Breakfast was exceptionally lavish, blending both Chinese and Western styles. There were steaming bowls of white rice porridge, poached eggs, refreshing side dishes, and a vegetable salad, followed by ham, bread, and cheese set upon the table. Qi Junyang sat at the edge of the table, staring blankly at the table full of breakfast items with an expression so complex it defied interpretation. Zhuang Zhuoyi was thoroughly satisfied with his reaction, and with a rather proud and provocative attitude, he told him, “Child, it is merely breakfast. There is no need to be so moved.”
After studying the spread for a long time, Qi Junyang squeezed out a single sentence: “It is far too wasteful.”
… … …
Consequently, Qi Junyang’s breakfast consisted solely of a single carton of children’s milk.
Traffic was severely congested along the way, allowing Zhuang Zhuoyi to catch a short nap before they finally arrived at the underground parking garage of Haotian Group. Opening the door and stepping out, he headed toward the small side door leading into the building.
As they walked, Zhuang Zhuoyi gradually lagged behind Qi Junyang by four or five paces, his pace growing slower and slower. The person leading the way could not help feeling somewhat puzzled. What sort of trick was this fellow trying to pull now?
“We cannot go after all.”
His footsteps ground to an abrupt halt. Without even bothering to look back, let alone ask what his troublesome employer intended to achieve next, Qi Junyang simply waited.
Zhuang Zhuoyi cupped his chin in deep thought before making a decisive proclamation: “Let us go, Junyang. Let us go inspect the crime scene instead.”
Trudging silently behind him, Qi Junyang listened as the arrogant fellow ahead chattered away: “The warehouse where Liu Tie was imprisoned is a good ten-minute drive from the crime scene. You let him out at 06:40 in the morning, and the time of death was 04:30. It is not as though he lacked the opportunity to commit the crime, but certain details remain highly bizarre. For instance, what is the deal with that vague memory of committing murder?” Halting and turning back, Zhuang Zhuoyi smiled faintly at Qi Junyang. “What are your thoughts?”
“I have none.”
“Is that so?” Unfazed by the response, Zhuang Zhuoyi continued to smile. His enigmatic expression carried neither benevolence nor malice as he abruptly changed the subject. “Your handwriting is very neat.”
His frank attitude sounded almost like a genuine compliment.
Turning a deaf ear to the remark, the man ignored his presence and walked past without batting an eye. The tips of his silver-white hair brushed right before his eyes, prompting Zhuang Zhuoyi to grab the man’s wrist almost instinctively.
Forced to turn and gaze at this unpredictable Zhuang Zhuoyi, Qi Junyang felt his stance had been communicated with crystal clarity: Please keep your distance.
“I did not even look at the notebook you spent the entire night copying. Aren’t you angry?”
“If you have something to say, spit it out.”
“I am merely reminding you not to forget our relationship.”
“I am myself, and you are you.”
Noticing how resolutely he drew a line between them, Zhuang Zhuoyi tightened his grip slightly and let out a wicked smirk. “You seem quite accustomed to being abused. A regular watchdog!”
A person’s reverse scale, when touched, burned with a searing agony! Yet the rationality he retained was formidable enough to entirely override the sense of pride a man ought to possess. Sweeping a cold gaze across Zhuang Zhuoyi’s malicious grin, he replied in a calm tone: “I am myself, and you are you.”
The atmosphere grew suffocatingly awkward. Qi Junyang turned back toward the car, wondering what new tricks the incensed fellow behind him might pull out next.
Instead, that same fellow came skipping over, patted Qi Junyang on the shoulder, and smiled brightly. “Let us go. Let us see if there are any good clues at the crime scene.”
He climbed into the car and sat down beside the driver without a shred of guilt, reaching out to fiddle with the dashboard audio system as though searching for a song to listen to. Qi Junyang started the engine and stepped hard on the gas pedal.
Change, change, change, change, change, change, transforming into a little fairy!
I turn into a little fairy and face you eye to eye, moonlight shines, footsteps echo, tap, tap, tap!
I gently rest my hand upon your shoulder, oh dear, my heart flutters with panic once more!
The car nearly sideswiped a pillar as the cool-headed man fought the steering wheel back into alignment like a soldier facing a mortal threat. Following his momentary panic came a genuine, earnest resistance, an expression of dismay that bordered on the endearing.
As the saying went, teasing an earnest person was always a delight, and the little fairy flashed a cunning smile.
