Chapter 93: When Did the Special Action Department Have to Take Turns Making Arrests!?

Before dinner, Ji Tingxi sat on the sofa watching the news. She had adjusted the tablet’s layout to her preferred mode: current affairs at the top, entertainment news below.

With the borders now open, international headlines made it into the papers too.

Ji Tingxi was delighted to see this. Still, she knew she was only getting the surface level. Anything that got published had been thoroughly vetted, all sensitive parts scrubbed clean.

The hourly housekeeper arrived right on time. Ji Tingxi glanced up and nodded in greeting. “Good evening. No special requests today—just go ahead and make dinner.”

But the housekeeper didn’t head to the kitchen. Instead, she took off her hat and sat down on the sofa. “Miss Ji, I’ve got something to report today.”

“Feedback from Spectator Entertainment City: Special Action Department investigators are still poking around. But they’re not using standard procedures. They’re pulling supervisors aside for private questioning and demanding backend data and workflow plans.”

Ji Tingxi set her tablet aside and propped her hand on the back of the sofa. She wasn’t surprised.

“So that’s what they’re after. Makes sense, given the history between Bai Zhuo and us. He won’t let it go easily.”

“One of our members might be in their sights. She’s been handling intelligence handoffs, with the meetups at Red Show Theater.”

“We vetted her background and movements during planning. No obvious red flags. Red Show Theater is sensitive, sure, but suspicion alone isn’t evidence.”

The housekeeper nodded. Her young face carried a maturity beyond her years.

“You’re right. That’s why we didn’t pull her out. But Bai Zhuo…”

“No worries. We need something to draw their eyes, keep them busy. That lets us dig deeper and infiltrate further in the city. Just have Spectator Entertainment City’s members be more careful with future handoffs.”

“You got it. Don’t worry!”

The housekeeper stood, tied on her apron, and finally got to cooking.

…

After interrogating the Zi Qin sisters, Wen Du’s emotions had been all over the place.

Ji Tingxi had been there last time to comfort her. This time, Wen Du had to process it alone, just like so many times before.

After work, she dragged her exhausted body to the liaison station for the next message drop.

Seeing Yin Chen always lifted her spirits.

Yin Chen was dressed sharply as ever: a light green thin suit paired with a creamy yellow chiffon blouse. She held a paperback book, lounging by the window with a cup of coffee nearby. An ice cube peeked from the glass, giving off sweet-shop vibes that cleared the mind.

From outside, she looked every bit the dessert shop owner—maybe one who inherited the place without starting from scratch. No worries weighing her down, just sitting by the window radiating effortless charm to draw in cultured customers.

But Wen Du, a master of disguise herself, knew better. She understood the effort behind the perfection. Yin Chen might be basking in the sunset glow now, but she’d probably pulled an all-nighter under harsh lights, handling messages from all sides and plotting flawless strategies.

Lights and sunsets were the same hue—one scorched with intensity, the other soothed with ease. In the end, both revealed the burdens piling up on human shoulders.

“Miss Wen, what can I get you today?”

“A friend’s daughter is having a birthday. Mind whipping up a cake? Kids love that stuff.”

“Sure thing. I’ll have A Da make it right away. Want it delivered somewhere, or sit and wait?”

“How long?”

“Ingredients are ready, no need for chilling. Half an hour tops.”

Wen Du set her bag down and flashed a sweet smile. “Perfect. I’ll sit then.”

They sat across from each other. The shop assistant brought a pot of rose tea and poured Wen Du a cup, letting her relax.

Yin Chen adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses. Her gaze drifted lazily between the book pages and Wen Du—smoother and more nonchalant than casual chat.

“How’d it go?”

“I backed off.” Wen Du’s fingers traced the warm glass. “Rescuing them has too low odds of success, and it’d drag Ji Tingxi into it.”

Yin Chen blinked. “You care about her that much?”

“Yeah. She’s got dirt on me, and she’s a huge ally. Could be key down the line. I don’t want to burn that bridge.”

Yin Chen smiled, like she’d just read an amusing passage. “But the Zi Qin sisters hold critical intel. If they’re shipped back to Meisi, we’re out of chances.”

“I know.” Wen Du sipped her tea, washing away her fatigue as she eyed the fading sunset. “But it’s not the right time to move. We’ll see later. Snake Mouth Bay’s already on our radar anyway. Could be the next breakthrough.”

“Good. Let me know if plans firm up.”

Unlike Xia Lie—who loved debating Wen Du into submission—Yin Chen never pushed back. She followed Wen Du’s lead and trusted her calls.

The seamless exchange left Wen Du a bit off-balance. She pulled her gaze from the street shadows outside. “Everything good on your end?”

