In the afternoon, the soft light of early autumn filtered through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow over the sleeping beauty on the bed. Hannah's figure, with her characteristic Texas curves, created an astonishing silhouette beneath the sheets, resembling a painting by John William Godward.
(Idle Moments, 1895, John William Godward)
A while later, an enticing aroma began wafting into the bedroom. Hannah's petite, upturned nose twitched instinctively as her long lashes fluttered. The tantalizing scent grew stronger, compelling her to open her eyes in curiosity.
Stretching languidly, she sat up, pulling the sliding bed sheet to cover herself modestly. A mischievous grin spread across her face as if she were savoring some lingering memory, but her rumbling stomach soon interrupted her reverie, teased by the irresistible scent coming from the kitchen.
She hurriedly jumped out of bed, dashed into the bathroom for a quick refresh, and then—with the sheet wrapped around her—ran downstairs, her bare feet padding softly on the steps. As she neared the kitchen, the mouthwatering aroma only grew stronger.
"Girl, let me show you how it's done, so let's start slow... You just put your lips together..."
In the kitchen, Jack was humming Flo Rida's playful song "Whistle" and occasionally breaking into a perfectly tuned whistle. While his singing voice might've lacked polish, his whistling was on point.
"You rascal," Hannah laughed, abandoning all pretense of modesty as the sheet slipped further. She jumped onto his back and playfully bit his ear, her face red with embarrassment and delight.
"Careful, careful!" Jack quickly set down the long-handled ladle he'd been holding and hooked an arm under her legs to keep her from falling. His teasing was unintentional—he was simply quoting the lyrics. After all, the original song was innuendo-laden to begin with.
On the stove in front of him, a large stockpot of beef bone soup was simmering away. The creamy white broth bubbled merrily, releasing a rich and hearty aroma that filled the kitchen.
This soup was made with ingredients sourced from Chris' family farm, which had recently delivered its first batch of Angus steers. In addition to thirty pounds of well-marbled ribeye, Chris had also sent Jack several hefty cuts of cow leg bones, some vertebrae, a dozen oxtails, and over ten pounds of pre-cleaned tripe, all as per Jack's request.
Making a perfect beef bone soup required finesse. The marrow from the leg bones was rich in fat, which could make the soup greasy, so it needed to be balanced with collagen-heavy vertebrae. For a touch of indulgence, Jack had also added oxtail to enhance the broth's thick, gelatinous texture. Once cooled, the soup would set into a jelly-like consistency—delicious to some, but absolute agony for anyone with gout.
Jack had been up early prepping the soup while Hannah had slept in. After more than four hours of simmering, the broth was nearly ready. He added some fresh mushrooms and a sprinkle of goji berries for an extra touch of flavor and nutrition. After all, there were certain things even magic healing spells couldn't entirely address—proper nutrition was key.
For the next few days, Jack and Hannah barely left the apartment, stepping out only occasionally to stock up on fresh vegetables and fruits.
Rossi's penthouse was incredibly well-equipped, with a dedicated gym and a private movie theater. Both Jack and Hannah had a bit of a homebody streak, so they spent their time listening to music, reading books, and playing games together, thoroughly enjoying each other's company.
Jack wasn't a fan of fighting games, particularly ones like Soulcalibur VI—a horizontal combat game. He preferred strategy games, the kind where you'd sit in front of a computer painting maps with colors. But having a beautiful woman constantly goading him was a different matter entirely.
To entice Jack into playing with her, Hannah made an irresistible offer: if she lost three consecutive rounds, she'd whistle the Flo Rida song for him.
Not being a fan of fighting games didn't mean Jack wasn't skilled at them. After a few losses while he got the hang of the controls, Jack quickly turned the tables. Once he figured out the move sets, Hannah's smug confidence turned to panic. She shrieked, threw down the controller, and tried to vault over the sofa to escape. But Jack, ready for her antics, caught her mid-flight.
As the proverbial "big bad wolf" flashed a wicked grin and prepared to exact his playful revenge, an untimely phone call interrupted the moment.
