Chapter 959: Not a Good Person

“Want a cigarette?”

“No thanks, I’m trying to quit.”

Gao Zhen waved off Li Xuewu’s offer, got in the car, and sat facing the scene with his back to it.

He glanced at Li Xuewu, then smiled faintly. “It’s been a while. Busy?”

“Not bad. Mostly on business trips.”

Li Xuewu smiled, exhaled smoke, and looked at Gao Zhen’s weary face. “Your white hairs are increasing—take care to rest.”

“Haha, getting old~”

Gao Zhen smoothed his hair and chuckled. “Especially seeing young talents like you—no matter how hard I try, I can’t deny it anymore.”

“Don’t say that. I’m still your soldier—got a lot to learn from you.”

Li Xuewu flicked ash, squinted out the window at the scene, and said, “What about Commissar Zheng?”

“Mm. He knows his limits. Experienced.”

Gao Zhen turned to look behind him, saw Zheng Fuhua striding toward the mall building, and nodded slowly. “Fate is fate.”

“You know what?”

He turned back to Li Xuewu, serious. “Word’s come down from above—Lai Shanchuan’s on the post-New Year promotion list. He’s being sent to Xicheng.”

“Deputy Director?”

Li Xuewu took a drag, paused, then exhaled smoke through his nostrils.

Gao Zhen nodded, sighed. “He’s taking over security. They have high hopes for his abilities—he’s a sharp manager. Too bad.”

A sigh. Silence filled the car, broken only by distant shouts and commands from outside.

Lai Shanchuan hadn’t harmed the guard—just cuffed his hands and feet.

Inside Mingde Restaurant, things were worse. The kids, worked up, panicked, and driven by danger, made terrible choices.

One tried to detonate explosives stored in the basement. A flashbang thrown through the door blinded him.

In that instant of blindness, the body reacts instinctively—to protect itself.

But what could they do, holding guns in that chaos?

Unable to aim, firing wildly, they were shot down the moment the special ops burst in.

Uncontrolled elements are dangerous—not just their actions, but their thoughts too.

The special ops entering the first floor didn’t need to rush upstairs—each floor had teams breaching the moment the attack signal was given.

Must admit, these kids inherited real combat skills from their parents—but it depends who you’re comparing them to.

Debris blocked the main entrance, but left windows above the second floor unguarded. The assault teams swept in like plucking chicks—easily neutralizing everyone.

Of course, the good shooters were tough—but without hostages or heavy firepower threats, if they fired, we’d throw grenades.

Ballistic shields plus tear gas—even God would raise his hands.

An ambulance replaced the Grassland Tiger outside the building. Stretchers kept coming out. The searchlights were off. The people on them—alive or dead? No telling.

Don’t ask why the searchlights went out. Don’t ask why the cleanup was kept in darkness.

After seven or eight stretchers came out, the young men, their hands cuffed behind their backs, were escorted out by special ops.

Want to know who they were?

No. Nobody knew who was on the stretchers. Nobody knew who was being escorted out.

Parents waiting outside couldn’t get in. Even with binoculars, it was useless.

They arrived too late—or rather, Gao Zhen never intended to waste time summoning these kids’ parents to plead for surrender.

The parents were frantic, jumping up and down—but it didn’t matter. Try calling in favors—see who dares get involved.

Gao Zhen showed no mercy. Every young person involved in this case would be punished.

Even if Lai Yide gathered mostly second-generation insiders from the system—poor parenting, dragging parents into it—this was their own mess.

To swiftly restore order around residents, all suspects were flipped over, coats pulled up over their heads before exiting—no one could tell who was who.

After exiting, they were immediately shoved onto waiting canvas-covered trucks. About seven or eight, all told. So the number who resisted inside wasn’t large.

After completing their mission, the special ops handed the scene over to the branch and confidentiality units, quickly assembled, packed gear, then boarded the Grassland Tigers waiting by the roadside.

