Chapter 53: ◎Can I Take Her Away Now?◎

After the River Channel Murder Case wrapped up, the annual leave requests for the Pingling City Public Security Bureau Criminal Investigation Team were finally approved.

Zhou Hui, the eternal workaholic, bolted straight to Bureau Chief Zhang Yunan’s office. She insisted she didn’t need any time off, no rest at all—she’d stay right there at the bureau and sort through the case reports.

Zhang Yunan chased her out of the office like a wayward chick and forced through approval for her seven-day vacation anyway.

“Go on, get out of here! Hurry up and hit those blind dates or take it easy—your health is the revolution’s greatest asset, after all. You’ve got three years of vacation days piled up here with me!” Zhang Yunan stood in the office doorway, laying into the reluctant Zhou Hui. “What, you trying to rack up 365 days and retire a year early? No excuses this time—you’re taking that leave, period.”

“……” With no other choice, Zhou Hui clutched her seven-day leave slip and trudged back to her own office.

The rest of the team, now officially on vacation, had already turned the place into a rowdy circus.

Sun Ye was cramming a month-old unwashed shirt and pants into his backpack while hollering, “Heh heh! Starting today, your big bro’s breaking free from this sea of misery to soak up my epic vacation. Seven whole days—Mom’s already booked me eight blind dates. Come next week, you single mutts might wake up to find your big bro’s got a sweetheart on his arm. Hahaha!”

The entire office hit him with a collective “Shhhh!”

Han Wei had just returned from dropping off files in the archives room. He pushed through the door in time to catch Sun Ye’s rant and didn’t hold back. “Listen to this pie-in-the-sky nonsense! Little Sun, you planning to scare off those dates by admitting you’ve only got seven days off a year?”

Sun Ye chucked a grimy T-shirt right at him. “Buzz off! Deputy Han, watch your mouth—karma’s a bitch, and it might push you even further from Xiao Zhao.”

That shut Han Wei up, but only for two minutes. He couldn’t resist diving back in with fresh teasing and gossip.

This round, he zeroed in on Zhou Hui. With a couple of sly chuckles, he asked, “Captain Zhou, seven whole days off—what wild adventures await?” He didn’t even pause for her answer, just waved two plane tickets triumphantly for everyone to see. “Me? I’m whisking Little Princess off for some surfing in the Maldives. Tickets are locked in.”

A wave of envious groans rippled through the office’s single ranks. Predictably, Sun Ye lunged forward with a reality check. “Deputy Han, quick question: has Xiao Zhao actually said yes to your big invite? Care to spill—are we still in the delusion stage?”

Han Wei didn’t bat an eye. “……Your Deputy Han here—handsome, dashing, suave as hell, charm for days—how could Xiao Zhao possibly turn me down? Outta my way! Gotta pack. Tonight, it’s a direct flight with her to those pristine Maldives beaches. Tsk tsk, brace yourselves for the jealousy.”

All the officers: “……”

The office dissolved into laughter and chatter as everyone eventually scattered.

Zhou Hui drove home, fumbled her keys into the lock, and collapsed onto the sofa. Seven days of vacation stretched out ahead, and she had zero clue what to do with them.

She’d even crunched the numbers: looping through visits to her Seven Aunts and Eight Uncles wouldn’t come close to filling a week. Way too long.

Out of nowhere, Yu Bai popped into her head.

What was Yu Bai up to right now?

Anything but rotting alone like this, that was for sure. She had a squad of friends—pick one at random, and they could party till dawn.

Zhou Hui propped her head on her elbow and figured she’d play it safe: whip up some meals, hit the gym, tackle the housework, and tick off the seven days nice and steady.

Lost in those thoughts, she dozed off right there on the sofa.

The nap wasn’t the most restful. Zhou Hui dreamed.

In the dream, she was four years old again. Her mother—still alive—cradled her, rocking gently back and forth. Little Zhou Hui tilted her head up at that beautiful, tender face and dissolved into giggles.

Then, in a flash, it warped. That lovely face became the pallid, rigid corpse sprawled in the morgue.

It hardened into the stern black-and-white photo etched on a gravestone.

Four-year-old Zhou Hui clutched a bouquet of white chrysanthemums before the stone, bowing mechanically to each mourner who shuffled past. Exhaustion was all she felt—so bone-deep tired—like a shoebill stork on display at the zoo, trapped in an endless loop of the same stiff pose.

No grief. No heartache. No agony of loss. Just bone-weary fatigue.

That dream-memory of her mother’s funeral boiled down to nothing but a flat, robotic sensation. Nothing else.

As four-year-old Zhou Hui dipped her head for another bow, something new snagged her gaze: a pair of open-toe high heels. She looked up—crisp white trousers, a matching white suit jacket. And at last, a woman’s face.

Early thirties, with sleek, narrow brows and eyes, features sharp and lovely.

In the cemetery, they had just met—it was Yu Bai’s face.

