Chapter 45: Little Li

In the section for rent, Wang the Fatty wrote thirty thousand yuan, which was the annual rent, calculated at two thousand five hundred per month. Chang Yu glanced over the contract briefly, not bothering to read it in detail before signing his name. He trusted Wang the Fatty implicitly; there was no reason to doubt him, so he simply signed.

"Also, this slip has my bank account number," Wang said, handing him a small piece of paper covered with a string of digits. He patted Chang Yu on the shoulder. "You know my rule: rent has to be sent to me through a WeChat red packet."

He paused, then continued, "But between us brothers, if your company’s finance department insists on a bank transfer, let them wire it straight to my account."

"Wang, I know your rule. I’d prefer they pay you through WeChat too," Chang Yu replied, picking up the contract and the slip, his face a picture of distress. "But it’s not up to me. The new company’s policies are strict; they’ll only pay rent by bank transfer."

For confidentiality reasons, the finance team could only transfer the money via the bank—the bank’s channels were better for secrecy. WeChat was out of the question, and Chang Yu had no power to change that.

"Enough, you don’t need to explain to me," Wang the Fatty said, slipping an arm around Chang Yu’s shoulders, his small eyes occasionally darting through the glass to the guard booth outside.

There, beside the car, stood a man of short stature but sturdy build, straight as a pine. He had been waiting for Chang Yu for some time, yet his face betrayed no impatience. This was Xiao Li, Chang Yu’s logistics assistant, a young man in his twenties. Despite his youth, he exuded reliability, the kind of mature steadiness that inspired confidence.

He had been the one to drive Chang Yu here. Although Chang Yu had only just joined the Disaster Investigation Bureau, he was eager to enjoy the bureau's various benefits, so he’d asked Xiao Li to give him a lift.

“Don’t underestimate your brother Wang. I’ve seen a thing or two in my time," Wang remarked, with a meaningful undertone. "I noticed the guy who drove you here isn’t ordinary. He’s got thick calluses on his thumb and forefinger—that’s a mark you only get from handling firearms for years. Besides, every move he makes is precise and efficient. Honestly, I’ve only seen that kind of person in one place: the military, and not just any unit—special forces."

"Chang Yu, tell me honestly, are you in trouble? Otherwise, why would a military man be assigned to you?"

Wang prided himself on his insight. Just look at the one called Xiao Li—his bearing was military to the core, clear as day to anyone who knew how to spot it. Wang suspected Xiao Li’s identity from the very first glance.

So he asked Chang Yu directly about Xiao Li’s background.

A heavy atmosphere settled in the booth, as if the very air had grown dense.

Chang Yu lowered his eyes in silence. What he feared most had happened at last.

His appointment to the Disaster Investigation Bureau was highly confidential. On his first day of acceptance, he had signed a thick stack of non-disclosure agreements. The bureau’s iron rule: never reveal anything about its affairs.

He had no right to explain to Wang the Fatty what kind of organization he had joined, what work he did, or what responsibilities he bore. He dared not imagine what might happen to either of them if he told the truth.

He had never underestimated the power of a government organization.

From that moment on, Chang Yu realized with a pang that he was no longer the person he once was. Now, he and Wang the Fatty lived in different worlds. The thought brought an overwhelming loneliness sweeping through his heart, like a solitary rock standing on the shore.

“Hey, Wang, what are you thinking about?” Chang Yu forced a smile. “You know me. I’m just an ordinary guy. What trouble could I possibly get into?”

“That man is my new colleague. He did serve in the army, but he’s retired now—no connection to the military anymore. He works with us, and when he heard I had to come here to sign a contract and didn’t have a car, he offered to drive me. Lots of veterans keep their habits after leaving the service—those things don’t change overnight.”

“I think you’re overthinking it. I’m just an average citizen, not some big shot. Why would the army send someone to drive me around?”

“Really?” Wang looked at him, skeptical.

Even though he suspected Chang Yu was hiding something, he couldn’t find fault with his words.

“Of course it’s true!” Chang Yu replied, with conviction, not hesitating at all.

For a moment, he felt almost heroic, his mind conjuring up the indomitable figures of Lenin, Stalin’s resilient spirit, Marx’s tireless teachings, and Engels’ passionate life. Which of those illustrious figures hadn’t possessed a will of iron?

