Chapter 22: Natural Partners, Perfect Chemistry

March 25th, Ginkgo Street standalone house.

The backyard had grown overrun with wildflowers and weeds after neglect, but the plants were generous souls. They didn’t charge a penny to beautify the garden for free. Delicate daisies with white petals and yellow centers dotted the ground, alongside scattered sweet alyssum creeping along the soil. On a lazy day, visiting the yard offered a refreshing burst of spring vibrancy.

But today, those flowers had been uprooted, mixed with dirt, and piled aside to serve as cheap fertilizer. They hadn’t even fully bloomed before turning into spring muck.

Du Lengding wore sturdy work clothes and pants made of waterproof, dust-resistant fabric that kept the soil from clinging to her. She gripped an iron shovel, digging vigorously. A shallow pit had already appeared in the ground, exposing the rich brown earth, interrupted now and then by stubborn rocks.

The uprooted flowers nearby were her handiwork. She wasn’t one to carelessly destroy beauty—it was just that the situation was urgent. Something needed burying.

A rotting corpse.

Yesterday afternoon, Duo Lin’s escape attempt had failed, derailing all their subsequent plans. The prepared body had become dead weight.

The original scheme had Duo Lin fleeing to the tree-lined lakeside path, a spot riddled with surveillance blind spots. She would leave in Vehicle No. 1, hidden inside a wooden wine crate in the trunk, heading to Xiangdun Wine Cellar. Waiting members would receive her, stashing the crate in the underground cellar. Under the pretense of packaging for Keqi, they would pull off a sleight-of-hand swap, replacing the wine crate with the one containing the person. Finally, they would load it onto Keqi’s car and smuggle it across the border.

Meanwhile, another vehicle—Vehicle No. 2—waited on the path to stage a fake car accident that would make it look like Duo Lin had been run over and killed. Wen Du had worried that if Duo Lin simply vanished, He Lilin might lose her mind and alert He De, triggering citywide patrols that would only complicate things.

Better to fake a death. Sern deaths were routinely dismissed by the Police Bureau as mere formalities—no expensive autopsies or tests. As long as the time, place, and appearance matched, they would close the case quickly, saving everyone time.

Even if He Lilin paid out of pocket for an autopsy, it would take time. By the time results came back, Duo Lin would be safely away, beyond reach. And with Du Lengding overseeing the Patrol Police Team, she could steer the autopsy report within acceptable limits.

Everything had been ready. But Duo Lin’s momentum hadn’t carried her to the path—it had blown her right back to He Lilin.

Once Duo Lin was discovered, the involved members had to evacuate fast. People could slip away, vehicles could speed off, but the corpse posed a problem.

Du Lengding stared at this “returned merchandise,” lost in thought. She sat at the dining table, lighting two hand-rolled cigarettes one after another. Smoke drifted from her lips and swirled around her fingers. The haze filled the air by the table, blurring the matcha-flower centerpiece on the island and the tea set on the high-footed tray stand. Yet her mind remained crystal clear.

She couldn’t return the corpse to the funeral home—the director would grow suspicious about its true use. Nor could she dump it outside: too risky for witnesses, and discovery would invite unnecessary trouble.

The safest option was to dispose of it discreetly at home, making it vanish from the world entirely.

That’s when Du Lengding remembered her own backyard. Who would have thought she’d dig a hole there not for planting flowers, but for burying a body? The new flowerpots she’d bought weren’t for decoration—they were to cover the excavation and erase all traces.

If there were underground spirits, they might even thank her for trusting the backyard soil so much.

With neighbors on both sides, Du Lengding kept the noise down, digging slowly. She’d calculated the pace to finish before nightfall, then fill it under cover of darkness and head to work normally the next day.

The rustle of the shovel and the scrape of dirt against rocks filled the yard. Without a roof over the backyard, the sounds carried cleanly to the neighbors.

Du Lengding knew it wasn’t soundproofed, so she lightened her movements deliberately. But halfway through, a discordant noise intruded—the doorbell. It pierced through the narrow hallway straight to the backyard.

It rang twice with no answer, then launched a third assault, each peal louder and shriller than the last.

Du Lengding’s grip tightened on the shovel, thrusting it into the ground. She crept forward silently, her mind racing through possibilities to identify the visitor.

A neighbor? Unlikely. The right-side folks were away; the left side was a quiet couple who only walked their dog under cover of night. They wouldn’t drop by in broad daylight.