Qi Junyang endured the entire drive listening to The Little Fairy all the way to the coast, bolting out of the vehicle the moment they arrived as though fleeing for his life. Despite his stony complexion, Zhuang Zhuoyi—who stepped out at a leisurely stroll—still caught sight of the cold sweat beading along the other’s temples, prompting him to chuckle endlessly.
Standing atop the embankment to overlook the crime scene below, Zhuang Zhuoyi eyed Qi Junyang beside him and asked, “There is a ligature mark on the victim’s neck. Why was Wen Chen’s cause of death poisoning rather than strangulation? Does this not suggest that after leaving the hotel room, Wen Chen went somewhere else and met someone?”
“Unless the killer was not your older brother.”
“What? Do you think my unfortunate older brother resembles a murderer?”
“I do not know.”
The transparently perfunctory reply failed to dent Zhuang Zhuoyi’s spirits as he pressed on: “There are no footprints at the crime scene. Do you suppose an immortal descended from the heavens?”
Qi Junyang shot him an exasperated glare. “Do you think that is even remotely possible?”
“Heh, fair point,” Zhuang Zhuoyi chuckled. “However, what if the person swam ashore from the ocean?”
Oh? Such a hypothesis completely upended Qi Junyang’s expectations. For the very first time, he gazed at Zhuang Zhuoyi devoid of hostility or indifference, genuinely astonished by the man’s agile and flexible train of thought.
Little did he expect what followed.
“Junyang, into the water.”
Heaven knows what emotions were churning within the reticent man at that moment. Yet this time, without a word of protest, Qi Junyang shed his upper garments, tossing his T-shirt casually onto the sand to reveal a lean torso. It was covered entirely in scars, most identifiable as knife wounds alongside a scattering of gunshot marks.
Scars were a man’s eternal medals!
Staring at the muscular physique packed with restrained power, Zhuang Zhuoyi felt an urge to whistle and vent his rising emotions. But when Qi Junyang turned around, he was shocked to discover not a single scar marked the man’s back. Jolting out of his momentary infatuation, he wondered what this implied. Was it a display of his supreme prowess? That no one had ever managed to injure him from behind?
Good looks coupled with a stunning build—such formidable competence was genuinely infuriating!
Driven by his irritation, Zhuang Zhuoyi put Qi Junyang through the paces, forcing him to swim back and forth across the surf for over two hours. He repeatedly had him swim ashore and sprint with maximum stride to the exact location of the corpse. Without a single word of complaint, Qi Junyang plunged into the freezing water over and over again, sprinting ashore each time.
In the end, even for a seasoned expert like Qi Junyang, attempting to reach the corpse’s location directly from the water necessitated leaving behind five distinct footprints.
Zhuang Zhuoyi’s hypothesis—failed.
Soaked thoroughly from head to toe, Qi Junyang showed not a hint of anger. Seated upon the sand, Zhuang Zhuoyi appeared to have completely forgotten his presence, sinking into mute contemplation. When his phone began to ring, he tossed it directly to Qi Junyang without a glance, effectively instructing him to answer it.
With no alternative, Qi Junyang pressed the accept button. A few minutes later, he walked over to Zhuang Zhuoyi and stated with absolute calm: “Your older brother has been arrested.”
It was true that there were grounds for it. Lei Bin had detained Zhuang Zhuoran from Haotian Group under suspicion of murder. However, the deceased was not Wen Chen, but a psychological counselor named Yuan Hua.
“That is my brother’s ex-lover,” Zhuang Zhuoyi remarked dismissively.
“And?” Qi Junyang asked from behind as he changed into dry clothing, calculating whether he ought to make himself scarce if they were heading to the police station.
“And that spells major trouble. Consider this: Liu Tie was locked in a warehouse and inexplicably gained a memory of committing murder. Immediately following that, my brother’s ex-lover, a psychologist, is murdered. My older brother once again plunges into the role of prime suspect. No matter how one interprets it, the police will inevitably conclude that these events are interconnected.”
In other words, Liu Tie’s manufactured memory was likely the result of hypnosis performed on him by Yuan Hua, while Zhuang Zhuoran had operated as the mastermind behind the scenes, subsequently eliminating Yuan Hua to tie up loose ends once the deed was done.
Truly, a narrative both simplistic and farcical.
As these deductions crystallized in his mind, Qi Junyang finished buttoning his shirt, just in time for a sandwich and a can of hot chocolate to come flying his way. Zhuang Zhuoyi’s voice rang out: “Eat up. You need to replenish your calories.”