He, Chang Yu, must strive to emulate such greatness. He resolved that no matter how many ways Wang the Fatty tried to interrogate him, he would never betray a word.

He was a champion of justice, a beacon, a youth standing on the side of country and people, a vanguard against the sugar-coated bullets of capitalism. When it came to matters of principle, he would not yield a step.

Chang Yu swore to the heavens: he would never betray the organization to Wang the Fatty!

...

On the bustling road, a black sedan cruised smoothly along. If not for the license plate, it would be hard to distinguish it from the car Feng Sanpao had just driven. Both cars were the same brand and model, both had undergone identical technical modifications—almost as if they’d been cast from the same mold.

This type of car was a special issue for the Disaster Investigation Bureau, designated for investigators and logistics staff.

Now, Chang Yu sat in the back seat of one of these cars, chatting with Xiao Li, who was at the wheel.

“Sir, what did you say to him back at the guard booth?” Xiao Li asked while driving, stealing glances at the rearview mirror.

In the mirror, the face of a young man with furrowed brows appeared—it was Chang Yu himself. Since leaving the booth, he had worn this calm, pensive expression.

Xiao Li’s question roused him from his thoughts. Chang Yu looked up, finally breaking the silence.

“I know what you’re worried about. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything about the bureau,” he replied coolly.

“So my worries were unnecessary,” Xiao Li said, reassured, keeping his eyes on the road. “The bureau doesn’t mind us having contact with ordinary people, but some things must never be disclosed outside.”

His voice was a bit hoarse, with a smoky timbre reminiscent of a weathered middle-aged man.

He seemed to be warning Chang Yu, but in truth, it was concern that he might inadvertently cross the bureau’s strict boundaries—a gruff exterior hiding a warm heart.

Chang Yu didn’t answer, and silence once again filled the car.

After a few minutes, perhaps sensing the oppressive mood, Xiao Li spoke up again: “Perhaps you don’t know, sir, but all our bureau’s vehicles are specially modified and bulletproof. The bodies are made of armor, bulletproof glass, and special alloys, fully compliant with VR7-level security standards. They can withstand AK-47 fire and grenade blasts, offering you maximum protection in case of attack.”

“Also, the fuel for these vehicles is provided free of charge. Just show your work ID at any designated gas station and you can fill up without spending a penny.”

As he drove, Xiao Li methodically introduced the car’s features.

“Incredible,” Chang Yu remarked sincerely. “Its safety features rival those of many national leaders’ cars.”

He wasn’t exaggerating—some small countries’ leaders didn’t even enjoy this level of protection. Clearly, the bureau valued its employees’ safety, sparing no expense to outfit investigators with dedicated vehicles.

Chang Yu wasn’t well-versed in car modifications, but even he could guess that the cost of such a vehicle was astronomical.

“If you like the car, and you know how to drive, the bureau would assign you one,” Xiao Li said, his words growing more animated as he discussed his favorite subject. “Our benefits actually cover all aspects of life. Take these cars—they solve transportation and provide vital protection when needed.”

“But I don’t have a license,” Chang Yu admitted, a bit embarrassed.

Having grown up in an orphanage, a driver’s license had always been out of reach. Just days ago, he had been a loser who couldn’t pay his rent, never dreaming he might one day drive his own car.

“Then just call me. I can drive you anywhere, anytime,” Xiao Li replied earnestly. Being a driver for the investigators was a core duty for logistics staff; Xiao Li had no complaints.

“I’d prefer to drive myself for convenience. I’m not like Feng Sanpao—his situation is special, and the bureau doesn’t allow him to drive, so Xiao Zhang has to do it for him.”

Chang Yu wasn’t just being polite. He wasn’t the type to disregard others’ feelings; if he made Xiao Li do everything, it would be far too much.

Hearing that, Xiao Li felt a wave of warmth. His new superior, it seemed, was considerate—self-absorbed perhaps, but thoughtful of his staff.

In truth, logistics staff dreaded working with those self-centered, unreasonable superiors—it made things unbearably difficult.

With that in mind, Xiao Li’s tone grew more sincere. “If you want to drive, you’ll need to get a license. The bureau will arrange everything for you, and all the costs will be covered.”

“That’s wonderful!” Chang Yu exclaimed, delighted. “Then I’ll leave it to you.”

Since the bureau was willing to arrange it, Chang Yu had no reason to refuse.