Chapter 50: ◎Happy 29th Birthday to Zhou Hui!◎

The two had just stepped through the glass doors of the City Public Security Bureau, not even descending the steps, when a fierce gust of wind and sheets of rain drenched them straight through to the bone.

“Damn! This godforsaken weather!” Zhou Hui darted over with lightning reflexes, shielding Yu Bai’s frail frame and yanking her under the edge of her own raincoat.

“I told you to wear a raincoat, but no—you had to play the high-society type like me. Happy now? Your only jacket’s soaked through. Might as well let you burn up with fever and spare me the headache of mothering you like some old biddy.”

After her irritable tirade, Zhou Hui roughly swiped the rain from her face, pulling Yu Bai even closer instead.

Yu Bai shivered in Zhou Hui’s arms. She couldn’t glean anything useful from that stream of nonsense, so rather than waste her scant remaining energy on a reply, she elegantly pressed her lips together.

Zhou Hui kept her arm around Yu Bai as they walked, chattering away. “What’s with the silent treatment? Weren’t you full of sass a minute ago? Finally admitting you were wrong?”

Yu Bai’s entire face was mashed against Zhou Hui’s chest, buffered only by a layer of cotton T-shirt. She wanted to respond but couldn’t muster the breath, so she rolled her eyes inwardly instead.

To any outsider, their posture screamed intimacy. But Yu Bai, the one in the thick of it, knew better. Zhou Hui was essentially frog-marching her along; she could feel her high heels on the verge of snapping at any second.

When they finally reached the car, Zhou Hui loosened her grip just a fraction. With a beep from the key fob, the doors unlocked. She bundled Yu Bai into the passenger seat and cranked the heater to full blast.

Yu Bai finally managed a full breath. “Wrong about what, exactly? Wasn’t I just doing a solid for your Police Bureau? The pay from my consultant gig doesn’t even match your monthly stipends. On second thought, I’m the one taking the hit here!”

Zhou Hui shed her raincoat and slid behind the wheel. “Then why bust your hump so hard? I’m in awe. That never-say-die spirit in the face of adversity? I ought to nominate you for a model worker award.”

Yu Bai smiled faintly. “Spare me the model worker nonsense—I couldn’t care less about empty honors. Soon as this case wraps, I’m gone. Tell Director Zhou to cut me loose.”

“My dad?” Zhou Hui blinked in surprise, then it clicked. “He approved your consultant position at the bureau?”

Yu Bai shrugged. “Evidently.”

She recalled that trip to the Provincial Department to establish an alibi—Zhou Boyan’s by-the-book rigidity, grilling her until her head throbbed. He and a certain someone might as well have been Russian nesting dolls carved from the same mold.

Zhou Hui whipped the car around the first bend before she had a chance to glance over. “So why won’t he let you quit?”

Yu Bai pondered for a beat, then delivered her line with shameless bravado. “He probably figures my brains and talent are in a league of their own. Makes his daughter feel downright inadequate—ought to give that undercooked left brain of hers a much-needed jolt.”

Zhou Hui: “…”

Damn it. Zhou Hui itched to smack herself. Should never have opened her big mouth.

An hour later, the car pulled up smoothly outside the Fishery Port Restaurant. By then, several bodyguards were already waiting curbside, umbrellas at the ready.

“This your place too?” Zhou Hui hopped out, basking in the luxury of her personal umbrella escort, then hustled after Yu Bai.

Yu Bai shot her a look like she’d just spotted a gorilla in a tea shop. “Duh. You think I’d parade you openly anywhere else? Uncle Jiu’s got an army of goons. What if he pulls a Yan Mingchang—talks break down, fists come out? We’d both be toast today.”

They stepped inside the teahouse. The decor screamed opulence: gilded splendor everywhere, right down to gold leaf on the floor tiles. Yet the place was deathly quiet. Not a single customer in sight. Sure, the weather was foul, but… this was beyond bleak.

Zhou Hui couldn’t hold back. “Stuck out here in the boonies—GPS can barely find the damn place. Why set up shop like this? Catering to your sketchy crew of lowlifes?”

Yu Bai turned, eyeing her up and down with a smirk that wasn’t quite a smile. “Spot on. My so-called shady pals crave that secluded vibe. Turnover? Who cares. It’s all about the ‘quiet’… and the ‘pricey.’ Dim sum here’s nothing special, but the markup hits their sweet spot.”

Zhou Hui: “…”

Yu Bai checked her watch and flashed a sweet smile. “Uncle Jiu’s not here yet. Head on up—Room 208’s got tea and snacks waiting. Soak in the vibe; I promise you’ll love it.”

She turned to one of the bodyguards. “Escort Miss Zhou upstairs.”

Zhou Hui followed him up. The stairwell was dimly lit, the bulbs flickering faintly in the damp from the rain—an old suburban building through and through.

