[He has a son]
In the past, Lu Ting’an had actually loved to sleep. Because he was so busy with work and sleep was a luxury, the moment his head hit the pillow, he would clear his mind and fight for every second of rest.
After transmigrating, however, he had become somewhat afraid of sleeping.
If this constitution were placed twenty years in the future, it would definitely be a top-tier “cheat code.” He could write the ghosts and monsters from his dreams into novels or turn them into games; he’d guarantee players would be screaming their heads off. But now, with the internet completely undeveloped, the only one being terrified was himself.
That night, Lu Ting’an once again dreamed of the long-necked woman.
Her body was covered in dense, jagged bite marks; her cheongsam was shredded, and blood oozed down in sticky, sluggish streams. Seeing Lu Ting’an enter the dream, she jerked her head around, her two arms twisting as they reached out in his direction.
Lu Ting’an: “…”
He thought he had grown accustomed to these horror-style dreams, but the “zero-frame start” still made his heart tremble uncontrollably.
“Did… you help me find… the killer… yet?” The woman’s neck arrived before her body, her voice raspy and harsh, like an old, broken accordion.
Lu Ting’an’s attention, however, wasn’t on her words. He watched as a mixture of blood and mucus dripped from the woman’s neck—drip, drip—onto the ground, getting closer and closer to him.
His scalp felt as if it were being squeezed by a hand; his blood ran cold, and a wave of goosebumps broke out across his skin.
‘So disgusting. Even a female ghost should have some self-respect for her grooming, shouldn’t she?’
The woman’s head swiveled flexibly around a corner, and just as it was about to wrap around him, Lu Ting’an finally reached his limit. With lightning speed, he dodged away.
“Stay back!”
For the first time, he spoke to a member of the opposite sex with a cold, disgusted voice. “If you wrap yourself around me again, I won’t mind strangling you a second time.”
Ghost Woman: “?”
‘Did I hear that right? This person was actually threatening me.’
‘A weak human, threatening me on my own turf—did that even make sense?’
The ghost’s pale, hideous face distorted. She made a “hissing” sound and began crawling through the darkness. But after only two steps, she stood back up, her bulging eyes staring intently at Lu Ting’an. “You said… I was strangled to death.”
Lu Ting’an maintained a proper distance and looked at her calmly.
Today, he had thought a lot about his absurd dreams.
At first, he thought it might be a coincidence—”dreams reflect the thoughts of the day.” The original owner’s frequent visits to the Baihui Club might have caused him to dream of Zhou Wanxi. But upon closer inspection, the details didn’t hold up. In his dream, he saw Zhou Wanxi strangled, and the autopsy confirmed it; he deduced she was assaulted, and then a man appeared in the dream. Reality and the dreamscape were distinct, yet perfectly intertwined.
Rather than saying he was seeing crime scenes in a nightmare, it was more accurate to say the dreams were guiding him toward a specific truth.
“You’ve actually known who the killer is all along, haven’t you?” Lu Ting’an said. “It’s not Hu Zounan, and it’s not Zhou Daqing. Since you’ve been unwilling to show me, it must be another killer—one you refuse to acknowledge and find impossible to accept.”
“What are you afraid of? Being murdered wasn’t your fault. Don’t you want the killer brought to justice as soon as possible?”
The long-necked woman’s raised neck slumped down. Her head still faced Lu Ting’an, the red capillaries in her white eyeballs spreading.
Lu Ting’an couldn’t gauge her thoughts. The more silent she was, the more the surrounding atmosphere condensed into a chill.
Just when he thought she was about to explode in rage, she deflated like a punctured balloon, and the environment of the dream began a cataclysmic shift.
The magnificent lobby of the Baihui Club collapsed like melting wax, replaced by a narrow, crowded room with walls and floors made of bare cement.
For now, let’s call this room a living room. It held very little furniture. Beside a worn-out sofa stood a round table set with a few plates of bland side dishes and some beer bottles scattered on the floor.