“Smooth. All sides are operating without hitches.”

Wen Du nodded. Under single-line contact rules, she didn’t know these “sides.” But one loomed large in her mind—

“Right, what about Officer Du?”

“Officer Du…” Yin Chen closed her book and sat up straight. “She’s hit some snags.”

…

July 7th. North County Police Station’s Patrol Police Team got a call: malicious electric shock in West District. Requesting assistance.

Du Lengding took Cha Nan to Paulownia Street in West District. In the apartment, they found homeowner Ji Rui—and her little toy: a miniature magnetic generator.

Its bumpy shape and tangled wires screamed for an instruction manual and safety certification.

Du Lengding sized up Ji Rui. Her face was flushed, energy high—not the look of someone who’d just called for help in panic.

Then her sofa friends: one hugging a popcorn bucket, the other a curly-haired dog. Neither seemed eager to spare a hand for a call.

“Anyone else here?”

“Anyone else?” Ji Rui looked puzzled, but spotting the black uniform, she got it. “Oh, the hired worker. You didn’t come just for her, did you?”

“Bring her out. I need everyone in the room present.”

The moment Du Lengding saw Li Da, she knew she was the real complainant.

Long pants, long sleeves—only her cheeks exposed. No visible marks.

But her downcast eyes held more than politeness: raw fear. They flicked upward now and then, hoping for progress yet dreading escalation.

“This…” Du Lengding racked her brain, then pinned it with pro terminology. “Generator. Who used it last?”

“Me.” Ji Rui knew the drill but owned it boldly. “Problem?”

“You and the hired worker—come with me to the station.”

Li Da bolted after Cha Nan at the words. But Ji Rui stayed put, looking utterly inconvenienced.

“Sorry, Officer, but I’ve got friends here, and tons of chores needing her help. Ask what you need now. I really can’t spare the time.”

Cha Nan turned, genuinely surprised at the defiance, eyeing the girl.

Du Lengding didn’t budge, just stared down with a stone face.

Her skin was pale—paler than most Homer People—like carved white jade features. But the pallor sharpened her chill rather than softening it. Paired with her uniform—black clothes, silver shoulder insignia—it cranked the intimidation to max. No one could stand against it.

Yet this girl before Cha Nan not only resisted but did so casually, like brushing off an invite or a pest.

“Cooperating with police doesn’t require carving out special time. We’ll schedule it for you.” Du Lengding’s lips barely moved.

Ji Rui pursed her lips. Her feigned politeness evaporated, impatience bubbling up.

She eyed the shoulder insignia. “That rank—you’re Patrol Police Team from North County Police Station, right?”

Cha Nan spun back. “You know insignia? Means you keep tabs on the station! But your legal awareness lags behind.”

Dare to mouth off to cops?

“I don’t track your station. Dad force-fed me this stuff. He’s always parading around in shoulder tabs and collar pins. Hard not to notice.”

She glanced at Cha Nan’s shoulder. “His are bigger, though—three wheat stalks with a curved staff. Dunno the name, but it looks coordinated.”

Du Lengding showed no reaction. Cha Nan’s face changed: Chief Ji?

It clicked. He locked eyes with Du Lengding: Ji Lanmu, deputy station chief overseeing Patrol and Traffic. Their superior, in a way.

They should’ve flagged Ji Rui’s name earlier—can’t handle a leader’s kid routinely.

Most would bend for a boss connection. But Du Lengding wasn’t most. Cha Nan feared she’d go too rigid, so he sidled up and shook his head at her.

Upholding the law was good. But overdo it here, and they’d enforce themselves right into trouble.

Du Lengding’s lips twitched, expression stiffening.

If it was just disdainful eyes, Ji Rui’s couldn’t match Du Lengding’s—even rolled flat. One was deliberate, the other innate.

But disdain aside, Du Lengding stayed silent, handing the talk to her silver-tongued partner.

Cha Nan waved Li Da back. “Next time with live gear, prioritize safety. Rubber gloves, avoid shocks!”

…

Wen Du listened intently to Yin Chen’s recounting.

“Officer Du wants to save the hired worker but can’t act freely.”

“Yeah. Her spot lets her ruffle feathers without much backlash—except leaders’. Job stability keeps the whole line steady.”

“Seems Duo Lin’s intel was spot-on. He Lilin’s friends are all jumping on the Sern Hired Worker bandwagon. But life in those ‘grand homes’ is rough for them.”

Yin Chen set her book aside. The assistant fetched a glass; she poured herself some tea—Wen Du’s treat.

“No immediate life threats, but we can’t ignore it. I’ve been brainstorming help.”

Wen Du picked up the book, flipping through as evening light faded. Indoor lamps took over, bathing the pages in artificial glow.

