Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The New Recruit Arrives

 It was still April 1, 2005, but now approaching dusk. On the top floor of Wuhan Municipal Public Security Bureau, a group of officers with rank insignia on their shoulders shuffled out of their offices, each hugging a cardboard box. Their heads hung like convicts sentenced to prison, their steps heavy with defeat. It felt like a company going bankrupt, employees unceremoniously kicked out—a pitiful spectacle. Though if society ever reached a point where police stations closed, citizens would probably cheer; sadly, that's just a daydream for starry-eyed idealists. The reality remains: bandits outnumber cops, and cops aren't necessarily poorer than bandits… By the window, Ouyang spun lazily in a leather executive chair, a white handkerchief still covering his face—no doubt smirking. After all, when humans acquire something not rightfully theirs, a smirk is the perfect tell. The夕阳 (setting sun) filtered through the blinds, warm and golden. Even a suicidal person might pause to admire it for two seconds before hanging themselves. Amid this mix of triumph and despair, a rowdy, eclectic group pushed past the glum officers and swaggered into the office. Leading them was a young man whose boyish, handsome face looked too innocent for someone over 20. He wore a bright cyan Korean-style T-shirt, loose army-green cargo pants that hung like rice sacks, and spiky blond hair that screamed "delinquent." He could've been mistaken for a picked-up street thug—except for the silver Dell laptop under his arm and the golden NSB badge clipped to his belt. Trailing behind was a mountain of a man: two meters tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a tight white wife-beater that showcased muscles women would drool over. His bushy beard and scowling brows, however, made him look more like a fugitive from a wanted poster. Even worse, his armpit hair spilled out from under his arms, prompting cleaning staff to speed up and practically "bolt" from the office, leaving the space entirely "paranormal division territory." "Boss, we're in the big leagues now!" the burly man boomed, his voice so deep it could shatter glass. "Tiechui, don't embarrass us. This is just the 'beginning'…" the blond youth—Haozi—chuckled, plopping onto a desk like he owned the place. "Fuck off, Haozi. I'm not like you with a trust fund. Three months without a job, and I'd be unloading cargo at the docks!" Tiechui grumbled, agitated. "Alright, cut the bickering. Listen up," Ouyang said, rising. His gaze swept the room—one more person than expected, but he didn't comment yet, focusing on Haozi. "This is a real mission. Files will arrive soon. First, why are you an hour late?" "Blame that old bastard director!" Haozi sighed. Everyone knew he meant the NSB chief. "He held our plane tickets hostage unless we took a 'dead weight' along. Pissed me off—might hack his system later." No further explanation needed. From behind the staff stepped the "extra" person Ouyang had noticed. She stood 1.73 meters, with a model-worthy figure: generous bust and shapely hips . Her limpid eyes and plump lips would turn heads—if not for her drab outfit: a gray trench coat, white button-down, black slacks, and flat shoes. A waste of a perfect body; even a rapist might hesitate between her curves and her nun-like attire. Before Ouyang could ask, she snapped a standard military salute. "Reporting, sir! Wu Qian, junior field agent of the National Security Bureau, here for duty!" "Another reject from the old man?" Ouyang eyed her up and down, but Wu Qian didn't flinch—his gaze was skeptical, not lecherous. "Don't kid yourself. Fifteen years as section chief, and he's treated my division like a trash can: idiots, misfits, queers, muttonheads. Never seen a stunner like you. So, what's your 'flaw'?" "Reporting, sir! A flaw in my *spirit*!" Wu Qian declared proudly. "I must bring to justice anyone who commits crimes or injustice!" "Feisty little thing. But we hunt ghosts, not humans. Not much room for your… enthusiasm," Ouyang said, sitting back, clearly dismissive. "No problem, sir! Crime-fighting knows no bounds—human or supernatural, I'll give my all!" Her voice boomed, though a hint of doubt crept in at "ghosts." "Since you're so eager, you'll partner with Xu Zhe." At this, everyone freezing their unpacking stared at the newcomer. "Who is Xu Zhe responsible for in the team?" Wu Qian asked, voice softer now, curious. "He's our 'star'—the only field agent we send out. In a way, we're all here to support *him*," Ouyang said, omitting details like how no partner had emerged unscathed. "Want to fight our kind of 'crime'? He's your 'best' bet." "Yes, sir! Thank you!" Wu Qian beamed, scanning the room. "Which one is Xu Zhe?" "Oh, right—did Xu Zhe arrive?" Haozi whispered. "Got here an hour early. Sleeping in the back to 'adjust to jet lag'…" Ouyang smirked, nodding to a corner where four desks formed a makeshift bed, a black sleeping bag wadded up on top—looking more like a cocoon or a pile of excrement. "Jet lag from Beijing to Wuhan? His excuses for slacking get lazier," Tiechui snorted. Wu Qian turned, marched to the desk, and frowned at the sleeping bag—her imagined hero already crumbling before seeing his face. "Sir, is *this* the field agent we're supporting?" she asked, voice trembling as if begging, *"Have mercy…"* " You're too noisy!" a muffled grumble came from the sleeping bag. The black cocoon wiggled, and out crawled a man in gray pajamas. His stubble wasn't as wild as Tiechui's, but it hadn't seen a razor in a month. His messy black hair reeked, and as Xu Zhe scratched his scalp, dandruff fell like snow. His yawn exhaled breath so foul it could induce vomiting. "Glad you're up. The boss wants to assign you a partner," Haozi said, smirking like he awaited a show. "Seriously,boss? You trying to kill someone?" Xu Zhe groaned, glancing at Ouyang, who grinned. Wu Qian was lost. "Look closer, kid. That's a *woman*, and a pretty one—consider it a favor," Ouyang said, as if granting a huge boon. Xu Zhe finally noticed Wu Qian, covering his mouth in a gesture reminiscent of Ouyang's "trademark." "You're the new recruit? Dress like that, you must have a hormonal imbalance. Last partner had too much estrogen; now they're sending me someone with too much testosterone? Do yourself a favor—go back. Five partners before you: one dead, three insane, one comatose from a failed suicide." "Scared? I could've been a sugar baby instead of an agent," Wu Qian sneered, defiant in response to his blunt disdain. "Stubborn, huh?" Xu Zhe sighed, crawling fully out of the sleeping bag to sit cross-legged before her, rubbing bleary eyes. "We'll see how long you last. Start with your background." "Sorry, per NSB Regulation 3, Section 7: same-rank agents can't request personal files," Wu Qian barked, protesting. "Haozi, she's annoying. Dig into her—*generations* deep…" Xu Zhe yawned, ignoring her irritation. "30 seconds." Haozi grinned, flipping open his laptop.