Chapter 39 — Did You Get In Through the Back Door?

"Captain Song, what Mr. Lin means is that his leg was hit by a bullet. If you don't believe him, he can show you." Seeing the look on Qiu Lingshan's face, Qing Bo knew she had misunderstood, and hurried to explain on Wei Zhao's behalf.

Only then did Qiu Lingshan notice the bloodstains on Wei Zhao's trousers, and she grew a little embarrassed. "Oh, is that so? Then you'd better get to the hospital first..." Inwardly, though, she felt a deep distaste for the man. If you're wounded, say you're wounded—what did he have to go dropping his pants for? She might be a police officer, but she was still a young woman, after all. What kind of behavior was that?

"A competent police officer's first asset is sharp observation. There's a large bloodstain on my trousers, and you didn't even notice it. I honestly can't fathom how you ever became a captain. Did you get in through the back door?" Wei Zhao had caught that flicker of disgust in her eyes, and he spoke coolly.

"You—" A lack of investigative experience was Qiu Lingshan's greatest weakness, and a sore spot she had carried for years. But anyone who knew her record understood: though her family had connections, she had not become deputy captain through the back door.

She had once been a combat instructor in the special forces, holding the rank of major. When she transferred to civilian service and took up the post of deputy captain in the police bureau's criminal investigation unit, there was no question of her rank being unfitting. What was more, her fighting skill ranked among the very best in the unit; apart from Captain Yang Huaijun, whom she could not beat, no one was her match.

But Wei Zhao's single remark had struck her exactly where it hurt. True, she was formidable in a fight, but that did not mean she excelled in everything else. She had only recently transferred, and what she lacked most was the meticulous observation that detective work demanded.

And the unit's respect for her rested entirely on her fighting skill, not on any talent for cracking cases. So Qiu Lingshan kept studying. Every time Yang Huaijun went out on a call, she quietly tagged along. She knew her own shortcomings well enough.

It was just that Yang Huaijun, who had transferred two years before her, possessed a wealth of investigative experience—something that filled Qiu Lingshan with admiration and no small measure of envy.

Today, though, Captain Yang Huaijun was away on business, so Qiu Lingshan had no choice but to go into the field alone—only to be skewered by this fellow Wei Zhao. Her anger flared at once, yet every word he said was true, leaving her nothing to refute. So she could only grind her teeth in silence, utterly helpless.

In truth, it was nothing but a bullet wound. Wei Zhao could easily have dealt with it himself. In war-torn North Africa, who went running to a hospital after taking a bullet? You would likely be shot dead by the enemy before you ever got there.

But with a woman like Qiu Lingshan trailing him, Wei Zhao had no wish to display too many of his extraordinary qualities. What he had not expected was that Qiu Lingshan would dig in her heels and insist on following him to the hospital to take his statement. Let her, then; he had nothing to hide from her.

As for Gu Mengyao, the little princess of Gu Pengzhan, Qiu Lingshan did not dare presume too much either, and did not force her to come to the station; she took her statement in Qing Bo's car instead.

"Xiaoshu, how is your brother doing?" Qiu Lingshan had known Shen Yushu for quite some time, and toward Shen Yushu's brother she actually felt a good deal of guilt.

"Hmph. What business is that of yours?" Shen Yushu sneered, turned her head away, and gave Qiu Lingshan not the least courtesy.

Qiu Lingshan smiled bitterly, turned back, and said to Gu Mengyao, "Miss Gu, let's take your statement, then."

As Gu Mengyao recounted what had happened, Shen Yushu kept exclaiming in amazement. "Wow, Wei Zhao is that impressive? No way. Yao Yao, didn't I tell you? Making him your shield was absolutely the right call—he'll guarantee you're never pestered by any man again."

"Hmph, who wants him?" Gu Mengyao recalled the cocky way Wei Zhao had carried himself, and irritation rose in her again.

Listening from the sidelines, Qiu Lingshan grew rather curious. From the sound of it, this Wei Zhao was not merely a man of quick tongue and fast hands. Though she bristled at his crack about her "getting in through the back door," she was not an unreasonable person. Hearing Gu Mengyao's account, she had to admit that Wei Zhao was both brave and resourceful—and that after taking a bullet, he had still managed to keep the thugs circling. Such spirit was truly admirable.

It was only that Wei Zhao's line—"I'm not a cop. Do they pay me a salary?"—struck her as contemptible. Couldn't he at least play the good citizen who steps forward for justice? Yet when she later heard Gu Mengyao explain his reasoning, Qiu Lingshan understood: Wei Zhao had done nothing wrong. Had he truly provoked those robbers then, neither of them might have gotten away alive.

Still, it puzzled her greatly that the robbers had been targeting Gu Mengyao all along. They had gone to such elaborate lengths merely to kidnap Gu Mengyao? Then again, it was possible they had done it to divert attention, so as not to rouse the Gu family's suspicions. Other motives were possible too, but for now there was no way to know; they would have to wait until the bald man and his crew were caught.

"Miss, I think Mr. Lin is more than qualified. Mr. Gu's judgment was sound. With him at your side, I can finally rest easy," Qing Bo said, still shaken. But by now he truly understood Mr. Gu's intent: this Wei Zhao was no ordinary man.

Gu Mengyao moved her lips, wanting to argue with Qing Bo, but somehow the scene of Wei Zhao stepping forward for her in the bank kept circling in her mind...

With Qiu Lingshan present, the hospital did not ask too much about Wei Zhao's gunshot wound. For a patient receiving treatment for a gunshot wound on police authority, the hospital bore no responsibility whatsoever.

Wei Zhao was wheeled into the operating room. The surgeon said to the nurse, "Prepare the anesthetic. I'm going to remove the bullet."

"No need." Wei Zhao had no fondness for Western drugs like anesthetics; he disliked using such things. Once or twice would do no harm, but used too often they could bring side effects to the body.

The surgeon was taken aback, thinking: the people who brought him in didn't look poor, surely they could afford anesthetic? Without it, it would hurt terribly. The nerves at the base of the thigh are densely packed; though this was the simplest of surgical procedures, the pain would far exceed that of many major operations.

"Young man, it will hurt a great deal without anesthetic." The surgeon was a veteran specialist in his forties, so to him Wei Zhao was of course just a young man.

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