Chapter 12: Are You Going to Arrest Me?

Back when they were with the Falcons, the two of them often carried out missions together. Once, at a critical moment, Lin Fan took a bullet to save Xu Qiang. From then on, Xu Qiang saw Lin Fan as his own. Over the years, Xu Qiang had been trying to find out news of Lin Fan, because in his heart, Lin Fan was not just his savior, his captain, but his brother—someone he had acknowledged with his whole being. No matter what Lin Fan said or did, Xu Qiang would support him unconditionally, even if it meant his own death. As long as Lin Fan spoke, Xu Qiang would obey without hesitation.

Lin Fan, of course, had no idea what Xu Qiang was thinking. He had already turned around, a roguish smile playing on his lips, as he looked at Zhao Ying—her face tense, dressed in her police uniform, gun pointed at him. “What? Planning to arrest me and take me to the station?” he asked.

“What are you doing here? You killed Hong Tianxiong, didn’t you?” Zhao Ying had recognized Lin Fan from his silhouette. Now, as he turned to face her, she blurted out the question she most wanted answered.

“Which eye of yours saw me do it, Officer Zhao? Don’t the police always talk about evidence? Where’s your proof?” Lin Fan now acted the part of a scoundrel, repeating the word “evidence,” his eyes shamelessly roaming over Zhao Ying’s chest.

Seeing Lin Fan so brazen, and worse, noticing a string of drool at the corner of his mouth, Zhao Ying’s cheeks flushed red. She spat angrily, “You little pervert.”

“A pervert? Then let me show you what a real pervert looks like.” As he spoke, Lin Fan slowly approached Zhao Ying, the wicked curve of his smile deepening. The evening breeze revealed the scar on his left brow, and in the dim light he seemed strangely sinister, an eerie, androgynous wickedness radiating from him, as if he might devour Zhao Ying at any moment.

Watching Lin Fan come closer, Zhao Ying raised her gun and began to back away. “What do you want?”

“What do you think I want? You’re the one forcing my hand,” Lin Fan replied, a glint flashing in his eyes, his smile growing ever more mischievous as he moved in on her.

Zhao Ying soon found herself with nowhere left to retreat, her back against the wall. Unconsciously, she lowered her pistol, her breathing quickening, her heart pounding so hard it felt it might leap from her chest. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. In that moment, she forgot she was a police officer. She was simply a nervous young woman, terrified of what Lin Fan might do.

Lin Fan braced both hands against the wall on either side of her, his face drawing closer to hers.

The distance between them shrank to nothing. Zhao Ying could make out the fine hairs on Lin Fan’s face, and smelling his masculine scent, she felt a strange intoxication. She made no effort to resist, closing her eyes, her cheeks burning red.

Her reaction startled Lin Fan for a moment, but then he grinned wickedly. His eyes flickered with mischief as he leaned in close to Zhao Ying’s ear, letting his warm breath linger there. “You’re not nearly as forward as you were that night,” he whispered.

Hearing this, Zhao Ying’s eyes flew open, a flush tinging her cheeks, but then a trace of disappointment crept into her heart. Was she not attractive enough? Why hadn’t he “wanted” her all of a sudden? Zhao Ying herself didn’t notice how much she cared about Lin Fan’s attitude toward her. In front of him, her usual fiery spirit seemed to vanish, and she simply let herself be led by him, almost instinctively.

“Let’s go, Officer Zhao,” Lin Fan said with a faint smile, looking at her blushing face.

“Stop! You still haven’t answered me. Was it you who killed Hong Tianxiong?” Seeing Lin Fan about to leave, Zhao Ying’s expression changed, and she called out sharply.

“Hmph. He deserved to die,” Lin Fan replied coldly.

At his words, Zhao Ying pointed her gun at him again, her tone grave. “So it was you. Come with me to the station.”

“I never said I killed him. I just said he deserved to die. What, isn’t freedom of speech the law these days? My mouth is my own—I’ll say what I like.” Seeing the gun in Zhao Ying’s hand, Lin Fan raised an eyebrow, his eyes sharp as blades, locking onto her with a cold, mocking smile.

In truth, nothing infuriated Lin Fan more than having someone point a gun at him. Everyone who had ever done so was already dead by his hand. When Zhao Ying had done it earlier, he was already displeased, but he’d said nothing—after all, she was just a woman, and there was some connection between them. But now, pointing a gun at him again and insisting on taking him to the police station, a murderous glint flashed in Lin Fan’s eyes.

Sensing the shift in his aura, Zhao Ying couldn’t help but shiver, a chill rising from the depths of her heart. Still, she summoned her courage. “Don’t let me find evidence. If I do, I’ll be the first to arrest you.”

“As you wish.” Seeing her relent, Lin Fan shrugged indifferently, then turned and strode out of the alley.

Watching Lin Fan’s retreating figure, Zhao Ying leaned dazedly against the wall, murmuring to herself, “If I really had the evidence, could I actually arrest him?” She didn’t know the answer. Though she tried to force her heart to obey her mind—to remind herself she must arrest Lin Fan—she knew that sometimes she simply couldn’t control herself. Like just now, when Lin Fan had teased her, she hadn’t wanted to resist at all, but instead felt a strange thrill.

Lin Fan cared nothing for what Zhao Ying was thinking. He only knew he had a bit of a crush on her, nothing more. As for liking her—what man didn’t like beautiful women? But that was not love, at least not yet.

Leaving the alley, Lin Fan got straight into the car, lit a cigarette, leaned back in the rear seat, and told Xu Qiang to drive to Lin Yan’s villa.

This suited Xu Qiang perfectly, for what he most wanted now was to learn what Lin Fan had lived through these past four years. Back at Hong Tianxiong’s villa, Xu Qiang had noticed his captain had changed. If, four years ago, Lin Fan had been a Falcon King—a soldier brimming with justice, serving the nation and the people—now there was a strange, androgynous wickedness about him, something Xu Qiang couldn’t quite describe. He killed with a smile, as if it were nothing. The Lin Fan of the past was never like this. The only explanation was that something must have happened in these four years.

In the villa, when Lin Yan saw Lin Fan return, she said a few words, then smiled and went upstairs. In the living room, Lin Fan and Xu Qiang drank glass after glass, sharing all that had happened to each of them over the past four years—sometimes laughing heartily, sometimes sighing in sorrow.

Truth be told, Xu Qiang’s past four years had been rather uneventful, while Lin Fan’s had been full of peril—perhaps even more than his days with the Falcons. After all, in war-torn Africa, where Lin Fan had become the leader of the local mercenaries, how could life have been anything but dangerous?

“Captain, that Japanese guy said you are now…?” Xu Qiang poured Lin Fan another drink as he spoke.