Chapter 81: Brother Komori (Please Subscribe!)

At midday, the shop wasn’t particularly crowded. Most of the patrons came not for a full meal, but to rest, have a light bite, or enjoy afternoon tea. Of course, some chose to take things home. Establishments like this usually offered tea drinks, primarily Western-style black teas and lemonade, and, unsurprisingly, coffee was always on the menu. As for food, there were traditional Chinese pastries, cakes, and some Western-style breads and desserts. The selection wasn’t vast, but the flavors were quite good.

Once a place gained a reputation, its owner rarely bothered to expand the menu further.

“Sir, what would you like to have?” asked a Russian woman, appearing to be in her thirties, as she approached.

“I’ll have a cup of coffee,” Zhou Sen replied, taking a seat near the door, facing the entrance—so that Jiang Rou would see him as soon as she came in.

“Certainly, would you like anything else?”

“Do you have snowflake crisps and mung bean cakes?” Zhou Sen looked up and asked.

“Yes, we do. Are you expecting someone, sir?”

“You have a sharp eye. Please bring me two servings of each.” Zhou Sen smiled and nodded.

“Of course, please wait a moment.”

A steaming cup of coffee arrived swiftly. Unless otherwise specified, the coffee here always came with milk, and its taste and texture were quite pleasant. Of course, it was nowhere near the quality of the coffee served at a place like the Modern Hotel—the beans simply weren’t in the same league.

Taking small sips, Zhou Sen let the coffee’s bitterness awaken memories of the two years he and Jiang Rou had spent together. He hadn’t added any sugar; the bitterness seemed to evoke sweeter recollections and hopes for the future.

Time ticked by slowly.

He calculated: from the New Stage Theater to Zhengyang First Avenue would take at least ten minutes. Factoring in the time to read the letter, change clothes, and knowing that a woman takes at least three times longer than a man to get ready, half an hour should be sufficient.

He decided to wait for an hour here. If she didn’t come, she probably wouldn’t come at all, and he would have to think of something else.

“Sir, would you like a refill?”

“No, thank you,” Zhou Sen replied with a wave.

The door opened, and a slender figure entered. Sitting by the door, Zhou Sen lifted his head slightly.

Their eyes met.

They recognized each other instantly.

Zhou Sen stood up and called out, “Little Snot-Nose.”

Jiang Rou’s eyes brimmed with emotion, her tears threatening to fall. “Brother Sen…”

“Sit down.”

Jiang Rou managed to hold back her tears and took a seat across from Zhou Sen, who asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Brother Sen, just call me Rou,” she said. “I remember they used to have rose tea here. I wonder if that’s still available.”

“Yes, miss, we still serve that,” the Russian waitress replied.

“It’s been nearly fifteen years. I never imagined we’d meet again.” Zhou Sen sighed. “When I saw the missing-person notice outside the New Stage, I could hardly believe my eyes.”

“You’ve been to the New Stage, Brother Sen?”

“I have. If I hadn’t, how would I know you were looking for me?” Zhou Sen nodded, seeing no reason to hide anything now that he’d chosen to meet her.

“Then why didn’t you come find me directly?”

“Given your current status, I fear I’d be thrown out before I ever laid eyes on you,” Zhou Sen chuckled.

“You’re still upset with my godfather?” Jiang Rou hurried to explain, “Things improved for all of us after you ran away. The troupe leader, Sun Qingkui, even took me in as his adopted daughter. He’s treated me decently over the years.”

“It’s all water under the bridge now. I let go of that anger long ago,” Zhou Sen smiled as the waitress brought the rose tea.

A weight lifted from Jiang Rou’s heart. Her greatest fear was that Zhou Sen still resented Sun Qingkui for the beatings and humiliation all those years ago. If that were the case, she’d be trapped between the two, unable to find peace, and her work would only become harder.

Now, hearing Zhou Sen say he held no grudges, how could she not be overjoyed?

“Although I don’t resent him anymore, don’t expect me to ever treat him kindly,” Zhou Sen added.

Jiang Rou understood. It was already a relief that he could let go of old grievances; it was unrealistic to expect him to treat Sun Qingkui as she did.

“Brother Sen, how have you been all these years?”

“I’ve done all right. After we were separated, I begged my way along the roads, then made my way back to Ice City. There, a wealthy White Russian businessman took me in as his only adopted son. I’m working now at the Nangan Police Station in Ice City,” Zhou Sen summarized.

“You’re a policeman, Brother Sen?” Jiang Rou exclaimed in surprise.

“It was arranged by the family. I had no say in the matter,” Zhou Sen replied sheepishly.

“Does that mean I have someone powerful to rely on in Ice City?” Jiang Rou laughed, her eyebrows arching like crescent moons.

“I’m just a low-level officer—hardly someone you can lean on. But if you ever run into trouble, I can help a little,” Zhou Sen smiled.

“Brother Sen, where do you live? Can I visit you sometime?” Jiang Rou asked.

“Well…”

“If it’s inconvenient, never mind,” she said quickly.

