Chapter Seventy-Seven: Loyal and Trustworthy

Shi Di was himself an artist by training, gifted in the field of artistic creation, and had always appreciated talented and intelligent young people, such as Tsukimiya Seisho’s daughter, Tsukimiya Suzuna. In his earlier years, he had even entertained the idea of having Tsukimiya Suzuna as his daughter-in-law, and had enthusiastically brought it up with Seisho.

Seisho, however, excused himself by saying he did not interfere in his daughter’s romantic choices. So Shi Di called for Tsukimiya Suzuna herself. The clever young woman replied with a single playful remark that made Shi Di burst out laughing—and abandon the idea altogether:

“Uncle Shi, do you want me to change my name to Shi Suzuna? It doesn’t sound very nice to me…”

You see, among the Islanders, it was customary for women to take their husband’s surname after marriage, whereas the Mainland people did not have this tradition. In marriages between Island and Mainland clans, whether or not the wife adopted her husband’s surname was of little consequence to ordinary folk, but among prominent families, it was a different matter. For the Mainland, changing one’s surname was more often associated with adoption and the inclusion into the clan’s genealogy—something the Shi family would never allow for an Island girl.

But if the bride kept her own surname, conservative Islanders would likely see it as disrespecting their customs, or even interpret it as an insult—suggesting, “You’re not worthy of the Shi name,” or that the Shi family looked down on Islanders. When Suzuna said “it doesn’t sound nice,” it was a subtle nod to this potential backlash from Islander public opinion.

In fact, just a few years prior, a well-known Mainland legislator had married an Island wife and insisted she take his surname, causing an uproar among the people. The Mainland crowd saw it as an insult to women, while the Islanders felt it was chauvinistic and brought shame to their community. Such rare occurrences easily stirred up all sorts of trouble, and no one could predict the whims of the masses. Best not to touch the matter at all.

Realizing the impossibility of convincing the clan’s old guard, Shi Di quickly gave up on his troublesome notion. Yet his admiration for Tsukimiya Suzuna only grew. So when he saw her at the wedding, he made a point of asking his secretary to invite her for a chat.

With Song Mingyuan personally summoning her, Tsukimiya Suzuna could hardly refuse. She grumbled inwardly, but after informing Chen Ziang, Song Xi, and the others, she followed Song Mingyuan up to the private suite.

“Suzuna,” Shi Di greeted her warmly, “I heard you graduated this year and just started working—how is it going?”

Suzuna smiled.

“It’s going well. The work at the Public Security Bureau is very challenging, and I enjoy it.”

She certainly wouldn’t complain to Shi Di about Machiba Eiken.

First, Shi Di’s appreciation for her was purely the fondness of a senior for promising youth. To sow discord in front of such a senior—who liked her but wasn’t truly close—would be a foolish mistake, quickly burning any goodwill that hadn’t even properly formed. Even if Shi Di was indifferent, the shrewd Song Mingyuan was there as well!

Secondly, the gap between a sector governor and the head of the Public Security Bureau was vast—akin to complaining to the emperor about some minor county magistrate. In drama, it might feel satisfying, but in reality, the emperor would likely find it beneath him: Is this all? You came to me for such a triviality?

Lastly, although she hadn’t expected to meet the sector governor here, that didn’t mean the clever Suzuna couldn’t use the opportunity to give that annoying fool a bit of trouble.

“You’re working at the Public Security Bureau now?” Shi Di’s interest was piqued. “Let me guess—the First Investigation Division?”

“It’s the Sixth Countermeasures Division,” Suzuna replied with a smile.

At the mention of the Sixth Division, Shi Di recalled the subject of their earlier conversation and his brow furrowed in irritation. Both Suzuna and Song Mingyuan noticed this subtle change in his expression, and the latter immediately chimed in, smiling:

“Is that so? The Sixth Division isn’t easy to get into—you must have a unique talent for the field.”

This reminded Shi Di that the Sixth Division was different from the others, requiring its members to have deep knowledge and understanding of the arcane, which already surpassed what Seisho could teach. Who would send their own daughter to study such forbidden knowledge, where the more you learned, the more dangerous it became?

