Yan County is located in the northern frontier, a remote border town just a few dozen li from the China–North Korea border. From the top floor of the five-story county government building, one can even see the silvery ribbon of the Yalu River and the dark, dense primeval forests of the northern Xing’an Mountains.

The fiery red sun hung on the horizon, adding a touch of warmth to the lingering winter in the small town. In a little restaurant near the Workers’ Club at the corner of East Road by the county government, Ethan Taylor and Daniel Brooks sat by the window, ordered a plate of grilled meat and a plate of stir-fried pickled vegetables, and ate heartily with scallion-wrapped flatbread. It was lunchtime, and the small restaurant was packed, business was booming.

Ethan Taylor and Daniel Brooks had just reported on the investigation of the William Thompson case to the county committee. The county party secretary, Ryan Scott, was very pleased with their work, issued a series of instructions to mitigate the impact, and praised them. Daniel Brooks, feeling elated by the commendation, ordered a cup of baodaozi liquor and started sipping.

But Ethan Taylor was still recalling the scene of meeting Ryan Scott just now. Ryan Scott, fifty-three years old, a tall man who had fought in the Vietnam War, spoke boldly and with a booming voice. But it was clear he didn’t think much of Ethan Taylor, the college-educated pen-pusher—perhaps soldiers are just naturally averse to scholars.

Still, Ethan Taylor didn’t feel displeased; on the contrary, he found listening to this Vietnam War hero’s loud voice rather enjoyable. After all, in his own era, such idol-like figures were rare. With the development of the market economy, even those former heroes had gradually lost their old aura.

As for the impression he made, Ethan Taylor didn’t see it as a problem at all. Time reveals a horse’s strength; how others see you is something you build step by step.

“Mr. Taylor, want a sip to warm up?” Daniel Brooks cheerfully offered his cup. Ethan Taylor smiled and pushed it away, saying, “I still have to go to the office this afternoon to submit some documents. I can’t indulge like you, Director Brooks.”

Daniel Brooks grinned, “Mr. Taylor, just call me Jack Brooks, or else Old Brooks. If you keep calling me Director Brooks, it sounds too formal.”

Ethan Taylor laughed, “Alright, then. In private, I’ll call you Brother Brooks, and you can call me Little Taylor. It feels awkward hearing you call me Mr. Taylor.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dare!” Daniel Brooks chuckled. Though Ethan Taylor was just being polite, it still made him feel good.

“Bzz…” The rowdy laughter of a few young men nearby flared up again. Ethan Taylor frowned slightly. At the next table sat a few well-dressed youths, making a ruckus again and again. Most of the other diners were angry but didn’t dare speak up.

“Little punks! I’ll go teach them a lesson!” Seeing Ethan Taylor displeased meant Daniel Brooks was also annoyed. He immediately put down his cup, but Ethan Taylor, half amused and half exasperated, stopped him. This wasn’t his own town—who here knew who Daniel Brooks was? If things escalated, it would likely come to blows: the police station chief, the town mayor, and some local punks brawling—wouldn’t that be a joke?

Daniel Brooks sat down, disgruntled, and muttered under his breath, “Damn, if this were Chenjiatuo, I’d have sorted them out already.”

Ethan Taylor said, “Forget it, why stoop to their level? You really need to work on your temper. What, are you going to go around blowing up at people when you become a county bureau leader?”

Daniel Brooks chuckled, “County bureau leader? Mr. Taylor, you think too highly of me! Me, I’ll be satisfied if I can make it to criminal investigation team captain before retirement. County bureau leader? Never even thought about it.”

As they spoke, the curtain to the back room of the restaurant lifted, and out walked a stunning, charming young woman. She had an oval face, phoenix eyes, delicately drawn brows, and a touch of alluring charm. A black, tight-fitting leather dress hugged her soft waist, accentuating her ample chest. Below the hem, pure black cotton stockings wrapped her slender, shapely legs, and black high heels clicked on the concrete floor—“clack, clack, clack”—as she walked with seductive steps to the table of the rowdy youths, seeming to whisper something to them.

Ethan Taylor, with his back to the window, was facing her directly. In this era, such a glamorous woman’s outfit was extremely avant-garde, especially since she seemed to instinctively know how to show off her allure. The black leather dress and high heels, the flash of white stockings beneath the hem—every detail was captivating. Even Ethan Taylor couldn’t help but steal a few more glances, sighing inwardly—what a stunner.

Chapter 5: A Young Face Isn’t Always a Student

The charming woman’s soft words did nothing to quiet the rowdy youths; instead, their ruckus grew louder. One short-haired youth laughed loudly, “Boss lady, how about this—you have a drink with us, have some fun, and we’ll do whatever you say! At your command!” His words were full of innuendo, and the other youths all grinned wickedly.

“Sanzi, we’re all locals here—can’t you give me a little respect?” The woman’s cheeks flushed with anger, and her voice grew louder.

“Respect is for people you know. You have a drink with us, we get to know each other, then of course you’ll get respect!” The short-haired youth leered, reaching out to grab her. The woman stepped back, but her high heel accidentally caught on the table leg, and she lost her balance, falling right into the arms of Ethan Taylor at the next table. A faint sweet fragrance lingered at Ethan Taylor’s nose; he could even feel the softness of her waist and the smoothness of her hips beneath the leather dress. The sensation was indescribably wonderful.