Pazi Le came to report. Li Xuewu listened, glanced at Gao Zhen, saw he’d only said “Good work,” then fell silent. Li Xuewu got out and spoke to him privately.

Mainly about discipline and the psychological state of the officers who fired.

Confidentiality rules didn’t need much emphasis—after any such mission, the team always received mandatory briefings on confidentiality regulations.

Li Xuewu stressed psychological counseling—something still underdeveloped at this point.

Appropriate recreation and exercise could ease stress responses and relieve pressure from the operation.

Of course, Pazi Le knew all this—he was an expert. He still had work to do tonight.

The action report had to be written tonight—Pazi Le would submit it to the Political Department of the Third Guard Regiment, then coordinate with both departments.

After briefing Pazi Le, Li Xuewu patted his arm, signaling he could lead the team back.

Mission accomplished. No casualties. Perfect.

Combat losses would be detailed in the report. Coordination still fell to the Political Department.

Li Xuewu wasn’t here to command—he’d long left frontline duty.

Especially for a small-scale operation like this—if he’d intervened, it’d be a joke.

Zheng Fuhua insisted he come so Li Xuewu wouldn’t waste effort, and so he wouldn’t have to bypass Li Xuewu to mobilize the Third Guard Regiment.

Li Xuewu handled all coordination and deployment with the branch—looked simple, wasn’t hard.

Of course, it depends on perspective. For Li Xuewu, who knew the special ops’ capabilities inside out, surveying and arranging the scene wasn’t difficult.

The branch’s officers could’ve handled it too—just not as smoothly as Li Xuewu.

Who knows if Zheng Fuhua and Gao Zhen discussed this arrangement? Gao Zhen’s words in the car felt loaded.

Li Xuewu didn’t take the bait. He wanted nothing from this case, and gave nothing.

Watching the Third Guard Regiment’s vehicles leave with the prisoner trucks, Li Xuewu stood outside, breathing the cold wind to stay alert.

Branch personnel were busy—by dawn, they had to document all battle traces inside the building.

Once documentation began, it meant everything that happened here would be erased by morning.

Tomorrow, Mingde Restaurant might be torn down—or reassigned to another unit.

For now, it would remain sealed. Its story tonight would live only in street rumors.

He didn’t listen to Gao Zhen’s final orders inside the command vehicle. Didn’t care who received the commands.

Li Xuewu stared at the rooftop where Lai Shanchuan died, exhaled deeply—it echoed the question Lai had once asked him.

He remembered how the investigation had stalled. Lai Shanchuan sat on the bench in the branch lobby, asking him what he thought of him.

Li Xuewu didn’t answer. He’d already guessed the right answer.

He wasn’t a good cop. Not a good father.

“Did the Third Guard Regiment leave?”

Zheng Fuhua returned from the scene, his face unusually relaxed.

Li Xuewu looked at him, didn’t answer—just pursed his lips and shook his head slightly.

“Didn’t get to thank them yet.”

Zheng Fuhua turned to look at Mingde Restaurant and the adjacent mall, then turned back to Li Xuewu and nodded. “Thank them for me.”

“Alright.”

Li Xuewu took the cigarette from his lips, crushed it underfoot, shrugged, and asked, “If there’s nothing else…”

“You handle the scene and all coordination. Meet me at the branch tomorrow morning.”

Gao Zhen got out of the car, told Zheng Fuhua, then raised his hands helplessly. “The Discipline Inspection Commission is waiting. I’ve got to go.”

“Let me go.”

Zheng Fuhua frowned. “I’ve been in charge of this case from the start. I’m the right one to go.”

“Forget it. This isn’t about awards or glory. Why fight over it?”

Gao Zhen glanced at Li Xuewu, nodded slightly, then patted Zheng Fuhua’s arm with a smile. “This case landing on the branch’s head? Well-deserved. You can’t shoulder it. This time, it’s mine.”

He gestured to the still-busy scene. “The rest is yours. Good work.”

