That little electric baton was truly the best perk he’d gotten from the Special Investigation Bureau besides his salary.

The next day, as soon as Charles Gray walked into work, Holly Harlow’s meal card flew straight at his face: “Xiao Guo, I want beef pancakes today—make sure they’re crispy! And get me a box of yogurt!”

Without a word, Charles Gray agreed, set down his bag, and was about to head to the cafeteria when he ran into Carter Shaw at the office door, who was biting into half a pancake. Charles Gray immediately snapped to attention: “Morning, Brother Carter.”

Brother Carter barely acknowledged him, lifting his eyelids to glance over: “Mm.”

Then he took two steps, doubled back, grabbed Charles Gray by the collar, and yanked the kid back just as he was about to leave: “Wait, did you run into something dirty?”

Charles Gray stared at him blankly.

With hands still smelling of pancake, Carter Shaw patted both his shoulders, then spun him around and slapped his back, chest, and both sides of his waist. Only then did he pull out a napkin to wipe his hands, and gave Charles Gray a push: “You were covered in bad luck. All right, you’re clean now, go on.”

Blushing furiously, Charles Gray scurried off in little steps. Carter Shaw took a big bite, crunching the crispy fried dough inside his pancake so hard that crumbs fell everywhere: “What’s this kid cultivating? I swear, his virtue is practically oozing out.”

Still hungry, Holly Harlow swallowed hard, feeling like he was describing a pig about to be sent to market.

“Food, food!” Logan Sullivan burst through the Criminal Investigation Division’s door, and without a word, pinned down Carter Shaw and frisked him, finally fishing an egg out of his coat pocket and claiming it without the slightest courtesy.

Carter Shaw was furious but didn’t dare say a word.

Then Logan Sullivan pulled a carton of milk from the fridge, tore it open, and drank it.

Darrin Grant yowled, “That’s mine! Mine! You’re even stealing cat food now! Have you no shame?”

Logan Sullivan gave it a cold glance: “I drank it—so what, you short fatty, what are you gonna do?”

Darrin Grant: “……”

Holly Harlow: “Why don’t you go to the cafeteria…”

“I’m in a hurry.” With that, Logan Sullivan walked straight into the wall—just as Charles Gray returned with the beef pancakes. Before he could even be shocked, he saw Logan Sullivan walk right through the wall and disappear!

“All right, close your mouth,” Holly Harlow took her breakfast from his hands, “There’s a door there, it’s the library area. You don’t have the ability, so even if you went in, you wouldn’t understand anything, which is why you can’t see the door.”

Carter Shaw finished his pancake, still feeling unsatisfied without the egg, and quickly tore off a piece of Holly Harlow’s beef pancake: “He’s better than me. I can see it, but I can’t get in—the library area isn’t open to me.”

Charles Gray asked, “Why not?”

Carter Shaw pulled a rather strange smile onto his usually grim face and said, “Because I have a criminal record.”

Charles Gray: “……”

He really was still afraid of Brother Carter.

A moment later, Logan Sullivan came striding out of the “wall” with a tattered old book, tossed the eggshell and milk carton into Charles Gray’s trash can, grabbed a napkin from Holly Harlow’s desk, and left in a hurry without saying a word.

Then he disappeared for the entire day.

It had been half a month since they returned from the snowy mountains. The solar New Year had passed in a flash, and then a cold snap swept through Dragon City, quickly pushing everyone toward the end of the year.

Director Sullivan was so busy he almost forgot his own name. He had to prepare gifts for all the important contacts, receive year-end presents from all his drinking buddies, keep up with endless social calls, and on top of that, there were never-ending reports and meetings. The phone in his office rang so much it sounded like the railway ticket hotline.

The desk calendars in every department had already been replaced with new ones. That day, as dusk fell early and the day shift was about to end, Zane Shaw drifted into the Criminal Investigation Division.

This comrade had a hard life—he’d been a ruthless schemer in life, but after death, he ended up in the Terra-Spike. There, time didn’t exist, and a thousand years passed in the world outside. After his “reform,” he came out a new man—no, a new ghost—and found he’d turned into an idiot, unable to even understand human speech.

