After Third Uncle finished speaking, Wu Ren'di shook his head gently and said, "You've got it backward—I owe you a favor." Then he glanced at me and continued, "Back then, I made a promise. I said I would repay this favor one day. If I can't repay it to you directly, then I'll repay it to your kin." As he spoke, the faint smile on Director Wu's face vanished. After a pause, he added, "Usually, it's others who owe me. The times I owe others… are rare."
It was the first time I'd seen someone so righteously insistent about returning a favor. Both Third Uncle and I were overwhelmed by Wu Ren'di's presence and couldn't say a word. The atmosphere turned oppressive. I was about to pull Third Uncle away when, unexpectedly, he stood up abruptly. He shook off my hand, took a deep breath, and stared at Wu Ren'di as he said, "All these years, I never imagined I'd run into you again. And I certainly didn't expect Shen La to be working under you. Since you brought it up, I'll just be shameless about it." Then he turned to glance at me. I thought he was about to say something like "get out of the Bureau," but instead, he changed tack and said, "Shen La called me 'Dad' for a few years, and I still consider him my son. I've got a pretty good idea what kind of place this is. I've long forgotten whether anyone owes whom a favor. All I ask is that he doesn't get into trouble here. With you watching over him, maybe he'll live a long life."
Hearing Third Uncle's words, Wu Ren'di gave me a strange look. He repeated Third Uncle's last few words under his breath: "Live a long life…" Then his brows arched slightly, and he gave a half-smile as he said, "That might not be so difficult." Just seeing his expression made my heart clench again for no reason.
At that moment, the door to Director Wu's office was pushed open. Sun Fatty poked his head in and glanced around before swaggering in with a cheeky grin. "Director Wu, I need to borrow Shen La for a moment." Without waiting for a response, he turned to me and shouted, "Lazi, Grandpa's looking for you and your Third Uncle. Sounds like your brother's side upped the wedding conditions again. The old man's furious and cussing up a storm—hurry up, you two, before Grandpa blows a gasket."
His timing was perfect. Using that as an excuse, I gave Director Wu a quick polite nod and dragged Third Uncle out. Once we were outside Section Six's office, Third Uncle looked between Sun Fatty and me and asked, "You two aren't actually directors or chiefs, are you?" I'd noticed a strange look on Xiong Wanyi's face earlier when he spoke to me—I figured he probably let something slip.
Sun Fatty grinned and said cheerfully, "Chief or not, it's really not a big deal. You could say we are, or you could say we're not. But Third Uncle, if you check our Bureau credentials anywhere, they're solid—nothing to worry about. Let's put that aside for now. Better go check on Grandpa. Xiao Heshang is on the phone urging you to hurry. He says he can't calm the old man down anymore, and between the three of you, who knows who'll get the brunt of it."
What Sun Fatty said left both Third Uncle and me stunned. I stared at him and asked, "Da Sheng, you didn't just make that up to get us out of there, did you?" Sun Fatty gave a sidelong glance. "You think I'd dare lie to Director Wu? Just now Xiao Heshang mentioned that the bride's family is religious. Their officiating priest had something come up and can't make it, so now they want Grandpa to bring a priest from our side. Grandpa thinks they're just messing with him and blew up in rage."
We were talking as we reached the elevator. When the doors opened, a blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigner inside greeted us with a beaming smile: "Shen, Sun—my friends! Long time no see. Where are you two off to?"
It was as if fate had it all planned. The appearance of Director Nicolas Hugo solved the priest problem immediately. I explained the situation to him and asked if he could spare some time from his busy schedule to represent God in blessing a newlywed couple. His response was far beyond my expectations. He waved his hands lightly and said, "Letting the world feel the radiance of the Lord—that is the ultimate calling of all clergy." As he finished speaking, he made the sign of the cross over his chest. In that moment, Director Hugo's face glowed with saintly grace, like a benevolent apostle descending to earth.
But in the very next moment, that image of Hugo was completely overturned. "Besides, we're bros, Shen! Say no more. One word: Done!"
His Beijing dialect was pitch-perfect, clear and sharp. You'd be hard-pressed to find an old Beijinger who could say it better than Hugo. With those words, I knew I was in the clear. "Director Hugo, it's settled then. The flight's this afternoon. After the wedding tomorrow, we'll get you back right away—it won't interfere with your duties." Hugo waved casually and said, "No worries, even if I stay a few extra days, it's fine." Then he added with a grin, "You've seen for yourselves—our Third Investigation Office barely gets any serious assignments. If manpower weren't stretched so thin, Chief Gao wouldn't even remember we exist."
He wasn't exaggerating. For sensitive operations—like the ghost ship incident or the Tomb of a Transcendent Beast—Chief Gao usually kept us out of it. Last time, it was only because Huang Ran was worried that Gao Liang might be holding back a hidden ace that he reluctantly allowed the Third Office to participate.
Not wanting to dwell on that topic, I cut in while Hugo was still speaking. "Director Hugo, we've got a few more things to prepare. You know how complicated Chinese weddings can get. If there's nothing else, we'll see you at 1:30 p.m. at the Capital Airport." Hugo laughed and held up three fingers. "All good!"
Thus, a rather peculiar wedding entourage came into being—but even this wasn't the final version. Right before we left for the airport, Sun Fatty suddenly remembered that no one was watching over his Wealth Rat. With Xiao Heshang constantly pushing him to bring it along, he finally gave in, went back to the dormitory, and brought the big rat with him. He had left alone, but when he returned, there was now a white-haired man trailing behind him.
This man was also dressed entirely in white, and at first glance, he bore a striking resemblance to Wu Rendi. But as he came closer, we realized it was Yang Jun—the one who had been hiding in the basement watching television. Seeing him appear alongside Sun Fatty left me, Xiao Heshang, and even Hugo a bit stunned. We couldn't tell what had prompted Yang Jun to tag along at this moment.