Shook hands with Zheng Fuhua, shook hands with Li Xuewu, then turned and got into the car that pulled up, driving off.

“What?”

Zheng Fuhua watched Gao Zhen’s car leave, turned to Li Xuewu. “You coming to the branch, or…?”

“Too late. Discipline Inspection has nothing left. I’m going home.”

Li Xuewu saw Yu Daru waving from afar, signaling him to wait.

He quickly told Zheng Fuhua a few words, waved for Han Jiankun, jumped in the car, and sped off.

At this hour, what could Yu Daru possibly want? He didn’t think that bastard was inviting him for late-night snacks.

Even if he was, Li Xuewu wouldn’t eat—he couldn’t afford it!

The command vehicle left the scene, slowed slightly as it passed the cordon, then accelerated once clear of the crowd.

Li Xuewu glanced at his watch by the streetlamp glow—it was nearly one.

Time flies when you’re busy. Just a moment ago it was midnight. One cigarette, a few words—and now it’s one.

Like sitting with a beautiful girl in a karaoke booth, singing, chatting—just a few songs, a few words—time flies so fast!

Of course, not all fast-passing moments are worth cherishing. No girl was holding his arm, walking him to the stairs. He didn’t want the newly born ghosts inside the building to see him off at the corner.

“Boss, are we going home?”

“No.”

Going home is impossible at this hour—once I get back and start stirring things up, no one will be able to sleep.

Li Xuewu glanced at the intersection, asked Han Jiankun to drop him off at the club’s entrance, told him to pick him up the next morning, then jumped out of the jeep.

Watching the command vehicle leave, Li Xuewu turned and walked into the alley—the club had lodging, but waking up a whole group of people in the middle of the night was inappropriate.

So he walked over ten minutes to the residence of Tong Huimei and Jin Jiaojiao.

Of course, waking Tong Huimei and Jin Jiaojiao was also inappropriate—but if waking them meant not sleeping, but doing something loving, then it wasn’t a loss, was it?

“Ah! Who?!”

When Li Xuewu climbed over the wall and knocked on the main house’s door, Tong Huimei and Jin Jiaojiao were genuinely startled.

Afraid their reaction might escalate into unnecessary misunderstanding, Li Xuewu quickly identified himself.

Hearing his voice, Jin Jiaojiao still didn’t believe it—she turned on the room light, pressed her face against the glass window to peer closely, then ran out chattering to open the door for him.

“You’re really something—why come at this hour~?”

Jin Jiaojiao pouted, hands on her fairly sizable chest, scolding: “You scared us to death~”

“Just finished a mission nearby, didn’t feel like going home and making a fuss—came to crash here for the night.”

Li Xuewu chuckled, took off his cotton cap, and stepped inside.

Tong Huimei, in her pajamas and wrapped in a cotton robe, came out sleepily and asked: “Hungry? I’ll prepare something for you.”

“No need, it’s already late—let’s deal with it tomorrow morning.”

Li Xuewu tapped his watch, gestured toward the inner room, and said: “Just lie down. I’ll wash my face.”

“You’ve woken us up completely~”

Jin Jiaojiao stuck out her tongue at him, bent down to pick up the thermos, removed the stopper to test the water temperature, then said: “Perfect—no need to mix in cold water.”

She poured the warm water from the thermos into the washbasin by the door, still muttering about Li Xuewu’s sudden visit.

Tong Huimei scolded her for talking too much, pulled her cotton robe tighter, and pointed outside: “I’ll make you some noodles—quick and easy, wait a moment.”

As she spoke, she’d already changed into slippers and stepped out; Li Xuewu called after her to say it wouldn’t take long.

Coming here to sleep at midnight, claiming to be on a mission, meant he’d been busy nonstop—Tong Huimei couldn’t bear to let him go hungry.

One downside of living in a sihe courtyard is the inconvenience in winter.

The sleeping quarters and kitchen are separate, especially in a large courtyard like this—lighting a fire to cook means going all the way to the kitchen.

