[We should sleep together sometime]
As soon as Lu Ting’an finished his question, before Zhou Daqing could even speak, his wife Xue Meimei let out a sharp cry.
“Officer, what do you mean by that? You’re not suspecting our Daqing, are you? Heavens be my witness, he’s treated Zhou Wanxi better than his own children! All these years, our family never mistreated her, but the older she got, the more of an ungrateful wolf she became. Now that she’s gone, we should respect the dead, but at this stage, you should be out catching the killer!”
Li Ming was the type of person who couldn’t stand negotiating with unreasonable living people. Taking advantage of the couple’s distraction, she “greased her soles” and slipped back into the forensic pathology unit.
Lu Ting’an didn’t pay the woman any mind, but his gaze lingered for half a second on her raised wrist—she was wearing a solid gold bracelet.
Soon, he looked back at Zhou Daqing with a slight smile. “Is it inconvenient to tell me, Mr. Zhou?”
Zhou Daqing leaned against the wall and shook his head, looking utterly devastated. “There’s nothing inconvenient about it. I’m just a farmer who works in an orchard. Officer, I beg you, you must find the one who killed Ah Xi. Our Ah Xi… her life was just too bitter.”
By the time he reached the end, Zhou Daqing was weeping uncontrollably, so choked with sobs he couldn’t form a complete sentence.
Lu Ting’an watched those eyes—so bloodshot they looked ready to drip—with a hint of suspicion, instinctively rubbing his fingertips together.
Zhou Daqing and Xue Meimei left shortly after. Lu Ting’an watched their retreating figures vanish past the station doors, his mind replaying Zhou Daqing’s micro-expressions. The more he recalled them, the more he felt the man was a walking contradiction. He was grieving for his murdered sister, yet there seemed to be something more than just grief…
Lu Ting’an stood by the stairwell for a good while until a tall, striking figure came up from downstairs. Upon seeing him, the newcomer raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Officer Lu, why are you just standing there like a statue?”
Lu Ting’an blinked, taking a moment to realize that “Officer Lu” was directed at him.
All day, anyone who recognized him—even seeing him in uniform—at most called him “Young Master Lu.” After all, no one actually viewed this “cancer of Hong Kong” as a real officer.
This female officer was an exception. Her gaze was clean, devoid of any passive-aggression or mockery.
Lu Ting’an took half a step back to clear the way. “You know me?”
“There are very few people in Hong Kong who don’t know you. Even if they haven’t seen your face, they’ve heard your name.”
Lu Ting’an remained perfectly composed, acting as if this were a compliment without a hint of guilt. “Yet you don’t seem surprised to see me here.”
The female officer laughed, her eyes curving into crescent moons. “Allow me to introduce myself: Yu Qiyin, the only female detective in Major Crimes Unit 1. You want to know why I’m not surprised? It’s simple. Inspector Ke is my uncle. I’m actually the one who suggested he put you in the Major Crimes Logistics team.”
A slow question mark formed over Lu Ting’an’s head.
‘Was I an old acquaintance of this Madam?’
Unlikely. The original owner rarely socialized with women and certainly wouldn’t be on good terms with a female detective.
Better to ask than guess. Lu Ting’an spoke directly, “Did I… offend you in the past?”
“Hmm?” Yu Qiyin froze, then burst into a giggle once she processed the question. “You’re overthinking it, Officer Lu. We’ve only crossed paths a few times. I suggested you come here because I truly felt that a ‘dangerous element’ like you should be kept right under the nose of the Major Crimes Unit.”
“That’s the only reason?”
Yu Qiyin shrugged, her gaze lingering on his face with a hint of appreciation. “Alright, there was a bit of selfishness involved. Officer Lu is one of the top handsome men in Hong Kong. We in Major Crimes have to look at a lot of corpses and murder scenes; I didn’t think it was too much to ask to have some ‘eye candy’ in the office to cleanse my palette.”
Lu Ting’an was speechless, letting out a faint laugh.
