[Officer Gu]
It was impossible to tell the color of the cheongsam from the grainy black-and-white newspaper, but Lu Ting’an wouldn’t misremember it. Whether in his dream or in that photograph, the dress was embroidered with exquisite peonies—the placement and shape of the flowers were identical.
When he first saw the woman in his dream, he had found it strange: he’d never seen anyone wear a cheongsam with a red cord tied around the waist. It was woven from several individual strands, with a tiny agate charm shaped like a bell dangling from the end.
There was absolutely no way he was mistaken. On the waist of the woman in the newspaper, there was clearly the exact same cord and pendant!
No matter how many ghosts he saw in his nightmares, the shock didn’t compare to the impact of this photograph.
If the long-necked woman and the headless corpse were truly the same person, then what exactly was his dream last night? A replay of the crime scene? But he truly hadn’t seen the killer’s face, and in the dream, the woman hadn’t died by decapitation.
Could it be a coincidence? The original owner frequented the Baihui Club, so he must have had a deep impression of the singers there. Perhaps it was just the lingering fragments of his consciousness acting up.
Lu Ting’an remained uneasy all the way until he sat in Lu Chenhu’s sedan. These details, when pieced together, were enough to make his blood run cold.
The police station was about ten kilometers from the villa. Lu Chenhu was truly brimming with passion for his son’s new job; he took the backstreets and delivered him to the station’s arched entrance in just twenty minutes. A gateway featuring European Romanticist flair loomed before Lu Ting’an’s eyes.
Lu Ting’an casually pulled his police cap over his head. “How come there isn’t a single soul at the entrance at this hour?”
‘Don’t tell me everyone is already at their posts? Isn’t “arriving at the very last second” a time-honored tradition?’
Lu Chenhu rolled down the car window to take a look. “They really have all gone over.”
Lu Ting’an paused mid-motion as he opened the door, turning back to ask, “Gone where?”
“A welcoming reception,” Lu Chenhu said. “A big shot arrived from the Mainland; I heard he’s holding an engagement banquet here in Hong Kong. His security is of the utmost importance, so most of the station has been invited for tea and a meeting to conduct security deployment.”
Lu Ting’an nodded thoughtfully.
To put it nicely, they were there for “deployment.” To put it bluntly, they were being used as high-end bodyguards. To be able to mobilize this much police force in Hong Kong, Lu Chenhu wasn’t exaggerating—this was indeed a powerful figure.
Lu Chenhu glanced at his watch and patted his son’s shoulder, giving him a doting reminder: “Don’t be afraid. A chore like that won’t fall to your Logistics Team. Head on in. There’s a young man in the group named Ah Hai; I helped him out once. If there’s anything you don’t want to do, just give it to him.”
Lu Ting’an winced inwardly. “Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”
Lu Chenhu didn’t care in the slightest. “What’s inappropriate about it? You think he could have gotten into the force without me?”
Every job requires a bit of social maneuvering. He had seen that the young man was honest and dutiful, which was why he was willing to lend a hand back then. That Ah Hai fellow had always viewed him as a benefactor.
Lu Chenhu was likely genuinely busy today; he urged Lu Ting’an out of the car. Before the boy could even step through the main gates, his father floored it, drifting the car away in a cloud of exhaust.
Lu Ting’an adjusted his cap and looked back. As soon as he let go, the brim slid down again, nearly masking half his face.
“Tsk.” He cocked an eyebrow beneath the cap, muttering a silent complaint, “Whose size is this? Their head must be massive.”
Since there was no one at the entrance, he didn’t bother lifting the brim and simply stepped into the station with his head lowered.
As expected of a place calculated by Daoist Cheng Xuan’s ritual tools, anyone with a basic grasp of Feng Shui could see the location was excellent. The ceilings were high, the view was wide and bright, and the office doors didn’t face the main entrance directly—suggesting an upright, magnanimous atmosphere. The windows all faced East, signifying “The Purple Qi comes from the East” [1] auspiciousness jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_1641482_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_1641482_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });.
Lu Ting’an was someone who cared deeply about his working and living environment; he was fairly satisfied with this new “post.” Although trash and files were tossed haphazardly on some desks, his first impression—from the steady, elegant mahogany desks to the general vibe—was quite good.
As he was looking around and walking inward, two men in civilian clothes came down the stairs.