Actually, two people living in such a big courtyard should move the kitchen to the main house for convenience.

But others might have done so long ago; for these two women, moving the kitchen was less appealing than moving themselves into the kitchen.

Jin Jiaojiao giggled at Li Xuewu’s duck-like face-washing method, then picked up the thermos and added more hot water to the basin.

“Enough—it’s just a face wash.”

“Take off your clothes, I’ll wipe you down.”

Jin Jiaojiao ignored him, picked up a dry towel from the rack, handed him one, and tossed the other into the hot water basin to soak.

Seeing her offer help, Li Xuewu smiled, took off his coat and sweater, then, with Jin Jiaojiao’s assistance, removed his shirt and pants.

“You’re a high-ranking official now—why are you still doing missions in the middle of the night~?”

Jin Jiaojiao pulled out a set of dark cotton pajamas from the inner room’s cabinet and placed it on the table.

Li Xuewu glanced at it and asked: “For me?”

“Who else?”

Jin Jiaojiao smirked: “Sister made them—said you always come bare-skinned and catch cold.”

“Mm, your sister’s thoughtful, caring.”

Li Xuewu nodded, deliberately saying: “Girls like this are truly lovable and worth cherishing.”

“So you’re saying I’m not thoughtful?”

Jin Jiaojiao pouted, bent down to pull off his socks, and grumbled: “And I’m supposed to wipe you down too!”

“You’re overinterpreting—I only mentioned your sister.”

Li Xuewu laughed and tapped her nose: “Both of you are lovable~”

“I don’t believe you~”

Jin Jiaojiao pouted, brought over a warm towel, and wiped his back and front.

“Will you be traveling again soon?”

“Not sure—why?”

Li Xuewu raised an eyebrow, glanced at her, and asked: “Something wrong?”

“It’s about becoming a disciple—neither of us can decide.”

Jin Jiaojiao filled another basin with hot water, helped Li Xuewu wash his body, put on the pajamas, then brought hot water to soak his feet.

At that moment, Tong Huimei entered with a bowl of hot noodles, urging: “Eat while it’s hot.”

“We don’t know how to hand-pull noodles—this is the dried noodles you brought last time.”

Tong Huimei pointed to the bowl: “I added some canned meat—it’s warm and fragrant.”

“A bit greasy.”

Li Xuewu chuckled: “Eating this well at this hour?”

“We only have this.”

Tong Huimei smiled apologetically, then explained: “Jiaojiao and I found the vegetable market—we can buy groceries and cook now.”

“Good—just stay safe.”

Li Xuewu picked up the bowl and ate; after working until late night, his stomach was truly empty.

By his habit, he never ate snacks after mealtime—but he couldn’t refuse their kindness.

As he soaked his feet and ate the hot noodle soup, his feet warmed, his stomach settled, and his whole body relaxed.

“That…”

Tong Huimei added more coal to the living room stove, hesitated, and said: “The call last time wasn’t meant to disturb your work…”

“It’s fine—if you have something, call.”

Li Xuewu looked up at her: “I gave you the number so you could reach me when you need to.”

“Understood.”

Tong Huimei smiled brightly—her days of tension and anxiety vanished, her burdens lifted, and she felt much lighter.

“I just asked Brother Wu about becoming a disciple.”

Jin Jiaojiao came out from the inner room and said: “The case isn’t finished yet—better to wait.”

“Not before the New Year at least.”

Li Xuewu sipped some noodle broth, set down the large bowl, exhaled deeply, pursed his lips, and looked at Tong Huimei: “I’ll ask around too.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Tong Huimei cleared the dishes and explained: “I’m not in a hurry—Mr. Ma just passed away, so it’s inappropriate to discuss becoming a disciple now.”

“Mm, thinking this way is correct.”

Li Xuewu nodded: “Asking around is mainly to check the person’s character—no rush.”

“Understood.”

Tong Huimei smiled, then grew serious, looking at Li Xuewu: “Should we observe mourning for Mr. Ma?”