Two people sat facing each other at the table. The one directly facing Lu Ting’an was indeed Zhou Wanxi, while the man with her was only visible from behind. The man had thinning hair and a build that looked bloated and stout for his height. With a hunched back and a forward-leaning neck, he looked like an ordinary man who paid zero attention to his posture. Yet, he was wearing a suit that hugged his rounded back and waist tightly—an utterly mismatched look.
It was the absurdity of a toad wearing a suit, pretending to be a gentleman.
Zhou Wanxi was crying, one hand propping up her tired head, the other clutching a beer bottle, letting the tears fall freely.
Several times, the man’s hand—hanging by the side of his chair—clenched into a fist. Finally, after she took two large swigs, he slammed his hand on the table and stood up.
“Do you really love him that much? He already loves someone else; it’s impossible for him to marry you!” The man leaned over the table, veins bulging on his hands. “Look at me. In what way am I inferior to him?”
Zhou Wanxi dropped her bottle in shock, the sudden confession startling her into sobriety. “Are you insane?!”
The man shoved the round table aside and closed in on her. “I’m not insane! You want to get married, and the family is forcing me into arranged dates and marriage, so why can’t we be a pair? Are you worried about what people will think? It doesn’t matter. I’ve been sick of Hong Kong for a long time; we can find a city where no one knows us…”
His enthusiastic speech was interrupted by a slap from Zhou Wanxi.
Zhou Wanxi’s expression was strange—disgust, disbelief, disappointment… all sorts of emotions were tangled in her beautiful eyes, as if she had never truly known the man in front of her.
It was precisely that slap and that look of loathing that completely enraged the man. He knocked aside the table and chairs and lunged at Zhou Wanxi.
“You’re disgusted by me? You’re just a prostitute—what right do you have to be disgusted by me! Do you dare say you have no feelings for me? You’ve been so good to me since we were children!”
Zhou Wanxi’s frame was slender. She only had time to retreat two steps before the man pinned her down onto the sofa, his thick, short hands clamping tightly around her neck.
She tried to struggle, but the power gap between a man and a woman was far too vast. Furthermore, because he was wrapped in a sturdy suit, her resistance left virtually no marks on him.
In less than a minute, the woman on the sofa was lifeless, her arm hanging limp and powerless over the edge of the cushions.
Once the man realized what he had done, his first reaction was panic. He placed a trembling finger under Zhou Wanxi’s nose.
Immediately after, his entire body began to shake uncontrollably.
Lu Ting’an assumed the man was frozen in fear, but to his horror, in the next second, the man grabbed her lifeless hand and pressed it against his own cheek.
He embraced her, kissed her, and even performed the most intimate acts that should only belong between lovers.
Lu Ting’an felt a chill wash over his entire body, his knuckles aching from how tightly he clenched his fists.
He lowered his eyes, refusing to watch the man’s atrocities. After an unknown amount of time—once the man finally realized he couldn’t hide a corpse forever and began researching disposal methods—Lu Ting’an looked up once more.
This time, he saw the killer’s face with perfect clarity.
It was an incredibly ordinary, unfamiliar face. He wasn’t ugly; his features could even be called regular…
…
Early autumn in Hong Kong always brought plenty of rain. The ground, soaked from the night before, hadn’t yet dried before a fine, misty drizzle began to fall again in the morning. Taking a deep breath by the window sent a thin layer of moisture settling into one’s lungs.
The dark circles under Lu Ting’an’s eyes were even heavier than the day before.
As he opened his bedroom door while rubbing his messy hair, he ran into Lu Chenhu, whose dark circles were even worse than his own. Father and son stood there, one inside the room and one out, staring blankly at each other.
“Dad?” Lu Ting’an’s lip twitched. “What are you doing in front of my door so early? Morning exercises?”
Lu Chenhu gave a sheepish smile and produced a jacket from behind his back. “The weather’s turned cold. I came to bring you some warmth.”