It was no wonder Yu Qiyin was a member of Major Crimes; regardless of whether her uncle was the Inspector, her frankness and social tact were enough to prove her competence. This was the classic “slap followed by a sweet treat.” It was his first time being called a “dangerous element,” yet he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry.
“Your Captain Gu isn’t bad-looking either,” Lu Ting’an remarked casually.
From his perspective as a man, Gu Yingzhou’s looks were “ceiling-tier.” While Lu Ting’an was satisfied with his own features, he sometimes felt he looked a bit too delicate. He wished his jawline was as “sharp as a knife” and his Adam’s apple as prominent as a small hill, like the descriptions in novels. Gu Yingzhou was the gold standard of features and facial structure. Of course, Lu Ting’an only kept these thoughts to himself—one had to learn to be content.
“Officer Gu is definitely handsome, but—” Yu Qiyin’s tone shifted. “Who dares to keep staring at him? Sometimes he feels more terrifying than a corpse.”
Lu Ting’an: “…”
‘That’s a bit of an exaggeration, Madam.’
Having spent the morning together, he knew Gu Yingzhou was hard to approach, but he wasn’t cold-blooded. At the very least, he hadn’t made things difficult for him yet.
Lu Ting’an didn’t offer a comment on Gu Yingzhou. Seeing that he wasn’t biting, Yu Qiyin naturally changed the subject. “I saw a couple at the door when I came in. Zhou Wanxi’s brother and sister-in-law, right?”
“Yes. They just identified the body.”
Yu Qiyin shook her head. “That sister-in-law really has no conscience. She actually asked me just now if their family could get a compensation payout once the killer is caught.”
Lu Ting’an’s gaze darkened. “She really asked that?”
Yu Qiyin sighed in disgust. “You bet. She even said the family was desperate for money. Can she really sleep at night receiving that kind of money?”
Lu Ting’an lowered his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
According to the law, the victim’s family could indeed receive compensation from the killer, covering funeral expenses, death benefits, mental anguish, and lost wages.
Under normal circumstances, grieving family members want nothing more than to bring the killer to justice. Someone like Xue Meimei, who was so fixated on money, was indeed a rarity.
Yet, precisely because her mind was filled with nothing but dollar signs, the suspicion on her and Zhou Daqing actually lessened. If they really were the killers, they wouldn’t be looking forward to a compensation payout; they’d be too busy hiding.
Yu Qiyin still had to report her leads to the Major Crimes Unit. She tapped her notepad and asked with a smile, “Want to come along and analyze the case, Officer Lu?”
The Major Crimes office and the Logistics office were in the same direction. Lu Ting’an walked alongside her but declined. “That’s not my job. Let’s each stick to our own responsibilities.” After a thought, he suggested in a gentle tone, “In the future, just call me by my name.”
Yu Qiyin tilted her head. “Why?”
Lu Ting’an gave a warm, breezy smile. “‘Officer Lu (陆sir – Lu-sir)’… it sounds a bit too much like ‘loser,’ don’t you think?”
Yu Qiyin: “…”
…
The police station closed at 5:30 PM. By 5:25, Lu Ting’an had already begun slowly tidying his desk.
There wasn’t much to pack: a vacuum flask engraved with his name that he’d received from Ah Hai, a thick leather-bound notebook, and two fountain pens—one red, one black.
He leisurely arranged each item, feeling an indescribable sense of peace.
In a total lifespan of twenty-some years plus three days, this was the first time he realized that “getting off work” meant you could actually leave on time.
He thought back to his days as a streamer. In the first year, to keep his few hundred fans, he never missed a broadcast even when he had a fever or stomach cramps so bad he doubled over; he hadn’t rested for more than ten days in the entire year. By the second year, he had hit it big. One month’s income was enough to cover his sister’s medical bills for a year and buy his mother a 200-square-meter house in their hometown. Even then, he didn’t dare slack off. The internet moves fast; he never knew when his face might fall out of favor.
He worked diligently for two years, and in the third, the platform promoted him as a “Star Streamer.” He gained ten million followers in a single month—he had truly exploded in popularity.
