Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

The sun was shining brightly on the lawn. Cola and Sprite lay in the shade under the porch, their tongues lolling out and their tails occasionally brushing the ground.

Jiajia stood in front of Lu Qian, hands on her hips, her gaze passing over Lu Qian's shoulder and landing on the little girl huddled behind him, her face puffed up like a pufferfish.

"Brother Qian, who is she?" Jiajia's voice was clear and loud, carrying an undisguised question, "Why is she holding onto your clothes?"

Xiao Luqian scratched his head, puzzled. "Her name is Ou Yong'en, she's my good friend. What's wrong, Jiajia?"

Upon hearing the words "good friend," Jiajia became even angrier. She gritted her teeth and reached out to grab Lu Qian's arm.

"Lu...Brother Lu..." Startled by her action, Ou Yong'en shrank back, almost hiding in Lu Qian's arms, and called out timidly, her voice soft and pitiful.

"Ugh—!" Jiajia stomped her feet angrily, her face flushed red. "Who's your Brother Lu?!"

She initially wanted to pull the two apart, but seeing Ou Yongen's pitiful look, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She angrily withdrew her hand, stomped her foot, and turned to run towards Han Xiulan.

"Jiajia, come here for a moment." Ruan Mei walked over from the corridor at some point, squatted down, and called out to her softly.

Jiajia stopped, glanced back at Ruan Mei, then at Ou Yongen who was huddled behind Lu Qian, and obediently walked up to Ruan Mei with a pout.

Ruan Mei took her hand and made Jiajia face Ou Yongen's direction, patiently explaining, "Jiajia, do you know, Yongen was sick a while ago, and she's a little different from other children."

Jiajia blinked: "What illness?"

"It's a kind of...mental illness," Ruan Mei said. "She's afraid of strangers, doesn't dare to speak, and doesn't dare to play with others, which is why Qianzai takes such good care of her."

Jiajia paused for a moment, then looked back at Ou Yongen. The little girl was peeking half her head out from behind Lu Qian, looking timid, like a little rabbit peeking out from the bushes.

Jiajia's lips moved, and her tense expression slowly relaxed. She thought for a moment, then turned back and whispered to Ruan Mei, "Aunt Ruan, is she better now?"

"She's not completely healed yet, but she's much better than before," Ruan Mei smiled. "Look, she was just playing frisbee with Qianzi. If you'd like to play with her, she might recover even faster."

Jiajia was silent for a while, then slowly nodded.

She turned and took two steps toward Ou Yong'en, stopping a short distance away. She held out her small hand, revealing an orange-flavored candy in her palm. The wrapper was transparent, allowing you to see the orange-yellow candy inside.

"Here, have some," Jiajia said.

Ou Yongen blinked, looked at the candy, then at Jiajia, and hesitated for a moment before taking it.

"Here you go," Jiajia's voice softened a bit, "It's very sweet, my mom bought it."

Ou Yongen hesitated for a moment before slowly loosening her grip on Lu Qian's clothes, carefully taking the candy from his hand, and softly saying, "Thank you..."

Looking at the other girl's kitten-like appearance, Jiajia bit her lip, turned to look at Han Xiulan, and loudly announced, "Mom, I've decided, I'll give half of Brother Qian to her!"

Han Xiulan was sitting on a wicker chair in the porch, talking to Ruan Mei, when she heard this and couldn't help but laugh: "What do you mean by 'half'?"

"It's half for her, half for me!" Jiajia said matter-of-factly. "I can let her play with Brother Qian too, but not every day! Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are mine, and Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday are hers!"

Han Xiulan gently stepped forward, bent down, and softly patted Jiajia's head, her voice full of affection: "Our Jiajia is such a good child."

Jiajia felt a little embarrassed by the praise, awkwardly turned her face away, and muttered softly, "...Who...who made that girl so pitiful?"

Only Xiao Luqian remained standing there, completely bewildered. He scratched his head, looked at Jiajia, and then at Ou Yongen, utterly confused as to how he had been inexplicably "divided up" and "reassigned."

……

Meanwhile, in the study on the second floor, the door was tightly closed, blocking out the laughter from downstairs.

Bao, Huo, Li Shutang, and Zhao Mengsheng sat on the guest sofa, whispering amongst themselves.

Today is the Red Alliance's routine "tea party".

Lu Chen sat in the main seat, picked up his teacup and took a sip. His gaze swept over everyone's faces before settling on Zhao Mengsheng.

"Let's start with Mr. Zhao today. I heard he has some good news to share with us."

Zhao Mengsheng smiled and nodded: "That's right, there are indeed two very happy events to share with you all today."

"First, the various thematic groups of the Basic Law Drafting Committee have recently been holding intensive meetings in Guangzhou and Beijing, and the draft has entered the final sprint stage. At the current pace, it can be finalized and submitted to the People's Congress for review by the beginning of next year."