“Mourning?”

Li Xuewu frowned: “Don’t overdo it—your intention is what matters.”

After thinking a moment, he added: “Ask Mr. Mai to help communicate with Mr. Ma’s family—find out when it’s convenient, okay?”

“Yes, we’ll follow your advice.”

Tong Huimei nodded: “We were debating this—Mr. Mai said Mr. Ma’s funeral will be simple, no memorial service.”

“It’s better this way—they’re thinking correctly.”

Li Xuewu nodded, asked her: “Did Mr. Ma leave you anything else?”

“He… gave each of us a jade piece, said it was a token of adoption, and told us to study hard under our master.”

Tong Huimei explained: “Mr. Ma was already in the hospital then—the promise was made verbally during the adoption, and later delivered by Mr. Mai.”

“Then take it as it comes.”

Li Xuewu lifted his foot, let Jin Jiaojiao wipe it, slipped on the slippers she brought, and said: “You two will have to make a living in this field—what’s inconvenient now doesn’t mean it’ll always be.”

“Art always holds lasting value—Peking Opera’s status as national treasure won’t change; the performer’s identity is personal and won’t last long.”

After explaining this, Li Xuewu said no more, stood up, and walked toward the inner room, adding: “If Mr. Ma’s family shows closeness, treat them as extended relatives.”

“If they don’t want to…”

He kicked off his slippers and sat on the bed, shrugged: “Just burn some paper money for them during Qingming or the 15th—don’t force it—you’ll only get hurt.”

“I thought so too~”

Jin Jiaojiao tidied the living room, chattering: “Sister’s afraid of being too formal or too lax—she’s been obsessing over it.”

“I’m just afraid of causing trouble for Brother Wu~”

Tong Huimei washed her hands and entered the inner room, explaining: “What status do we even have? They accepted us only because of Brother Wu.”

“I didn’t say anything else.”

Jin Jiaojiao washed her hands, wiped them with a towel, entered the room, and looked at Tong Huimei getting into bed: “You’ve been so worried these days—it’s not worth it.”

“Ah~ you know me well.”

Tong Huimei crawled under the covers, lay down beside Li Xuewu, sighed softly: “Once something’s on my mind, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You know that, huh~”

Jin Jiaojiao pouted, turned on the bedside lamp, and switched off the ceiling light.

She took off the cotton jacket over her pajamas, stepped into the four-poster bed, slipped off her embroidered slippers, and crawled under the covers, lying down on the other side of Li Xuewu.

“If Wu Ge hadn’t come today, you’d probably have kept sleeping poorly and nagging about this forever.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Li Xuewu pulled Tong Huimei, who had rested her head on his shoulder, into an embrace, patted her shoulder, and said, “Live well. Don’t carry so many worries.”

“Human feelings? Only when someone is willing to connect with you do emotions arise, right?”

As he spoke, Li Xuewu’s other arm wrapped around Jin Jiaojiao, who had also rested her head against him.

“They were cautious of me—but only after seeing you two that they decided to take you as disciples, weren’t they?”

“If I didn’t have that kind of strength, do you think I could just tell him to take anyone and he’d obey?”

“I won’t even say whether I have that kind of influence—just look at how Master Ma, on his deathbed, adopted you two as his adopted daughters, then entrusted Master Xun to take you as disciples. That’s the sign of someone who truly values talent. Don’t waste it.”

“Mm, I understand.”

Tong Huimei lifted her head, looking at Li Xuewu with a shy smile. “I’m so foolish—I never quite grasp the meaning behind your words.”

“Not just foolish, but stubborn.”

Jin Jiaojiao wriggled and plopped onto Li Xuewu’s chest, scolding Tong Huimei on the other side: “No matter how many times I tell you, you won’t believe me—you’re so damn stubborn.”

“Yes~ yes~ yes~”

Tong Huimei raised her hand and tapped Jin Jiaojiao’s nose. “Only you’re clever. Only you’re sly.”

