Up to No Good Again  

The oak door flew open with a thunderous crash, showcasing Sang's superhuman kick.

Wenjay followed him around the screen and, as expected, there was Mingyoo sprawled on the bed, snuggled in a wool blanket, snoring away.

But seriously, how could he sleep through that? The door practically exploded and he didn't even budge?

"Holy cow!" Sang's face paled as he dashed over, yanked Mingyoo out of the blanket, checked his forehead, and flipped his eyelids. He turned to Wenjay, "How long has he been out like this?"

"..." It dawned on Wenjay that Mingyoo wasn't sleeping but had passed out. He stammered, "I...I have no clue. He was all good last night. We even had midnight munchies around 10!"

Sang rummaged through the nightstand, scanned the room, pushed open a bookshelf, and walked into a walk-in closet. He soon emerged with a lunchbox, which he tossed next to Mingyoo. He grilled Wenjay, "How long has he been popping these?"

Wenjay, looking at the pills in the lunchbox, shook his head like a lost puppy. Sang snapped, "What kind of partner are you? Aren't you supposed to have his back?"

Wenjay felt like the world's biggest victim. He had never even been someone's boyfriend; how was he supposed to know how to be a spouse... Wait, husband!

He picked up a pill, squinted at it, and earnestly asked, "What is this?"

"Morphine!" Sang's face was a mix of disbelief and despair. "If his leg is killing him, take him to the freaking hospital! Who plays around with this stuff?"

Wenjay was shell-shocked, "I...I didn't know. He never mentioned his leg was in agony. I thought he was on the mend!" No wonder Mingyoo's eyes had been so intense lately. It reminded him of a buddy who had dabbled in drugs out of curiosity.

How did he not catch that Mingyoo was playing with fire?

"I honestly didn't know he was on morphine!" Wenjay insisted. "He never told me anything!"

Sang glared at him for an eternity, realized he genuinely was clueless, sighed, and fished out a pill from the lunchbox to give to Mingyoo. He turned to Wenjay, "Don't you live with him?"

Wenjay hesitated. If he said no, would it jeopardize their relationship?

"But we haven't gotten our marriage certificate yet, so it's normal to live separately, right?"

"I live in the guest room downstairs."

"..." Sang rolled his eyes and said to the unconscious Mingyoo, "What's with the drama? What's there to be coy about?"

Wenjay was exasperated and worried about Mingyoo, "Should we take him to the hospital?"

"He'll wake up soon," Sang said. "But we must take him to the hospital. We need to talk to him first. This guy is too sneaky, a master of saying one thing and doing another."

Wenjay couldn't agree more.

A few minutes later, Mingyoo's body twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes. Seeing Sang sitting next to him, his face fell, and he croaked, "Chief Sang."

"Oh, wow," Sang sneered. "You still recognize me. I thought you were about to forget who you are!"

Mingyoo closed his eyes wearily, then opened them again, saw the lunchbox on the bedside table, and said, "Chief Sang, let me explain…"

"You're quite the genius, aren't you? I should give you a standing ovation!" Sang interrupted him sarcastically. "Taking morphine with celecoxib, pain relief without addiction. Why aren't you a saint? You should patent this idea and make a fortune... oh wait, you're already filthy rich, no wonder you're so reckless, ignoring everything I say!"

Mingyoo propped himself up and saw Wenjay standing at the foot of the bed. He waved him off, "You go ahead, call a carpenter to fix my door... It must be broken from his kick, right?"

Seems like he knows Sang's temper well... Wenjay nodded and was about to leave when Sang stopped him, "Don't go, come here."

Wenjay reluctantly walked back. Sang pointed at Mingyoo's nose and said, "Listen here, Director Jow, I'm telling you nicely, you must go to the hospital this afternoon. Your leg needs rehab, your lungs need to be checked. If the doctor says you need to be hospitalized or need surgery, you do it, got it?"

Mingyoo remained silent. Sang continued, "I'm your superior now, you have to listen to me. You know the saying, 'A higher rank can crush you'. Of course, you can choose not to listen. Hand over your badge and gun right now, and I'll have my secretary draft your resignation. In 24 hours, you won't be under me, and you can have all the morphine you want!"

He checked his watch, "You have one minute."

Mingyoo stared at the ceiling for fifty seconds, then blinked, "I'll go tomorrow."

"What did you say?" Sang raised an eyebrow, "Are you trying to haggle with me?"