Still holding the struggling Hannah securely, Jack answered the call with a cheerful laugh. "Detective Reagan, I take it the oysters were to your liking?"
"Uh, Jack, I remember you mentioned you speak a few languages. How's your Mandarin?" Danny Reagan's voice came through amidst the noisy background of a bustling crowd.
"Depends on which dialect you're asking about," Jack replied, momentarily caught off guard by the question. His answer only seemed to confuse Danny further.
Jack wasn't trying to be difficult—it was just the reality of the situation. America's linguistic diversity made things complicated. In his past life, Jack had been broadly considered a southerner. But to Cantonese and Fujianese speakers, he might as well have been a northerner. After all, "south" could mean anything depending on whether you were referring to the Yangtze River or the Pearl River.
Jack could handle most Chinese dialects well enough to get by, but he struggled with Wenzhounese, Minnan, and Cantonese—ironically, some of the most commonly spoken Chinese dialects abroad.
This world's Chinese diaspora had also muddled their language further. Thanks to media stereotypes, many Chinese Americans spoke a strange mix of broken Mandarin or Cantonese, peppered with random English words, making it harder to understand than straightforward "Chinglish."
During previous trips to Flushing, Jack often had to rely on gestures and guesswork just to haggle with street vendors.
Danny, ever the impatient type, quickly dismissed the technicalities. "Whatever works. Are you free right now? I'm in Chinatown, downtown. My brother Jamie's in trouble."
Realizing this was serious, Hannah stopped struggling. She waved Jack off, signaling for him to go. After all, they'd been indulging in little couple's games for days, and she had been on the losing end every time. This was a perfect excuse to escape.
"No problem. I'm on my way," Jack said, planting a few quick kisses on her face before letting her go and getting dressed.
It was already 10 p.m., marking the end of their vacation and a return to work the following day. Staying up too late wasn't ideal.
As autumn descended on New York, the city's temperature differences between day and night became more pronounced. Jack threw on a beige trench coat over his shirt to conceal his sidearm, leaving the buttons undone, and headed out in his Dodge Hellcat police cruiser.
"You look like a comic book character," Danny quipped as soon as he saw Jack.
"Well, I'm not wearing a dark red tie," Jack shot back, refusing to admit his outfit bore any resemblance to Constantine's iconic look. "What's the situation?"
Danny's younger brother, Jamie Reagan, was dressed in plainclothes, his badge hanging from his neck. His face showed a mix of nervousness and residual fear. "Two suspects with guns attempted to abduct a Chinese girl. I identified myself as an officer, and they fled in different directions.
"One of them got into a car and drove off. I chased the other on foot, but then this happened." He gestured toward a body lying at the intersection.
"He ran blindly into a taxi."
Jack glanced at the scene, where a curious crowd had gathered to gawk. "The situation's chaotic, sure, but why do you say your brother's in trouble?" he asked Danny, puzzled.
Danny sighed. "Because Jamie saw they were armed and drew his weapon. But now, the guy's lying there without a gun on him. He must've ditched it while running.
"Meanwhile, the Chinese girl who was almost abducted is nowhere to be found. Without witnesses, Internal Affairs is going to give my brother hell."
Jamie quickly added, "There was one witness—a friend of the abducted girl. The suspect who drove off had pinned her against a wall earlier. She might have a head injury."
"So, you want me to use my Mandarin skills to find these girls in Chinatown? That's a tall order. What you really need is a bloodhound with a good nose," Jack scoffed.
Danny gave a weary chuckle. "I know—it's tough to track down a gun, let alone people, in this part of town. Chinatown's no walk in the park, especially this old one. It's crawling with shady elements, like the infamous Triads."
Even the newer Chinese enclaves like Flushing had seen rising crime rates in recent years, thanks to economic downturns and the leniency of the Democratic Party's criminal justice policies. This rundown old Chinatown was far worse.
"I just need someone to help me ask a few questions. I tried earlier, but I couldn't understand a word they were saying," Danny admitted, rubbing his temples in frustration. He scanned the surroundings, looking for a lead amidst the chaotic scene.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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