Chapter 63: The Mastermind Behind the Scenes

“All right, Secretary Kim, your esteemed feet need not come down—no need to dirty your soles.” The car halted at the gate, and Zhou Sen pushed the door open and stepped out.

Kim So-young’s face instantly darkened.

He was clearly expressing his distaste.

She was about to snap back, but Akiyama’s warning flashed through her mind, and she swallowed her words: “Well then, rest well. We’ll notify you when it’s time to return to work.”

Zhou Sen nodded, watching the car disappear before entering the courtyard of his home.

“Young master Wasim…” Irina, hearing movement outside, opened the door. Tears of joy spilled from her eyes.

“It’s all right, I’m back, aren’t I? Don’t cry. Is there hot water? I’d like to take a bath.” Zhou Sen felt his nose sting. Though he hadn’t exchanged much with Irina, in this home, her care for him surpassed even that of old Anthony.

The original Wasim’s bond with Irina rivaled his feelings for Anthony, but now, with someone new in his body, there was inevitably a difference.

“Of course, young master Wasim. Let me look at you—where have you been these days? You’ve lost weight…” Irina wiped her tears and embraced Zhou Sen tightly.

“It’s all right, really, I’m back now.” Zhou Sen gently patted Irina’s back, soothing her.

“I’m just so happy, young master Wasim. Are you hungry? I’ll fix you something to eat…” Irina said.

“No need, I’ve eaten, I’m not hungry,” Zhou Sen hurriedly replied.

“Then I’ll draw you a hot bath, so you can soak and rest well,” Irina said through her tears, her happiness evident.

Meow!

Lucy darted out, leaping into Zhou Sen’s arms. The little creature hadn’t seen him for days and rubbed her head insistently against his chest.

“All right, all right, calm down. I’m going to take a bath.” Zhou Sen stroked Lucy’s back, responding to her affection.

…

Immersed completely in hot water, Zhou Sen couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment. He’d truly suffered these past days.

It wasn’t just his body—his mind had been tormented too.

He’d pondered much, and some matters became clear during those four days of confinement.

Running away was futile; some things, once thrust upon you, must be faced head-on.

The Japanese could force him to do things he loathed, but his hands, feet, and mouth belonged to himself—how he acted was still his choice.

Some things he kept locked in his heart, unable to voice them.

Ah…

Zhou Sen sighed deeply. For now, he could only take it one step at a time.

The water cooled quickly. Zhou Sen climbed out of the tub, dried himself off, donned a clean robe, and tidied up his face.

“Lucy, I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother me.” Zhou Sen tossed Lucy to the foot of the bed and burrowed under the covers.

When he awoke, night had fallen outside.

He went downstairs. Irina was preparing dinner: oatmeal porridge, bread, and tangy pickled cucumbers—a warming, nutritious, and traditional Russian supper.

“Irina, tomorrow is Lunar New Year. Why don’t we make dumplings tonight?” Zhou Sen suggested as he sipped his porridge.

“Yes, young master Wasim.” Irina nodded. With Anthony absent, Zhou Sen was her young master, and naturally, she would follow his wishes.

After dinner, Zhou Sen went upstairs to the study.

He sat in his chair, lost in thought.

The room brimmed with books, and the Damascus knife lay there as well. He’d searched every corner—there were no other secrets.

If there was a secret, it was the key Anthony had left him, the one meant to unlock the mystery hidden at the equestrian club.

He couldn’t go yet; only when the racetrack reopened in spring would he have a legitimate reason to visit the club.

For now, he could only wait.

He kept the key casually among his house keys—hiding in plain sight. No one would suspect he’d place something so important with ordinary keys, so even when he was kidnapped by “Yurekin” for those days, the key remained undiscovered.

He wondered how Guo Lao Liu and the others were faring. In his absence, they must have been anxious.

Tomorrow morning, he’d check in, let them know he was safe, and find out what had happened while he was gone.

…

“Boss, chief…” The next morning, Zhou Sen bought breakfast and arrived at the warehouse, immediately surrounded by Ye San, Wu En, and two newcomers.

“Where’s Lao Liu?” Zhou Sen looked around but didn’t see Guo Lao Liu, and asked, puzzled.

“Old Gu went to the precinct for roll call—he’ll be back soon,” Ye San explained.

“Oh, he’s acting chief now, so he must attend roll call every morning,” Zhou Sen recalled. Guo Lao Liu was temporarily filling his position. The formal promotion hadn’t happened yet, but it was only a matter of time, as long as nothing went wrong.

“Nothing happened these days?”

“Not much, just trivial matters. Same as when you’re around. We didn’t see you, though—Special Assistant Kim said you were off working a case, so we didn’t ask further,” Ye San replied.

“Oh, yes, I was handling a case. Headquarters ordered confidentiality, so I didn’t tell you,” Zhou Sen chuckled. It was best not to involve his men in his affairs.

“I thought so. You got promoted, then vanished, not even seen at the precinct. We were worried.”

As they spoke, Guo Lao Liu arrived, pedaling his bicycle.

“Boss, finally, you’re back!” Guo Lao Liu parked his bike and rushed over, hugging Zhou Sen.

