The living room lights suddenly flicked on.
Zhou Hui froze in place. It took her half a minute to regain her focus, only to discover that the TV screen was playing an old Japanese horror flick from some forgotten year. A ghost woman in white was still wailing incoherently on the screen: “Aaaah—”
The cries sent chills crawling across Zhou Hui’s scalp.
“Officer Zhou, you’re back?”
Even with the lights on, Zhou Hui jolted in fright. She whipped her head around and saw Yu Bai sitting on the sofa, holding a bag of potato chips that Zhou Hui had bought the night before. Yu Bai looked perfectly calm and composed, if a little bored.
Zhou Hui blinked. “You’re watching ghost movies in the middle of the day?”
Yu Bai arched an eyebrow and shifted over, making some space on the sofa. “Want to watch with me, Officer Zhou?”
The scalp-tingling wails from the TV droned on.
Zhou Hui swallowed hard. Her hands clenched the hem of her shirt at her sides as cold sweat beaded on her skin. Meeting Yu Bai’s inviting gaze, she opened her mouth, mustered all the courage she could in her mind, but still couldn’t convince herself. She pointed vaguely toward the kitchen and stammered, “How about… you keep watching? I’ll go make dinner.”
Yu Bai shook the bag of chips in her hand, then fished another one out of the plastic bag beside the sofa and held it up to Zhou Hui. “I ate breakfast not long ago. And with snacks like these, why bother cooking?”
Her expectant gaze fixed on Zhou Hui as she smiled faintly and beckoned her over. “Come on, watch with me. It’s no fun alone.”
Zhou Hui hesitated for a few seconds before finally giving in. “…Fine.”
She shuffled over, nearly tripping over her own feet.
Delighted that Zhou Hui had agreed, Yu Bai smiled and settled into a more comfortable position on the sofa. She picked up the remote for the living room lamp.
Snap—
The lights went out again.
Zhou Hui stared at the darkened room, on the verge of tears.
She perched rigidly on the sofa, eyes glued to the screen where gusts of eerie wind swept through an ancient, decrepit mansion. White shadows drifted by now and then, sending icy shivers down her spine as cold sweat poured off her.
With mechanical motions, she tore open the bag of chips and shoved a few into her mouth at random, desperately trying to distract herself.
Suddenly, the female ghost—who had been drifting about without fully revealing herself—lunged into view. Her eyeless face was smeared with blood, her gaping maw a bloody abyss as she hurtled forward: “Aaaah—”
“Aaaah—”
Zhou Hui leaped onto the sofa, chips flying everywhere.
Yu Bai turned at the sound. In the faint glow from the TV, she looked at Zhou Hui in surprise. “Are you scared?”
“…No.”
With that, Zhou Hui inched subtly closer to Yu Bai.
Yu Bai: “…”
Captain Zhou had been to countless crime scenes. She had seen every imaginable kind of corpse and had never once flinched. Yet here she was, utterly terrified by a ghost on screen.
She wasn’t just afraid.
She was mortally terrified.
As a child, her two older cousins from her third aunt’s house had coaxed and tricked her into watching a ghost movie, claiming it was just a cartoon. The result? She was so scared she didn’t dare turn off the lights when sleeping for an entire month, leaving her with a “serious psychological trauma” ever since.
As the movie played on, Zhou Hui scooted even closer to Yu Bai.
Yu Bai felt someone tugging at the corner of her shirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Zhou Hui drawing nearer and nearer, but she just smiled to herself without saying a word.
Glancing down, she noticed the chips scattered across the carpet. Yu Bai held out her own bag toward Zhou Hui.
Zhou Hui grabbed a handful and stuffed them into her mouth, puffing out her cheeks like a hamster in a bid to mask her fear.
Even after finishing them, she still felt a draft on her back—and her mouth felt oddly cool and fresh from the chips. With a twitch at the corner of her mouth, she asked, “What flavor are these chips?”
Yu Bai gave her a look and smiled. “Cucumber.”
Zhou Hui suddenly felt the air-conditioned room grow even colder. She hugged herself tightly.
In the end, amid Zhou Hui’s nonstop trembling, their movie night had to end prematurely.
As the lights came back on and the screen paused, Zhou Hui finally stopped shaking.
She sat there on the sofa, locking eyes with Yu Bai for a full thirty seconds. Feeling awkward, she finally let go of her death grip.
By now, Yu Bai’s expression was distinctly peculiar—like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap at any second.
Zhou Hui eyed her and pouted. “Go ahead and laugh if you want!”
Hearing that, Yu Bai finally lost it. She doubled over, clutching the sofa. “Pfft—sorry, I didn’t mean to… hahaha!”
Zhou Hui’s face darkened with embarrassment. “…”
Yu Bai composed herself a little and lifted her hand from the sofa backrest. Teasing glints danced in her eyes. “I just never imagined that Officer Zhou—who’s cracked so many cases—would be afraid of ghosts.”