The only person in the world who could communicate with him was Zach Warren. Although the Hangar Tribe dialect was her mother tongue, she’d only spoken it for less than twenty years; the rest of her three centuries had been spent in a Mandarin-speaking environment. When Zane Shaw realized that Zach Warren was much more fluent talking to everyone else than to him, he decided to buckle down and learn to speak.

Zane Shaw was ruthless—even to the point of poisoning his own wife and children—so once he set his mind to something, he went all out. For half a month, he’d been reciting Chinese pinyin in Zach Warren’s ear day and night, nearly driving the ghostly Zach Warren to a nervous breakdown. At last, he began to grasp the rules of Mandarin pronunciation, to the point where he could mimic speech and even say some simple phrases on his own.

In his halting, word-by-word Mandarin, Zane Shaw made an announcement: “Glen says that besides the year-end… year-end ‘general sauce,’ there’s also a Fuwa bonus, so… so everyone should prepare their receipts in advance.”

He wasn’t very fluent, clearly just parroting what he’d half-understood.

Julian West asked, “Amitabha, why do we need to prepare dough? Are we steaming buns for New Year’s Eve dinner?”

Zane Shaw gestured, “Not buns, ‘dough,’ the best is ‘Jiaodong bonus’…”

“Director Sullivan said that besides the year-end bonus, everyone gets an extra five thousand as a welfare bonus. Pick it up from me before the weekend, and give me your receipts next week. Transportation receipts are best, but labor protection invoices are fine too.” Zach Warren hurriedly floated down from upstairs, glaring at Zane Shaw, “You still can’t get your words right.”

Zane Shaw looked at her, his usually fierce face softening, and he grinned foolishly, then carefully tried to take her hand.

“Don’t mess around, I’m busy.” Zach Warren scolded him quietly, then asked, “Where’s Logan Sullivan off networking with his brothers-in-law again? I have a document that needs his signature urgently.”

Zane Shaw quickly said, “I… I’ll deliver it…”

Zach Warren dodged his hand: “Deliver what? You’ll just scare his fat, well-fed brothers-in-law again.”

Zane Shaw didn’t argue, just silently followed behind her, watching her rush around the hallway in the dark, flustered and busy.

Zach Warren turned and whispered something to him in a language no one else could understand. Zane Shaw’s face broke into a calm, contented smile, as if everything had finally settled.

“I can’t stand these people showing off their love in front of others—especially in some foreign language. My eyes are blinded again,” Holly Harlow muttered gloomily. “Now that the ghostly troublemaker’s quiet, it’s their turn!”

Julian West: “Mercy, mercy. Don’t be jealous, my lady.”

Holly Harlow raised her hand to hit him, but just then, her desk phone rang. She picked it up: “Hello… Oh, where? … Huangyan Road, Huangyan Temple Hospital? Okay, I’ll tell them—oh right, if you have time tonight, come back to the office, Zach Warren says there’s a lot of paperwork for you to sign.”

Everyone could tell it was their Director Sullivan. After hanging up, Holly Harlow let out a frustrated sigh: “Here we go, just like always—no work during the day, overtime at night. Five minutes after quitting time, our pain-in-the-neck boss calls with more work.”

Hearing this, Julian West immediately bolted out the door at lightning speed, vanishing from sight.

Holly Harlow stuck the note with the address on the wall and wrapped her scarf around her face: “It’s the dead of winter, and us girls are afraid of the cold…”

Darrin Grant followed right after: “This old cat doesn’t even have a down jacket.”

Everyone’s eyes turned in unison to the unprepared Carter Shaw. Facing his wretched colleagues, all Carter Shaw could say was: “Damn it.”

Ten minutes later, Carter Shaw was riding in Charles Gray’s car, heading to Huangyan Temple.

Chapter 47 Virtue Quill …

Carter Shaw didn’t talk much with Charles Gray, but in the few times they’d interacted, he always managed to show just the right amount of skill, leaving an indelible impression on Charles Gray’s “young” mind.

Charles Gray thought that while the boss was impressive, he was usually approachable, always joking around and down-to-earth. At most, he felt like a father or older brother—no matter how capable, up close there was nothing mysterious about him.

But Carter Shaw was different. Brother Carter—he was absolutely the kind of “reclusive master” you could only admire from afar.