Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

The next morning, Xiaoya scrolled through her phone's map in the hotel lobby for a while, then turned the screen towards Lin Yanzhou: "The reviews for this department store say it has a pretty complete jewelry section, and it's not far from here." After she finished speaking, she put her phone back in her bag and stood in the shadows of the porch waiting for him to catch up. A breeze had picked up outside, but it wasn't strong, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, casting a thin layer of shimmering light on the branches of the roadside trees.

"Are you women born to love shopping malls? Well, I'm very happy shopping with you," Lin Yanzhou thought to himself helplessly.

The department store wasn't exactly close to the hotel. The car stopped in front of a cluster of gray buildings, and as soon as it came to a stop, Xiaoya got out. She stood at the entrance, looking up at the building facades for a moment, the sunlight streaming in obliquely from behind her.

The jewelry counter was located on the first floor, towards the back, occupying half a row of corner cabinets. The lighting inside and outside the counter was more carefully arranged than that of ordinary counters. The saleswoman was a woman in her forties, wearing thin-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose, the edges of the lenses reflecting white light under the lamp. Her hair was tightly tied up, secured by a dark hair clip at her temple, a style that had clearly been maintained for a long time.

Xiaoya stood in front of the counter. She didn't speak immediately, first looking at the rows of rings and necklaces displayed in the glass case. Then she looked up and asked in English, "May I take a look at this set of purple-gold necklace and earrings?"

The clerk seemed fluent in spoken English. She bent down and took the tray from inside the counter, placing it on a velvet cloth. Xiaoya picked up the necklace and turned it upside down in front of the light. Under the light, the necklace had a cool luster, different from the warm tone of gold jewelry and the sharp reflection of silver jewelry; it was a semi-matte texture somewhere in between.

She examined the necklace's links carefully for a while, then flipped it over to look at the structure at the end of the clasp. She ran her finger along the curved surface of the clasp, tried it on in front of the mirror, turned her head to different angles, and then looked at Lin Yanzhou: "This color looks pinkish under the light, but grayish when viewed through the window. But I really like it."

"Whatever you like is fine."

Xiaoya didn't respond immediately. She took off the earrings and placed them on the velvet cloth, then picked up the necklace and looked at it again: "Wrap it up, I want this set."

When she turned around after looking at the jewelry, she saw the amber next to her and said happily, "Amber and gold are similar in color, but there are obvious differences in texture and luster. They are easy to confuse when viewed alone. Only by comparing them side by side can you see their respective light reflection characteristics."

The three bodyguards went to the cashier one by one to settle the bill. This was instructed by their leader before he left that all expenses would be settled by them.

The toy section is slightly larger than the jewelry section. There are several display shelves at the corner of the counter, with a row of matryoshka dolls of different sizes hanging on them, ranging from two inches to one foot tall, with great differences in paint color and brushstroke detail.

Xiaoya looked around and chose a medium-sized set. The paint finish was more even, and the lines of the figures' expressions were more delicate. After looking at the matryoshka dolls, she picked up two boxes of chocolates next to her. One box had classic dark packaging with little decoration on the surface, while the other was a light-colored tin box with an old print printed on it, and the label on the seal was pasted on by hand.

She put both boxes into her shopping basket, then went back and picked out a set of smaller nesting dolls, which she packed separately in a paper bag.

The restaurant she chose for lunch was one she had picked out in advance. It wasn't a large restaurant, and the seats inside were almost full. The menu on the table was in both Russian and English. She flipped through it and ordered borscht, dumplings, roast beef, a plate of fried potato pancakes, and an extra scoop of ice cream.

The ice cream was served in a small white bowl, its surface smooth and without any noticeable bubbles. She scooped up a spoonful, tasted it, chewed and swallowed it, then scooped up another spoonful: "This has a stronger milky flavor than the ones in China, and fewer ice crystals; it seems to be made with whole milk."

"You can try a few different kinds of Goose ice cream next time. There's nothing high-tech here, everything is real."

"Buy more if you like."

After finishing her ice cream, she put down her spoon and pushed the bowl aside. "What do you think of my choices of those gems and amber?"

