Chapter Forty-Nine: What Can You Do About It?

"Are we really taking the bus?" Liu Molan looked at the sea of people in the station, glanced hesitantly at Qin Yang beside her, who was carrying a single travel bag, and felt a surge of indignation. Their only Audi had been sent off to the repair shop again, and it was too late to borrow another car now. Seeing the bustling station as the New Year approached, she felt an unmistakable trepidation. This was, in fact, the first time in her life that she would ride a public bus.

Qin Yang was fuming inside as well. That wretched Guo Jintao had managed to wreck the car after he left. Liu Molan had only that one vehicle—not for lack of money, but buying another at the moment was unrealistic. He had thought of getting one from Cao Long, but damn Ji Liehu had taken all the cars away in the middle of the night. They had no choice but to take the bus.

"No helping it, thieves nowadays are too much. They even stole all the wheels," Qin Yang said, carefully watching Liu Molan, thankful that this clumsy excuse didn't arouse her suspicion.

"Why don't we just take a taxi?" Liu Molan pointed out the many cabs nearby, tugging on Qin Yang's sleeve.

He shrugged. "That's fine, but the bus is cheaper."

"Fine, let's go with your plan," she agreed, seeing little difference between the options.

With an audible snap of his fingers, Qin Yang braved the throng and, after a struggle, managed to buy two tickets to Jianghai City. Once they squeezed onto the bus, Liu Molan finally exhaled in relief. "I’m starting to think you got up to something last night. My car has ended up in the repair shop three times since you started driving it."

Qin Yang scratched his head awkwardly. "Nothing I could do. I swear nothing shady happened. And I wouldn’t intentionally damage your car, would I? Just bear with it—three hours and we’ll be there."

Liu Molan sighed. "I have no peace of mind. Guo Jintao resigned early this morning and disappeared. He had his faults, but his abilities were undeniable. To lose him now puts a lot of pressure on the team. Where am I supposed to find another experienced mall manager at this time?"

"Tao Caijie is pretty good—at least she’s diligent," Qin Yang offered.

She looked at him, blinking. "Are you trying to pull strings for her?"

"I only recommend the worthy, no matter their connections," Qin Yang replied with righteous flair.

"I’ll consider it. Tao Caijie’s skills aren’t in question, but I’m worried she’s not familiar with a manager’s workflow. Now, as we expand into new markets, there can’t be any mistakes. Anyway, you can’t help me with this, so just try not to make trouble for me again. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking when I made you my driver."

Qin Yang only smiled at her nagging. This woman was changing before his eyes, their relationship no longer that of superior and subordinate, but something more like confidants. And he liked it. As the bus set off, Liu Molan began reviewing her documents, all materials she’d prepared for their trip to Jianghai, while Qin Yang stretched out, found a comfortable position, and dozed off. He hadn’t slept enough last night, busy comforting Tao Caijie and Cheng Xiaomei.

Engrossed in her reading, Liu Molan suddenly felt something on her shoulder. Startled, she turned to find Qin Yang sleeping soundly, his head resting on her shoulder. She felt a mix of frustration and amusement. Usually, it was the woman who lay on the man’s shoulder—how had their roles reversed? And she was the boss! She had let that fool drag her onto a crowded bus, and she’d even agreed to it. How had things come to this?

But then, remembering how Qin Yang had risked his life to shield her, her heart softened. All her life, she had prided herself on her independence, living abroad for many years, yet in that moment, she had felt a sense of safety she’d never known—a feeling she found herself unable to resist. Unconsciously, Qin Yang’s place in her heart had shifted in these short two weeks.

She put away her documents, looked at Qin Yang sleeping like a child, and couldn’t help but smile. Without realizing it, her delicate hand clasped his.

Those sitting nearby, seeing this scene, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

No one knew how much time had passed when the bus finally stopped. The bustle outside roused Qin Yang from his sleep. He awoke to find Liu Molan staring at him, her large eyes close enough to touch, and only then did he realize he was still holding her soft hand. He quickly let go, scratching his head in embarrassment. "I must have done that in my sleep."

"Enough talk, let’s get moving," Liu Molan said, her cheeks tinged with red. "It’s cold outside—let’s take a taxi to the hotel before we catch a chill."

They stepped off the bus. Qin Yang stretched and breathed in the icy air, which instantly cleared his head.

"Aren’t you from Jianghai, Qin Yang? Take the chance to visit home—I’ll give you the time off," Liu Molan said softly.

He waved her off. "No one’s home—no point going back. Let’s go. This is my territory—at noon I’ll take you for some real local food. Jianghai snacks are famous; it’d be a shame not to try them."

"Alright, you’re treating."

"I haven’t even been paid yet."

