She frowned and looked toward Zhao Min. This time, Zhao Min did not avert her gaze because of Yu Bai’s anger and doubt. She kept staring at Yu Bai, her eyes carrying a scrutinizing edge.
Yu Bai let out a strange smile, as if she could no longer bear Zhao Min’s probing stare. Without a word, she quietly turned her head aside.
Her gaze drifted into the room’s enveloping darkness, merging seamlessly with the heavy dusk.
Zhao Min watched the shifts in Yu Bai’s mood, observed how she turned her head away because of that gaze. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Actually, Yu Bai, have you ever thought about… trying to engage with some new things? Even if it’s just a way to vent.”
With those words spoken, Zhao Min turned her eyes back to Yu Bai. She wanted to draw Yu Bai out from that shadowy realm and bring her into this bright world on their side. She had always wanted to do just that.
Yu Bai pressed her lips together tightly and fell silent for a moment before turning her head back and saying flatly, “I don’t need to vent.”
Her voice was so soft, so faint, that Zhao Min wondered if she had heard it at all.
“Yu Bai, Ji Shen is gone. Whatever his final choice was, that was his decision. You have to live for yourself at least once.” Zhao Min’s tone held a gravity it had never carried before. She continued, “It’s been two years now, Yu Bai. It’s time for you to move on.”
At the mention of Ji Shen’s name, Yu Bai’s mind blanked out for an instant.
Zhao Min gazed at her with complicated eyes, her stare burning as if it could pierce right through her. After only a brief pause, she pressed on. “Two months ago, I first laid eyes on you at the Oregon Sanatorium. But even before that, I’d been connected to you for a full two years, from places you couldn’t see—from the moment you left Pingling City and vanished in America for an entire year, right up until you returned to Pingling City from the sanatorium. I know everything about you. Every single moment from your illustrious past, whether it was those heart-pounding episodes that made headlines or the ones shrouded in secrecy—I know them all.”
At this point, Zhao Min paused, and a deeper affection softened the look in her eyes as she regarded Yu Bai. Gently, she said, “So you should understand that my feelings for you aren’t just idle talk. I truly like you.”
Yu Bai listened quietly as Zhao Min delivered her long, report-like confession. She lifted a pair of clear, icy eyes—like the cold moonlight spilling through the window, casting silvery beams across the floor. Soft and luminous, yet unmistakably chill.
When she finally spoke, her voice matched that chill.
“I know.”
Those three words sent a faint tremor through the taut string in Zhao Min’s heart.
And then Yu Bai continued, “I know it’s unfair to you, but the world has never been fair. The realm of emotions demands mutual affection, mutual desire. If you’re willing to keep those feelings locked away in your heart, we can still be colleagues, friends. But if you insist on crossing that boundary of friendship… well, you know what I mean.”
With every word from Yu Bai, Zhao Min’s heart sank lower and lower, each syllable landing like a blow. When Yu Bai finally stopped, Zhao Min murmured in a daze, “I understand. I won’t put you in an awkward spot anymore. I’ll head back now. Take good care of yourself.”
Zhao Min turned and walked toward the door after saying this. Yu Bai did not try to stop her.
She had been blunt enough—blunt enough to snuff out Zhao Min’s hidden affections once and for all.
Two years. A full two years of solitude in her life. That endless isolation had gradually cooled the fire in her heart, leaving her world impervious to easy intrusion by any person or thing.
It was a world of bleak solitude, brimming with emptiness and despair. No one could breach it, and no one dared try—not even Zhao Min.
The version of herself that Zhao Min longed for, filtered through the glow of her past glories, remained worlds away from that reality. Too distant to stir even the faintest spark of desire in Yu Bai.
To lose all desire was a profound agony—whether from endless longing unfulfilled or from having something precious only to watch it slip away. In time, it eroded one’s capacity for feeling, breeding indifference to the world around them, leaving the heart unmoved by nearly everything.
Yu Bai lit a cigarette. Amid the swirling haze of smoke, she wondered if Zhao Min was right. Perhaps she had confined herself to a sealed chamber, weaving her own cocoon until even breathing grew labored, escape forever out of reach.
New things no longer served as a benchmark for redefining her place in society. To her, they were floods and savage beasts, devils among devils. She lacked the courage to reach out and touch them.
She knew full well that she was trapped in a vicious cycle of thought. But the way out? She had no idea.
Yu Bai let out a faint sigh. Somehow, Zhou Hui’s face had slipped into her mind.
Unbeknownst to herself, the corners of her mouth curved upward. Zhou Hui might just be the one and only stroke of serendipity in her life.
She was simple and pure, untouched by shadows, forever brimming with hope and vitality—as if light bloomed wherever she went.
She was perfect, almost without blemish. Her family background, her experiences, her career, her entire past: all spotless. Those murky, ill-defined matters never touched her.
It was the world Yu Bai yearned for. Yet it was also one she dared not approach. She had dwelt too long in a realm where black and white blurred into gray, leaving her unable to bask recklessly in the blinding sun once more.
In the pitch-black room, a long sigh hung in the air.
