Chapter 50: Managing Up

In the Superintendent’s Office, Chief Superintendent Mark Rowley chewed on a cigar, his expression giving away neither joy nor anger. He stared at Henry and Pei Zhibang, who were singing in harmony before him, and asked, "Are you saying that Lin Tiansheng has performed exceptionally well and should continue to serve in the Major Crimes Unit?"

Henry, dressed in full uniform with a rigid posture, replied, "Yes, sir. A brave detective is most suited for the Major Crimes Unit."

The credit for the major arms case could not possibly be kept under wraps. Yet, after being divided layer by layer, even the Superintendent would get a share, and the entire West Kowloon Police Station was bound to bask in the glory for a while.

Consequently, Lin Tiansheng, who had quietly racked up merits while hiding in the Major Crimes Unit, would once again fall into the sight of the big-wigs. Keeping Lin Tiansheng in the Major Crimes Unit without the Superintendent's nod would be quite a difficult task.

Mark understood that Henry’s stance had wavered and that he wanted to keep Lin Tiansheng in the Major Crimes Unit. If it had been yesterday, he would have cursed Henry out, but the weight of the arms case was simply too heavy. The Deputy Commissioner was about to attend a press conference, and Mark himself would even get some screen time, which made him feel a twinge of shared empathy.

At the end of the day, the credit was real and genuinely helpful for promotions. Suppressing a Chinese cop out of "courtesy and social obligations," however, was empty.

"If you are confident you can handle him, let him stay in West Kowloon," Mark finally relented, drawing a bottom line, "but only in the Major Crimes Unit."

"Yes, sir!"

"Thank you, sir!" Henry saluted smartly, his expression solemn. Pei Zhibang stood nearby with a wooden face, a cold sneer hidden in his heart: *"It’ll be even better to let Ah Sheng pad his resume. Once he has accumulated enough merit, transferring him out of the Major Crimes Unit will be as easy as snapping fingers!"*

Decades of colonial history had trained the Chinese in the art of "managing upwards." Wasn't Lok Gor once a man who crawled up from the very bottom?

In the end, they would raise those white ghosts like dogs.

Returning to the Major Crimes Unit, Pei Zhibang walked up to Lin Tiansheng’s desk and asked with a smile, "Inspector Lin, was the bird's nest delicious?"

"Bird's nest? It was all thick and sticky; I thought it was white fungus soup at first." Lin Tiansheng held a spoon, the bowl already scraped clean, a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

"Come to my office." Dropping those words, Pei Zhibang walked ahead. The moment Lin Tiansheng closed the door behind him, Pei Zhibang instantly switched to a radiant expression, his face glowing as he exclaimed, "You're booming, Young Master Sheng! Not even half a month in, and you've already smashed the smuggling ring of the Ngai Chi Yee!"

Though the case wasn't solved by raiding a warehouse, taking down an entire smuggling pipeline yielded the exact same punitive result.

Through interrogations, they had secured leads on multiple other warehouses and fences, and the cleanup operation alone would last over a month.

Lin Tiansheng accepted the cigarette handed over by Pei Zhibang, naturally picked up the lighter on the desk, and with a sharp *clack*, flicked it open to light his smoke. Exhaling a cloud, he said, "The brothers risked their lives; the credit isn't mine."

Pei Zhibang nodded. "Sensible. The credit isn't yours, nor is it the brothers'."

"It's mine, then!" He patted his chest, then chuckled, "Just joking. With the big ghosts up top, getting even table scraps is considered pretty good."

"As for the Superintendent, I’ve already smoothed things over. No matter what the Tang family says, as long as the Superintendent doesn't nod, you won't be leaving the Major Crimes Unit."

Lin Tiansheng looked satisfied, pinching his cigarette between his fingers. "Thank you, Senior Inspector Pei."

With the Superintendent backing him, no matter how unhappy the Tang family was, they couldn't possibly stick their fingers into West Kowloon.

A regional police district commander at the Chief Superintendent rank was definitely not someone the bumpkins of the New Territories could order around.

"By the way, get ready. Headquarters is holding a press conference. As the frontline commander, you're responsible for drafting the briefing materials," Pei Zhibang said.

At a press conference hosted by the Director of Operations, even he, as the head of Major Crimes, wouldn't be qualified to occupy a seat, let alone a mere probationary inspector.

As for Henry, the Superintendent of the Operations Bureau, he probably wouldn't even get three seconds of camera time.

Lin Tiansheng let out a dismissive chuckle. Having seen it all across two lifetimes, he nodded and said, "Understood. I'll make sure to highlight the key points."