Sun Fatty ambled over with a grin, glanced at the few of us, and said, "Just got summoned by Director Wu. The old man said Yang Jun hasn't seen much of the world, so he wants us to bring him along and let him learn a thing or two on the trip." But Yang Jun clearly didn't agree with that version of events. He ignored everyone else and looked straight at me. "Wu Mian said he wants you to live a long, long life. Until you're ready to do that, he's sending me to watch over you." As he spoke, he gave me a strange look, as if he wanted to say something more. But after a brief hesitation, he swallowed the words back down.
When no one else was around, I took the opportunity to remind the two of them about our current roles—Sun Fatty and I were now Deputy Director and Director, respectively. But even after saying it, it didn't feel like it made much of a difference. Director Hugo still called me "Shen, my friend," or "bro," like he always did. And in my grandfather's eyes, anyone who could call a foreign Director "bro" probably wasn't just anyone. Yang Jun was even simpler. He never referred to people by name—always just "you, you, you." Sun Fatty explained to my grandfather that Yang Jun was our personal security guard, extremely skilled, with a temper to match. After Sun Fatty's lengthy spiel, Yang Jun had basically become the supposed inspiration for that bodyguard character Jet Li played in that old movie. My grandfather took one look at Yang Jun and declared that he embodied the old saying, "The greater the skill, the worse the temper."
A few hours later, our plane landed in a coastal city in southern Liaoning. My grandfather had assumed that someone from the bride's side would send a few relatives to meet us at the airport—just a gesture, if nothing else. But after waiting half an hour, no one came. In the end, my father had to call my second uncle, ask for the address, and then flag down a few taxis to head straight for the bride's home.
The bride's family didn't live in the city proper—they stayed in a seaside villa on the outskirts. The drive from the airport to their home took at least an hour. Along the way, Sun Fatty struck up a loose conversation with the cab driver. Turned out, my future sister-in-law's family was quite well known in the city. Their wealth came from farming sea cucumbers back in the day—one of the earliest local families to make it big. After decades of running that business, they had essentially monopolized the sea cucumber industry. In recent years, they had even expanded into construction, hospitality, and entertainment. Put simply: wherever there was money to be made, that family went after it.
They had money, sure—but a bad reputation to go with it. My sister-in-law's family was known for their flashy, high-profile behavior. Rumors about them had never stopped circulating. Years ago, they were accused of seizing ocean farms. More recently, they bought up land, built high-rises, and forced residents out. Their methods were ruthless—cutting off water and power was one thing, but they even had people imitate ghostly wails at night outside residents' windows. One elderly woman with a heart condition was literally scared to death. Her family sued, but with no direct evidence, the case dragged on until it fizzled out. Lately, the big talk around town was that the eldest daughter of the family was bringing home a husband.
After a bumpy ride, our taxi finally pulled up outside a gated villa community by the sea. The driver of our cab, who'd chatted with Sun Fatty earlier, had apparently already figured out who we were. As we stepped out, he rolled down the window and said, "If I had a son, I'd rather send him to a monastery than let him marry into that family." And with that, he sped off without waiting for a response.
My grandfather's face turned stone-cold. My father, trying to smooth things over, said with a forced smile, "Dad, don't listen to that nonsense. What does a cabbie know? If you've got something to say, save it for when we see Second Brother." Grandpa just snorted, cast a glance at the rows of villas ahead, and ignored him. My third uncle stood off to the side, calling Second Uncle to come pick us up.
Right then, a group of people walked out from the villa at the front of the complex. They stopped beside a car near the gate. The man in front looked like an official of some sort. He turned and exchanged a few pleasantries with the others. Behind him, two middle-aged men and women—clearly in servant roles—were busy stuffing variously-sized gift boxes into the car's trunk.
"Shen Laojiu! What the hell are you doing?" my grandfather suddenly roared at the pair loading the trunk. Before anyone could figure out what was going on, he'd already taken off his shoe and hurled it at them. The man instinctively dodged, and the shoe ended up smacking the official-looking man in the face.
Honestly, it was hard to blame my grandfather. My second uncle and his wife had arrived here a full week before us—supposedly to help out with the wedding. And now he found them doing menial work for someone else. The fact that my younger brother was marrying into another family was already a blow to Grandpa's pride. No one came to meet us at the airport, and now this? No wonder he lost it.
The other group immediately got angry. A few burly men looked like they were about to charge at us. I stepped forward to shield Grandpa, my hand reaching behind me for my baton. I wasn't exactly top of the class in close combat during my army days, but I could handle these guys. And if I couldn't, Yang Jun was right behind me. Just as they were about to charge, someone in their group shouted, "Hold it! Don't move! It's a misunderstanding—that's my dad! Don't move!"
The voice came from the man Grandpa had aimed for but missed—the middle-aged man. He had another identity too: my second uncle, the groom's father. After his shout, the men froze in their tracks. They turned to look at the elderly man in his sixties who had been fixing the official's collar.
That elderly man, standing next to the official, looked visibly embarrassed when he heard my second uncle's explanation. With a sheepish smile, he said to the official, "District Chief Xie, I think that's my in-law. Folks from the countryside don't know proper manners. Please don't take it personally."
To our surprise, this District Chief Xie turned out to be quite easygoing. He chuckled and said, "Don't paint me as petty. It's just a shoe—no big deal. Seems like the only ones getting hit by shoes lately are me and George Bush." His joke got a round of polite laughter from the crowd. He then turned to the old man and said, "Come on, Boss Xie, your in-laws are family to me too. No need to be so serious. Rest assured, for tomorrow's wedding, I'll make sure Deputy Mayor Wang shows up."