Kō Kikkyō's head throbbed with worry about the television and his fish stall. He had comforted Old Li at the vegetable stand, then finally decided—he would buy Tō Shōryū a color TV.
The most popular sets at the time were the big, boxy models. Buying a large one still carried plenty of prestige. Tō Shōryū and his brother Tō Shōko were the market managers. They oversaw stall distribution and collected fees—both official stall fees and shady extras like "sanitation charges." In truth, it was protection money.
Of course, once they took that money, the Shōryū brothers would step in if vendors ran into trouble. In the year 2000, this was common enough. Rapid growth always cast long shadows.
Newer generations might find the idea of protection fees strange, something out of Hong Kong films. But in Jinhai back then, it was very real. Many who lived through that era remembered: in some places, if you didn't pay protection, you couldn't even open a shop. It was no exaggeration.
…
After calming Old Li's family, Kikkyō gutted two fish. He pulled out a packet of coffee but set it aside. The pressure wasn't yet unbearable. That afternoon he withdrew cash from the bank, went straight to an electronics shop, and bought a big color TV. He lugged it to Tō Shōryū's home.
It was New Year's Eve. A perfect time for a gift.
…
Meanwhile, Anshin had returned to the police bureau. It was February 4, 2000—New Year's Eve on the lunar calendar.
The station was still ablaze with lights. Officers on duty stayed at their posts, especially since the criminal investigation team had just captured a major fugitive. The suspect was wanted for five murders in another province. Director An personally led the interrogation.
Anshin gazed at the Jinhai bureau, filled with nostalgia.
The year 2000… Cities hadn't yet undergone the massive construction boom. The bureau's exterior was lined with white ceramic tiles, its windows fitted with blue glass popular at the time. Inside, old-fashioned corridors, office plaques, and bulky computers ran on Windows 98. Blue borders, grassy wallpaper, and mice with rolling balls filled the offices. Officers sipped tea from enamel mugs.
It was both foreign and familiar.
"Even without my Nemesis of Crime system, this era itself is a golden finger," he thought. "I can achieve wealth and freedom legally, without taking reckless risks."
Though officers weren't allowed to run businesses or be shareholders, he could still buy stocks or invest in housing. Perfectly legal.
Stocks, real estate… By those means, he could become a billionaire. In 2000, Moutai wasn't yet listed, housing was dirt cheap, Jack Ma was just starting out, and Liu Qiangdong was still selling goods in Zhongguancun. The opportunities were endless.
In his previous life, he had fought criminals to the end, losing comrades and disciples along the way. His hair turned white, he saved little, and he lost the woman he loved.
Not this time.
He would live well, become a wealthy man by legal means, continue to catch criminals, and grow stronger. That was the true path.
Even the Gao brothers became underworld bosses only for money. Now, Anshin had a better way. Why would he ever fall?
…
Sitting at his desk, Anshin fixed his goal for the future.
"And this is a composite film-and-television world… Besides Yō Jotei, Mengyoku, Kō Kiran, there will be others—like Kō Shōkin. The world is vast. Once Jinhai's affairs are handled, I'll need to see what lies beyond."
…
DING!
[System Notification][Because you rescued the hostage and subdued the fugitive, you are awarded: Basic Driving Skill!][You receive 10 attribute points and 3 skill points!]
Anshin hadn't expected a reward just for saving the hostage.
He already had a license and could drive, but only at a basic level with the old Santana cars in the bureau. The system's gift encompassed mastery over all ground vehicles. It would be invaluable for investigations to come.
He quietly accepted the reward, spending the rest of the shift in silence, waiting for the day to end.
Then—
"Anshin, come on. Interrogation room. With me."
Rishō burst in, panting.
"New Year's Eve, and trouble won't stop. Another fight at Old Factory Street."
Anshin followed him to the interrogation room.
On the chair sat a man in cuffs. A brawler.
Anshin raised his brows.
He knew this face.
Kō Kikkyō!
Back then, Kikkyō was no boss. Just a fish seller in a worn jacket, his face swollen and bruised. Seeing Anshin and Rishō enter, his eyes darted nervously, his posture full of unease.