Chapter Forty: The Reappearance of a Spear from Two Thousand Years Ago

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Wang Yong was a decisive man. The moment he saw I needed information on the Yamaguchi-gumi, he immediately stepped aside and made a phone call. However, his conversation was halting and he glanced at me uneasily from time to time. I'd warned him not to reveal my identity, yet still asked him for confidential material—perhaps his rank wasn't high enough to access such files.

While he was on the phone, I chatted with the three officers accompanying us about the mission. It seemed that operational command was in the hands of another unit; the Criminal Police Brigade was only there to support the armed police. Nevertheless, the three of them regarded Wang Tingting and me with genuine admiration—after all, they had been so swiftly bested by us that their respect was both heartfelt and openly expressed.

"Wang Yong, listen to me. This operation isn’t under our direct command. Without orders from above, no one is to interfere. If you cause any more trouble, I’ll see to it you’re held accountable!" The reprimand from the other end of Wang Yong’s phone was so stern that even those of us standing several meters away could hear it. Wang Yong, catching our curious looks, turned beet-red with embarrassment.

Wang Tingting, seeing Wang Yong being scolded so harshly for trying to help us, was visibly annoyed by his superior’s attitude. She snatched the phone and demanded, “Which department are you with?”

“And who are you? What are you disrupting here? Where’s Wang Yong? This is outrageous!” The voice on the other end, surprised to hear a woman, was even more brusque—assuming she was somehow involved with Wang Yong, his temper flared further.

Wang Yong grew increasingly anxious. If he didn’t handle this properly, he’d be reprimanded for sure. But given our identities, he couldn’t intervene directly and could only glare helplessly at Wang Tingting.

Listening closely, Wang Tingting seemed to recognize the voice. She frowned, and even I found it vaguely familiar. Yet she said nothing, and after a few more irritable words, the caller hung up abruptly.

Seeing Wang Yong’s worried face, Wang Tingting said coolly, “Don’t worry, it’s not your problem. Was that Wang Scarface on the phone?”

“Ah! Yes, Miss Wang, you know him?” Wang Yong asked in surprise. As it turned out, that superior was a subordinate of Wang Tingting’s second uncle—and I myself had been “invited” to the station by Wang Scarface only a few days before. No wonder the voice sounded so familiar.

Ignoring Wang Yong, Wang Tingting dialed the number back. The recipient hung up immediately with each call; after a few attempts, Wang Tingting grew irritated.

At last, the call went through and, as soon as it connected, a barrage of shouting came from the other end.

“Wang Yong, are you out of your mind? Planning a mutiny?”

“Wang Scarface, who do you think you’re yelling at? You can’t even recognize my voice?” Wang Tingting gave a cold, mocking laugh. The man was about to continue his tirade, but upon realizing it was a young woman, hesitated, trying to place the voice—before she hung up and tossed the phone back to Wang Yong. “When he calls again, just say you don’t know anything and hang up. Don’t answer him.”

Wang Yong was momentarily baffled. We all looked at Wang Tingting, curious.

Sure enough, within two minutes, Wang Yong’s phone rang again. He answered with a simple “Hello?” The caller paused, then pressed him, asking about the girl. Wang Yong, as instructed, claimed ignorance.

Wang Scarface’s every sentence circled back to asking about the girl, demanding to speak with Wang Tingting. She signaled Wang Yong to hang up.

The moment he did, another call came in. Again and again, the phone rang.

Wang Yong hesitated—this was his superior, after all; how could he just keep hanging up? But Wang Tingting gave him no chance to waver. She took the phone and declined each call as soon as it came. Wang Scarface called nearly thirty times—the more his calls went unanswered, the more frantic he became.

After all, Wang Tingting’s father, Wang Fugui, was a formidable figure, commanding respect from both the underworld and the authorities. Her second uncle was the provincial head of public security—who would dare cross her? She was like royalty; people vied to curry her favor, and a mere police officer like Wang Scarface wouldn’t dare offend her. Working under her uncle, he’d be lucky not to be desperate to please her.