“It’s not that. I just don’t spend much time at home. If you went and found no one there, it wouldn’t be pleasant,” Zhou Sen explained. “But I run a company on Haicheng Street called ‘Sen’s.’ If you need anything, you can find me there—I’m usually at work.”

“I thought you were a policeman. How do you also run a company?” Jiang Rou asked, surprised.

“My job as a policeman is pretty flexible—I don’t have to wear a uniform or report to the station every day,” Zhou Sen replied, offering the only explanation he could. Some things were better left unsaid.

“All right. But on my side…” Jiang Rou hesitated; she didn’t want Sun Qingkui to know she’d found Zhou Sen, or he’d surely try to interfere.

“Rou, your missing-person notice is too conspicuous. Take it down,” Zhou Sen said. “Just tell people you’ve received definite news that the person you were looking for died over a decade ago.”

“Brother Sen, what…” Jiang Rou’s eyes widened in surprise.

“My identity is rather sensitive right now. Your public search isn’t helpful for me.”

“Brother Sen, are you not planning to acknowledge me anymore?”

“If I didn’t want to, why would I have come to find you?”

“Then what’s your relationship with this Su Wenqing—President Su? Why did you use his name to send me a letter? I nearly threw it away,” Jiang Rou pressed him.

“I have a bit of a grudge with him. But in Ice City, he’s someone with status and influence. By borrowing his name, I made sure no one at the New Stage dared intercept your letter—it was the only way to ensure it would reach you,” Zhou Sen explained.

“I see. So, if you come to see me again, will you still use President Su’s name?” Jiang Rou asked.

“That only works once. If I use it too often, people will catch on. Next time, I’ll think of something else,” Zhou Sen chuckled.

“All right. Then, Brother Sen, if I’m not performing, can I come see you?” Jiang Rou asked thoughtfully.

“Of course. But it’s best to call ahead so I can make time,” Zhou Sen said.

“Alright.”

“Try the snowflake crisps you love so much—see if they taste the same as before,” Zhou Sen said, gesturing at the plate.

Jiang Rou picked up a piece, took a bite, and smiled. “Brother Sen, these are so sweet, so delicious—exactly as I remember.”

“If you like them, eat as much as you want. Remember how we got chased for two blocks by the shopkeeper just for a bite of these?” Zhou Sen whispered.

“There’s a whole plate here—I can’t finish them on my own.”

“There’s only a few pieces—you can manage.”

“Brother Sen, I snuck out. I have to go back—I’m performing this afternoon,” Jiang Rou said, having eaten two pieces.

“Then be careful on your way back, and don’t forget to take down the notice,” Zhou Sen nodded, understanding her position.

“Brother Sen, all these years I’ve asked everyone I could for news, but nothing ever turned up. I lost hope. If I hadn’t found you this time… I really…” As she spoke, tears finally spilled from Jiang Rou’s eyes.

Zhou Sen was moved. He reached out and embraced her, gently patting her back in comfort. “There now, you’ve found me. Don’t cry. If you mess up your makeup, how will you perform this afternoon? If anyone bullies you in the future, come find me—I’ll stand up for you.”

Remembering her performance, Jiang Rou quickly composed herself. She couldn’t let her emotions affect her show.

“Brother Sen, I’ll be off now. I’ll come see you when I can.”

“Alright.”

After seeing her off, Zhou Sen couldn’t help but feel a little melancholy. Then he settled the bill and left.

...

“You lost him—did he spot you?”

“Sir, I’m not certain. The problem now is determining where he went…”

“Return for now.”

“Yes, sir.”

...

“You were followed. Did you see who was tailing you?” On the second floor of the Nangang Police Station, Zhou Sen was reporting to Akiyama.

“I’m not sure. I just had a feeling. It was only after I used a little trick to slip away on Carpenter Street that the feeling disappeared,” Zhou Sen replied, careful not to say too much.

“Where did you go afterwards?”

“I headed out to Daowai, took a roundabout route to see if anyone was still on my tail, then returned here to report,” Zhou Sen explained.

“Don’t wander around for the next couple of days,” Akiyama said, assuming Zhou Sen had gone to the Fragrant Pavilion and not pressing further. “I actually have a task for you. At the photo studio, Yuan Wenfu abandoned his post. We’re investigating him, but the surveillance team needs someone in charge. I’d like you to temporarily take over his duties. How do you feel about that?”

“Thank you for your trust, sir, but under what identity would I go?” Zhou Sen thought to himself, as expected—this was a trap.

“What identity did you and Secretary Jin use at the photo studio?”

“I played her father.”

Akiyama looked a bit surprised; that hadn’t been Jin Suying’s original plan—Zhou Sen must have changed it himself.

“In that case, why don’t you buy the photo studio outright? What do you think?”

Zhou Sen froze. This wasn’t just a trap—it was a complete snare; Akiyama clearly intended to bind him tightly.

Especially with such a huge secret hidden beneath the photo studio—could he really handle it?