"Good that you understand. Also, remember to dress sharp for *Police Magazine* next Sunday." Pei Zhibang straightened his collar, feeling a premature wave of triumph.

That dead hag Hong Baolian had run her mouth too much during the meeting. Once Young Master Sheng transferred into the Public Relations Branch, he'd see if she still had the face to put on airs.

The impact of this case was more than enough to prove Young Master Sheng's strength, and the remnants of the faction would finally unite without any remaining rifts.

Everyone had hope.

"Understood," Lin Tiansheng agreed, feeling no sense of grievance.

At his rank, being able to use *Police Magazine* as a stage was already the result of his comrades pushing hard behind the scenes. For an ordinary inspector, getting their name mentioned in the newspaper would likely be the absolute limit.

"You've worked hard all night. Take the boys and wrap things up. As for Ah Pang's end of things, I'll handle it," Pei Zhibang said.

"Yes, sir."

Lin Tiansheng slipped out.

Pei Zhibang sat back in his office chair and picked up his pen to write the report. As the head of Major Crimes, though he rarely participated in frontline command, he had to shoulder management responsibilities.

Fighting for credit and protecting his men came second; applying for welfare for injured officers, requesting medals for fallen ones, and arranging personnel leave came first.

The most minute details were what truly showcased administrative competence.

Doing this kind of work made climbing the ranks rather slow, but the police force could never do without it. Steady and methodical, coupled with a subordinate who dared to charge and break through walls—it was a match made in heaven.

"Ah Wing, Old Ma, Ah Wing, time to pack up and head out..."

Walking back into the office, Lin Tiansheng yawned and waved his hand.

***

In the Tai Po District, in front of the "Fresh Seafood" food processing plant, Lai Chung-ying was sporting an oiled-back hairstyle and a tailored suit. He kept glancing down at his watch until he finally spotted a Mercedes-Benz driving up. He hurried over to the car, bowed, and knocked on the window. "Brother Lun, Brother Lun."

The factory owner, Chow Yuen-lun, sat in the back row, motioning for the driver to lower the window. He looked at Lai Chung-ying with a smile and politely asked, "Mr. Lai, what are you looking for me for so early in the morning?"

Bowing deeply with a humble expression, Lai Chung-ying handed over a contract. "I've brought the contract for that residential property in Deep Water Bay. It's three points lower than the average market price."

Chow Yuen-lun took the contract, picked up a pen, and casually flipped through it. "Three points."

"That's right! Property prices are rising. Buying in at three points lower and selling when it goes up three points—in a turnaround, you can make a hundred thousand dollars in just two months!" Lai Chung-ying’s weather-beaten face was plastered with flattery.

Chow Yuen-lun nodded. "True, you might make money, but why should I let you earn the agency fee?"

"Save your breath, Mr. Lai. Who doesn't know you used to be a car washer? Do you really think that blocking a couple of drinks for me means you get to sign a contract? Keep having your pipe dreams."

The contract and the fountain pen were tossed out of the car simultaneously. The engine revved, leaving behind only a parting remark: "You'd be better off washing two of my cars instead."

Watching the sedan drive into the factory, Lai Chung-ying picked up the contract looking battered and humiliated. He dusted it off, his expression utterly calm—devoid of any anger from being insulted, his eyes holding only a pang of heartache over the cost of the A4 paper.

Pride wasn't worth a dime, but every single sheet of paper was tied to his capital for starting out.

Right at that moment, a motorcade consisting of five Toyotas and two BMWs suddenly pulled up in front of the food plant without driving inside. Thinking they were some "bosses" coming to do business inside the factory, Lai Chung-ying braced himself when someone in the front passenger seat pushed the door open and stepped out. He figured it might be some other old face, ready to be ridiculed once more and taking a shot in the dark anyway.

Instead, he saw more than a dozen people step out of the vehicles, every single one of them broad-shouldered and fierce-looking, clearly men of the underworld. A middle-aged man wearing a blue tie and a scar across his face walked over from the lead car and asked solemnly, "Are you Boss Lai?"

"Which boss has graced me with his presence?" Lai Chung-ying clutched the contract, a wave of tension gripping his heart.

The scarred man said, "I am Mr. Ko Siu-hung's bodyguard. My boss wants to buy property from you. Do you have time?"

"Buy property?"

Lai Chung-ying was half-doubtful.

The scar-faced man lowered his head to light a cigarette, his expression arrogant. "That's right, buy property. Your company has around twenty listed properties, right? My boss wants all of them!"

"Do you have time right now?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Heart pounding with excitement, Lai Chung-ying suddenly surged with courage. Forget a dozen bodyguards—even dozens of guns pointed at him wouldn't matter now.