Chapter 23: The Mafia

Ao Xi nudged Zong Yiqiang, “Which one is your girlfriend? Are the other girls her best friends?” He wanted to clarify things first, to avoid any awkwardness later. There were so many girls here, and Ao Xi wasn't picky.

Zong Yiqiang pointed to a petite, adorable girl whose smile revealed two dimples. “That’s her, my girlfriend Tan Ying. Three of them are her friends, these three.”

“So you, with those thick eyebrows and big eyes, like the ‘loli’ type, huh!” Ao Xi sized up the friends—pretty good as well. Looks like tonight’s dinner wouldn’t be cheap.

Zong Yiqiang didn’t argue, just grinned. “I’m from the Northeast, but I love Southern girls, gentle as water.”

Alright, enough with your nauseating act.

Ao Xi couldn’t stand the smug look on his face. “When does class end?”

“It’s still early. Class just started, each session is two hours long, so there’s plenty of time. Why do you think I’m wandering outside?”

Ao Xi nodded, deciding to wait it out. If you don’t risk, you won’t gain: “How did you meet your girlfriend? Are there really that many beauties at UCLA?”

“You don’t know? The Art and Music departments at UCLA are top-notch. Lots of beautiful girls. I went there several times before finally winning her over.”

I know nothing about that—I never planned to study abroad. Makes sense now. No wonder these girls are all so pretty; they’re art students. If you’re not good-looking, why study art?

Having nothing better to do, the two linked their phones and played a round of Peacekeeper Elite, shouting and laughing as they battled.

“That was a truly exhilarating fight!” Ao Xi exclaimed.

“You really think so? Thirty minutes in one match, we spent twenty minutes running along the edge, nine and a half minutes crawling on the ground, and never fired a shot.”

“Oh, come on, did we rank up or not? What’s wrong with keeping it real?”

“Keeping it real in a game?”

Ao Xi ignored him, checked the time—it should be about right. He went out and bought six cups of milk tea, four iced, two at room temperature.

He returned just as the jazz dance class ended. Zong Yiqiang was chatting with four girls. Ao Xi walked over and said, “Hello, I’m Zong Yiqiang’s friend, Ao Xi. Nice to meet you all.”

“Just heard about you,” Tan Ying replied. “You’re the police officer who gave him a ticket, right? I’m Tan Ying.”

Despite her delicate looks, Tan Ying was poised and gracious. Ao Xi was impressed.

Tan Ying introduced her friends: Zhuo Ning, tall and slim at 170cm, lively and enthusiastic; Kong Ling, whose smile curved her eyes like crescent moons, a sweet girl; and Feng Wei, quiet in appearance but with a generous and tolerant demeanor.

Ao Xi greeted each of them, “It’s our first meeting, I didn’t prepare much, so please enjoy some milk tea.”

“Thank you, we won’t be shy then—just what we needed,” they replied.

All four girls chose iced milk tea. Ao Xi raised his eyebrows—Zong Yiqiang was clearly up to something.

Zong Yiqiang shrugged, meaning they were both men and he knew Ao Xi’s little tricks.

They chatted and laughed as they left the school, found a restaurant, and sat down to eat. At the table, Ao Xi answered their many questions: Is being a cop busy? What’s the salary? Do police really shoot at any time? He answered them all.

It was an enjoyable conversation. Ao Xi, tall and handsome, showed just enough charm to be captivating.

Zong Yiqiang held his girlfriend’s hand, quietly signaling her to keep some distance from Ao Xi.

Ao Xi exchanged contacts with the girls, particularly interested in Feng Wei—he liked her generous nature.

After dinner, the sky darkened. Zhuo Ning, the most playful, suggested going to a bar for a drink since it was too early to return to campus. The girls agreed eagerly and asked if Ao Xi wanted to come.

Ao Xi had initially planned to call it a night, but since they wanted to drink, he couldn’t refuse.

The six split into three cars: Zong Yiqiang and Tan Ying in one, Zhuo Ning, Kong Ling, and Feng Wei in another, and Ao Xi drove his own car. Led by Zhuo Ning’s MINI, they arrived at a bar called “Moulin Rouge.” A decorative windmill spun on the roof, perhaps the inspiration for its name. The exterior looked ordinary.

At the entrance stood a burly man and a waiter, which was somewhat interesting.

As they were about to enter, the girls went in free while the men were charged thirty dollars each. Although this was common, Ao Xi felt the world was doomed—might as well destroy it.

After buying a ticket, Ao Xi was suddenly stopped by the burly man. “Sir, firearms are not allowed in the bar. You can leave your gun with me for safekeeping and retrieve it when you leave.”

Ao Xi glanced at the man, whose tattoo was faintly visible at his chest. The bulge under his shirt was unmistakably a gun, and a red symbol of crime hovered above his head.

“You’re carrying one yourself.”

“I’m security, sir.”

Tan Ying wanted to say something, but Zong Yiqiang pulled her back, signaling her to stay silent.

Ao Xi smiled at Tan Ying, detached his tactical belt, and handed his gun and spare magazine to the guard. “Don’t damage it.”

He was frisked for weapons before being allowed inside.

The security guard watched Ao Xi’s back, pressed his earpiece, and murmured something.

Inside, the bar was stylish, with plenty of patrons dressed well, obviously affluent.

They found a table in a corner and had just ordered drinks when a man’s voice suddenly came from nearby.

“Sorry to interrupt, but are you Mr. Ao Xi?”

Ao Xi turned to see a well-dressed, middle-aged white man in his thirties, wearing a suit and a false smile, holding a newspaper. Above his head was a black crime symbol.

He quickly glanced around, maintaining a calm expression. “I am Ao Xi. And you are?”

“I’m Frank Luca, the manager of this bar. The security told me you were here, so I wanted to greet you. Tonight, your drinks are on the house. I hope you enjoy yourself, Mr. Ao.”

“How generous!” Zong Yiqiang exclaimed. Drinks here were expensive, and with six people, a few thousand dollars was normal. Families who could afford to study abroad weren’t poor, but a free bill of thousands was still considerable.

“How did your security know who I am?”

Frank smiled. “Seems you don’t read the paper, Mr. Ao.” He handed Ao Xi the newspaper. “Please take a look.”

Ao Xi took the paper, and the others crowded around. The headline read: “Chinese Barbarian Fires Three Shots in Three Days—Every Target Dead, Yet He Faces No Punishment.”

The article detailed Ao Xi’s personal history, omitting context and describing the shootings with indignant language, questioning why Ao Xi was still a police officer and not in jail.

Zong Yiqiang mumbled, “So you weren’t bluffing last time...”

The girls’ expressions shifted, their eyes flickered.

Ao Xi’s thoughts spun. He quickly understood the cause: whether shooting the homeless man or the murderer of his parents, both incidents happened in broad daylight, with many police and witnesses. A police shooting would naturally draw journalists and be reported.

The homeless serial killer case didn’t even need journalists; the police department likely held a press conference immediately.

It was only Ao Xi’s lack of habit reading newspapers that kept him unaware that he was now something of a celebrity—if such notoriety could be called fame.

Not good. This guy was steering the conversation. Time to break his rhythm and pull things back to my pace!