Zhao Min emerged from Yu Bai’s house and pushed open the door. She gazed at the barren tree in the courtyard, staring at its skeletal branches for a moment before walking out and driving away from the Villa District.
In the night’s gloom, a shadowy figure lurked behind the indistinct bushes. It was Zhou Hui.
Unable to shake her worry for Yu Bai, she had followed by car. She arrived just in time to see Zhao Min enter Yu Bai’s home—and leave only after a dozen minutes or so.
The sight filled Zhou Hui with surprise, curiosity, and an emotion she couldn’t quite name, spreading through her chest. She didn’t go inside. Instead, she frowned into the darkness.
Zhao Min’s car pulled away, its headlights sweeping a fleeting glow across the surroundings before darkness swallowed everything once more. The light sank away, leaving no trace of brightness. Under the black canopy of night, only the silhouettes of trees lent any contrast to the shadows.
In that enveloping dark, Zhou Hui couldn’t help wondering: Yu Bai, who are you, really? What are you up to?
The next morning dawned bright and clear.
Not a single cloud marred the vast blue sky. A few birds flapped their wings overhead.
Word had already spread through the City Bureau: last night, Jiang Jiwen had confessed to murdering Shao Yuan and his entire family of five. The office buzzed with chatter about it.
The Shao Yuan Case from two years ago had been shocking enough. Hearing the details straight from Jiang Jiwen’s mouth made it all the more unbelievable.
“Deputy Han, you all had a hell of a night. Caught a copycat psycho in no time, and boom—cracked a major old case to boot. Hey, what’d that killer say at the hospital? Just owned up to the Shao Yuan Case from two years back? And spilled on his accomplice?” Sun Ye slung an arm around Han Wei’s shoulders as he spoke, snatching a steamed bun from his colleague Little Li’s desk with quick hands.
Little Li jumped up to snatch it back, but Sun Ye just grinned and crammed it into his mouth in two bites.
“Hey! You little punk, stealing my bun again? How many times this month?”
Sun Ye patted Han Wei’s chest, then flashed Little Li a shameless grin. “It’s just one bun. Get Deputy Han to reimburse you! He just busted a huge case—bonus is in the bag this month. Might even spring for a big team dinner. Am I right, Deputy Han?”
Han Wei eyed Sun Ye with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, brushed Sun Ye’s arm off his shoulder, and held up two fingers. “Listen up, you punk. Two things you need straight. First: Jiang Jiwen was nabbed by Zhao Min from the Narcotics Squad. Credit goes to them, big time. Got squat to do with your Deputy Han. Second: Even if there’s joint-case bonus money, it ain’t coming to your Deputy Han. You just pissed off Captain Zhou the other day. She said if we don’t crack the River Channel Murder Case, the whole team’s drinking northwest wind.”
Han Wei turned to Little Li. “So, Little Li, make this punk pay you back for the bun… Hey, this last one’s for your Deputy Han. Have him cough up one for you too.”
Little Li: “……”
Sun Ye: “……”
Sun Ye and Little Li stared each other down for a long moment. Both thought the same thing: What a guy!
Han Wei polished off the bun, oblivious to their stares. “Alright, grub’s done. Head to Second Hospital and grill Jiang Jiwen again. Bet he’s got more bodies than just Shao Yuan and Xu Wenliang on his tab. Bureau Chief Zhang made it clear: case’s on City Bureau Criminal Investigation Team now. Crack it fast, time limit. Shao Yuan’s a big one from two years back—brass is watching close. Inspectors might drop in any day now.”
Sun Ye wasn’t done. He grinned. “Deputy Han, big case like this—bonus?”
Han Wei paused for two seconds. “Ask Captain Zhou… But past experience? Fat chance.”
Sun Ye deflated like a balloon that had sprung a leak, wailing, “Deputy Han, without a bonus, I’ve got no drive at all! They docked my pay last month down to pennies, and this month’s will probably be just as bad. At this rate, I’ll be out begging on the streets any day now.”
Captain Zhou happened to walk into the office just then and overheard Sun Ye’s lament. “Sun Ye, you’re exaggerating! Come on, Han Wei—you two, come with me to Second Hospital.”
Han Wei was mildly taken aback. “This soon? Did they uncover another lead? Has Jiang Jiwen confessed to something new?”
Captain Zhou kept walking as she replied, “Right, there’s a new development in the Shao Yuan case. Captain Xu and Zhao Min are questioning him at the hospital!”
“What’s going on?” Han Wei asked.
By the time she answered, they had already descended the stairs. Captain Zhou turned back to Han Wei and Sun Ye. “Last night, Jiang Jiwen confessed that two years ago, six people took part in murdering Shao Yuan’s family of five. Xu Wenliang—the one he beat to death with a shovel a few days back—was on the periphery. On top of that, Jiang Jiwen mentioned this morning that he has some crucial information to share. It might connect to the China-Myanmar drug trafficking network. We could follow the trail all the way to Yan Mingchang’s whereabouts—and maybe even the big fish pulling the strings.”