"That’s your problem—you’re paying."

Joking all the way, they got into a cab and headed for the hotel. The driver had planned on taking a long route, but faced with a true Jianghai local like Qin Yang, he quickly gave up the idea. Since they had a business suite, it was just right for the two of them. They rested until noon, when Qin Yang called Liu Molan out for lunch. Dressed casually, she looked every inch the radiant young woman, worlds apart from her usual icy, commanding demeanor, and Qin Yang was pleasantly surprised.

"What’s the best thing to eat in Jianghai? What about these places?" Liu Molan asked, dazzled by the array of small restaurants.

Qin Yang glanced around. "None of these are authentic. Their food isn’t as good as mine."

"You can cook?" Liu Molan asked in surprise.

"Just a way to get by," Qin Yang scratched his head. "I was a chef for a while, but then this or that investigation came along and the restaurants that took me in were forced to close. Still, I learned from some top chefs—real local cuisine. After the restaurants closed, I did other things."

"What else did you do?" Liu Molan asked, intrigued.

He thought for a moment. "A bit of everything. Sold lamb skewers on the street, peddled trinkets on a rug, worked as a plumber, hauled sacks, moved gravel, chopped bricks, transported air conditioners. I even sang in bars to earn some extra cash. But I’m most proud of my carpentry—I was good, really good. Lots of furniture factories wanted to hire me. I thought carpentry might let me live a frugal, honest life, but then—"

Remembering that night’s shooting, Qin Yang felt a chill.

Liu Molan never imagined Qin Yang had such a wealth of humble experience. It contrasted so sharply with the ruthless killer he’d appeared to be that night. Yet his stories were vivid and detailed, even funny at times, and she couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of person he really was.

"Let’s have pufferfish for lunch—it’s delicious," Qin Yang said, swallowing at the thought. "Whenever I earned a little extra from singing, I’d come here with a few friends to treat ourselves."

His description piqued Liu Molan’s curiosity. She’d heard of pufferfish but never tried it, so she hurried her steps. They wound their way to a small, somewhat old-fashioned shop, where several cars were parked outside. It was impressive that so many people had managed to drive into this narrow alley.

"This place is an institution. Their pufferfish are all wild-caught, and supply is limited. Wild pufferfish are illegal to sell, and no restaurant in Jianghai is officially allowed to prepare them. They’re breaking the rules, selling for three days and closing for half a month. That’s what makes it so tempting. There must be stock today, or there wouldn’t be so many cars."

They found a seat. The décor was simple, but everything was clean—no problem for someone as fastidious as Liu Molan. She looked around at the boisterous crowd eating and drinking and found it oddly amusing.

"Boss, don’t hold back—bring me five half-kilo pufferfish!" Qin Yang called out. "Three plates of house specials, and three bottles of beer. And five bowls of rice after that."

"We still have important meetings this afternoon—don’t drink too much. And that’s a lot of food, won’t it be too much?" Liu Molan reminded him.

"Don’t worry, I know my limits," Qin Yang reassured her.

The owner was just about to head for the kitchen when a Range Rover and BMW pulled up outside. Eight people piled out—four couples. The women either wore heavy makeup or feigned innocence, while the men all had the same louche, privileged look, clearly spoiled rich kids.

"Qun Ze, this is the famous place you mentioned?" one of them—a man in a leather jacket—said, groping his girlfriend without a care. "Looks like a dump."

Qun Ze, a young man with glasses, about twenty-three or four, tossed his cigarette aside, spat, and snapped, "Shut up if you don’t want to eat. They haven’t had pufferfish for half a month, but today there’s a good catch. My mouth’s been watering for days. Boss, twenty fish for our table, pack up whatever we can’t eat."

"Sorry, sir," the owner said nervously, sensing trouble. "You know how it is—wild ones are rare. We had fewer than forty today, and there are only fifteen left. That gentleman just ordered five, so only ten remain. I’m really sorry."

"What? Make it fifteen, and tell that guy to get lost," Qun Ze demanded, waving his hand. "If there’s even one missing, I’ll see your restaurant shut down."

The owner hesitated, but with the group glaring at him, he had no choice but to approach Qin Yang with a wry smile. "Sir, about your order—"

"Business is business," Qin Yang replied with a smile. "I came here to eat, not to offer charity."

"Who are you calling a beggar, you son of a—!" Qun Ze stormed over, but the moment he saw Liu Molan seated across from Qin Yang, his eyes lit up, his gaze flickering with ill-concealed interest. He slapped Qin Yang on the back, his tone cold. "Listen, kid, don’t push your luck. Get lost now, or else—"

"Or else what?" Qin Yang asked, smiling pleasantly.