Never mind thirty calls—he wouldn’t dare complain even after three hundred, or else his career would be over.

Checking the time, I said to Wang Tingting, “It’s getting late—enough games.”

She replied with an “Oh,” made a face at me, and finally answered the call.

“So, have you finally figured out who I am?” Wang Tingting asked coldly.

The man hurried to apologize, showering her with flattery and repeatedly blaming himself. Wang Yong and his colleagues were dumbfounded, wondering just what kind of person Wang Tingting truly was.

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Wang Tingting chuckled softly, her tone turning gentle. “My, Officer Wang, why so formal? I’m just a commoner—I can’t possibly deserve such respect.”

“You do, you do! I wouldn’t dare!” Wang Scarface’s voice was full of fear.

“Tell your chief that I, a humble citizen, just escaped the guns of the Yamaguchi-gumi. If I hadn’t run fast enough, I’d be riddled with bullets by now.”

“What?!” Wang Scarface was startled. The chief’s niece, targeted by that gang—this was serious. He quickly assured her, “Don’t worry, Miss Wang. We’ll handle this with utmost severity! If they dare act so brazenly in China, I won’t let them get away with it.”

Wang Tingting was annoyed by his official tone and cut him off, “Just help me track down where they’re staying. When you find out, call me. No more useless talk.”

“Yes, yes, but Miss Wang, it’s best if you don’t act alone,” Wang Scarface added anxiously. He’d heard rumors about Wang Tingting’s feats in Singapore, and about her challenging several martial arts instructors in the armed police shortly after returning to China—defeating two, drawing with another. He wasn’t worried about her skills, but even the best fighter could be overwhelmed, and the enemy had guns.

“Mind your own business!” Wang Tingting huffed, hung up, and handed the phone back to Wang Yong.

The surgery took half an hour; apparently Ma Junfeng’s gunshot wound was serious, but I knew his luck wouldn’t run out so easily. I wasn’t worried. With nothing more for them to do, Wang Yong and his three colleagues took their leave.

Once they were gone, I leaned back in my chair, lost in thought. Wang Tingting sat beside me, stealing glances. When I ignored her, she poked me in the side. “Hey! Hey!”

I looked at her lazily. “What is it?”

“The surgery’s taking so long—do you think Junfeng will be okay? How can you not be worried at all? If I were hurt, you’d probably be the same,” she said anxiously.

“Don’t worry, Ma Junfeng is tougher than you think. If you died, he’d still be alive—so why should I worry?” I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes to rest.

Soon, Wang Tingting poked me awake again, whispering in my ear, “Hey, hey, wake up. I want to ask you something.”

“Haven’t you already learned enough? What else do you not know?” I replied sleepily.

“In the car, why did you protect me?” As she spoke, a blush crept over her cheeks.

At that, my spirits lifted. Remembering the feeling of our bodies pressed together, especially the softness of her chest, I drifted into a pleasant reverie, forgetting to answer.

She’d been expecting an explanation, but when I remained silent, she looked up at me.

Seeing my dumb, lovestruck expression, she blushed furiously and snapped, “You pig! You lecher! You old pervert!” She raised her delicate fists and pounded on me.

Unprepared, I took a blow right on the eye, yelping in pain and squatting down to cover my face.

At first, Wang Tingting was mortified by her outburst. Then, realizing she might have hit me too hard, she grew worried. Her strength was enough to injure an ordinary person; now, her panic showed as she called for a doctor and pried my hand away to check the damage.

Once she saw my eye, her nerves dissolved into laughter. So this was how I’d earned my “panda eye.” Even the nurse who arrived later burst into laughter at the sight, not even bothering to cover her mouth. A kind nurse wanted to apply some ointment, but Wang Tingting waved her away, insisting it looked better like this.