"It's my husband's birthday today," Mingyoo said earnestly. "We should at least have a candlelit dinner, right? And after dinner, you know... come on, you've been married, do I need to spell it out?"

Sang: "..."

Wenjay: "..."

"Fine, tomorrow it is!" Sang gritted his teeth, then turned to Wenjay, "I'm doing this for you. Man, you're too nice. I'll request the department to issue you a gun. If your husband doesn't listen, just shoot him!"

Wenjay felt like shooting both of them!

"Alright, you can go." Sang waved him off considerately. "You heard what he said, right? Drag him to the hospital first thing tomorrow. If he doesn't listen, call me. I'll come and deal with him myself."

Wenjay nodded dejectedly and left.

As the broken door closed behind him, Sang dragged a chair next to Mingyoo. His expression darkened, "Do you realize you're suspended?"

Mingyoo's playful demeanor vanished, "I know."

Sang stared at him for a long time, picked up a pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, threw one to him, and pocketed the rest, "This is your last one. I'll have your husband lock these up. You should quit. The doctor said it's a miracle your lung survived a gunshot. Keep smoking and you'll be ascending to the heavens!"

Mingyoo took it and sighed. Sang lit it for him and said, "I know you're hung up on Mandy's case, but it's a sensitive time. If you get involved it'll only make the division more vulnerable. Understand?"

Mingyoo took a drag and said heavily, "I understand."

"Then why are you still poking around Zeeshow's case?" Sang frowned. "And why did you use a fake arrest warrant?"

Mingyoo remained silent, his expression growing darker. Sang continued, "Mandy's case has been handed over to Division 9. You're involved and her brother, you have to stay out of it."

"That's impossible," Mingyoo flatly refused.

Sang's eyebrows shot up, but Mingyoo sat up, his expression more earnest and serious than ever, "Chief Sang, I don't believe she would betray the department for no reason. I lived with her for fifteen years, taught her how to be a good cop. I can't believe that fifteen years of effort was wasted on a murderous maniac…"

"I can't believe that for fifteen years, both my father and I were blind."

Through the rising smoke, Mingyoo seemed to travel back fifteen years when his father brought a skinny, cold little girl to him and said, "Mingyoo, remember, from today, she's your sister. She'll take your mother's surname, Mandy Wu."

He was only nineteen then, a junior in college. He was called back home by his dad and suddenly had a sister, which felt weird.

Later, his father told him that she was the only daughter of his closest comrade, whose family had been wiped out. He had to treat her as his own sister, guide and protect her.

Mingyoo, who lost his mother at a young age and was an only child, initially felt uneasy. But soon, his passion turned into affection. He knew how difficult it was to raise a child with such hatred and vowed to guide her properly. For fifteen years, he played the roles of brother, father, and sometimes even mother, cherishing her like his own sister.

At first, Mandy kept to herself, like a lonely little animal. Mingyoo juggled school and finding ways to connect with her. He dedicated all his free time to her, taking her to see psychologists, going out... Sometimes, while in class, if Mandy called, he'd immediately ask for leave to go home, even if it was just to sit with her in the living room for an hour or two, without a word of complaint.

Under his care, the silent little girl gradually opened up. He remembered on his 21st birthday, Mandy approached him for the first time, covering his eyes with her soft hands, and said, "Guess what I got you, big brother?"

That antique CD player, which had been out of production for decades, was still on his bookshelf. Every time Mandy went out with friends or traveled with her boyfriend, she'd bring back antique CDs for him. Rock, piano, folk music... They'd listen to music, play games, read Sherlock Holmes together... Later, Mandy grew up and, influenced by him, studied criminal investigation, and became a detective like him.

He remembered the day Mandy received her badge. He solemnly told her, "Mandy, from today, you're a detective, a law enforcer, the last line of defense before the law. If one day even you can't uphold the dignity of the law, then your parents died for nothing. Do you understand?"

The bright young girl looked into his eyes and said word by word, "Brother, don't worry. I won't let you down. If one day, the people who killed my parents stand before me, even if I have a gun in my hand, I will never take the law into my own hands. I am the last line of defense before the law, and I will not desecrate it with my own hands."

He never imagined that five years later, his beloved little sister would tear her own oath to shreds with a bloodbath stained by eleven lives.

She used the gun he had given her to shatter his shin and pierce his lung.

Tears streaming down her face, she said, "Save me."

All he could give her was a bullet to end her life that was beyond saving.