"It's your choice, so as long as you like it."

She smiled contentedly, took another sip of soup, and then pushed the bowl aside, having completed this part of her itinerary for the day.

In the afternoon, they went to the specialty products street. The street was located slightly south of the city center, with small shops on both sides displaying furs, amber, and wood carvings in their windows. There weren't many pedestrians on the street; occasionally someone would stop to take pictures in front of a shop. Xiaoya walked slowly, occasionally glancing at the shop windows, but didn't go inside.

When she reached the middle of the street, she stopped in front of a fur shop and bent down to look at the stitching on the cuffs of a gray fur coat in the window. She looked at it for a while, and as she straightened up, someone walked by.

Three young men approached. The one in front was wearing a black short jacket with loose threads on the cuffs, revealing the edge of the lining underneath.

As he passed Xiaoya, he glanced at her, his gaze moving down her face before returning to her, as if performing a quick scan in those two seconds. He took a couple of steps, then stopped, turned to the side, and said something in Russian, speaking slowly, as if to make sure he could be heard. The two people behind him also stopped.

Xiaoya didn't look at him and continued walking forward.

The man in the short jacket took a step forward, sidestepping to block her path. His shoulder tilted a few degrees in her direction, partially obstructing her way: "Your scarf looks warm. I wonder if it's just as hot underneath."

As he spoke, he reached out and patted her shoulder, trying to make her stop. The moment his hand touched her shoulder, his fingers didn't immediately retract; the heel of his palm slid along the contour of her shoulder, brushing against the fabric of her upper arm and gently stroking it.

His two companions stood behind him. One of them laughed and said something in Russian, sounding like he was teasing him. The other didn't say anything, but just took half a step forward to fill the gap that was exposed when he turned his short jacket to the side.

Xiaoya didn't stop, staying close to Lin Yanzhou. Lin Yanzhou was just about to slap that bastard when the middle-aged man in the gray jacket walked up to the side and behind the short jacket. His hand reached out silently and then pressed down on the short jacket's forearm.

The blow wasn't heavy, but when the man in the short jacket tried to move forward, he found himself unable to go any further. A smile still lingered on his lips, but his words had already begun to veer in another direction: "Who are you?"

The man in the gray jacket didn't answer him. His grip tightened. The man in the short jacket tried to pull away, but his companion took a step forward. The young woman had already stepped between him and Xiaoya, her movements swift and precise, positioning herself perfectly to prevent him from taking another step. The young man with glasses stood behind, using his shoulder to wed the other man in the short jacket's companion between the lamppost and the shop frame.

The three of them were already being very restrained, considering the international repercussions of being in a foreign country; otherwise, their actions would have been fatal.

The side door of the fur shop across the street opened. Two men in plain clothes stepped out, their steps steady; they had finally waited for the right moment. Without pausing, they reached the man in the short jacket; one pressed down on the other shoulder, while the other moved behind him.

The man in the short jacket uttered a few more words in Russian, much faster than before, his tone shifting from accusatory to argumentative, as if trying to create distance: "I didn't do anything, I was just talking to her—"

The man in plainclothes didn't respond. The clinking of the handcuffs was soft, as if deliberately muted. The man in the short jacket was pushed forward a few steps, and his companion was pulled out from behind a lamppost. The three of them lined up in the street and were led toward the gray sedan parked on the corner.

The street returned to silence. The middle-aged man in the gray jacket stood where he was, his hands now hanging at his sides: "Those two people weren't from our side."

Xiaoya stood a few steps away, lowered her head and tightened her scarf a little: "That scared me to death just now, shall we go back to the hotel?"

"It's alright, with the three of them here, and besides, I think these guys... those handcuffs look like they were prepared beforehand."

"It should be."

"Where will they be taken?"

"Xiaoya, don't worry, they probably just drank too much. We took them to this special hangover remedy room. It shouldn't be long."

People in Taiwan love to drink, especially strong liquor, reportedly even 98 proof. With so many drunkards, it's easy for them to get passed out and freeze to death on the street at night. So, Taiwan has created a department within its own "police station": a sobering-up room. It's specifically for drunkards.