A friend? Even less likely. Du Lengding kept to herself—solving cases and catching suspects by day, vanishing like a ghost after hours. Her icy demeanor scared people off; no one would rush to warm up to her cold shoulder.

In those few short meters to the door, Du Lengding had her answer. Opening it confirmed her suspicions.

Cha Nan stood there, holding a plastic bag stamped with faded red-and-green takeout logos—probably leftovers he’d repurposed for trash or odds and ends. Now it carried gifts, elevating its status.

He handed the bag to Du Lengding, then like a magician, produced two shower caps from his pocket and slipped them over his shoes. Hygiene squared away, he boldly stepped inside.

Du Lengding had figured only he from the team would dare show up. Young and fearless, he didn’t mind rejection. Plus, she was his mentor, paired one-on-one for training. They worked cases together often, so even her standoffish nature couldn’t fully push away her own apprentice.

“Master, yesterday Captain Sang went fishing by the river and hooked three turbot. Tough fish to catch—real water bullies, nearly snapped his line. It was like the ‘Old Man and the Sea’ out there! But Captain Sang lived up to his name, taking on three at once. Today he gutted them and shared so we could try some. He said you’ve got the most merits and put in the hardest work, so you get a share.”

Du Lengding hadn’t even buried the human corpse yet, and now here came “fish corpses.” She had no appetite. “Thanks. Captain Sang’s got great skill. I’ll cook them tonight and see.”

“Yeah, Da Bo and I planned a barbecue tonight. They’ll taste amazing. Wanted to invite you, Master, but figured you wouldn’t come anyway.”

Du Lengding’s face remained a mask of ice. She didn’t even reply, but her eyes flashed approval—her apprentice knew his place.

The chat should have ended there. But Du Lengding’s usual aloofness—no small talk, no chit-chat—made her seem out of touch with the world, like she’d just arrived from another planet. Cha Nan, emboldened, worried about her life skills. Hearing she’d cook herself made him fret, so he couldn’t resist nagging.

“You planning to pan-fry them? Mix in some flour first—got flour at home? Once the butter’s sizzling, toss in the fish balls, add lemon juice… that flavor, man—”

Cha Nan described it vividly, complete with an ecstatic face and a deep inhale to mimic the aroma. But on the exhale, his expression twisted to disgust. “—What is that smell?”

Du Lengding had been picturing the turbot sizzling in butter, her interest dipping low. But that comment yanked her guard up.

What smell? From where?

Cha Nan glanced toward the backyard, his disgust shifting into a mix of emotions. “Master, did you buy something that went bad before you could eat it?”

As he said it, he started toward the backyard to investigate.

Du Lengding frowned. It wasn’t food—the stench of the decomposing corpse. Though sealed in a body bag with ice packs, the warming spring couldn’t stop the breakdown.

Worried the odor might drift over the fence, she’d stashed the body in the shed by the backyard. Cha Nan wouldn’t spot the corpse heading to the yard, but the huge pit would tell the tale.

She had to stop him.

“I’ve only got noodles at home—no real food. What do you smell?”

Du Lengding leaned against the kitchen island, stretching one long leg to block him casually. Cha Nan halted, looking awkward. “Smells like something spoiled, Master. You don’t smell it?”

Her cold face shifted, eyebrows arching in a rare flicker of suspicion—or impatience.

The odd scent in the room was faint. Du Lengding, immersed in it for so long, had tuned it out mentally. But Cha Nan, fresh inside, was sensitive—especially as a patrol cop trained for such things. He hadn’t gone to look, but the question mark was planted in his mind.

She couldn’t brush this off. If that doubt lingered, with him shadowing her long-term, it would breed endless problems.

After a pause, Du Lengding’s arched brows lowered slowly, her face icing over again. “I smell it.”

“Ah, what is it?”

She dropped her gaze, her arm sliding off the counter as she straightened, closing a step toward him. Tilting to meet his eyes at first, she loomed over him once upright, gazing down.

“Cha Nan, I’m going to tell you something, but you have to keep it secret. Don’t tell anyone.”

Her voice was low and mysterious. Cha Nan held his breath, tensing before she’d even spoken.

“Go ahead… As long as it’s not illegal, I’ll keep quiet!”

Du Lengding glanced at the backyard, furrowing her brow theatrically. Her nose was so prominent that even a slight crease felt like crossing mountains, but it conveyed her inner turmoil.

“Here’s the thing: The neighbors have a Birman cat. A few days ago, it hopped my fence. I thought it was a burglar and whacked it with a stick. It’s gone now. They’re searching everywhere—they treat that cat like their own son. If I were ordinary, no big deal. But our jobs are sensitive. If word gets out, it could look bad.”

