Hello, Mr. Major General (1)

Chapter 15: Following the Vine to Find the Melon (3)

The sound of running footsteps filled the hallways of Fortune Palace. The stragglers who had yet to leave the private rooms were confused. What was going on?

Before the staff had time to react, policemen in full face masks kicked open the doors to the private rooms, their guns at the ready.

Light rushed into the dark rooms. The occupants had been in there the entire night. With the sudden bright light streaming in, they reflexively closed
their eyes; their brains were too
sluggish and dulled to understand what was going on.

These were no ordinary policemen: they were the Special Taskforce, equipped not only with guns but also with cameras. An officer immediately began snapping photos of everyone in the private room.

"Police! This is a raid! You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Now put your hands on your head and squat in the
corner!"

"Don't move! Run and we'll shoot!"
A gunshot rang out. A man who had been about to bolt for the door immediately knelt down to the floor with his hands on his head, trembling with fear.

Arti Sinha, her mind in a complete haze, was still lying underneath a pile of men and had to be extracted from
them by a policewoman. She had only her blouse on and was totally naked from the waist below. Her underwear
nowhere to be seen.

"Group licentiousness!" [1] One policeman spat contemptuously. "Where's your ID?" "Oh? Been snorting drugs, too? What's this?" Another officer found some white powder on the sofa and on the round table in the room, and was sweeping the substance into a plastic evidence bag with his gloved hands.

"Crystal meth? Can't wait to put a foot in the grave, eh? Take them away!" Arti Sinha had just regained her
senses, and was now looking about in fear and bewilderment. Suddenly, she felt a breezy sensation below her waist. She looked down and
immediately screamed as she covered herself. Tears streaming down her face with the sudden shame and
distress she felt, she asked shrilly,
"Where's my skirt? Where is it? Let me put on my skirt!"

A policewoman in a full face mask looked around and found a pile of torn rags that looked like it could have been a miniskirt once. She picked them up with her baton and showed them to Arti Sinha. "Is this your skirt?"

Arti grabbed the rags and covered her lower body with them. She stammered out, "W-w-what's going on? I want to
see my lawyer!"

"You'll see your lawyer alright-when they post your bail at the station." With that, the policewoman ordered everyone to stand in a line, hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them. They were then marched out, greeting the day with stunned and disheveled appearances.

Arti's cousin was completely unconscious, drunk out of his mind. There wasn't a single shred of clothing on him, not even his underwear. He was the only one who had to be
carried out on a stretcher because the policemen couldn't get him to stand on his own two feet.

By the time the riot police marched the pathetic group out of the building, a crowd of curious spectators had already formed outside. Some of the people in the crowd, upon seeing that some of the women in the group were only half-dressed, immediately
whipped out their phones and snapped photos. One of the nosier gawkers was overly excited and had called the news
hotline when the heavily armed
policemen first stormed the building. Thanks to him, all the TV stations, internet self-media, and national newspapers already had their
reporters and crew on stand-by. Passerby who enjoyed micro-blogging
and sharing news on Weibo also rushed over, eager to be the first to cover the latest developments.

On that morning, nobody paid any attention to the morning news, the empire's official Weibo, or even the top influencer accounts in C City. The raid conducted by the C City Special
Taskforce had effectively hijacked everyone's newsfeed.