As he spoke, his gaze fell on Lu Chen, and his tone became more serious: "The higher-ups attach great importance to the proposal submitted by Lu Sheng. After repeated studies by the senior management, it has been decided to add a special chapter to the Basic Law—National Security Laws and Regulations."

Upon hearing this, Lu Chen's lips curled into a slight smile.

The reason he proposed strengthening the relevant laws was ultimately because he didn't want to repeat the mistakes of his previous life.

In the previous life, the North originally intended to trust and appease Hong Kong Island and allow it to legislate on its own in accordance with Article 23 of the Basic Law to safeguard national security. However, a small group of people with ulterior motives took advantage of the situation and refused to let go.

The Hong Kong government's attempt to pass Article 23 legislation in 03 failed, leaving a legal vacuum on Hong Kong Island for a long time, which provided opportunities for criminals. It wasn't until the enactment of the National A Act in 20 that this loophole was finally closed.

So in this life, Lu Chen took this step ahead of time.

He directly proposed to the higher authorities that national security must be strengthened and that the punishment of the four major crimes—separatism, subversion of state power, and collusion with foreign or overseas forces—must be based on law.

"Great! That's wonderful!" Li Shutang leaned back in his chair and nodded with satisfaction. Having worked in the police force for so many years, he knew one thing very well—law enforcement must be based on evidence.

Without legal support, even if you arrest someone, the court cannot convict them. With this clause, anyone who wants to cause trouble in Hong Kong Island will no longer be able to escape by simply spending some money.

Huo Daheng put down his teacup and sighed, "It hasn't been an easy journey. I heard that from the very beginning, there were many 'bananas' (people of Asian descent) who tried to obstruct it in every way, saying 'disregarding the interests of Hong Kong people,' but in their hearts they were only calculating their own interests."

Bao, the shipping magnate, laughed heartily: "Fortunately, our little Lu has enough influence, and with Zhao Sheng's strong support, the National A Regulation was finally finalized."

"Mr. Bao flatters me," Lu Chen said, picking up his teacup and smiling calmly. "It's just that some people took money they shouldn't have taken and did things they shouldn't have done. No matter how high they jump, they're still rootless duckweed, easily blown over by the wind."

"Of course, this is only the first piece of good news," Zhao Mengsheng smiled. "There is another matter—the north and Japan have reached a preliminary agreement through secret diplomacy on the issue of the transition of the Z system around 97."

There was a moment of silence in the conference room. Bao, the shipping magnate, asked incredulously, "The foreigners agreed?"

"Of course we agree, after all, we have also made concessions, allowing some members elected after 95 to directly transition into the first Legislative Council," Zhao Mengsheng explained.

"However, the specific details are still being worked out. The main disagreement lies in the number of direct trains – some people want to keep more, but we insist that it must be kept within a reasonable range. But the general direction has been set."

Huo Daheng nodded and let out a long sigh: "It's already quite an achievement to have this result."

"It really wasn't easy," Zhao Mengsheng sighed. "Especially since Japan has been trying to hold back until the last minute to bargain with us. But this time they don't have many bargaining chips, especially after what happened in Hong Kong last year, which has left them with little initiative there."

As he spoke, his gaze inadvertently swept over Lu Chen. Lu Chen's expression remained unchanged; he simply picked up his teacup and took a sip.

The shipping magnate chuckled, raised his teacup, and said, "Then—may Hong Kong's tomorrow be even more glorious!"

"Even more glorious!" The group laughed and raised their glasses, the tea gleaming with a warm amber luster in the afternoon sunlight.

……

At the same time, on the top floor of a luxury office building in Central.

The corridor was carpeted in dark gray, and several impressionistic Scottish landscape paintings hung on the walls. The oak door at the end was tightly closed, and the sign on the door had only one line of small print: "Security Department Section 1".

The room was dark, and the blinds were drawn low, letting in only a few thin beams of white light through the gaps, illuminating the desk. A gray-haired foreigner sat behind the desk, a newly delivered confidential report spread out in front of him, his face grim.

His name is William Howard, the highest-ranking official in the Hong Kong Island branch of the Special Branch.

The Political Department was, however, a very special entity within the colonial government system.

Nominally affiliated with the police force, they were actually an operational branch of MI5 in the Far East. For decades, they colluded with MI6, planting spies throughout Hong Kong Island and continuously smuggling enormous wealth and intelligence back to the British mainland.

Howard was the mastermind behind this group of thieves.

He has been on Hong Kong Island for twenty years. He was sent there in the early 1970s and has risen through the ranks to where he is today. He has seen the most chaotic times on Hong Kong Island, as well as the most glorious times.

He knew every street and alley, every gang, and every legislator willing to take bribes. He personally built a vast intelligence network within the Political Department, extending its reach into every corner of Hong Kong Island.