Qi Junyang felt a trace of puzzlement. They had lingered by the coast for hours; how could a beverage still remain warm? Glancing over, he spotted a thermal flask wedged between the car seats, entirely missing the realization that Zhuang Zhuoyi had prepared it specifically with him in mind.
Arriving at the entrance of the police station, they bumped straight into his older brother’s lawyer, who shoved Zhuang Zhuoyi back into the car without a word of preamble. Giving Qi Junyang a thorough appraisal, the lawyer withdrew a stack of documents from his briefcase: “Here are Mr. Qi’s identification papers. I am handing you your ID card first; the remaining documents still need to be filed into their respective categories.”
Accepting the ID card, Qi Junyang saw his birth name printed across it. The date of birth appeared entirely fabricated, though it mattered little to him, so he naturally paid it no mind.
As Zhuang Zhuoyi leafed through the rest of Qi Junyang’s newly forged credentials, he inquired, “How much do you know about Yuan Hua’s case?”
“I know the gist of it,” the lawyer answered solemnly. “Yuan Hua was strangled to death. Police records state his estimated time of death falls between 02:00 and 04:00 AM this morning. During that exact timeframe, Zhuoran was not at the main residence at all. Lei Bin reviewed traffic surveillance footage and discovered Zhuoran’s car heading in the direction of Yuan Hua’s residence around 01:00 AM, returning only around 02:30 AM. Furthermore, Zhuoran’s necktie was recovered right at the crime scene in Yuan Hua’s home.”
The lawyer spoke with palpable anxiety, waiting for Zhuang Zhuoyi to offer a strategy to shatter their current passive predicament. Seeing him remain completely silent, the lawyer anxiously grabbed his hand: “Let us go inside and check on Zhuoran first, then negotiate with Lei Bin.”
“Negotiate what?” Zhuang Zhuoyi yanked his hand free from the lawyer’s grasp. “The evidence is ironclad. What do you expect me to waltz in there and accomplish?”
Panic creeping into his tone, the lawyer protested, “Zhuoran could not have killed anyone! All fingers are pointing at him right now. How can we just sit back and do nothing?”
“We will take action, but the method matters. Marching in there blindly will only exacerbate the situation.” Half-turning his body while speaking, Zhuang Zhuoyi reached into the breast pocket of Qi Junyang’s jacket to extract a small notebook accompanied by a miniature ballpoint pen. Scribbling down a series of characters, he handed the notebook to the lawyer. “Help me investigate these matters. Do not alert the rest of the Zhuang family, and above all, do not let Grandfather find out. Once you have results, call the number written on this paper. It belongs to Junyang. Coordinate directly with him.”
Dismissing the lawyer, Zhuang Zhuoyi tilted his head back to gaze up at the windows of the police headquarters before declaring, “Get out. We are taking a cab.”
“Where to?”
“Yuan Hua’s crime scene.” Shedding his outer jacket to leave himself in a crisp white half-sleeve shirt, he added, “Be careful. I want Lei Bin to remain under the illusion that I am still sitting inside this vehicle.”
In other words, executing a classic cicada shedding its shell maneuver? Without a word, Qi Junyang opened the car door and stepped out from the opposite side.
Cutting across the street corner, the two of them walked from the street behind the police station toward the taxi stand. Along the way, Zhuang Zhuoyi broke down the case for Qi Junyang: “This is no ordinary homicide. Initially, I assumed someone simply wanted to frame my older brother. Now, it appears their target extends beyond him. They intend to bring down Haotian Group as well.”
Qi Junyang felt a brief flicker of doubt. Ignoring the other’s scrutiny, Zhuang Zhuoyi continued: “My brother has been flagged as a suspect in two separate murder cases, and his arrest leaves Haotian completely headless. Stock prices are bound to plummet, ongoing project negotiations will collapse, and should we face simultaneous attacks from multiple fronts, even my grandfather would likely find it difficult to turn the tide.”
An internal sneer crossed Qi Junyang’s mind. Zhuang Zhuoyi’s explanation sounded muddled, bearing zero resemblance to the sharp-witted fellow who had earlier floated the brilliant hypothesis that “the killer swam ashore from the sea.” Though that initial assumption had proved false, Qi Junyang still believed his intellect far outstripped ordinary men. At the very least, if Qi Junyang could instantly deduce the precise reasons why a foundationally robust entity like Haotian Group would never collapse merely due to a localized squall, how could Zhuang Zhuoyi fail to grasp it?
Pondering this anomaly, he cast a sideways glance at the composed Zhuang Zhuoyi, remaining utterly baffled as to what game the man was truly playing.