Zhou Hui suppressed the impulse to bolt and made one last attempt to salvage her image. “Don’t tell anyone!”
Yu Bai covered her mouth and laughed, nodding as she looked at Zhou Hui with barely contained amusement. “Okay, I won’t say a word, Officer Zhou.” Then she added, “So, what should we watch now?”
Zhou Hui glanced left and right before hauling the entire box of discs from the TV cabinet onto the sofa. The two of them sat there, sifting through them one by one.
To their discovery, there was nothing but horror movies and Peppa Pig.
Yu Bai arched an eyebrow and picked one up, offering it to Zhou Hui. “How about this?”
Zhou Hui winced as if her teeth ached. After wrestling internally between the ghost stories and Peppa Pig, she still couldn’t shake off the image of that white-clothed female ghost from earlier. In the end, she snatched the Peppa Pig disc and slotted it into the player.
A little pig soon appeared on the screen, followed by a cheerful burst of voices. “Hello, everyone! I’m Peppa. This is my little brother George. This is my daddy…”
Yu Bai propped her elbow on the sofa arm, waiting for Zhou Hui to return and settle in. Amusement danced in her eyes, but she couldn’t resist leaning over to ask, “So, why do you like Peppa Pig so much?”
Zhou Hui bounced onto the sofa, ruffled her hair, and explained. “In the last two years before my grandpa passed, the TV station had just started airing Peppa Pig. He watched it religiously every day. I’d come home from work, and he’d drag me to watch with him. His memory was shot by then—he kept thinking I was still five or six years old. I tried explaining a few times, but he’d forget by the next day. So I just went along with it and even bought a whole stack of discs.”
Yu Bai paused, surprised by the reason. She looked up at Zhou Hui thoughtfully. “You two must have been really close.”
Zhou Hui nodded with a smile. “Mom died young, and Dad was always too swamped to look after me. Grandpa raised me.”
In that moment, Yu Bai finally pieced it together—the source of that unmistakable old-cadre aura radiating from Zhou Hui.
She nodded in understanding, clearly intrigued by Zhou Hui’s past, and the two fell into easy, meandering conversation.
Every now and then, a line floated from the TV. “I can hear its tummy rumbling. Daddy, I think you’re hungry…”
Zhou Hui rubbed her hands together, tore open another bag of chips, and shot Yu Bai a glance. “It’s actually pretty good, you know.”
Yu Bai nodded with exaggerated seriousness, committing to share in Zhou Hui’s simple pleasure.
Ten minutes later.
Zhou Hui felt a sudden weight slump onto her shoulder. She turned in surprise to find Yu Bai’s eyelids drooping in battle, her head already lolled against her as she dozed off.
Zhou Hui lowered her gaze to the sleeping figure beside her, listening to the steady rhythm of her breath. With a soft exhale, she gently cradled Yu Bai’s head and scooped her up into her arms, carrying her upstairs to the bedroom.
She laid her on the bed, and as her eyes drifted down, Yu Bai’s exquisite face filled her vision.
Zhou Hui froze mid-motion to rise. Instead, she sank into a squat by the bedside and reached out, brushing her fingers against that flawless cheek.
Skin like sculpted ice and jade, so supple it seemed it might shatter at the lightest breath.
The silky smoothness drew her in deeper, her fingertip lingering.
Yu Bai stirred faintly at the touch, murmuring something soft and indistinct in her sleep. Her delicate eyelashes fluttered like gossamer wings.
Only then did Zhou Hui pull her hand back, the residual warmth chasing away the haze of disbelief in her chest.
She licked her lips, swallowing the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She lingered another half minute, her breathing growing heavier, before pushing herself up from the bed and slipping out.
Ten days later.
In the Criminal Investigation Brigade office at Pingling City Public Security Bureau.
Sun Ye had spent the morning buried in his computer, sorting through a mountain of files. With the drudgery finally behind him, he stretched lazily and poked his head over the monitor. “Hey! Anyone know where Captain Zhou’s been these past few days?”
One of his colleagues drawled back from behind their screen. “Beats me—I just know my closing report’s nowhere near done—”
Sun Ye smacked his lips and fixed the guy with a look of profound disappointment. “Look at you, zero loyalty to the boss. No wonder you got zilch for a bonus last month. Tsk tsk!”
The colleague fired right back. “Pretty sure you came up empty too.”
“…” Sun Ye choked for a second before waving it off with forced nonchalance. “Mine’s normal—no surprise there. But seriously, where the hell is Captain Zhou? Secret mission? Her vacation wrapped up forever ago, right?”
Everyone shook their heads, clueless about Captain Zhou’s recent whereabouts.