But now, this net is being dismantled inch by inch.

First, last year's return to the tower plan dealt a heavy blow to MI5, and then last month MI6 was completely uprooted by Jiahe.

Worse still, Japan is now in its twilight years, suffering defeat after defeat in various international power struggles, which has also caused their branches to be constrained and restricted in every way.

Howard finished reading the secret report, folded it up and put it back in the envelope. He leaned back wearily in his chair, staring blankly at the fluorescent light tube on the ceiling.

The light bulb emitted a low hum, as if it were uttering some kind of silent curse on his behalf.

"The police force," Howard muttered to himself, "we have to take the police force back."

With MI6's collapse a foregone conclusion, the Special Branch needed to find a new ally, and the police force, which possessed a large amount of legitimate armed force, was naturally their only option for revival.

However, the Hong Kong Island Police Force has been thoroughly infiltrated by the pro-China alliance, and since Li Shutang became Commissioner of Police, he has been promoting Chinese members to the middle ranks.

Although foreigners still dominate the majority of senior positions, those in the middle and lower levels have completely sided with the other side.

Just then, there was a knock on the office door.

"Come in."

Then, a lean Chinese man walked in. He was in his thirties, wearing frameless glasses, and carrying a folder.

He was Howard's most capable operations team leader, surnamed Chen, codenamed "Nightingale".

"Sir," Nightingale walked to the desk and placed the folder on the table, "the situation at the White Stone Ship private company has been rather unstable these past few days."

Howard took the folder and opened it. Inside were several pages of reports and a few photos. In the photos, a group of South Vietnamese people dressed in simple clothes were huddled behind barbed wire, their expressions varied, some numb, some angry.

Like several other refugee camps on Hong Kong Island, the Pak Shek Boat People's Camp was a place used to accommodate South Vietnamese boat people.

Since the collapse of the South Vietnamese regime in 75, tens of thousands of South Vietnamese fled their homes by boat and crossed the ocean to Hong Kong Island. The Hong Kong government accepted them in accordance with international obligations, settling them in several closed camps while awaiting repatriation by third countries.

However, the number of refugees is simply too large, and immigration screening is extremely slow. Some people have even been living in camps for five or six years and have still not been accepted by any country.

The camp was poorly managed, with limited supplies and had experienced several riots. Some people also colluded with local Hong Kong triads to engage in smuggling and drug trafficking within the camp.

Howard quickly finished reviewing the report, then frowned. "These troublemakers don't seem to have anything to do with us, do they?"

"Sir, I know you want to take back the police force," Nightingale said in a low voice, a sinister glint in her eyes, "so I have an idea."

Upon hearing this, Howard narrowed his eyes and looked at Nightingale.

"You may not know this, but many people in the refugee camps are not exactly benevolent people—they served in the military and fought in South Vietnam, their hands stained with blood. Now, after waiting for several years with no news, their resentment is on the verge of exploding. If someone were to stir things up a little at this time, providing them with some weapons and funds..."

The nightingale didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning was already clear.

Howard was silent for a few seconds. His gaze fell on the confidential report on the table—the basic draft was about to be finalized, national security legal provisions were being written, and the political system was being confirmed… Each item was pushing MI5’s presence in Hong Kong Island to the brink.

If they don't do anything now, once the deadline arrives in 97, they will really have nothing left.

"Tell me your specific plans," Howard said in an icy voice.

Hearing that Howard was interested, Nightingale's eyes gleamed, and she confidently assured him, "I've got everything arranged. As long as the resources are in place, I can incite at least three to five factions within White Rock Camp to clash with the guards and surrounding citizens. Then we'll fan the flames, ideally causing instability throughout the entire society."

"Then the public will be outraged, the higher-ups will hold those responsible accountable, and the blame will naturally fall on the police force. And those in the 'red alliance' will be the perfect scapegoats," Nightingale said, a sharp glint in her eyes. "And we can use this opportunity to launch an attack on the police force and gradually regain control."

Howard didn't answer immediately. He slowly stood up, walked to the window, opened the blinds, and looked out at the Hong Kong Island skyline illuminated by the afternoon sun.

He stood there for a long time, then said without turning his head, "I'll handle the budget. You're in charge of execution, and don't leave any loose ends."

The nightingale bowed slightly: "Understood."

He turned and walked out of the office, the oak door slamming shut behind him with a cold click.

Howard remained standing by the window, looking down at the traffic and pedestrians coming and going on the street below.

He suddenly remembered when he first came to Hong Kong Island twenty years ago, when Ri Bu Guo Ren still sat atop the city. Now, twenty years have passed, the sky over the city hasn't changed, but Ri Bu Guo Ren has stepped down from the clouds.

"...Let the blood and bones of you lowly commoners make MI5 great again!"