No surprise there. Boss Yin seemed elegant and carefree, but privately she worried and toiled nonstop.

“Hard for us to step in directly. But here’s a thought: Have our people check social platforms. See if they’ve posted info or pics.

“Abuse is supposed to be hush-hush, but without laws, some flaunt it. Girls Ji Rui’s age love sharing. Worth a look.”

Silence hung by the seats. Yin Chen’s eyes sparkled, lenses glinting.

“Great idea!”

…

July 14th. A week later.

Patrol Police Team’s service center fielded another call.

Cha Nan had told them to ignore alarms from West District Paulownia Street apartment 113—advise on electrical safety. But Du Lengding insisted on alerts for related calls, to stay in the loop.

This time, Du Lengding came alone. Opening the door, she smelled scorch marks.

At this rate, dispatch should warn about barbecue safety—control the heat, avoid charring.

Seeing police, Li Da forgot decorum and rushed forward. “Officer, take me to the station! I’ve done wrong—broken laws even. I need questioning and jail!”

Ji Rui brushed hair from her eyes, blocking Li Da’s view. “If she erred, I didn’t guide her well. My fault.”

She stepped up, grabbed Li Da’s arm, and yanked her close—fingers digging in. “Why call them here? Wastes their precious time!”

“Police handle mistakes. Both of you, come to the station with me.”

Ji Rui pulled Li Da backward instead.

Du Lengding didn’t advance, not even twitching a brow. “Don’t make me drag you. It won’t feel good.”

No room for negotiation—like a steel fork spearing straight at her face, demanding compliance.

Ji Rui had bullied plenty, tough as nails. But facing an iron wall, she knew another charge might bloody her head.

Her aura faltered. She swallowed hard.

Still, she wouldn’t yield. She had the pull to play chicken.

In the standoff, Ji Rui turned away and stepped aside—but left Li Da behind.

“Take her if you want to question someone. She’s the caller. Not my issue.”

Du Lengding motioned Li Da behind her. Once safe, she spoke.

“It involves you big time. Suspected illegal device fabrication, intentional harm to a worker. Cooperate at the station for investigation.”

“Illegal device? Physics homework from teacher. You calling great Professor Ron’s assignment illegal?

“Intentional harm? Come on, Officer—which eye saw intent? Experiment mishap, bumped her. My chem teacher blew up glassware young. Singed fur’s nothing!”

“Save it for the interrogation room. No legal weight here.”

“You really want me at the station?” Ji Rui flopped on the sofa, leg crossed. “Fine—have Dad send his squad car. Used to his ride; others feel off!”

Usually, she’d flash big white teeth in a dazzling grin—irritate without real harm, escalate later if needed.

But Du Lengding’s wall unnerved her. Standing like ancient ice sculpture, Ji Rui feared grinning would get her shot. Better dial it back.

Smart move. Du Lengding strode forward without pause, hand to belt—like grabbing cuffs.

Ji Rui’s crossed leg went limp on her knee. Run? Hold ground?

Fate eased up. As panic cracked her facade, another figure entered.

Polite one—inside but knocking the frame. “Ji Rui’s place?”

“Yes! Me!”

Savior! Ji Rui leaped up, rushing to greet—even if junk collector.

No chance. In the living room, the newcomer flashed ID. Ji Rui reeled again.

Ji Tingxi pocketed her badge. Backlit, her white shirt edges gleamed; light sharpened her crisp features and no-nonsense vibe.

“Miss Ji, come with me.”

Fresh from Du Lengding’s grip, now another enforcer. Ji Rui backed up, glanced at Du Lengding, gritted teeth—and edged toward her. Damn Guard Institute? Still, station over that!

Du Lengding, at distance, eyed Ji Tingxi coolly. “Guard Institute commander?”

Ji Tingxi had clocked her on entry but hadn’t looked squarely till addressed.

“Officer.”

No intros needed. Both knew ranks. Recent clash made them familiar.

One by sofa, one at door—eyes locked across.

Ji Rui’s gaze ping-ponged: white shirt vs. black uniform, like black-and-white impermanence duo.

But the vibe was odd—not joint reaping, but tussling over the soul.

“Sorry, Miss Ji needs to come to the station with me. Important matter.”

“Funny, I’ve got urgent business needing her at the Guard Institute.” Ji Tingxi latched onto her words sharply.

Du Lengding swung her dangling cuffs. Metal gleamed, slicing an arc.

“Too bad. I got here first.”

Amused—or irked—Ji Tingxi’s brows furrowed, eyes crinkling in a squeeze-smile. She shook her head. Voice cut through courtesy like a blade.

“When did the Special Action Department have to take turns making arrests!?”