“Ahh~ are you going to mock me again?”

Jin Jiaojiao playfully wrestled with Tong Huimei over Li Xuewu, tackling him like a rugby player while refusing to let the argument drop.

They treated Li Xuewu like the river dividing Chu and Han—each taking turns, determined to push forward what Li Xuewu had planned to do in the morning.

“Don’t turn off the light!”

How richly can a romantic person express “love”?

Wong Jing-man: “Please guide me for the rest of my life.”

Wong Kar-wai: “In that moment, I felt warm.”

Natsume Soseki: “The moon tonight is beautiful.”

Eileen Chang: “If you don’t come, how can I dare to grow old?”

Fang Wen-shan: “The pale blue sky waits for the misty rain, while I wait for you.”

Wang Xiaobo: “Hello, Li Yinhé—I’m so glad to see you.”

Lin Xi: “You’re the gift I’ve waited half a lifetime to open.”

And you? Will you, like Li Xuewu, smirk and say: “Leave the light on. Let me see you…”

“Director, the Foreign Affairs Office forwarded a request—Andrea from Italy wants to meet you about the shipyard.”

Peng Xiao, organizing documents on his desk, reported Li Xuewu’s schedule for the day.

“The Personnel Department submitted the implementation plan for the next round of worker recruitment. After the Management Committee Office reviewed it, they passed it on to you.”

“Why was it passed on to me?”

Li Xuewu was sipping tea, reading a briefing, and had already wasted half the morning—now his workload suddenly piled up.

Mainly because of exhaustion—he hadn’t rested yesterday, and didn’t finish settling the two women until dawn.

He ate breakfast around nine, arrived at the office at eleven.

No one asked why he was late. No one asked why he hadn’t attended last night’s welcome banquet.

Anyone with half a brain knew Director Li was in a foul mood—so better not provoke Deputy Director Li.

Only Deputy Director Li could calm Director Li. If you angered Deputy Director Li, the steel mill’s fuse would blow.

Peng Xiao’s report was interrupted; he quickly explained: “Director Li has other matters today. He instructed the Committee Office to forward this to you.”

Li Xuewu helplessly rubbed his eyebrows, said nothing, and nodded for him to continue.

“The budget review for the Workers’ New Village has begun. Finance has formed a dedicated accounting team, ready to report to the Economic and Trade Office at any time.”

“The production plan and trade for the United Tertiary Industries…”

…

The workload on Li Xuewu’s desk kept growing—once only from the Security Department, later expanded into the Security Group.

Now, it had grown further: Technical Office, Economic and Trade Office, and he’d been named deputy head of many temporary leadership task forces.

Especially as Deputy Director of the Management Committee Office, his workload was heaviest—everything forwarded to him had already been marked by leaders for his review or execution.

Only Li Huai could directly dump work on Li Xuewu—but any deputy director could redirect operational tasks to him.

Sometimes Li Xuewu pushed work back, or passed it straight down from the Management Committee Office to a specific department.

His current role was complicated—people coming to report to him weren’t just from Security anymore; even deputy directors from other departments showed up.

With him this busy, who’d dare come bother him?

“Deputy Director Li, how fast are your legs!”

Peng Xiao’s report was interrupted again—this time not by Li Xuewu, but by Yu Daru, standing at the door.

He had no choice but to glance at Li Xuewu, silently asking if he could offer the visitor a top-grade cup of tea.

“Schedule the Italian delegation’s meeting for next Monday at nine a.m. at the International Hotel. Notify them to prepare.”

Li Xuewu instructed: “Hold off on the worker recruitment plan until Vice Director Gu gives his opinion. Coordinate that with the Committee Office.”

“Coordinate with the Committee Office on the Workers’ New Village budget meeting—find out when Director Li and Vice Director Jing are free. The decision still needs a formal meeting. First, get their input.”

…

“So busy~”

Yu Daru entered, greeted him, saw Li Xuewu ignored him, and sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and waited.

