“The company booked me on Beacon Airlines flight Y21417.”
Blowing on her hair, having just returned to the hotel, Lin Wan received a message from the Interpol liaison office in Haicheng.
“Your efficiency is ridiculous. Didn’t they say you’d get a week off after coming back from a business trip?” Lu Zheng exclaimed dramatically. “What kind of sweatshop is this?”
Lin Wan rolled her eyes. “If I dared take a week off, this case would go to someone else.”
“How long can you rest then?”
“One night.”
“Oh, just one night? And that’s not a sweatshop?”
“Hehe, aren’t you coming with me on this trip? Let’s take a holiday in Beacon Country.”
“You, comrade, this is a business trip, a business trip! How did it turn into an international holiday, comrade? Your thinking is problematic!” Lu Zheng pointed accusingly from his moral high ground.
Lin Wan gritted her teeth. It was that trip to Japan last time, when Lu Zheng led her astray. It started as a business trip but ended up as a vacation.
Back then, it was just an escort mission, and no one could have predicted all that followed. This time, he clearly knew the mastermind was Allen Artworks.
With his invisibility technique and storage gourd, wouldn’t it be a piece of cake?
“Get to the point!”
After washing up and changing into pajamas, Lin Wan pushed Lu Zheng onto the bed and straddled him. “What’s your plan to help me crack the case when we get there?”
Lu Zheng steadied her waist, casually saying, “Sneak in invisibly, grab the evidence, and hand it over to you guys?”
Lin Wan: “…”
She pinched his waist hard. “When will I ever develop my qi sense and learn the invisibility technique?”
“Hiss—”
Lu Zheng sucked in a breath, his grip tightening.
And so, that night was hardly restful.
…
The next morning, the two drove back to Haicheng. Lin Wan packed some essentials and headed to the office.
Her flight was that evening, and she needed to pick up documents and materials in the afternoon.
“Someone from the office will drive me to the airport. Wait for me there,” Lin Wan said to Lu Zheng. “By the way, have you bought your ticket?”
Lu Zheng nodded, sighing. “I did, but there were no economy seats left near you, so I had to get first class.”
Lin Wan took a deep breath. “Well, that must be tough for you.”
Lu Zheng held her hand, his face earnest. “For you, I’m willing.”
They bantered a bit before Lin Wan went to collect her materials.
Lu Zheng, after settling some matters from his time-travel escapades, grabbed his passport, ID, and a few changes of clothes, tossing them into a backpack for show.
Checking the time, he played a couple of rounds of Honor of Kings, trouncing some kids, then took a cab to the airport.
At six in the evening, Lin Wan arrived at the airport and soon found Lu Zheng eating dumplings. She ordered a big portion of beef and onion dumplings, polishing them off in ten minutes.
Back in the departure lounge, Lin Wan couldn’t help but grumble, “Just got back, haven’t even had a few decent meals, and now we’re off to Beacon Country again.”
Then, looking at Lu Zheng, she smiled. “Good thing you’re coming with me this time. You’ll get to taste the food at Beacon Country’s Chinese restaurants.”
Lu Zheng laughed. “There must be authentic restaurants in Chinatown for Chinese folks, right?”
“No idea, maybe. I didn’t have time to search last time,” Lin Wan said. “Everyone was just eating on the go, focused on the mission.”
Lu Zheng nodded. “This mission’s simple. Once you’re done, hand the artefacts to the embassy, and we’ll go on holiday.”
“Great!”
…
After boarding, Lu Zheng upgraded Lin Wan’s seat, and they sat together again.
…
Nearly thirty hours later, the plane landed at Los Angeles International Airport.
At the arrivals gate, an Interpol officer stationed in Los Angeles met Lin Wan for a handover. Lu Zheng didn’t interrupt her work and left with his backpack.
“Hello! Need a taxi?”
Just outside the airport, as he looked around, a taxi screeched to a stop beside him.
The window rolled down, and a Black driver tilted his head toward Lu Zheng. “Chinatown?”
“No, Hollywood Walk of Fame!”
Since he was in Los Angeles, he had to check out the Walk of Fame. Who knows, maybe he’d bump into a celebrity?
“No problem! Here to see Jet Li and Jackie Chan’s handprints? Chinese kung fu!” The driver mimed a few punches.
“…”
Lu Zheng opened the door and got in. “How’d you know I’m Chinese and not Japanese or Korean?”
“It’s a vibe! I’ve been driving this taxi for ten years, seen plenty of Asians—Japanese, Chinese, Koreans—I can tell at a glance!” the driver said proudly.
“That good, huh?”
“Of course. Japanese are polite, Koreans are serious, Chinese seem friendly,” the driver said.
“Friendly?”
“Yeah, they talk to everyone the same way, makes you feel at ease.”
The driver mentioned this, then rambled on about his passenger experiences, tossing in slang Lu Zheng barely understood, catching only the gist.
As Lu Zheng tried to parse the details, they’d already arrived.
He paid, got out, and stared at the sea of people, dumbfounded.
So many people!
The street was filled with cosplayers, shops selling movie merchandise, and tourists from all over, snapping photos, shopping, sightseeing.
This place had everything movie-related, except actual movie stars.
“Buddy, unless there’s a movie premiere, no real celebrities show up here. They’re all in Beverly Hills or Santa Monica’s fancy neighborhoods!” the driver called out, passing him a note. “Taxis aren’t easy to come by here. Call me if you need a ride.”
“Thanks,” Lu Zheng said, taking the note. The driver sped off.
Watching the taxi disappear, Lu Zheng shook his head.
“Heh, thought I was here for female celebrities?” Lu Zheng sneered. “Really underestimating me. Am I that shallow? I’ve seen it all.”
Two steps later, a crowd surged in one direction.
“Hurry, hurry! I heard Taylor Swift is signing her new album at the Chinese Theatre, limited copies, first come, first served, line up quick!”
“Let’s go!”
“Wait, where’s that guy who was just here?”
“Huh, weird, he was right there. How’d he vanish in a blink?”