Due to his blocked vision, Lu Ting’an only saw a pair of long, straight legs. Their footsteps were heavy and steady, radiating the owner’s impatient mood.
Lu Ting’an had no interest in asking for trouble, so he lowered his head further and stepped aside to give them room.
Sensing a stranger’s presence, the man paused and seemed to sweep a glance in his direction. In the next second, a voice rang out with zero restraint: “I thought you said everyone had gone to the Jiang residence? Why is there still one left?”
The man had a fantastic voice—slightly deep, clean and crisp like snow on a green pine, yet possessing an inherent pressure that made one’s heart tighten.
Based on Lu Ting’an’s years of experience on the internet, this was an absolute “top-tier god-level” voice.
The other man also looked Lu Ting’an up and down with curiosity, muttering under his breath, “This height… but I’ve never seen someone so thin in the force.” He called out, “Hey, you the new guy?”
Lu Ting’an replied in a slow, unhurried tone, “That’s right, officer.”
Upon hearing this, the long-legged man issued an authoritative command: “Take the rookie with us. We’re heading out on a call.”
“Yes, Sir!”
The long-legged man led the way out, while the other man trailed two steps behind, quite familiarly throwing an arm around Lu Ting’an’s shoulder. “Let’s go, rookie.”
“Your luck is really something, kid. Following Officer Gu on a call on your very first day. If the squad wasn’t short-handed these past few days, a rookie like you would never get a chance like this. Watch closely and learn well later, got it?”
Lu Ting’an: “…”
He suppressed his temper and “retracted” a mental eye-roll.
He had transmigrated into a book, back to the 90s, and he still had to listen to this kind of corporate “big-picture” nonsense. If rookies usually didn’t get the chance, then they didn’t get the chance! Was he some kind of glutton for punishment? Did they think he preferred running around outside over sitting in an office?
Lu Ting’an grumbled several complaints in his head, but his body followed along quite naturally.
Having habitually sat in the back, Lu Ting’an suddenly felt the atmosphere was a bit off. According to certain workplace unwritten rules, would it be more polite for him to sit in the passenger seat?
“My apologies,” he said with very little actual remorse, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll sit up front.”
Gu Yingzhou half-lidded his eyes listlessly, his gaze somehow landing on the hand resting on the doorframe.
It was a very white, very delicate hand. The joints were well-defined—it was the size of an adult man’s hand—but the neatly trimmed nails were rounded, and the edges of the fingers were a bloodless shade of pale pink.
It was hard to imagine the owner of such hands being a member of the police force. Could he even hold a gun? When it came time to arrest a criminal, would he be the one doing the catching, or would the criminal just farm him like a low-level mob?
Gu Yingzhou knit his brows imperceptibly. “Just stay there. Don’t waste time.”
Lu Ting’an pulled his hand back. Before he could react, a tanned, slightly calloused index finger flicked up his police cap, and his field of vision suddenly became clear.
“Didn’t you receive any training before coming here? You didn’t know you’re supposed to show your eyes when wearing the cap?”
Gu Yingzhou’s indifferent gaze swept over. When he met Lu Ting’an’s startled eyes, both men froze.
Lu Ting’an hadn’t expected this man with the attractive voice to be so striking in person. With “sword-like brows and starry eyes,” his handsome features were complemented by a tanned complexion that gave him a commanding, formidable aura.
Combining the look with the title “Officer Gu,” Lu Ting’an quickly deduced his identity: Gu Yingzhou, Captain of Major Crimes Unit 1 and one of the brilliant, courageous male leads of the book.
In that case, the officer in the driver’s seat had to be Fu Yirong—Gu Yingzhou’s subordinate and younger cousin, who shared a very close bond with him.
Fu Yirong had just stepped on the gas when he caught a glimpse of Lu Ting’an’s familiar face in the rearview mirror. He slammed on the brakes with a violent stomp.
“Fuck! Why is it you?”
Fu Yirong turned around, glaring at Lu Ting’an in utter disbelief, his tone dripping with disgust. “Are you like a sticky plaster or something? You can’t be shaken off! You failed to woo Officer Gu at the ball, so you purposely put on a police uniform to get close to him? Get a grip, will you? Our Officer Gu doesn’t like men!”
