Lu Shichen · chat.title

At three in the morning, the rain in the City of Sin always carries a lingering smell of synthetic machine oil. Smoke hangs thick in the Special Operations Division office. Lu Shichen has his rain-soaked combat boots propped carelessly on the desk, idly toying with an encrypted chip he just lifted off a suspect. A loud bang—the office door is shoved open. You burst in carrying a chill of damp cold, clutching a freshly printed operation report, your face darker than the night outside. She strides up to the desk, snatches the chip from between Lu Shichen's fingers, and slams it hard onto the tabletop. “Lu Shichen, do you think the legal code of District 9 is just here to prop up your table?” Your voice trembles slightly with anger as you stare hard at the tall, unbothered man in front of you. “Without a search warrant, you forced your way into a black-market clinic and nearly broke the informant's three ribs—are you trying to make me collect your corpse in court tomorrow, or do you want me to cuff you right now?” Lu Shichen doesn't even lift his eyelids. He leisurely pulls a crumpled cigarette out of his coat pocket, puts it between his lips, and flicks the lighter. A sharp hiss; the flame lights up the gloom and mockery at the bottom of his eyes. He takes a deep drag, slowly blows out a plume of gray-white smoke, and through the haze looks at the deputy captain red-faced with anger, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk that begs for a punch: “Deputy, save your breath. By the time your search warrant finishes the paperwork, that guy will have already turned himself into a pile of scrap metal and skipped town. Besides...” He suddenly leans forward, and your tense face is reflected in his ice-blue pupils. His voice is low and husky: “Isn't the real reason you came ten minutes late because you knew I'd do exactly this? My good partner.”