Only after Li Xuewu finished reviewing all work with Peng Xiao did Yu Daru awkwardly make small talk.

Li Xuewu glanced at him. “If you didn’t come, I’d be a lot less burdened.”

“That’s unfair!”

Yu Daru stood, walked to the opposite side of Li Xuewu’s desk, sat down, and complained: “I really didn’t know…”

“Mm. Go on.”

Li Xuewu picked up the newspaper on his desk, unfolded it, and pointed to the headline.

Yu Daru saw the paper and fell silent, embarrassed, unsure how to continue.

Recent news had several major items: Master Ma’s death, the world’s first artificial synthesis of crystalline insulin, the successful maiden flight test of a medium-range rocket, and so on.

But what concerned Li Xuewu and other cadres most were the two officials who had just been removed from office.

How great was the risk? Had last night’s case been connected to them? No one knew.

Li Xuewu wouldn’t probe actively, nor would he jump to wild conclusions—he’d already done his utmost to avoid all this.

He knew such things would happen—but who could remember the exact timing?

Only the Security Department could accurately predict precise moments—they had too many ears.

“How do I explain this to you?”

Yu Daru scratched his head, uneasy. “At first, I never thought this case would grow so big, so wide, and involve… that thing.”

Li Xuewu looked at him, set down the newspaper, and ignored his explanation, returning to his documents.

Yu Daru racked his brain for reasons, but every angle he tried couldn’t fool the man across from him.

So he could only admit helplessly: “Later, my superior told me—the case might have problems. I didn’t think much of it at the time, really.”

“I only realized something was off when I dug into Du Xiaoyan’s financial irregularities—especially the five ten-thousand-yuan discrepancy.”

Seeing Li Xuewu unmoved, Yu Daru slumped, nodded, and said: “Fine, fine, fine—I admit I’m a piece of shit. Happy now?”

“There’s one thing I swear to you!”

As Li Xuewu looked up, Yu Daru said earnestly: “I’ve never had any ill intent toward you! Truly!”

“Then thank you?”

Li Xuewu sized him up, smiled without warmth: “You’re quite a nice guy.”

“Don’t mock me. If I didn’t know you were skilled and your punches pack a punch, I’d ask you to hit me a few times just to vent.”

Yu Daru nodded humbly. “This time I owe you. I’ll repay you—really. I keep my word.”

“So?”

Li Xuewu narrowed his eyes. “You want to take over Lai Shanchuan’s position?”

“Don’t joke. Impossible.”

Yu Daru waved his hand, forced a laugh: “Jumping from Section Chief to Department Chief? No one does that.”

“But…”

He hesitated, then glanced shyly at Li Xuewu and whispered: “Deputy would be fine.”

“Fine?”

Li Xuewu chuckled. “Should I ask Director Zheng to give you his deputy slot?”

“Enough already. Just say it and drop it.”

Yu Daru, embarrassed by Li Xuewu’s sarcasm, lowered his head and muttered: “I’m thirty already. If I don’t move up now, I’ll never advance in this life.”

“Mm. Am I blocking you?”

Li Xuewu raised an eyebrow, narrowed his eyes. “Who told you to come to me? Your idiot superior?”

“Don’t be angry. Don’t be angry. It’s not that bad.”

Seeing Li Xuewu’s temper rising, Yu Daru hurried to plead: “I’m just too eager to advance. I’ve wronged you. You’re magnanimous—please, treat me like a brother. Let me have this chance.”

Li Xuewu frowned at him and said, “Go back and tell your superiors to find a place to store your train quickly—we have no room for it.”

Without another word to Yu Daru, he lowered his head and resumed reading the documents.

Seeing that Li Xuewu was serious, Yu Daru begged and pleaded, apologizing profusely to him.

What he’d done was truly dishonorable; anyone who heard about it would call him a bastard.

This branch was Li Xuewu’s connection, and the case had first been brought to his attention—especially Zheng Fuhua, whom Li Xuewu had specifically mentioned Yu Daru to.

