Chapter 86: Tell Him to Get Lost

Xia Qingyu.

The new superior.

With a figure and appearance of stunning excellence, she possessed an utterly dreadful temperament. When silent, in her open-necked knit top, high-waisted skirt, black stockings, and heels, she was the picture of an alluring professional beauty. But the moment she spoke, he would have given anything for a pair of ears that could not hear her—her words were almost always merciless scolding or biting, sarcastic mockery.

Still, at the thought that this beautiful she-devil was about to unleash her wrath on Nagaken Baba, Chen Ziang found himself a bit eager with anticipation.

The car pulled up in front of the Public Security Bureau. Chen Ziang got out first and saw Izumi Yuki opening the door for Xia Qingyu, standing beside her like a waiting handmaiden. Clearly, this newly appointed director regarded herself as a “retainer” before Xia Qingyu, just as Goro Edamon did before Suzuna Tsukimiya and Kiyomasa Tsukimiya.

Xia Qingyu stepped out, rising gracefully. One had to admit, black stockings were truly a magical weapon exclusive to women—her legs looked slender, long, and perfectly shaped.

Yuki climbed back into the driver’s seat and drove the car down to the underground garage. Xia Qingyu remained standing, her left arm elegantly folded beneath her right elbow, her right hand lifting her chin in contemplation as she gazed at the Public Security Bureau ahead.

Chen Ziang dared not disturb her. Standing quietly nearby, he pretended to be a bodyguard, ignoring the curious and gossiping glances of passing colleagues.

“Lead the way!” Xia Qingyu finally spoke. “Or do I have to kick you in the rear before you remember to move?”

“I thought you were deep in thought. I didn’t dare interrupt,” Chen Ziang hastily explained.

“If you spent as much effort reading a superior’s mood as you did actually doing your job, Miho Nishikawa wouldn’t be running wild all over North Pole City right now,” Xia Qingyu retorted with scorn. “And you’re supposed to be the best agent in the department? Then what are the rest—useless apes scribbling at their desks?”

Muttering silently to himself, “She’s the boss,” Chen Ziang fought down his irritation, forced himself into a posture of humble acceptance, and replied perfunctorily, “Your criticism is apt, Qingyu.”

“Insincere,” Xia Qingyu sneered. “To the director’s office.”

Chen Ziang perked up, deciding to ignore her barbs, and hurried ahead to lead the way.

Inside the director’s office, Masami Majima from the Inspectorate was meeting with Nagaken Baba to discuss the next round of personnel transfers.

According to Nagaken Baba, with the recent outsourcing, staffing shortages were a thing of the past. The Sixth Division no longer required so many agents, so some would be reassigned.

A classic case of killing the chicken to scare the monkeys.

Masami Majima very much wanted to include Suzuna Tsukimiya in the list, but Baba vetoed it. With the staunch support of Hisahiro Matsuo, he no longer needed to worry about Tsukimiya running home to report, but reassigning her to the Cyber Review Unit would be a direct slap in Kiyomasa Tsukimiya’s face—a provocation the External Affairs system would not tolerate. Matsuo would never back such a move.

“Keep a close eye on Chen Ziang,” Baba instructed.

“Don’t worry. He won’t last long,” Masami Majima replied with a smile.

The work in the Cyber Surveillance Unit was unpopular, but if the person simply gave up—spending the day with a cup of tea and a pack of cigarettes, reviewing a single message all day—then it hardly mattered.

What Baba wanted was to seize on Chen Ziang’s failings and find a legitimate reason to fire him—kick him out.

It wasn’t impossible to lay off someone in the system, but it required ample evidence and headquarters’ approval. Senior leadership always wondered, “If you want to fire a troublemaker, isn’t there at least one percent fault in your management?” So it was rarely done.

That Baba was now determined to dismiss Chen Ziang showed just how deep his grudge ran—forced to apologize meekly on the phone, publicly berated and humiliated by Tsukimiya Suzuna, he was now bent on getting revenge tenfold.

Get him out!

“It’s in your hands,” Baba said in a low voice.

As for how to make Chen Ziang commit a “fireable offense,” he had full confidence in Masami Majima’s abilities.

“Should I notify those detective agencies?” Masami confirmed.

“Yes, go ahead.” Baba thought to himself, “Truly, nothing is more poisonous than a woman’s heart; I hadn’t even considered that.” Once the detective firms were informed, even if Chen Ziang quit on his own, he’d never find a decent job in the industry again.

As for changing careers, that was even less likely. Interviewers would see his résumé: “You worked at the Public Security Bureau? Which division? Oh, the Sixth Countermeasures Division—why is there no record online? Falsifying your CV, are you?”

Excellent. The more miserable Chen Ziang’s future, the more it would serve as a warning to the rest of the team.

As the saying goes, “Mercy doesn’t command soldiers.” Sometimes, as a leader, one must harden one’s heart and do what is necessary, even if it’s devoid of compassion...

As Baba busied himself justifying his actions in his mind, a young woman entered, Chen Ziang in tow. She was extraordinarily beautiful, but since she was of no use to his career, Baba only spared her an extra glance or two.

He instinctively wanted to question her identity, but the aura she exuded was so powerful—perhaps even greater than his old boss, Matsuo—that he hesitated.

“Director of the Public Security Bureau?” Xia Qingyu’s gaze swept over Masami Majima, as if she didn’t exist, fixing directly on Baba.

“Yes, and you are?” Baba replied, a look of confusion on his face.

“As of today, you are not,” Xia Qingyu said coldly. “Izumi?”

Izumi Yuki entered, handing over a document. Xia Qingyu took it and tossed it onto the desk.

Masami Majima stood aside, her mind reeling with disbelief, as if she were witnessing some street prank. Was this some kind of acting troupe? How did they get into the Public Security Bureau? Were there cameras filming this?

Baba said nothing, picking up the document to study it. Years of handling official paperwork made it clear to him the stamp was genuine.

But the content was staggering: “Nagaken Baba is no longer director,” with no note on where he’d be reassigned. For a matter this important, headquarters would normally have given him advance notice.

The procedures were flawless, but to an insider, the holes were glaring.

Baba snorted, tossed the document down, and called Matsuo.

The document bore the Public Security Headquarters’ seal; it was only right to ask the minister.

As the call connected, Baba stood by the window, murmured a few words.

Seeing him turn his back, Chen Ziang tried to shift position to catch a glimpse of his expression, but was stopped in his tracks by Xia Qingyu’s fierce glare—a look that clearly said, “Try something stupid, and I’ll kick you so hard you’ll regret it.”

Soon, Baba’s face twisted in disbelief.

Chen Ziang felt the trip had already been worth it. After all, calling the director a fool was pointless—everyone did that behind his back.

But to end the political career he clung to like life itself... it was like planting the pointed heel of a stiletto squarely on the backside of a man with chronic hemorrhoids—a blow of devastating force.

Why did his mind always drift to such grotesque comparisons? It must be Xia Qingyu’s fault.