Tracing capital flow was an extremely tedious task since a sum of money may pass through dozens of transactions in a year. Since this wasn’t the sort of task I could help with, Xiaotao and Lao Yao turned to the rest of the force.

With nothing to do, the three of us sat listlessly in the conference room. I played with my cell phone while Song Xingchen hugged his sword as he lazily looked out the window, appreciating the autumn scenery. As usual, Wang Yuanchao was drinking.

He suddenly rolled up his sleeve and placed his arm on the table. "Come, let's have a match."

Song Xingchen couldn’t be bothered to spare him a glance. 

"Are the flowery fists and fancy footwork any use, or are you just a weak-limbed little boy?" goaded Wang Yuanchao.

"Flowery fists?" Song Xingchen sneered, "You know nothing."

"Then...