“Come, let’s have a smoke.” Zhou Sen pulled out his cigarette case, handing Guo Lao Liu a cigarette.

“Thanks, boss,” Guo Lao Liu said, accepting it. There was no need for formality between them.

“While I was gone, did Su Wenqing and Qin Lao Qi make any moves?” Zhou Sen took a drag and asked.

“The day before yesterday, Su Wenqin’s godson, Feng Hua, took people to Qunfang Tower, demanding to see Sister Yan from Ningxiang Pavilion, causing a huge scene. Nearly a brawl. Director Sun from Zhengyang Bureau showed up too. Qunfang Tower’s business plummeted in the past two days, making Da Guan Yuan the winner,” Guo Lao Liu replied without hesitation.

“Qin Xiong didn’t retaliate?”

“Qin Xiong was put under house arrest by Qin Lao Qi. Management at Qunfang Tower is now handled by Hou Wu. If Qin Xiong were in charge, they’d have been fighting tooth and nail already,” Guo Lao Liu chuckled.

Zhou Sen nodded. Qin Xiong and Feng Hua were both prominent young figures on Bincheng’s streets—one the eldest son of Qin Lao Qi, the other Su Wenqing’s rising star. The next underworld king would likely be one of them.

Their rivalry was omnipresent, and their grudges were longstanding.

Even dining, seat arrangements, gatherings, and displays were all competitions—let alone business, especially at the docks and on the railway. Their interests overlapped, making them natural enemies.

“Did they say why?”

“Word is, Sister Yan from Ningxiang Pavilion had agreed to transfer to Su Wenqing’s Qunxian Club, but suddenly went to Qunfang Tower instead. Feng Hua was upset and went to make trouble.”

“How did Ningxiang Pavilion respond?”

“No movement from them, but five days ago, something happened. Ningxiang Pavilion reported an arson attempt at their temporary warehouse—luckily, it was discovered early. The fire broke out, but was quickly extinguished. Still, the losses were considerable. Boss Bai caught the arsonist and turned him over to the precinct the next day. Guess who it was?”

“Who?” Zhou Sen grinned inwardly, proof that Wu En was tight-lipped—he hadn’t told Guo Lao Liu.

“Ningxiang Pavilion’s security chief, Luan Yuanhui. When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter. Boss Bai won’t escape this calamity,” Guo Lao Liu sighed.

Zhou Sen smiled. Bai Yulan was probably doing well now. The conflict between Qin Lao Qi and Su Wenqing was out in the open, and after this uproar, there would surely be more drama to come.

“Lao Liu, you’re newly promoted and haven’t treated everyone to a meal yet. At noon, you take the team out for a feast.” Zhou Sen pulled a “Long Sheep” note from his wallet, slipped it into Guo Lao Liu’s pocket. “I won’t join you.”

“Boss, I’m the one treating—how could I let you pay?” Guo Lao Liu’s face reddened. He had a wife and children, a whole family to support. Though a policeman’s side income wasn’t bad, working for Zhou Sen meant there were many things he wouldn’t do.

His earnings were much less than most.

Besides, junior officers’ salaries were meager. If not for Zhou Sen’s wealthy adoptive father, he wouldn’t enjoy such a comfortable life.

“All right, don’t be awkward. Consider it my New Year’s gift for your son,” Zhou Sen laughed, patting his shoulder.

“Boss, I owe you more and more…”

“No talk of debts—we’re brothers, eating from the same pot. Just do your job well, and remember not to commit any wicked deeds,” Zhou Sen said. “I have things to do. I’m off.”

“Boss, I’ll come pay New Year’s respects at your home tomorrow morning?”

“No need. Stay home and enjoy time with your wife and kids,” Zhou Sen waved vigorously as he left. “I’ll have some peace to myself.”

Today was New Year’s Eve. The streets teemed with people, lively and bustling. Everywhere, crowds—adults, children, the elderly, women…

Even the trams were packed, and the broad Central Avenue was full of passersby, Western faces with golden hair and brown eyes everywhere.

Young women nestled in their lovers’ arms, smiles bright and sweet. Carriages wove through the throngs, bells hanging from their eaves chiming melodiously.

Art Antiquities Shop.

Zhou Sen arrived again.

He had no particular purpose—just wandered here. Since joining the Special High Division, he was responsible for the publication and censorship of newspapers and books.

Bookstores, as the last link in the chain, still fell under his jurisdiction.

Today, most people were rushing home for the holiday, so the shop was quiet. The owner, Qiao Sanlang, was tidying up, preparing to close early.

“Officer Zhou…” Qiao Sanlang looked up and instantly recognized Zhou Sen, but his tone was stiff, with a hint of distance.

If Qiao Sanlang knew what Zhou Sen was now doing, he’d likely scowl and make it clear he wasn’t welcome.

“Boss Qiao, let me wish you a happy New Year in advance,” Zhou Sen cupped his hands, smiling.

“Officer Zhou, happy New Year. Here to buy books again?” Qiao Sanlang replied. As a businessman, he couldn’t turn away customers.

But clients like Zhou Sen were rare—a policeman with the leisure to browse a bookstore.

If they came, it was always with some agenda.