Chapter Twelve: Who Is Han Chen?

This time, the situation seemed rather serious.

The police questioned each person thoroughly, even taking hair samples for testing.

Inside the holding cell, Liang Zhixia sat with Lin Wanbai.

Lin Wanbai asked Liang Zhixia to redo her hair, her palm stinging with pain, which left her irritated and restless. What kind of rotten luck was this, to get caught up with two different police squads—one raiding for drugs, the other for vice?

“What did Old Qin do to offend someone?” she muttered.

Liang Zhixia was equally frustrated. She had some acquaintance with the owner of Hui'an, knew his powerful connections, and until now, Hui'an had never been in trouble since its opening. Who would have expected that if trouble came, it would be a devastating blow, enough to bring it down in one strike.

It was ruthless, truly ruthless.

Lin Wanbai glanced at the man she’d spent money to acquire. He looked disheveled, wearing only a white shirt, wrinkled and stained with a large patch of liquor. Perhaps from too much hair gel, his hairstyle was barely disturbed, and his face remained clean.

He stood at the cell door, peering outside, brows tightly furrowed.

Once her hair was tied, she walked over to him. “Anxious? Afraid the school will find out?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He had no interest in women with money but no sense of right and wrong, and inwardly, he looked down on her. He ignored her, treating her as if she were invisible.

“If you give me a smile, I might help you out of this,” she said with a grin. “And by the way, have you forgotten? You belong to me now. I’ll look out for you, but you have to listen to me. Oh, and I forgot to ask—what’s your name?”

He remained as he was, refusing to acknowledge her. His hands hung at his sides, fists clenched tight.

Just as Lin Wanbai persisted, someone outside called her name.

She responded, and the door in front of her opened.

At that moment, the man looked at her. Pride was meaningless now. He asked, “You’ll get me out of here, won’t you?”

“Smile for me,” Lin Wanbai said, her eyes curving with delight.

He pulled at his lips, forcing a smile, but Lin Wanbai was satisfied.

“My name is Han Chen,” he said.

“Han Chen.” She repeated it.

He nodded firmly.

“Got it.” Lin Wanbai looked at Liang Zhixia. “Wait here.”

Then she followed the police officer out.

Once outside the holding cell, she saw Fu Juxing chatting with an officer. The two seemed to be having a pleasant conversation.

The older policeman kept talking, while Fu Juxing listened with a faint smile, his gaze lowered to the paper in his hands, pen poised for his signature. When he finished signing smoothly, as if sensing something, he turned his head and saw her at once.

He smiled at her and called softly, “Xiaobai.”

The corridor was nearly empty, quiet all around, making his gentle voice especially soft, falling straight into her ears and striking her heart.

She paused for a few moments before walking forward.

She approached him gracefully, lowered her eyes, and stood obediently.

The old policeman gave her an unfriendly once-over, his tone stern. “From now on, stay home and be a proper wife. Don’t make mistakes like this again. Such places are no place for a decent girl, especially not one with a husband. You can leave today—don’t do this again.”

Lin Wanbai, looking honest and sincere, admitted her fault earnestly, “I was wrong. I won’t do it again. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

The officer nodded. “To err is human, but to correct one’s mistakes is virtue. Go on.”

“Officer, please wait a moment.”

She stopped him, then turned to Fu Juxing with a look of innocence. “I have two friends. Can you help bail them out too? They’re both innocent.”

Before Fu Juxing could answer, the old policeman standing nearby explained, “That’s not possible. Only immediate family can post bail. We need to explain the situation to them. You can contact their families.”

“But all their families are dead. I’m their best friend,” Lin Wanbai said, not blinking as she lied, her eyes full of sincerity.

Fu Juxing, not waiting for her to spin more outrageous tales, pulled her behind him and smiled at the officer. “She’s had too much to drink. I’ll notify their families.”

Lying to the police—was she trying to get herself into trouble?

He gripped her hand tightly, and once the officer left, he took her out of the station.

Hui’an’s sudden raid had been orchestrated by someone behind the scenes. And this incident was far from simple—it seemed to be linked to an important case under the narcotics police. So, everyone arrested this time had their names recorded and were forbidden to leave the country for six months. They had to cooperate with the police and be available at any time.

Lin Wanbai didn’t know the details. She only believed that, short of murder or arson, there was no problem that couldn’t be solved—just a question of effort.

The car was waiting outside. As the two of them reached it, Lin Wanbai called out, “Fu Juxing! My hand hurts!”

He loosened his grip a little, but didn’t immediately turn around.

She broke free from his grasp, stared at the back of his head, twisting her wrist. “You know about Zhixia’s family. If you notify her relatives, you’ll only be harming her. And Han Chen—his parents are gone. Who do you expect him to call? A teacher at school? How could he possibly graduate then?”

Fu Juxing was acquainted with Liang Zhixia and had heard some rumors about the Liang family.

He turned to look at her. “Who is Han Chen?”