Han Wei was clacking away furiously at the keyboard behind his computer. He looked up, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and mused, “This has to be one of the City Bureau’s biggest mysteries! Captain Zhou, our eternal workaholic, missing for days now…”
He pondered for a moment before suddenly smacking his lips as realization dawned. “There has to be something fishy going on!”
Sun Ye and the other gossip-loving officers crowded around. “What’s the scoop, Deputy Han? Break it down for us.”
“Well…”
Before Han Wei could get a word out, Yang Pingfan pushed open the door, arms laden with a stack of files. He adjusted the glasses perched on his nose and said, “No need for analysis, Deputy Han. I know exactly where Captain Zhou is.”
The officers in the office instantly ditched Han Wei and swarmed Yang Pingfan.
Yang Pingfan took half a step back and announced gravely, “Captain Zhou is vacationing in Love Sea right now.”
“What? For real?”
“With who? Spill it, Flower—what’s the deal?”
Yang Pingfan calmly set down his files, straightened his glasses once more, and said solemnly, “Little Liu from the Technical Department told me. Ten days ago, Captain Zhou came to the City Bureau to get leave approved from Bureau Chief Zhang. She cashed in all her unused vacation time from the past two years.”
Sun Ye counted off on his fingers and blurted out in shock, “That’s gotta be twenty days, right? Man, I want a vacation that long.”
The other officers stared at him, utterly speechless at how he’d missed the point.
Han Wei slapped his shoulder and ribbed him. “You struck out on eight blind dates during a seven-day break. Another two weeks wouldn’t change a thing. Get your head in the game and focus on work—blissful vacations just aren’t in the cards for you.”
Sun Ye’s sore spot had been prodded. He gnashed his teeth and wailed, “You… Deputy Han, our friendship boat has officially capsized!” After a pause, he added with a smirk, “Heh heh! Speaking of which, Deputy Han, didn’t your Maldives getaway with little police flower Zhao Min fall through? You ended up all alone on some gorgeous beach, buffeted by the lonely sea breeze. Tsk tsk!”
Han Wei shot back, “Sun Zi! F***… just you wait!”
“Hahaha!” Sun Ye leaped three feet away, ducking behind Yang Pingfan to evade Han Wei’s lunge. He poked Yang Pingfan’s arm. “Flower, keep going. What else did Little Liu say?”
Yanked off-balance by Sun Ye, Yang Pingfan steadied himself against the desk with effort. “Little Liu said Captain Zhou took the leave because she’s got a boyfriend now! She’s spending fifteen days with him exploring Love Sea—diving, cruising on yachts, surfing the waves, building massive sand forts on the beach. Bottom line, she won’t come back until she’s played every minute of those fifteen days.”
Yang Pingfan’s words left the room with jaws practically hitting the floor. He added helpfully, “Direct quote from Little Liu.”
“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”
“Captain Zhou’s betraying us—she’s off having all the fun by herself!”
“How could she? Quick, Deputy Han, call her up! Make her come clean for leniency! Otherwise, this bromance is toast—my heart’s breaking!”
Egged on by the group, Han Wei dialed Captain Zhou’s number. After dozens of seconds of ringing, it switched to a flat “beep-beep.”
Han Wei spread his hands. “No answer.”
“Try again.”
Han Wei felt uneasy about interrupting a romantic escape—could come back to bite him later. He hesitated, then gritted his teeth. “One last time.”
This call connected after just a few rings.
The entire office crammed in, shouting over each other in a chaotic din. Han Wei nearly dropped the phone.
“Ahhh, Captain Zhou, how could you do this to us?”
“When did you start dating? Love Sea, yachts, giant sand forts—Captain Zhou, you’ve changed!”
“Huh? Why’s Captain Zhou staying silent? Too busy smooching to chat with us?”
After a full minute of their racket, a voice finally emerged from the line.
“You’re… Han Wei?” It was a tentative female voice.
Someone caught on. “Hey, that’s not Captain Zhou.”
Everyone froze. “Who is this?”
A few seconds of silence, then another voice.
“…Pass me a towel… Ow! Not there… come on in…”
Captain Zhou’s voice.
The officers: “…”
Holy shit?!
Things had progressed that far already?
The line went quiet again. Moments later, the female voice returned to answer their question. “I’m Yu Bai. What do you need with your Captain Zhou? She’s tied up at the moment.”
“Yu Bai?! You mean the Yu Bai I know?”
“So the one waterskiing, surfing, and stacking huge sand forts with Captain Zhou… is Yu Bai?”
Yu Bai stared at the phone screen, half-amused, half-exasperated. Were all the team members this lively?
She pressed a hand to her forehead with a sigh, then turned to the group of officers and relayed what Captain Zhou had just said: “I don’t know who that person piling up the massive fortress is, but it’s definitely not me. If you want to know who it is, why not come ask your Captain Zhou yourselves? She said after work today, everyone’s welcome at her place—she’s treating everyone to hot pot.”