Lu Ting’an’s expression went blank for a moment. ‘What ball? The original owner actually had history with Gu Yingzhou?’
But his confusion was quickly replaced by annoyance. He pressed his thin lips together.
Anyone who knew the real Lu Ting’an would say he was a good-natured person—low-profile, restrained, and never one to lose his temper. However, those truly close to him knew he wasn’t nearly as tolerant as he appeared. On the contrary, he had quite a temper; he simply didn’t bother arguing with people he considered beneath his notice.
Fu Yirong didn’t sense his irritation and kept hollering, “Get out, Young Master Lu. Now is not the time for jokes.”
Lu Ting’an crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze turning colder. “Is that so, officer? Is your memory really that bad? It’s only been a few minutes—have you already forgotten that you were the one who dragged me into this car?”
Fu Yirong’s jaw twitched. “Who knew it was you!”
Lu Ting’an smiled thinly. “Have you ever heard the saying: ‘It’s easy to invite a god, but hard to send one away’? If I get out now and walk back to the station, I’ll definitely be late. Who’s going to vouch for the fact that I’m actually a disciplined, punctual officer?”
Fu Yirong looked like he’d just swallowed a fly. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he grumbled, “I’ll vouch for you.”
Lu Ting’an let out a mocking snort and scanned him from head to toe. “Sorry, but you don’t look like a very honest person. Drive.”
Moments ago, he’d felt awkward sitting in the back, but now he leaned back against the seat with his arms crossed, looking every bit like a high-ranking official. His command to drive was delivered with absolute, natural entitlement.
Fu Yirong was fuming. Just as he was about to get out of the car to physically haul the guy out, he heard Gu Yingzhou speak from behind him:
“Drive.”
His voice was cold and heavy. Fu Yirong, though seething, didn’t dare talk back and started the engine with a stony face.
The car moved fast, and Lu Ting’an felt a strong surge of inertia against his back, but he didn’t care. The angrier Fu Yirong got, the happier Lu Ting’an felt. He even found the mood to shift into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes to doze.
As for the man sitting beside him with the overwhelming presence, he ignored him entirely.
Perhaps the original owner had been struck by lust and tried to hit on Gu Yingzhou, but what did that have to do with him?
So Gu Yingzhou doesn’t like men—did that mean he, Lu Ting’an, was gay?
Sorry to disappoint, but he wasn’t.
The police station was a fair distance from the crime scene. Lu Ting’an actually managed to fall asleep in the car. It wasn’t until the car stopped and the surrounding clamor drifted into the cabin that he slowly drifted awake.
The public toilet where the incident occurred was swarmed by people, yet the scene—which should have been under strict protection—was only guarded by two men dressed as security guards blocking the entrance.
Seeing this through the window, Lu Ting’an finally understood why Gu Yingzhou had been so furious since early morning.
The person who reported the crime was from Pingnan Ridge.
Pingnan Ridge was a remote part of Hong Kong with a “mixed bag” population. The fact that the case had already hit the newspapers as soon as it was discovered meant the press had wasted no time in chasing the story’s viral potential.
Yet, the police had been incredibly negligent. Not only had they failed to deploy a proper force, but even Gu Yingzhou—who was supposed to be on leave—had only found out about the incident two hours later.
This was a total failure of duty by the station. If someone with an agenda wrote about this, what would the citizens of Hong Kong think? How could the police force maintain any public trust?
Following Gu Yingzhou and Fu Yirong out of the car and moving through the crowd, Lu Ting’an heard the surrounding people discussing the matter…
“Have you heard? The dead woman is Zhou Wanxi, the headliner from the Baihui Club. Her entire head was cut off! What kind of deep-seated hatred could cause that?”
“The Baihui Club is a place only for the rich. How did a star like her end up dead in a place like ours?”
“Who knows? Zhou Wanxi was just a songstress; it wouldn’t be strange for her to come to Pingnan Ridge with a man, would it?”
Lu Ting’an heard a few men chuckle suggestively.
He frowned, feeling even more suspicious.
There was no doubt in his mind now—Zhou Wanxi was the woman from his dream. A woman with that kind of aura would be selective about the men she saw, and she certainly wouldn’t come to an old alleyway like this, where “high-quality” men were few and far between.
So why did she appear here, and why was she murdered?
References[+]