Her expression was solemn, her thin lips moving slightly as if whispering something, but Zhou Hui couldn’t hear a word. All around were noisy voices repeating the same phrase over and over: “My condolences. Please restrain your grief.”

Zhou Hui shouted at her, “What did you say? I can’t hear you!”

But in the dream, Zhou Hui couldn’t utter even a single syllable.

Yu Bai lingered in front of the tombstone only briefly before turning and walking away, leaving four-year-old Zhou Hui behind to continue playing the role of a shoebill stork—bowing dutifully for all the onlookers.

~~~

At seven that evening, Zhou Hui jolted awake from the dream and lay there staring at the ceiling, lost in a daze for nearly five minutes before she fully came to her senses.

What an odd dream.

She was already in the kitchen by then, a pot of soup simmering on the gas stove. Steam rose in hazy curls, clouding her vision as she mulled over the dream.

In the end, she couldn’t make any sense of it.

With a faint sigh, Zhou Hui turned off the stove, smoothed her furrowed brow, and thought to herself that she must be exhausted. Lately, she’d been running nonstop—City Bureau, Provincial Department, procuratorate, cemetery, prison—her mind was starting to play tricks on her. She really needed a proper vacation.

Over the next five days, Zhou Hui stuck to her plan. She visited relatives and friends, got her sleep schedule back on track, and every evening at nine sharp, she headed down to the supermarket below her building to stock up on ingredients for the following day.

That held true until the sixth evening of her break, when the downstairs supermarket shut down for repairs. With no other choice, Zhou Hui drove to a store farther away.

Her apartment was in a somewhat remote spot, edging toward the suburbs, and that supermarket was the only one nearby. The next closest options were already deep in the commercial district.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too late when she set out. Zhou Hui pushed her cart through the aisles, selecting ingredients for tomorrow’s meals. Since the local store would likely be out of commission for at least a day or two, she decided to buy extra—enough to last her a full week. That way, she wouldn’t have to keep trekking back and forth every few days. It was too tiring otherwise.

Half an hour later, Zhou Hui emerged with two heavy bags, her wrists aching as she loaded them into the trunk.

She shook out her hands and circled back to the driver’s door, just about to climb in, when she caught sight of a familiar figure rounding the street corner.

The silhouette flashed across her vision for only a moment, but Zhou Hui recognized it instantly.

Yu Bai?!

Her heart skipped a beat. Pingling City was huge—how had she managed to run into her just while grocery shopping?

After a beat, it sank in. The commercial district was Yu Bai’s stomping ground, after all. Her club, her usual haunts, the bars she frequented—they were all right around here.

Zhou Hui steadied herself and prepared to drive home. She turned the key in the ignition, but that slender back vanished from her mind’s eye. After a moment’s hesitation, she swung the car around and headed toward the corner where Yu Bai had disappeared.

She turned onto the side street, but there was no sign of her. Zhou Hui slowed to a crawl, scanning the length of it. The whole block was lined with bars and nightclubs, garish bulbs of every color piercing the black night, wrapping around women in vibrant dresses with faces caked in heavy makeup.

There were no side streets or alleys, yet Zhou Hui felt utterly disoriented, unsure where to even begin her search.

Then her searching gaze landed on a flash of white amid the riot of hues, and she finally exhaled in relief. Locking onto the figure, she pulled over to a parking spot on the roadside and followed on foot.

The air hit her like a wave—cheap, seedy, pulsing with restless energy—and Zhou Hui found herself swept up in it.

Yu Bai stood out sharply in her white suit against the kaleidoscope of the street. Zhou Hui trailed her all the way to an unassuming underground bar. A wooden sign hung above the entrance with bold English letters spelling out “SPEAKEASY”—a Prohibition-era slang term for speakeasies, barely qualifying as a proper name.

Professional habits kicked in. Zhou Hui waited two full minutes after Yu Bai slipped inside before pushing open the door herself. A bell above the glass jingled softly with the motion.

The interior was dimly lit, free of pounding music. There was a small, gleaming stage, but the real focus was the bartender at the counter, expertly mixing cocktails with practiced flair, while a handful of patrons lounged in the shadowy corners. It felt secretive and understated—a far cry from the raucous dens she’d raided in the past for vice sweeps.

Unfamiliar with the menu, she ordered an alcoholic drink and settled into a dimly lit corner booth. From there, she had a clear view of Yu Bai’s profile in another patch of shadow across the way.

Two tables separated them, and Yu Bai didn’t seem to notice her presence. She swirled a half-empty cocktail in her glass, her long wavy hair loosely pinned up at the back, exposing the elegant curve of her porcelain-pale neck. It all struck Zhou Hui right in the chest.

Her heart fluttered. She took a sip of her drink to steady the flicker of unease, then shifted deeper into the gloom.

She sat there for half an hour. By then, Yu Bai had downed five cocktails, each a dizzying swirl of colors and flavors, knocked back with no rhyme or reason—and showing no signs of slowing.