As he spoke, he didn’t care that his son was now a good head taller than him; he busily moved forward to help him into the jacket.
“Son, what I said last night was wrong. No matter what, you’re the best in my heart.”
Lu Ting’an: “…You got up this early just to tell me that?”
Lu Chenhu looked at him with a hint of resentment. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep at all. All night long, your mother was slapping me in my dreams, scolding me for my loose tongue.”
Lu Ting’an: “…” ‘Wait, did a casual remark of mine really have the power to make someone wake up in the middle of the night drowning in guilt?’
‘Great. Now it is my turn to feel ashamed.’
Lu Chenhu patted his back cautiously. The entrepreneur who was a lightning-fast force in the business world was now walking on eggshells in front of his son. “Just treat what I said yesterday as a fart. Once you’ve smelled it, it’s gone, okay?”
Lu Ting’an: “…”
Helpless, he gave a nod.
The rift between father and son finally vanished the moment Lu Ting’an nodded.
Lu Chenhu was overjoyed, his mouth moving non-stop. “I had the servants toast some butter bread for you. There’s shaomai and meat buns in the steamer, and tea eggs in the pot—”
Lu Ting’an should have been starving; his stomach was cramping from emptiness.
But the moment he thought of the scenes from his dream, recalling that plain face brimming with twisted desire, he felt a surge of intense nausea.
The violent streak in his blood seemed to be mobilized, screaming at him to go drag the killer out.
Lu Ting’an lowered his head to button his coat, and after fastening the very top button, he waved a hand. “I’m not eating. I have urgent business at the station.”
“What urgent business could you possibly have?”
Seeing Lu Ting’an heading downstairs without another word, Lu Chenhu didn’t bother asking more and chased after him. “It’s fine if you don’t eat now, but at least take it with you! What if you get hungry?”
As he chased, he shouted for the kitchen staff to pack up the breakfast.
Two minutes later, Lu Ting’an stepped out of the house carrying several elegant kraft paper bags, leaving behind a “longing-for-son stone” of a father at the door.
“He won’t even eat breakfast with me anymore… just who exactly is at that police station!”
The servant standing nearby, who had just seen the young master off, felt their eyelids twitch.
‘Who is there? Does he even need to ask?’
Lu Ting’an left in a hurry, but he hadn’t expected 1990s Hong Kong to be so “competitive.” The roads were cluttered with bicycles, and many office workers clutching briefcases were running along the streets trying to catch a ride.
By the time he reached the station, he was barely twenty minutes early for his shift.
Ah Hai, who must have stayed late the night before, was already at his desk. Seeing Lu Ting’an walk into the office, he froze for a moment, then waved enthusiastically. “Young Master Lu, why so early today?”
“Morning.”
Lu Ting’an responded succinctly, walking briskly past the desk.
After about two meters, he turned back. “Have you eaten breakfast?”
Ah Hai was puzzled. “Not yet. Are you hungry, Young Master Lu? The station canteen doesn’t serve food in the morning.” He glanced at the clock in the hallway and stood up. “What do you want to eat? I’ll go buy it for you.”
Lu Ting’an looked at the man’s honest face and said nothing.
He walked back and placed one of the kraft paper bags on Ah Hai’s desk. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but make do with this.”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode toward the Major Crimes Unit office.
Ah Hai stared at his retreating back, unable to process what had happened for a long time. He carefully took the bag and opened it; a rich, sweet aroma of butter and cream wafted out.
His eyes behind his glasses widened in shock. Inside was a piece of butter bread, toasted to a golden brown with a sugar-frosted top that had caramelized into a fragrant crust, while the rest was soft and filled with stuffing.
This kind of pastry had been imported from abroad. In the last couple of years, bakeries had started appearing on the streets; you could smell the fragrance from a block away.
But Ah Hai rarely ate it. It was too expensive; even with a stable salary, he couldn’t bring himself to spend nearly a day’s wages on a single piece of bread.
