

That man's eyes went wide: "Is it Brother Yan who wants…"

"Hmm?" Zhu Youzai gave a very imposing, stern glare: "Go do it."

"Yes, Zai-ge." That man was startled with a shiver, and hurriedly, obedient as could be, led a few others to turn around and run into the police station, shooing away all the officers who had gathered to watch the excitement.

Those who could go out on jobs with Wang Shenghong were naturally his trusted confidants. This one, with the bigger guts, was a Senior Detective Sergeant, and his authority here was still sufficient.

Watching the police station settle back into quiet, Zhu Youzai got in the car and left…

Two hours later, at half past eleven in the morning, in the Chief Chinese Detective's office at the Kowloon General District Police Headquarters, Wang Yan received a copy of the Luo Xiufen case file sent over from the Yuen Long Police Station, a detailed report on this morning's events outside the San Tin Barracks, and Wang Shenghong's injury report.

After reading through the three documents in detail and confirming there were no problems, Wang Yan picked up the phone on the desk and called headquarters—the office of the Head of the Criminal Investigation Department, William.

"Hello? Chief? This is Wang Yan. Do you have time at noon? Let me buy you lunch."

"There's something I need to report to you."

"Alright, see you in a bit."

Hanging up the phone, he stood, straightened his shirt, let down his rolled-up sleeves and buttoned them, smoothed the creases on his trousers, took his briefcase containing the three documents, and left the police station. He went out, got in the car, drove to the harbor, and took a ferry across the harbor.

An hour later, Wang Yan and William sat facing each other at a table in a Western restaurant.

After the two clinked glasses and took a sip of wine, William, this English gentleman, looked speechlessly at the steak in front of Wang Yan that had already been cut up by the chef, shook his head, and elegantly carved his own steak: "Wang, I know you're very busy. I don't know what important matter you have for me this time?"

He was hoping Wang Yan had something that required him to exercise his authority, because then he could make money. Although he got a share of the fees from Hong Kong and Kowloon, there were so many people he had to split it with that he, as the department head, didn't have much either. Compared to helping Wang Yan with things, going to participate in the various wholesome, rewarding activities of the Dragon Soaring Organization was far more lucrative. He had to admit that, most of the time, he was very willing to do Wang Yan favors.

"It's about the garrison soldiers." Wang Yan swallowed the meat in his mouth, first laid out the key issue for him, then took a big gulp of wine to wet his throat, and began: "It's like this, Chief. Seven days ago, two soldiers from the San Tin Barracks gang-raped a fourteen-year-old girl living in the surrounding area, and beat the little girl severely, leaving her in critical condition.

Yesterday, that little girl's mother found the entrance of the Dragon Soaring headquarters and blocked me. In front of everyone, she knelt before me, with two children over ten years old, begging me to help her. With no other choice, I could only steady her first. I arranged for the little girl to be admitted to the hospital for treatment—oh, her life is out of danger now.

You know how it is, Chief, I'm in a very difficult position, but a woman came to me with her children, I can't not give her an answer. So I had the Yuen Long Superintendent go and look into the situation, to see if it was really true.

But who could have expected—perhaps that Superintendent also felt this act was too beastly—in a rage he led his men straight to the barracks, hoping to get an answer. But during the negotiations, a Captain named Max Bryan beat that Superintendent so badly he suffered internal bleeding, a perforated eardrum, and a concussion, and even drew his gun.

"Chief, how do you think this matter should be handled?"