Chapter 85: Hello, Leader

Guangyuan District was the only region among the sixteen administrative zones of Extreme North City where the resident Landian population outnumbered the Islanders. It was said that, back in the day, when Shi Zhiqing’s Imperial Fleet began its campaign against the ground-based pirates, the planetary assault teams had made Guangyuan their concentrated landing site.

Because of this, many military buildings still stood here. Most residential blocks were no taller than six stories, and the roads were all extravagant eight-lane highways, built to accommodate the passage of military vehicles. The style was simple and brutal, completely devoid of aesthetic charm—locals simply called it “the Guangyuan look.”

At Liberation Road Station in Guangyuan, Chen Zi’ang stepped off the light rail and dialed a number.

“I’m across the street,” came the reply from Izumi Yuki. “There’s a car beside me with its hazard lights on—do you see it?”

Chen Zi’ang quickly spotted her, waved to signal that he’d seen them, crossed the street, and walked up to the car. He heard Izumi Yuki say, “Get in first,” as she opened the driver’s door.

Wait, the boss is driving herself? Chen Zi’ang wondered, puzzled. He reached for the passenger door, but a cool, clear female voice spoke from the back seat:

“Sit in the back.”

Couldn’t you have said so earlier… Chen Zi’ang opened the back door and slid in.

There, he saw a stunningly beautiful young woman—the one who had just spoken. Having met the likes of Tsukimi Suzuna and Xia Zili, Chen Zi’ang was no longer easily impressed by ordinary looks, but this woman’s beauty was simply too radiant to ignore.

Her features were strikingly similar to Xia Zili’s, but lacked the subtle, deep-set foreign traits; hers were more… valiant.

Yes, valiant. It might seem odd to use such a word for a woman, but for her, it fit perfectly. The bridge of her nose was long and proud—not the delicate, dainty nose typical of women, but with strong, unyielding lines. The corners of her lips were slightly upturned, but not in a warm smile; it was more an expression of lofty, cold contempt, as if she looked down on all beneath her.

What left the deepest impression, however, were her eyes—almost pure black. Most people’s irises are brown, with the black pupil at the center standing in contrast, but hers were of such a deep shade as to be nearly black throughout, giving them a strange, hypnotic power. To meet her gaze was to feel oneself drawn in, unable to escape.

At first glance, Chen Zi’ang found his soul ensnared by those black eyes, and it took him a moment to recover.

“Hello,” he said quickly, trying to cover his embarrassment. “My name is Chen Zi’ang.”

“Xia Qingyu,” she replied. Her voice was as cool as her presence.

Xia Qingyu? Any relation to Xia Zili?

The thought flashed across Chen Zi’ang’s mind, but then Izumi Yuki spoke from the driver’s seat.

“The Sixth Countermeasures Division will be separated from the security system and placed under the Intelligence Bureau as its fifth department. My lady here is the head of Intelligence Division Five.”

“Good day, ma’am,” Chen Zi’ang said hurriedly.

Xia Qingyu’s face betrayed no emotion. She stared straight at him and asked coldly, “Yesterday at 4:12 p.m., Chikushima in Jinchuan District was attacked by Nishikawa Miharu. You were present at the scene?”

“Yes,” Chen Zi’ang replied. “I was attending a friend’s wedding.”

“If you were there, why didn’t you stop the attack?” she pressed.

“It happened so suddenly,” Chen Zi’ang tried to explain. “I didn’t expect Nishikawa Miharu to be there, and since it was the weekend, I wasn’t carrying my sidearm.”

“I see.” Xia Qingyu gave a cold, mocking laugh. “Perhaps we should get in touch with this witch and ask her to carry out attacks only on weekdays, and preferably give us a half-hour’s notice, so as not to inconvenience my agents.”

“A masterful bit of sarcasm, ma’am,” Izumi Yuki commented from the driver’s seat. “But I’ve read the military report—the whole incident, from Nishikawa Miharu’s appearance to her first kill, took only five or six seconds…”

“Izumi?” Xia Qingyu’s tone sharpened.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What is your current responsibility?”

“My apologies. Driving,” Izumi Yuki said quickly. “I’ll keep quiet.”

“In short,” Xia Qingyu turned her gaze back, voice icy, “a witch attacked officials in broad daylight. Most of them are now questioning whether Extreme North City is truly capable of protecting them.”

“I don’t expect you to understand just how much trouble this will cause us in the future, but you should at least have the basic self-awareness not to carry on as if nothing happened—holidaying after the incident, sleeping the night away in a hotel like a pig.”

Her mocking tone sent Chen Zi’ang’s blood pressure soaring. He knew he probably shouldn’t argue, but swallowing the insult felt equally wrong; after all, a terrible first impression with a superior could be fatal in the workplace.

“Please allow me to explain—”

“Go on.”

“I was about to report to my unit,” Chen Zi’ang said quickly, “but Confidential Secretary Song Mingyuan ordered me to guard the scene and prevent Nishikawa Miharu from returning, and told me the military would take over.”

“The military?” Xia Qingyu sneered. “Those oafs who can’t even tell the difference between dolphins and witches?”

Chen Zi’ang wanted to retort, but, recalling the military’s recent mishap with the dolphin at Dolphin Bay, he found himself at a loss for words.

“And Song Mingyuan,” Xia Qingyu continued coldly. “Is he your superior?”

“No,” Chen Zi’ang replied.

“Then why did you obey him?” Xia Qingyu lifted her chin with a certain elegant, arrogant anger. “Answer me, Chen Zi’ang: are you so easily led by others?”

Chen Zi’ang reflected—at the time, he hadn’t known whether to report to his unit, and when Song Mingyuan spoke up, he’d instinctively followed his direction. Clearly, Xia Qingyu saw this as a problem.

“But he’s a confidential secretary,” Chen Zi’ang protested.

“So you only obey based on rank?” Xia Qingyu arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “If Song Mingyuan ordered you to die, and I ordered you to live, would you decide the secretary’s position outranks my own as head of Intelligence Division Five and choose to obey him and kill yourself?”

“Well, that would depend on the situation,” Chen Zi’ang replied. “You’re my direct superior. If his orders conflicted with yours, I’d follow yours without hesitation.”

“So you do have some intelligence,” Xia Qingyu said with a hint of surprise, snorting coldly and ceasing her barrage.

Chen Zi’ang felt he was beginning to understand: this commanding woman liked to be flattered and obeyed; when speaking to her, one must never contradict but always go along.

“But I don’t like being addressed as ‘ma’am,’” Xia Qingyu said suddenly, her tone cold again. “If you make that mistake again, I’ll throw you out of the car.”

“Then… how should I address… you?” Chen Zi’ang asked cautiously.

“Call me Qingyu,” she said indifferently.

Izumi Yuki glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror, her expression surprised.

“Isn’t it improper to address a superior so directly?” Chen Zi’ang tested.

“Or would you rather be a dog and call me ‘Master’?” Xia Qingyu’s face chilled.

“Qingyu,” Chen Zi’ang seized the cue, “are we heading to the Public Security Bureau now?”

“What else?” Xia Qingyu retorted. “Taking you on holiday at Chikushima Hotel?”

Chastened, Chen Zi’ang turned to look out the window.

In the reflection of the glass, he saw Qingyu’s legs elegantly crossed, wrapped in black silk. Her thighs were full and shapely without being heavy, her calves long, delicate, and slender—the curves could only be described as exquisite.

Suddenly, the reflection turned, her gaze meeting his through the window’s sheen.

Chen Zi’ang quickly looked away, and from his left, he heard the faintest hint of a cold laugh.