He hadn’t expected that the “arrogant and overbearing” Young Master Lu would give him a bag without a second thought just because he said he hadn’t eaten.
He knew this was nothing to a wealthy family, but his heart was still a jumble of complex emotions.
On the other side of things, Lu Ting’an had no idea that a simple piece of bread was so precious in Ah Hai’s eyes.
He stood at the door of the Major Crimes Unit office and heard someone inside losing their temper.
“An entire day has passed, and we still haven’t found the primary crime scene, nor have we identified a suspect! Do you have any idea that the people of Hong Kong are all watching our station? The reporters from the newspapers can’t wait to shove their cameras right in my face!”
Through the blinds, Lu Ting’an could see the rank of the man shouting; it was the station’s Inspector, Ke Yandong.
He slammed his hand on the desk, the thumping sound echoing. “Hu Zounan came to report a case this morning. Jiang Caiting, the showgirl from the Baihui Club, has gone missing. I’m not just picking on you, but one headliner from Baihui just died—how did you not know to put the new headliner under protection? What if the killer is specifically targeting the Baihui Club?”
The detectives of the Major Crimes Unit were being scolded like a row of huddled quails. Only Gu Yingzhou remained seated at his desk. While his superior stood and ranted, he simply leaned back against his chair. “How long has she been missing?”
Ke Yandong was under immense pressure and felt incredibly frustrated. Despite this, he didn’t direct his anger at Gu Yingzhou; his tone even softened slightly. “It’s not certain. We haven’t been able to contact her since this morning. It’s highly probable she disappeared last night. Young Master Hu is very anxious.”
But what use was anxiety? Hong Kong was massive. Even if they conducted a grid search based on Jiang Caiting’s social connections, they might not find her in a short amount of time. In moments like this, they almost preferred not to find clues too quickly, because certain leads often pointed directly to a homicide.
The murder from yesterday was still unsolved, and now a disappearance case had been thrown into the mix. It was a complete mess.
Li Chongyang had only slept a few hours before coming to work, and he’d been scolded before he was even fully awake. He curled his lip defiantly. “Is this Hu Zounan the reincarnation of a jinx? Why is it that any woman associated with him meets a bad end? He’s a wife-killer.”
Ke Yandong clicked his tongue and delivered a smack to the back of the young man’s head. “Stop talking nonsense and get out there. I want her found—alive or dead.”
The office filled with the harsh sound of chairs scraping against the floor, followed by a scattered chorus of “Yes, sir.”
As the detectives trickled out of the office, Lu Ting’an stood by the door. His gaze collided with Fu Yirong, who was the first one out.
Fu Yirong felt a wave of bad luck. “Why is it you again?”
Lu Ting’an didn’t bother with him. He waited for Gu Yingzhou to come out last before walking over. “Officer Gu, let me come with you on this call. I have a suspect.”
Fu Yirong, Li Chongyang, and the others looked at him with sheer disbelief, assuming he was just making excuses to get close to Gu Yingzhou. Gu Yingzhou’s gaze, however, remained unchanged. His voice was cool and steady. “Who do you suspect?”
“Zhou Daqing—”
“Are you joking?” Fu Yirong interrupted irritably. “We already investigated Zhou Daqing’s home. It wasn’t the primary crime scene. Furthermore, someone can testify that he was at the orchard all night and never left. His wife doesn’t have the time to commit the crime either.”
Lu Ting’an’s gaze darkened slightly. “Zhou Daqing has a son.”
“?!”
The detectives of the Major Crimes Unit exchanged stunned looks.
They suddenly realized that from yesterday until now, they hadn’t looked into the specific details of Zhou Daqing’s son. When they ruled out Zhou Daqing and his wife, they had naturally assumed the entire Zhou family was innocent.
But Zhou Daqing’s son… wasn’t he Zhou Wanxi’s nephew?
A nephew murdering his own biological aunt, and then…
Was that even possible?