Even Shi Di and Song Mingyuan, at their level of power and authority, knew only as much as they were required to—that the world had an arcane side. They tacitly avoided learning more, treating it as a kind of “locust plague” or “epidemic”—a disaster to be managed, and even had to undergo regular mental health checks by the Bureau.

“We have no choice,” Suzuna said earnestly. “If we don’t do this work, no one will.”

Shi Di’s first instinct was to say, “They can do without you,” for it was a pity for someone as clever and beautiful as Suzuna to risk herself in such a dangerous job. But then he remembered how desperately the security services needed experts to combat the arcane.

“But things must be easier lately, right?” Song Mingyuan said with a smile.

Suzuna’s guard instantly went up. She thought to herself, I haven’t even started to stir the pot, and this old fox already senses something and is handing me the cue?

As confidential secretary, Song Mingyuan always spoke with a smile, but his ability to scheme was second to none—the perfect example of a smile concealing a blade. Probably only his daughter, Song Xi, could interact with him without any wariness—after all, her own father wouldn’t harm her, and if he did, so be it.

While Suzuna knew there was something behind his words, she couldn’t quite tell what, so she decided it probably had nothing to do with her. She replied casually,

“Yes, the Bureau Chief has been working with private agencies, outsourcing a lot of cases, so lately there hasn’t been much to do. I just wonder if those people can handle it properly.”

Though she spoke the truth, words like “private agencies,” “outsourcing,” and “not much to do” all hit on the very points that most annoyed Shi Di. The opposition party was using these issues to stir up public discontent and make things difficult for him!

Her final remark—“if they can handle it”—was a subtle barb. If they failed, whose responsibility would it be?

“The quality of private agencies is certainly uneven, and they require careful selection and oversight,” Song Mingyuan replied, still smiling. “If an important case comes along, you’ll still need to step in, so you must always be prepared and not slack off.”

Suzuna nodded repeatedly, exchanged a few polite words as a junior, and then took her leave. She hadn’t forgotten her real purpose here—to go find her seniors and catch up!

After Suzuna left, Shi Di frowned in displeasure:

“True, outsourcing to private agencies may ease the manpower shortage for now, but it only increases the risks to quality control.”

“Mingyuan, since you brought this up, I expect you already have a solution, don’t you?”

Song Mingyuan replied modestly,

“Governor, as your confidential secretary, my role is only to help perfect your wise decisions, so I can’t claim to have a solution—merely some humble suggestions for your consideration. First, cooperating with private agencies is a temporary expedient. When it comes to matters of national security, such business must remain in our own hands, entrusted to people we truly trust.”

“Indeed,” Shi Di nodded in agreement.

“Second, the members of the Public Security Committee are experienced, meticulous, prudent, and trustworthy…”

“So,” Shi Di interrupted, “you want to take this business away from the security system?”

“The security system is a professional agency for maintaining public order,” Song Mingyuan replied with a smile. “But in this case, we’re talking about national security. From the standpoint of matching authority and responsibility, while I have no doubt the Public Security Committee is fully capable of overseeing this work, there are, after all, agencies more suited to it.”

“You mean the Intelligence Bureau?” Shi Di pondered for a moment, then frowned. “But the Intelligence Bureau… I mean, it’s always been under the Qin family’s influence…”

“That’s why you, Governor, ought to appoint personnel there yourself.” Song Mingyuan’s smile grew even brighter, his tone calm and assured. “Given how grave and widespread the threat is now, affecting every aspect of society and having triggered a national emergency, the matter is urgent and must be addressed without delay. The post requires, more than ever, someone with an exceptional sense of the big picture, strong leadership, boldness, and above all, loyalty and reliability—someone you handpick yourself.”

“Yes… That’s right, exactly.” Shi Di finally caught up to his logic, murmuring, “Loyalty and reliability, crucial qualities, indeed… Especially for the Intelligence Bureau.”

He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table and moving closer to Song Mingyuan, chuckling,

“Mingyuan, I think I already know who you mean. But why don’t you say it aloud, so I can see if it matches my guess?”

Song Mingyuan’s smile never wavered as he leaned in and whispered a few words. Shi Di’s eyes lit up at once:

“Yes, that’s her!”