Chapter Seventy: A Suggestion

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“Hey, officer, are you going to write me a ticket?” Qiu Fengyu parked the car and walked to the police car, stopping beside the driver’s side window. The window was rolled down, and Corvin, wearing sunglasses, looked at him. Her expression was unreadable, but her tone was icy cold.

“If you do that again, I guarantee—”

“I understand, I understand! You should give me a super ticket, one so huge I’ll have to pawn my underwear just to pay it.” Qiu Fengyu quickly raised his hands in surrender. “I definitely don’t want to streak in the future.”

Corvin couldn’t help but laugh. Even with the sunglasses, her facial muscles squeezed together, betraying her amusement. She didn’t take off her glasses; instead, she floored the accelerator and sped away. After finding a spot to park, she burst into laughter, then finally drove back to the precinct.

Qiu Fengyu parked his car next to the noodle shop, went inside, sat down, and poured himself another drink. He didn’t feel like going to the bar tonight. After a day of teaching, he was actually feeling a bit tired. That little brat was getting harder and harder to teach, especially when it came to marksmanship.

But today, there were no messy stickers or complaint graffiti outside the noodle shop—just some remnants left from when Qiu Fengyu had last closed up. He didn’t bother to clean them.

He climbed out of the attic window, sat on the roof, drank beer, and ate the grilled sausages he’d bought. Qiu Fengyu wanted to think about a few things, but eating and drinking made thinking impossible. He just felt bored. Since coming to America, his days were much more stable than in Ukraine.

He was easily content. Even though he’d killed people here and lived a life of thrills and danger, it was still better than Ukraine.

After a while, feeling a bit dizzy from the drinking, he climbed down and fell into a muddled sleep.

The next morning, Tim was once again the one who woke him up. The guy was full of energy—he really deserved to be put through the wringer again. Qiu Fengyu went downstairs, gritting his teeth.

“Are we going to celebrate Halloween?” Tim asked.

“Not yet,” Qiu Fengyu replied lazily. “But I promise, it’ll be meaningful.”

Tim didn’t press him further, and the two changed into their workout clothes to go running.

Today, it wasn’t just Corvin joining them—Davis was there, too. For some reason, Davis was running like a madman, shocking Tim, because Davis had just sprinted past both him and Qiu Fengyu like the wind.

“Is he crazy?” Tim asked.

“No, he’s not crazy. He’s following my orders,” Qiu Fengyu said, winking with some pride.

Tim suddenly seemed to understand, widening his eyes at Qiu Fengyu.

“No way, boss, you’re not serious, are you? How is he supposed to participate? He doesn’t know anything—he’ll drag us down.” Tim shook his head emphatically.

“He knows things you definitely don’t,” Qiu Fengyu said, smacking Tim’s head. “Now get running!”

Along the way, they passed Corvin and then saw Davis, already exhausted and vomiting by the roadside, panting like a dog with his tongue out.

Tim couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh, earning a fierce glare from Davis that lingered until Tim’s figure disappeared.

“What are you guys up to?” Corvin, not quite understanding, turned and asked Qiu Fengyu.

“Nothing!” Qiu Fengyu chuckled. “Just a joke between two little troublemakers.”

Corvin glanced at Tim and saw his smug expression, so she didn’t bother glaring at Qiu Fengyu any further and dropped the matter. She didn’t even warn him about the driving incident.

Back at the noodle shop, after showering, Qiu Fengyu started preparing ingredients for lunch noodles.

Someone was loitering at the entrance.

Qiu Fengyu walked over, opened the door, and frowned at him. “I really can’t help you. Just look, my house was burned down—I’m unlucky enough already and don’t want to get involved in anything else.”

Masatoshi Mikura had no choice but to walk away slowly.

The man seemed desperate and a little pitiful. Qiu Fengyu thought about calling Kenzo Mikura to tell him about this, but hesitated and decided it wasn’t necessary to intervene.

Davis soon arrived.

“How’s your preparation going?” Qiu Fengyu asked.

Davis grinned, “Piece of cake. I guarantee it’ll be done. We’re the perfect duo, boss!”

“It’s a trio!” Qiu Fengyu corrected with a smile.

Davis was stunned, looked at Qiu Fengyu, and hesitated. “You really want to bring that little brat along?”

“Yes. He’s questioning why he has to team up with a loser like you!” Qiu Fengyu laughed. “I told him, Davis knows things you definitely don’t.”

“Haha, I knew that’s how it would go.” Davis chuckled and then asked, “So why bring the kid?”

Qiu Fengyu looked at him and smiled. “And I’d answer you the same way—he knows things you definitely don’t!”

Davis fell silent. Yes, Tim really did know things he didn’t. In hand-to-hand combat, Davis wasn’t a match, and marksmanship even less so, so he simply kept quiet.

Indeed, Qiu Fengyu, Davis, and Tim were planning something—something they hoped to carry out in a few days, something Qiu Fengyu wanted settled once and for all.

Tim arrived shortly afterward.

Qiu Fengyu started assigning tasks.

The Japanese family came for noodles as usual. The little girl immediately ran into the kitchen to peek around. Qiu Fengyu couldn’t communicate with her—he didn’t understand Japanese—but occasionally pinched her chubby cheeks, making her pout adorably.

The family was used to this scene and no longer made a fuss. The beautiful woman stopped accompanying the little girl, waiting quietly for the noodles to be served.

There was ramen in Japanese cuisine, but it definitely couldn’t compare to Qiu Fengyu’s.

After the meal, Kenzo Mikura lingered while the others left. The little girl was led away by the beautiful woman, reluctant to leave.

Qiu Fengyu wondered why the little girl was so attached to him—maybe he just had a way with children? He scratched his head, unable to figure it out.

When the noodle shop was nearly empty, Kenzo Mikura remained seated, unmoving, as if waiting for the right moment. His expression was conflicted.

“Sir, is there anything I can help you with?” Tim greeted him.

Kenzo Mikura looked up, stood, and bowed to Tim. “Excuse me, may I speak with Mr. Qiu alone?”

Tim was taken aback, glanced at Qiu Fengyu, who nodded, and said, “Alright, tea or coffee?”

“Tea, thank you,” Kenzo Mikura bowed again.

“Coffee for me,” Qiu Fengyu told Tim, then nodded at Davis, “Go get ready, head back.”

Davis left, and Tim brought over coffee and tea, then excused himself.

Qiu Fengyu sat across from Kenzo Mikura. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Kenzo Mikura’s face was conflicted, but he gritted his teeth and said, “Masatoshi Mikura confessed to me. He did something that shamed our family. He also mentioned seeking your help. But I believe you did the right thing.”

So it was about that young man. Qiu Fengyu stayed silent, waiting for Kenzo Mikura to continue.

“He can’t handle this situation, nor can I. Everything here is new to us, and we can’t find anyone to help…” At this point, Kenzo Mikura’s expression was awkward.

“You want my help?” Qiu Fengyu smiled calmly. “It’s not that I’m refusing you—I told Mr. Masatoshi Mikura the truth. So… I can’t help you.”

Kenzo Mikura’s face paled, but he stood, bowed to Qiu Fengyu, and prepared to leave.

As he reached the door, Qiu Fengyu called out to him.

“If you really want to save him,” Qiu Fengyu said, “here’s a suggestion: why not ask Brekin at the bar? If you’re willing to pay, he can handle it for you.”

Kenzo Mikura’s face lit up with joy. He bowed deeply to Qiu Fengyu. “Thank you, Mr. Qiu,” he said, then hurried out.