Du Lengding paused, letting him process, then continued. “So now I’m thinking of burying it. Later, when I get the chance, I’ll replace it with another cat for them.”

“Oh…” Cha Nan blinked, stunned. His master was carrying the weight of a “cat killing,” even planning to cover it up.

“Need help, Master?”

“No need.” Du Lengding leaned back against the counter, calm as a seasoned offender. “I’m almost done. Just keep it quiet for me.”

…

Cha Nan’s car idled by the roadside. Before pulling away, he hesitated, glancing at the neighboring house.

White painted walls, white wooden trim, flowers neatly trimmed out front—a tidy, particular household. They’d surely dote on their pet. Would it really hop fences casually?

Cha Nan scanned around, then headed to a nearby vending machine. He swiped his card for a soda and, on the side panel, spotted a lost cat notice: header, details, contact info, and a color photo of the cat.

A sleek-coated feline stared at the camera, blue eyes gleaming, face a classic gray-black mask—prime Birman adult specimen.

A cat really was missing?

Cha Nan gazed at the innocent feline face, heart aching. He half-wanted to grab the turbot from Du Lengding’s bag and deliver it to the neighbors as solace for their departed pet.

But he had to stay mum, pretend he hadn’t seen the flyer.

Popping open his soda, he sighed and drove off.

Inside the house, the linen curtains were fully drawn, save one corner slightly lifted. Du Lengding peered from there, statue-still, until the car vanished from the street. Only then did she ease the curtain down.

He was finally gone. Crisis averted for now.

Back in the yard, Du Lengding seized the shovel again. This time, she dug faster.

…

Since the Kangman Delegation reception wrapped up, Wen Du’s days had been peaceful for a stretch.

First, she confirmed Duo Lin’s safety. The escape failed, but He Lilin’s protection ensured no immediate danger. Second, the Kangman side hadn’t soured on North County Station from the “vehicle search incident.” They still trusted, cooperation prospects bright—cross-border trade and tourism looked promising.

Some flaws, but overall positive.

And there was big good news: Ji Tingxi had been out on field duty lately, scarce in the office. Fewer “chance encounters” meant less looming threat. Life felt easier.

But today, it was Wen Du’s turn for “field duty.” She climbed into Vehicle No. 2 and spotted the driver. Though her smile stayed plastered on, her heart chilled halfway.

Ji Tingxi had ditched her uniform too, opting for casuals: a navy henley, jeans, and a dark lightweight scarf—like an urban beauty off for afternoon tea. Yet she sat in the driver’s seat.

The boss who always delegated was now leading by example, chauffeuring Director Wen for protection.

Wen Du’s task: Invite a heavyweight professor to join the Wei Investigation Institute’s affiliate lab, bolstering North County City’s security and investigation efforts.

Recruiting should fall to the Personnel Department, with General Affairs Office backup if needed. No reason for Intelligence Division’s translation director to get involved.

But Professor Sha Jiali was a mountain of a man. No matter how the institute wooed him, he wouldn’t budge. He scorned money like dirt and honors like clouds. They’d thrown everything at him to no avail. Desperate, they deployed the ultimate weapon: Wen Du.

Still, this had zilch to do with the Special Action Department. They persuaded, didn’t abduct. But last time’s reception saw Special Action and Information Room team up seamlessly—one tracking movements in the entourage, the other translating and gathering intel.

Steady and dynamic, overt and covert—their synergy was near flawless, yielding solid results. Kangman Country agreed to cooperate; North County Station dropped pursuits.

He De was impressed, declaring Ji Tingxi and Wen Du perfect partners, born for the job. With Wen Du on this professor pitch, Ji Tingxi must join to seal the deal and drag Professor Sha through the institute gates!

Wen Du settled in the passenger seat, eyes on the road out of the yard. She couldn’t help marveling inwardly: He De lacked standout achievements, but his eye for talent was unmatched. How else could he casually pair mortal enemies into mutual aides?

Spring breezes wafted pleasantly; Ji Tingxi kept the window down, inhaling roadside blooms. The car pulled up to Professor Sha’s door, and she couldn’t resist speaking, her words perfumed with freshness.

“Miss Wen, this mission’s on you. I’m no good with words—please flex your language expert skills!”

“Oh, please, Miss Ji. You’re the silver-tongued one—can paint black as rainbow vibrant. This is crucial; I’ll need your support.”