The fame came so fast that before Lu Ting’an could even process it, a landslide of comments, both good and bad, followed. Those two years were more exhausting than the ones before. Besides his body being pushed to the point of depletion, he endured immense psychological pressure. He had to protect his family, so he chose his words carefully in every broadcast, never giving “anti-fans” a chance to stir up trouble. Simultaneously, he had to manage his own emotions; no matter how tired he was, he couldn’t show it to his fans. They didn’t spend money on gifts to see him looking depressed. The more people liked him, the more frequently he pulled all-nighters to stream…
Lu Ting’an wasn’t particularly sentimental. Perhaps because he had shouldered the entire burden of his family at an age when he most needed care, death hadn’t brought him much sorrow or loneliness. He was far too used to sudden variables in life.
He knew his family would be devastated by the news of his death, but after grieving for just one night, he had found peace with it. He had a personal accident insurance policy, and since the incident happened at an event, his family was naturally entitled to a large settlement. Plus, his mother knew his bank pin; there was enough money in there for her and his sister to live comfortably for several lifetimes.
He figured time would heal everything. As for his life, which should have ended, continuing in another world—perhaps God saw how hard he’d worked and wanted him to experience some easy days.
Who was to say he wouldn’t suddenly die again one day? Therefore, he intended to cherish every moment he could spend “slacking off” and taking it easy.
At 5:30 PM sharp, Lu Ting’an lifted his rear and left.
Ah Hai was busy organizing documents, inputting notes from old cases, interrogation results, and evidence into the computer to upload to the station’s system. Hearing footsteps, he looked up with envious eyes. “Heading home, Young Master Lu? Get back safe.”
Lu Ting’an gave an “mm” of acknowledgment. “You’re not leaving yet?”
Ah Hai nodded and explained in a low voice, “I’m responsible for the wrap-up work for Major Crimes. Usually, I wait until all the officers have left before I clock out.”
Lu Ting’an understood and offered no opinion.
In 1990s Hong Kong, internal job rotations within the police force were very common. Logistics was simple and stable, a position many had their eyes on. Ah Hai had no powerful background and no exceptionally outstanding skills; to hold onto his spot, he needed to maintain a high level of visibility in front of his superiors. His method was to stay late so that at least the Inspector would see him coming and going, feeling that even if he didn’t have great achievements, he at least had the merit of hard work.
Lu Ting’an left the police station in high spirits. The sun hadn’t set yet, and the Lu family driver was already waiting at the curb.
He was just about to raise a hand to signal the driver when his gaze was involuntarily drawn to a Mercedes parked on the other side. In the 1990s, anyone who could drive a Mercedes was a certified “big shot,” even in a city like Hong Kong.
Based on Lu Ting’an’s decent bank of knowledge, this silver-white car was likely the new model Mercedes began developing in the late 1980s. With the chassis code W140, its front-end design reminded people of a tiger, earning it the nickname “Tiger-Head Benz.”
The Tiger-Head Benz was the undisputed king of the road at this time, with a price tag of at least a million dollars.
He wondered what kind of eccentric owner this car had; the vehicle was barely two years old, yet it looked incredibly road-weary. The dust on the body was so thick it looked like a coat of matte grey paint, and the windshield was split into bright and dark zones defined by the radius of the wipers.
Just as he was thinking the owner was wasting a fine piece of machinery, the driver’s side door suddenly swung open.
Lu Ting’an couldn’t look away in time, and his direct stare collided head-on with Gu Yingzhou’s gaze.
“…” ‘Why is it always him?’
Since they were already making eye contact, looking away now would seem like he had a guilty conscience. But what did he have to be guilty about? He was simply admiring a luxury car with a bit of vanity.
Lu Ting’an’s mind raced through a hundred thoughts, but his face remained serene. Before Gu Yingzhou could retract his gaze, Lu Ting’an offered a polite smile. “Welcome back, Officer Gu. Any new leads?”