This little episode brightened our spirits. Seeing her so happy, I grew serious and said, “Even if I had to do it all over again, I’d still use my body to shield you—I’d never let you get hurt.”

I said it so sincerely, with such earnestness—almost as if I were proposing. She was stunned. I expected her to either blush or scold me for being a flirt, but to my surprise, after a brief moment, she just glanced at me, then lowered her head and sat there silently.

I’d hoped to tease her about her reaction, but her sudden silence caught me off guard. Still, I noticed her breathing was faster than before—she must have been deeply moved, even if she didn’t show it.

I cleared my throat, trying to break the silence by changing the subject to the mysterious stone. But no matter what I said, she seemed distracted—lost in her own thoughts. Since she wasn’t listening, I gave up and closed my eyes to rest.

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What happened next, however, took me completely by surprise.

As I sat with my eyes closed, I heard soft footsteps approaching down the corridor. At first, I thought it was a patient or a doctor, but soon realized something was off. The rhythm was too precise, the stride and weight too deliberate—this was no ordinary walk.

By the time I’d worked it out, the person was already beside me. A hand landed on my shoulder.

Startled, I leapt to my feet, twisting his hand away with my right and gripping his shoulder with my left, while a well-aimed kick was already targeting his groin. Wang Tingting, startled as well, jumped up beside me. Perhaps we both overreacted, still tense from earlier events.

Luckily, I caught sight of his face in time and called out, “Old Ren, what are you doing here?”

It was Ren Tianxing—completely unexpected. Just two hours earlier, I’d spoken to him on the phone in Xi’an, yet here he was in Guangzhou.

He’d never forget this kind of “welcome.” If he’d moved a bit faster, or if I’d reacted a bit slower, things could have gone badly. Reflexes like ours, honed to counter ambushes, don’t develop in just a few years; they require extraordinary talent.

Ren’s expression shifted, then he burst out laughing. Wang Tingting, embarrassed by her outburst, quickly apologized.

I grinned slyly. “What, have you become a supernatural being? How did you teleport from Xi’an to Guangzhou in the blink of an eye?”

Ren straightened his collar, cast a few glances at Wang Tingting and me, and let a smile creep over his face. I suddenly remembered my panda eye and, embarrassed, joked, “You think it’s funny I’ve turned into a national treasure, don’t you?”

“With a beauty present, how could I not follow?” Ren Tianxing leered at Wang Tingting, sparking a surge of jealousy in me.

I never expected such a powerful emotion—my cheerful mood darkened. Ren seemed oblivious, but when my gaze met Wang Tingting’s, I felt my ears grow hot.

Ren glanced at the surgery room and asked quietly, “How’s Ma Junfeng?”

I rolled my eyes. “How do you know everything? And if you did, why were you just watching from the sidelines when we were in mortal danger?”

Ren blushed and stammered, “Policy issues… procedural problems… ha ha, you know how it is!”

I was used to official evasions like this. Our country’s policies are often problematic—meant to serve as guidelines, but in emergencies, they can become shackles.

“You didn’t come all the way to Guangzhou just to chat with me, did you?” I pressed. Ren’s arrival was no coincidence. The Yamaguchi-gumi’s operation wasn’t significant enough to warrant his involvement, especially with him arriving so quickly—there must be something else.

Sure enough, Ren looked around and spoke in a low voice, “The missing handgun has turned up in Guangzhou.”

“What?!” Wang Tingting and I sprang to our feet.

The handgun that had vanished from the Xi’an research institute was now in Guangzhou.

A handgun isn’t usually cause for alarm—but this was a gun that had existed over two thousand years ago, and it was a Chinese Type 54 pistol. That was mysterious enough. Moreover, the security at the research institute was air-tight, yet the gun and its case had vanished without a trace.

This matter had been classified as a state secret, yet somehow, spies had leaked the information. Now, politicians all over the world were watching us like hawks.