"You brat really got an article published in Qiushi?"
After receiving Wang Shouyi's call, Director Song came hurrying over, concerned about his star subordinate.
It wasn't as if he had no capable men under him. Criminal investigation, economic crimes, technical investigation, narcotics, anti-trafficking, and so on were all staffed with proven talents. But honestly, none of them could compare to what Wang Yan had done.
Leaving aside Wang Yan's iron-faced impartiality, his refusal to fear power, and his style of going after whoever needed to be dealt with, his formidable ability at working with the public alone was enough for Director Song to treat him like an ancestor.
Having a police station like Balihe under his jurisdiction—a station whose public satisfaction rating had gone from near the bottom to the front ranks, where the crime rate had clearly fallen and the case-solving rate had clearly risen—was already more than enough. And most of that was Wang Yan's achievement alone.
And Wang Yan had kept talking about the "Balihe Method." Now, it seemed he might not have been bragging after all. If it really became an established method, then Wang Yan's claim that Wang Shouyi would be wearing a white shirt and giving speeches everywhere would surely come true. As his direct superior, Director Song's prospects could be summed up in eight words: smooth rise through the ranks, a future without limits.
When Wang Yan had confidently said before that he was submitting articles to various public security journals and Qiushi, Director Song hadn't thought much of it. But now that there was definite news, it was different. Before, it had been bragging. Now, it was genuinely possible. The odds might have been small, but possible was possible.
Of course, Wang Yan understood what Director Song was thinking. Becoming a deputy