◎No Spine for Kids◎
Zhong Yao looked at Dou Dou curiously. “What’s wrong with you?”
She had just been pinched on the face and hadn’t even had a chance to retaliate, so why did Dou Dou look like it had been terribly bullied?
Dou Dou shakily stretched out a tiny finger, pointing to its lower back, tears welling up in its eyes: 【I told you to protect your phone! That fall just now twisted my old back.】
Zhong Yao looked at the little creature, not even half the size of her palm, and blurted out instinctively: “Kids have no spine.”
Dou Dou: ……
Zhong Yao chuckled awkwardly and pursed her lips. “So… what should I do? Should I rub it for you?”
She compared the size of her fingertip with Dou Dou’s tiny back and felt at a loss. She was afraid that one wrong move could accidentally crush its fragile bones.
Dou Dou’s forehead slid a black line in exasperation: 【You better not touch me.】
It held its back and slowly, stiffly hobbled over to the phone, crawling right inside.
Zhong Yao touched her nose and looked at the phone, silently grateful for the case. Otherwise, with Dou Dou’s brittle bones, even a small bump could have sent it spinning into the air.
The bus sped along the wide road, and Zhong Yao finally relaxed, leaning her tense back against the plastic seat.
She turned her head to look out the window, yawning sleepily.
She usually took a nap at this time, but today had been such a rollercoaster that she hadn’t had a moment to rest.
The traffic light ahead turned red, and the bus slowed to a stop. A giant billboard caught her eye.
On it, a sunny, handsome male celebrity held a cup of flower tea, smiling brightly at the camera.
This actor was very popular, so popular that even someone like Zhong Yao, who didn’t follow the entertainment industry closely, had heard of him—Guan Chen.
Thanks to his endorsement, that flower tea had skyrocketed in sales. Even many of her classmates were drinking it.
Zhong Yao wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes, unable to suppress her sleepiness any longer. Her red lips moved softly: “Dou Dou, remember to wake me when we’re close to the hospital.”
She then closed her eyes and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Ten minutes earlier, Chen Xue Liang watched Zhong Yao leave and let out a soft sigh.
He didn’t linger either. After paying the bill, he left the noodle shop and walked toward a nearby street corner, where an unremarkable car was parked in the shadow of a tall building, avoiding direct sunlight.
Chen Xue Liang opened the car door and got in. The air conditioning was running, driving away the stifling summer heat.
Xing Chu sat in the driver’s seat. Seeing Chen Xue Liang enter alone, he raised an eyebrow. “Director, did you fail?”
In fact, they had located Zhong Yao several days ago. However, the director had ordered them to stay put, saying they should wait for the right moment to strike decisively.
The right moment hadn’t arrived yet, but news came first that Zhong Yao had gone to the police station.
Thinking something had happened to her, the director rushed over in a panic, intending to pull some strings to get her out and build goodwill. It was only halfway there that he learned it wasn’t Zhong Yao who was in trouble, she had gone to file a report herself.
Moreover, the case was completely straightforward from start to finish, with no gray areas at all, leaving Chen Xue Liang no room to make a move.
Xing Chu had assumed that, according to Chen Xue Liang’s original plan, they would return to the bureau and wait for the next opportunity. Unexpectedly, Chen Xue Liang said this was simply another kind of fate and appeared directly in front of Zhong Yao instead.
Now, seeing that the director hadn’t brought her back, Xing Chu couldn’t help feeling a bit smug. Had he known this would be the outcome, they should have acted immediately when they first got the news, instead of dragging things out until now.
Chen Xue Liang shot him a glance and snorted haughtily. “You’ve got time to gloat at me now, have you forgotten about that portrait?”
Some time ago, in order to find the person behind the scenes with precognitive abilities, Chen Xue Liang had specially invited a forensic sketch artist from the city bureau. As long as Xing Chu and Qiu Zhan Bin verbally described the person from memory, the artist could render a lifelike portrait.
No one expected that after the two of them painstakingly described the person as they remembered her, the final drawing would turn out to be a grotesque monster with a crooked mouth and slanted eyes.
The mouth was skewed almost parallel to the nose, and the eyes were so askew that one seemed to grow on the forehead and the other on the chin.
With a face like that, calling it a monster would be an insult to monsters. If they hadn’t been well seasoned and mentally resilient, just looking at the drawing might have scared them straight into transcendence on the spot.
Even Director Chen Xue Liang, hardened by years of experience, was left speechless for a long while after seeing it.
When Xing Chu and the others had described her, everyone could still imagine a delicate, pretty young girl. But once it was put on paper, it became that monstrosity, as if something supernatural were at work.
Even Meng Yu, who had always respected science, tried it himself. Although he could clearly recall the person’s appearance in his mind, the moment he attempted to draw her, the image completely changed.
Only then did everyone realize that it wasn’t just the surveillance footage that had been tampered with, anything that involved showing that person’s true appearance would become abnormal.
It was obvious that every effort was being made to prevent them from finding that person.
Little did they know, this only fueled the Investigation Bureau team’s rebellious streak—”You won’t let me find her? Fine, I’ll find her anyway.”
Fortunately, around that time, a new account named “Shao Siming” suddenly appeared on Yu Yin, giving them a sliver of a clue.
The team speculated that in the short term, there wouldn’t be another person with precognitive abilities, so it was highly likely that this account belonged to the very person they had been searching for.
Although the registration address and login IP of “Shao Siming” had been heavily masked, the technical staff worked tirelessly day and night and eventually managed to crack it.
This finally lifted the layers of fog, revealing the mysterious figure behind the account.
On top of that, a phone call from one of Chen Xue Liang’s old friends provided additional leads, corroborating their findings. Ultimately, they confirmed that the mysterious person was a third-year student at Dongchuan University—Zhong Yao.
Hearing Chen Xue Liang mention that portrait, Xing Chu felt a pang of guilt. Fortunately, everything had worked out in the end, and all those days of effort hadn’t been wasted.
He quickly shifted the topic: “So, Director, what are your plans now?”
Chen Xue Liang answered matter-of-factly, “Of course, first we ‘abduct’ her, cough, I mean, recruit her!”
Xing Chu’s face turned black. If he guessed correctly, what the director really meant was to trick Zhong Yao into joining.
“Dongchuan University…” Chen Xue Liang muttered to himself. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck, and he had an idea.
Xing Chu caught a glimpse of the director’s mischievous smile in the rearview mirror and felt a shiver run down his spine.
If Qiu Zhan Bin was an old fox in the Investigation Bureau, Chen Xue Liang was the oldest, slyest fox of them all.
Thinking of the director’s masterful skills in “trickery, deception, and recruitment,” he couldn’t help but feel deep sympathy for the soon-to-be-trapped Zhong Yao.
After all, there were still plenty of people in the bureau who had been caught in the director’s schemes, losing themselves to endless toil, yet happily continued working.
Chen Xue Liang paid no attention to Xing Chu’s little inner calculations. Smiling faintly, he looked out at the buildings rushing past and quietly let a new plan take shape in his mind.