Gu Yingzhou slammed the car door shut without a hint of gentleness, as if slamming away all the frustration accumulated during the investigation. He gave a cold, faint “mm” in response. He had already walked past Lu Ting’an when, after a couple of steps, he pivoted on his heel and came back.
“Hu Zounan isn’t the killer. He took Jiang Caiting home last night and didn’t go out all night. The Hu family servants can provide his alibi.”
Lu Ting’an hadn’t expected the man to volunteer information. He blinked in surprise for two seconds before nodding.
Gu Yingzhou subtly scrutinized his expression. “It seems you guessed that already.”
Lu Ting’an remained composed. “I wouldn’t call it a guess. From the start, I didn’t think Hu Zounan had a sufficient motive. He’s the young master of Wanhe Pharmaceuticals, a man of standing in Hong Kong. Even if he moved on after a fling with Zhou Wanxi, that’s hardly a rare occurrence for someone in his position. It’s certainly not worth the effort of a murder and body disposal.”
“Are you familiar with necrophilia, Officer Gu? It’s a psychological disorder. In most cases, it develops in people from the bottom of society who have grown up with low self-esteem, been neglected, or have zero presence in the eyes of the public. To them, a corpse doesn’t talk or move; it’s something they can manipulate however they want, a presence that will never defy them. Do you think a man of Hu Zounan’s status would ever find himself in a ‘subordinate’ position in a relationship?”
“Look at it another way: Hu Zounan likely lost interest in Zhou Wanxi long ago. He lacked the intense, obsessive possessiveness required for this. If he were a true deviant, Jiang Caiting would be the one in danger.”
Gu Yingzhou pursed his thin lips, his gaze toward Lu Ting’an growing deeper and more searching. After a long moment, his expression softened slightly. “Thanks. Your analysis is helpful to the case.”
“Don’t mention it.” Lu Ting’an gave a casual wave of his hand.
With the shop talk over, his thoughts began to drift again.
‘Is Gu Yingzhou really the one affecting my sleep quality?’
His constitution was truly bizarre. He had napped in the office this afternoon, and the results proved that even the police station couldn’t suppress his “yin” energy. Yet, sitting next to Gu Yingzhou this morning, he truly hadn’t dreamed.
‘What did Gu Yingzhou have that others didn’t?’
‘Good looks? Height? Or was it the Tiger-Head Benz…’
‘No way. Does ‘yin’ energy follow the money these days?’
Gu Yingzhou, being nearly 1.9 meters tall, looked down to see Lu Ting’an staring at him as if he were a rare artifact.
“Is there a flower growing on my face?”
Lu Ting’an gave a sheepish twitch of his lips, answering with a question that had nothing to do with the flower. “Where do you usually stay, Officer Gu? Major Crimes must get off work pretty late every day.” He recalled that Gu Yingzhou’s car hadn’t been there this morning; he and Fu Yirong had walked out from inside the station.
Gu Yingzhou replied, “The station has single dorms. If you have a need, you can apply for one with the Inspector.”
“You stay in the dorms too?”
A hint of impatience crept into Gu Yingzhou’s voice. “Occasionally.”
Lu Ting’an gave a faint “oh,” feeling a pang of disappointment. If Gu Yingzhou stayed there regularly, he could have found an excuse to crash in his room for a “scientific experiment.” But if he only stayed once in a while, what was the point of applying for a room?
Gu Yingzhou raised his wrist to check the time. Noticing Lu Ting’an spacing out with his head down, he frowned and reminded him, “Your driver has been waiting for a long time.”
Half-lucid and half-daydreaming, Lu Ting’an was still racking his brain for a way to sleep together. He responded distractedly, “Right. Then I’ll be heading home. Goodbye, let’s find a chance to sleep together—”
His voice cut off abruptly.
Gu Yingzhou narrowed his eyes.
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over Lu Ting’an’s head; he was instantly, terrifyingly awake.
‘Dead brain! What were you thinking?!’
‘Dead mouth! What did you just say?!’
Internally, he cursed his own insanity, but he kept a smile plastered on his face. “What I meant was… we’re colleagues now. We should find a chance to eat together…”