Zhou Hui’s brow furrowed. She glanced around the room and crooked a finger toward someone nearby.

Soon, the young bartender was standing at her table. “Miss, is there anything I can get for you?”

Captain Zhou’s gaze lingered on Yu Bai as she drew out a bill and handed it to him. “Go tell her to stop drinking.”

The bartender followed her line of sight but did not take the money. He refused her politely and courteously. “You mean Sister Yu? I don’t have the authority to ask her to leave. She’s a friend of the boss, and he said we just need to provide whatever she wants.”

Captain Zhou extended the money again, asking somewhat vacantly, “Does she come here often?”

This time, the bartender did not refuse. He took the tip and, reading her expression, understood her intent. “She didn’t used to come often, but she’s been here every night for the past week straight.”

Captain Zhou finally turned her head to glance at the bartender. “Thank you.”

He retreated politely from the table. “You’re welcome. Miss, feel free to let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

Captain Zhou’s gaze returned to Yu Bai, where she noticed the woman already showed signs of being drunk.

Captain Zhou’s expression faltered slightly as she recalled that night a month ago at the hospital. The woman had pressed right against her chest, face deeply buried, shoulders quivering faintly, breaths coming in shaky gasps—a patch of scorching fire soaking into her chest, melting away into a vast ocean.

Her heart clenched. Just as she was about to rise and go over, her eyes caught sight of a man leaning down at Yu Bai’s table, patting her shoulder with an intimate gesture.

Yu Bai smiled and did not resist, her hazy, drunken gaze carrying a trace of intoxication as she called out, “Third Brother.”

Captain Zhou’s motion to stand froze.

The man whom Yu Bai had called Third Brother seemed delighted by the form of address. He pulled out a chair and sat down beside her, chuckling softly. “Yu Bai, if you’re in a bad mood, the best way to vent is to go find Yuan Fa. You’ve been in my place for seven days now—don’t tell me you’re drowning your sorrows? That’s hardly a good excuse for drinking.”

The man appeared to be about thirty-five, perhaps older. He wore a finely tailored gray suit, a pair of glasses perched on his nose bridge, his tone gentle and his manners refined. It was clear he shared a deep connection with Yu Bai.

Yu Bai swirled the half glass of wine in her hand, a soft laugh escaping through her nostrils. She lifted her eyes to glance at him. “Kicking me out?”

Third Brother crossed his fingers and rested them on the table, his pale irises still brimming with a gentle smile. “It’s not me who wants to kick you out. That little beauty across the way has been waiting for you all evening. It wouldn’t be right to keep you here any longer.”

Yu Bai’s head swam in a fog from a night of reckless drinking, the throbbing pain barely contained as she lifted her eyes to look. She only managed to catch a glimpse of an approaching figure growing indistinct before she collapsed onto the table.

Third Brother reacted swiftly, reaching out to cradle her head just before it struck the surface. He lowered her gently and, confirming she would not bump it further, withdrew his hand. He turned to face Captain Zhou, who now stood directly across the table, and extended his right hand. “Captain Zhou, right? I’ve heard Yu Bai and Uncle Jiu mention you so many times. It’s great to finally meet you in person.”

Captain Zhou impassively sized the man up, recalling Uncle Jiu’s description of Third Brother back at the Fishery Port Restaurant. She could not help but furrow her brow slightly.

The man noticed the subtle shift in her expression and smiled knowingly. He lowered his outstretched hand and changed the subject. “So, Captain Zhou, your visit to my humble establishment tonight—is it for investigating a case? Or something else? Or perhaps the bartenders here don’t meet your standards.”

Captain Zhou saw the man’s gaze drift to the table where she had been sitting earlier, the glass there barely touched.

Her eyes lowered a fraction as her gaze settled back on Yu Bai. She replied to him, “No.”

“That’s a relief.” Third Brother let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, then drew a business card from his suit pocket and offered it over. “Here’s my card. I hope you’ll take good care of me in the future, Captain Zhou.”

Captain Zhou’s eyes sharpened as she spotted the two characters “Qin Hua” on the card. The name was familiar—the new head of South China Pharmaceutical Group, a leading figure in Pingling City’s pharmaceutical industry.

She did not take the card, handling such ambiguous overtures in her usual straightforward manner. “No need to talk about favors. I don’t drink much myself, but I can introduce some friends who enjoy it. There’s no need for the card.”

Third Brother lowered his gaze and smiled without a word.

Captain Zhou’s attention returned to Yu Bai once more. She asked politely, “May I take her with me now?”

Third Brother paused in surprise for a moment before stepping back half a pace with a mild smile. “Of course, Captain Zhou, please do. I don’t have anyone suitable here to look after her anyway. Since you’ve come, why don’t you take her back!”

Captain Zhou arched her brow faintly. She walked past him, gently lifting Yu Bai into her arms, and said to the man, “Thank you then, Mr. Qin.”