“Here we are, Miss Zhou. Please, go right in.” The bodyguard, ever professional, stepped aside at the door. Once she was inside, he withdrew without a sound.

Zhou Hui was utterly shocked by the scene before her eyes. A round table meant for twelve people was covered with more than thirty dishes.

Char siu bao, custard buns, crystal shrimp dumplings, horseshoe cake, rice noodle rolls, egg tarts, red rice sausage, spring rolls, phoenix claws, money belly…

And right in the center of the round table sat a ten-inch cake topped with a Peppa Pig figurine. Most strikingly, Peppa Pig was holding up a chocolate sign that read, “Happy 29th Birthday, Zhou Hui.”

Zhou Hui’s temples throbbed, and her teeth ached in an instant.

At that moment, her phone rang from her pocket. Zhou Hui unlocked the screen, and sure enough, it displayed the two characters “Yu Bai.” She pressed the answer button.

“How about it, Officer Zhou? Eaten the birthday cake yet?” Yu Bai’s cheerful voice came through from the other end.

Zhou Hui stared in disbelief. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“Oh come on! It’s right there in the police bureau files! The key thing is… I put my heart into it.”

“…”

Zhou Hui paused for half a second before letting out a sigh. In a wistful tone, she said, “The birthday listed in the police files is the one on my ID—not today.”

When she had been registered in the household registry, her parents had been too busy to handle it themselves. Father Zhou and Mother Zhou had entrusted this arduous and sacred task to Zhou Hui’s grandfather instead. The old man had a poor memory and had gotten her birth date wrong when filling out the forms, picking a random day. Later, they decided it was too much hassle to correct it and simply left it as was.

The birth date on her ID naturally followed the household registry—neither the lunar nor solar calendar matched today. Almost no one knew her real birthday.

After her mother passed away when she was four, her father Zhou Boyan’s work never let up. Nearly every birthday, he was tied up with work—either staking out a suspect’s home or going toe-to-toe with criminals in the interrogation room. By the time he finally made it home, her birthday would be more than half a month past. It was a blessing if he even remembered to make her a bowl of longevity noodles.

Zhou Hui had never held any expectations for her birthday. Over time, she stopped celebrating altogether.

So…

Zhou Hui pressed, “So how exactly did you know my birthday?”

“…Then I must have remembered wrong.” Yu Bai hesitated for half a second, her merchant’s instincts kicking in as she laughed it off. “Can’t chat now—Uncle Jiu just arrived. Gotta hang up! Enjoy the cake. Happy Birthday!”

After the call ended, Zhou Hui gazed at the cake and the mountain of dishes on the table. An unprecedented emotion welled up in her heart.

She walked over to the table and picked up the chocolate card wishing her a happy birthday. Bringing it to her lips, she took a bite. The pure sweetness of the chocolate spread through her mouth, the rich, cloying flavor overwhelming her taste buds and, in that instant, filling the empty space in her heart.

Murmuring to the empty air, she said, “Yu Bai… thank you.”

She snatched up the listening device from the table and slipped on the earphones. After a few seconds of static hiss, a familiar voice sounded in her ear.

“Uncle Jiu, have you thought it over? Trust me—handing those photos over to me is your best option. You won’t find a more generous buyer anywhere else on the market.”

The voice was low and deliberate, trailing off slightly at the end—measured yet carrying a fatally magnetic pull. Who else could it be but Yu Bai?

Next, an elderly man’s voice rang out. “I don’t think so! This is the killer from the River Channel Murder Case. The police searched for a month without a single lead, but my men tracked him down.”

There was a pause, followed by a burst of raspy laughter from the earpiece. Uncle Jiu’s voice continued, “What if those photos fell into the wrong hands? How would they deal with this traitor? What kind of price do you think they’d offer me? …That cop got lucky and slipped away two years ago. I’m very curious—now that he’s in their grasp again, will his luck hold?”

Outside the window, the rain pattered relentlessly against the glass with dull thuds, mingling with the voices from the earpiece to create an eerie, spine-chilling atmosphere.

“Years ago with the Red Gate case, the cops thought nabbing their ‘Solar God’ Qin Zhengjie would let them sleep soundly. And what happened? The drug trafficking network along the China-Vietnam border kept running like clockwork, while those meddling cops met their sorry ends. Even now, they won’t dare release the truth about the 725 Case! Hahaha! Serves them right!”

A strange glint flashed in Zhou Hui’s eyes. She vaguely sensed that the killer Uncle Jiu was referring to didn’t match up with Xu Zhixin, who had already confessed in the interrogation room.

