The reason he was able to hold himself to such an insanely strict standard was inseparable from his own extreme self-discipline. For example, when he had just parachuted in as the head of the Criminal Investigation Unit, there was a time he personally led a team out of town to investigate an urgent major case. They rushed back and forth for three days and four nights straight, everyone only able to catch a nap in turns in the speeding police car. When they finally returned to the Nancheng sub-bureau, more than a dozen exhausted young men collapsed all over the office like corpses. It wasn’t until the afternoon, when everyone woke up hungry, that they realized Captain Foster hadn’t slept at all—he had showered, shaved, finished the case report, organized the files, even worked out on the treadmill for two hours, and was now already out the door with the case materials, heading to the prosecutor’s office.

After that incident, everyone held this new leader in awe, convinced he wasn’t even human.

“It’s nothing,” Ryan Foster swept his gaze over the deputy unit, saying coolly, “Get ready to come with me to the detention center to interrogate the main suspect in the 329 robbery case.”

Brian Hughes immediately squeezed his butt cheeks and answered, tossing aside any thought of sneaking out to buy breakfast.

“And one more thing.” Suddenly, Ryan Foster turned back.

Brian Hughes: “?”

“Your fly is open.”

Brian Hughes blushed furiously, yanked up his zipper in a flash, and nearly caught his balls.

Ryan Foster turned back to the interrogation room without a trace of expression, his handsome face showing no sign of a sleepless night. The sharp lines of muscle under his white shirt were faintly visible, and the deep blue police trousers on his long legs made him look like he’d just stepped off a runway. Under everyone’s respectful gaze, he pushed open the office door—

Crash!

Outside the door, Logan Clark was walking in with a bag of buns and was caught off guard. His soy milk slipped from his hand.

The next moment, Ryan Foster was splashed head to toe by an oncoming wave of mysterious white liquid.

At that instant, everyone in the Criminal Investigation Unit had the same thought: Quietly, the farewell flute plays; silence is tonight’s Cambridge Bridge...

“…” Logan Clark froze for two seconds, hurriedly swallowed the bite of veggie bun in his mouth, and fished out a tissue from the plastic bag to hand over. “Sorry, Captain, please wipe it off, I’m so sorry, so sorry…”

But Ryan Foster didn’t take it. “What are you doing here?”

Logan Clark didn’t react at first, pointing at the wall clock in the main office—tick, the second hand hit zero, the minute hand moved to eight-thirty—he was right on time for work.

Ryan Foster said calmly, “I told you, you don’t need to come anymore.”

No one in the office dared make a sound; the hallway inside and out instantly fell silent.

“Don’t you understand? I said you don’t need to come to work anymore.” Ryan Foster, slightly taller than Logan Clark, looked down at his dark eyes, enunciating each word: “The Criminal Investigation Unit doesn’t need you. Resign yourself.”

He was serious!

It was like a bomb silently exploding underwater; everyone instinctively held their breath. Deputy Hughes and Ms. Carter exchanged a terrified glance.

Yet one of the main characters, Logan Clark, was slow to react. He stared blankly for a moment before asking, “…What did you say?”

Ryan Foster stared at him coldly.

The two of them stood off at the entrance to the office hall, neither willing to move. The air seemed to turn into shards of ice, stabbing at everyone’s windpipes with every passing second.

“Um…” Finally, in that desperate silence, Deputy Hughes, under the intense gaze of his brothers, forced himself to take half a step forward, grabbed a tissue for courage, and braced himself to speak: “I mean…Foster's Team, maybe you should…wipe off first. Didn’t Director Evans say he’d come find you to talk when you had time today? Maybe…maybe you should wait for him?”

It was more than just a “chat.” Ever since last night, when Ryan Foster announced that Logan Clark didn’t need to come to work anymore, the dignified Nancheng sub-bureau chief Patrick Evans had rushed to their unit three times, each time more anxious than the last. The people in the secretariat said the poor blood pressure monitor in the chief’s office was about to explode.

“Let’s go, let’s go to the detention center first.” Seeing that Ryan Foster seemed to waver a little, Brian Hughes quickly seized the moment: “Come on, I’ll drive you myself. We’ll be back in time for the meeting at headquarters this afternoon. Come on, come on…”

Brian Hughes grabbed Ryan Foster’s arm, and as the latter stepped forward, Logan Clark slipped into the office along the doorframe, brushing past Ryan Foster so closely that for a moment, their noses nearly touched.

Logan Clark lowered his eyes. Ryan Foster stared intently at his lowered lashes and said softly, “I don’t need people who just clock in and coast through the day. When I come back at noon, you’d better be gone. Got it?”

A strange look flashed in Logan Clark’s eyes—hard to say if it was mockery or self-mockery—then it vanished.

He replied respectfully, “Sorry, Captain, I won’t do it again.”

That simple sentence was like a spark landing on a pile of explosives, instantly blowing Ryan Foster’s temper sky-high!

With a whoosh, Brian Hughes didn’t even have time to react before Ryan Foster broke free, grabbed Logan Clark by the collar, strode across the hallway in two steps, yanked open the pantry door, and shoved Logan Clark inside.

Brian Hughes cried out, “Bu—”

Bang!

Ryan Foster slammed the door shut behind him, the crash so loud the floor seemed to shake. The admin intern was so startled they let out a yelp: “Aah!”