He only agreed to help connect Yu Daru with Xiang Yun after Yu Daru gave his assurance and had communicated with Zheng Fuhua.

Xiang Yun was a decent man; he knew this case was a trap laid by Li Xuewu, and when the trap would be sprung had likely been planned long ago.

Now someone had interfered and wanted to spring it early—which suited him fine, since a bigger case meant greater rewards for him.

But for Li Xuewu, it damaged his influence within the branch and risked letting someone else reap the benefits.

He didn’t know what arrangements Yu Daru had made, but he had clearly asked Li Xuewu for his demands, promising to fulfill every single one he could.

If he took such a huge advantage without showing initiative or gratitude, he’d never get another chance to ride Li Xuewu’s coattails.

When Li Xuewu clearly stated he wanted nothing and had no demands, Xiang Yun was straightforward—he understood Li X

This thunder came too early and too hastily—it wasn’t the fruit Li Xuewu wanted, so he’d rather abandon it than swallow half-cooked food.

Li Xuewu could walk away, but he couldn’t refuse to give it—this was human nature.

Yu Daru had gotten too excited, fixated only on the case’s scale and the fruit’s ripeness; spurred on by his superiors, his mind, unsteady from sudden rush, bit down hard.

Last night he’d called Li Xuewu, but Li Xuewu ignored him and walked off—leaving him stunned, his feet icy all the way to the back of his skull.

He found a sheltered spot, lit a cigarette, and carefully retraced the case’s threads—only then realizing he’d come knocking on Li Xuewu’s door was like snatching peaches.

He only remembered his superior saying the secrecy system was too simplistic and fragile; to advance quickly, he’d have to jump sideways.

If he could jump to the branch office, that would be ideal—especially if he went with credit, making it the perfect springboard back to secrecy or another system.

All these years of craving advancement had blinded him to how Li Xuewu’s attitude had shifted when he spoke of this case.

He hadn’t noticed he’d been following the path Li Xuewu had pointed out—the truth revealed was likely exactly what Li Xuewu had foreseen.

Snatching credit was taboo everywhere, especially in frontline units—nothing drew more contempt than this.

If brothers helped each other, lifted each other up, willingly yielding credit was natural—but he knew well, his relationship with Li Xuewu wasn’t that close.

Not nearly as close as Xiang Yun’s was with Li Xuewu; their tone during last night’s investigation made that clear.

He’d assumed Li Xuewu’s slight distance and coldness stemmed from rank differences—but after last night’s case ended and the cold wind hit, his mind cleared.

After working nonstop all night, he’d squeezed out time by noon—he had to go to Li Xuewu’s and beg forgiveness with thorns on his back.

Not knowing at the time, failing to see the twist—fine, you might get called a fool.

But if you took the benefit and pretended not to understand? That made you a true bastard.

He was only thirty—he couldn’t possibly stay stuck in that vice-director position forever. What about five years from now?

Li Xuewu’s arrangements at the branch office were far from simple; from the leadership’s evaluation of him and the respect shown by the office staff when he returned for meetings, it was clear.

The secrecy department’s leadership assigned him this task for his own good—but they also had unspoken motives.

From what happened these past two days, who knew if someone hadn’t deliberately pushed this case forward?

He was a nobody; the vice-director post was good—long his dream.

But above, in higher, more mysterious positions—was there a fishing rod extending from the dark, its line dangling the vice-director post as bait?

He dared not think deeper—old leaders, old connections must be cherished, but new units, new relationships must be maintained.

Especially with Li Xuewu—he felt profound guilt and couldn’t risk damaging the unit’s funding source.

“Director Li? Brother Li!”

Yu Daru leaned forward and begged Li Xuewu in a low voice: “That car brings you gold every day—it’s just scrap to us. What ability or right do I have to take it back?”

He spoke with extreme humility, volunteering: “From now on, I’m your younger brother—you’re my elder brother! Say the word, and if I so much as…”