The earpiece fell silent for a few seconds, interrupted only by faint rustling sounds. Then Yu Bai’s distinctive voice cut through the static once more. “Uncle Jiu, there’s no need to dredge up ancient history. The price is still negotiable, but those photos in your hands have to come to me. Otherwise…”

Uncle Jiu turned a sinister gaze on Yu Bai, a cold sneer forcing its way through his clenched teeth. “You threatening me?”

He leaned back into the chair, crossing his legs with a flourish as he snapped open the folding fan with a whoosh. The front bore the words “Noble Spirit Piercing the Clouds,” while the back proclaimed “Loyal Heart and Righteous Gall.” Uncle Jiu waved it lazily before him twice, then spoke in an unhurried drawl.

“Yu Bai, don’t think you can strut around just because Third Brother has a soft spot for you. The man has more mistresses on the side than he can count. Who the hell do you think you are, huh? You’ve been cozying up to the cops every damn day this past month, and folks on the street have had it with you! If you’ve got any sense, get down on your knees and beg Uncle Jiu right now. Come tomorrow when Third Brother gets back…”

Yu Bai sat across the table, rubbing her temples. Finally at the end of her patience, she snatched the rag from nearby and hurled it at him, sneering, “Wipe that mouth of yours clean with that rag before you talk to me.”

Uncle Jiu flicked his fan and deflected the flying rag with ease.

Yu Bai jabbed her index finger at him, impatience etched across her face. Forcing herself to stay calm, she arched an eyebrow. “Tell me what you want. I brought the photos. If you’re having second thoughts now, you won’t be leaving this teahouse of mine.”

“Your offer’s generous enough—no issue handing over the photos. I don’t want to hold onto this hot potato anyway.” Uncle Jiu snapped the fan shut and sat bolt upright, his smile not reaching his eyes. “I’m just curious. An undercover cop who cheats death, then slaughters like a beast. I hear Wu Guojiang and his crew were hacked to pieces—bodies not even fully recovered? If the cops nab him, what’ll they give him? A few years?”

A sinister smile played on Uncle Jiu’s lips as he narrowed his eyes. “Death penalty at the very least, right? My boy got the gun for peddling just fifty grams of heroin. Doesn’t carving people up like that make him an even bigger monster than my son?”

Yu Bai kept her face stone-cold, saying nothing.

Uncle Jiu’s smile lingered, shadows darkening his gaze. “Take the photos to the cops if you want. All I ask, Sister Yu, is that you give me a heads-up when they put him down. I’ll burn some incense at my boy’s grave and let him know his old man’s sending him a road buddy to the afterlife.”

The rain pounded harder outside, dull thunder rumbling through the heavens.

In the adjoining Room 208, Zhou Hui listened to it all and felt a chill seep into her bones.

Her finger trembled slightly on the earpiece. From the exchange between Yu Bai and Uncle Jiu, she could now be certain: the true killer in the River Channel Murder Case was not Xu Zhixin.

It was an undercover cop who had died… and come back to life?!

A dead man the police investigation had overlooked entirely.

Static crackled through the earpiece, followed by a cacophony of scraping chairs and clattering tables. Then came the sound of a door opening—the conversation in Room 207 drawing to a close.

Zhou Hui pulled off the earpiece and pressed her ear to the door.

“…but you’d better watch yourself. Third Brother’s due back in the country soon. Figure out how you’re gonna explain cozying up to the cops.”

She caught only the tail end of Uncle Jiu’s words before Yu Bai’s magnetic, unflappable voice pierced from behind the door, sending a shiver through Zhou Hui’s eardrum.

“That’s my business, Uncle Jiu—no need to trouble yourself. Just take the money and keep your trap shut. If I hear so much as a whisper I shouldn’t outside these walls, and find out you’re trying to have it both ways, you won’t even need to wait for Third Brother. I’ll clean up trash like you myself. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The voices outside cut off abruptly. Zhou Hui waited ages, but Yu Bai never pushed open her door. Slipping the earpiece back on yielded nothing—no sound from the next room at all.

Fearing something had happened to Yu Bai, she flung the door open to check.

A gust of wind blasted through the dim corridor. As Zhou Hui glanced down, she saw Yu Bai sprawled unconscious on the carpet.

Her long hair fanned out around her, her pale face utterly devoid of color.

Zhou Hui didn’t hesitate, scooping her up and carrying her back into the room. She cradled Yu Bai close, pressing her cheek to the woman’s feverish forehead, her fingers gently stroking those silken strands.

“Yu Bai! Yu Bai! If you can hear me, say something!”

No answer came.

Yu Bai was like a shell pushed beyond its limits, finally succumbing to utter exhaustion.

Zhou Hui’s heart pounded wildly, a tangle of emotions melting into aching tenderness. She wanted to slap some sense into herself.

What the hell was she doing? Forcing a sick woman to work around the clock, twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty-five days a year? On standby at a moment’s notice?

Look at her now. Zhou Hui admitted it—she was heartbroken.