“Why are you talking about me like that?” Ling Lie looked utterly wronged. “You have a teammate like me who takes the initiative, and you’re still not satisfied?”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

It wasn’t exactly appropriate, but at that moment, he suddenly thought of a meme: “That profile picture? It’s me. Not satisfied?”

Ji Chenjiao said, “When did you become a member of the major crimes unit?”

Ling Lie replied, “A person involved in the case isn’t considered a teammate? Do you have someone else involved or something?”

Ji Chenjiao: “…………”
Is there an option to detain this man for forty-eight hours on the grounds of obstructing official business?

But Ji Chenjiao quickly gave up on the idea. Detain him for forty-eight hours? Ling Lie would probably love it and start asking him to treat him to meals again.

Forget it. Ji Chenjiao met those sparkling bright eyes and instantly lost his temper. His damn competitive streak kicked in again—he still held a grudge over the fact that Ling Lie had found Liu Canyang before he did. So he asked, “What did you find out from Liu Canyang?”

Ling Lie didn’t answer. Instead, he suddenly leaned in close to Ji Chenjiao. Ji Chenjiao hadn’t expected the sneak attack and reflexively leaned back.

“Captain Ji, let me buy you a coffee.”

Ji Chenjiao was confused. Why did everyone want to buy him coffee? Did he look like he couldn’t afford it?

Ling Lie put his hands on his hips. “You’re actually hesitating? It’s rare for me to offer to pay!”

Ji Chenjiao thought, There’s definitely a catch. If he accepted, this bastard would probably photocopy the receipt a hundred times, plaster it all over the precinct windows, and tell everyone:
“Captain Ji of the major crimes unit is exploiting public funds! He even takes money from a penniless vagrant like me! Honk—honk—“

Ling Lie squinted at him playfully. “Captain Ji, are you trash-talking me in your head?”

Ji Chenjiao, who was in fact doing exactly that, turned his gaze away and cleared his throat, a bit too deliberately.

Ling Lie had a “See, I knew it!” look on his face and followed Ji Chenjiao’s gaze, refusing to let him avoid eye contact.

Ji Chenjiao snapped, “Enough already!”

Ling Lie sighed. “I wanted to buy you coffee out of concern. What do you take me for?”

Ji Chenjiao: “Huh?”

Ling Lie raised his right hand like he was holding a magnifying glass and gestured in front of Ji Chenjiao’s face. “Your eyes are full of bloodshot lines. You must be really tired, huh?”

Ji Chenjiao leaned back slightly to avoid having Ling Lie poke him in the eye. For a moment, he felt a little off.

Was it because Ling Lie’s tone had suddenly turned gentle?
Or because they were too close?

Ji Chenjiao shut his eyes tightly. Tired? He’d been leading the major crimes unit for years—tired was his normal state. But it was the first time anyone had pointed it out so plainly.

Ling Lie’s gentleness vanished like a bubble. That annoying guy grinned and slipped back, theatrically lamenting, “My good intentions are being treated like pig’s liver. People are heartless. Society is doomed. Honk—honk—“

Ji Chenjiao: “…”
That inner monologue earlier was spot-on—he even brought his own sound effects!

Then again, it wasn’t even an internal monologue. It was basically a live prediction!

“Forget it. A gentleman never goes back on his word. I said I’d treat you, and even if someone is a heartless scoundrel, I’ll still treat him.” Ling Lie wiped away a nonexistent tear. “There’s a café right across the street.”

Ji Chenjiao was so parched from all the pestering that he really could use a drink. The two headed to the café. Ling Lie looked around the counter excitedly and said, grandly, “Go ahead! Order anything!”

The café wasn’t a chain store. Everything about it—from the decor to the drink names—screamed exaggerated eccentricity. The glass display case even featured obscure collectibles the owner had somehow acquired. Prices were steep. A plain Americano cost sixty yuan, and anything with milk or latte art was even more outrageous.

Ji Chenjiao originally just wanted a simple drink, but catching Ling Lie in the corner of his eye, he suddenly felt mischievous. “You’re really treating?”

Ling Lie whispered, “I didn’t know it’d be this expensive before we came in. Should we go somewhere else?”

Ji Chenjiao tilted his chin arrogantly. “Hmph.”

Ling Lie said, “Don’t snort like that—you sound like a bull.”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

“Fine, we won’t change. Let’s just go with it.” Ling Lie looked pained and muttered, “But watch what you order, okay? I work hard for my money. A single drum gig only pays fifty. Now I can’t even afford meat buns…”

Before he could finish, Ji Chenjiao said, “Mocha—extra large.”

Ling Lie: “…”

Ji Chenjiao turned to the barista and said, “And a matcha latte for him—extra large, too.”

The barista tried not to laugh. “Alright, sir. That’ll be 199 yuan. Please scan the code.”

Ji Chenjiao smiled at Ling Lie. Ling Lie dug through his pockets reluctantly, pulling out coins. “The coffee I usually drink costs only seven yuan…”

Ji Chenjiao was so amused by his bankrupt expression that he decided not to extort the poor guy after all. He’d had enough fun, so he pulled out his phone and paid first.

Barista: “Would you like that for here or to go?”

If he weren’t swamped with work, Ji Chenjiao really would’ve liked to sit and relax. Coffee at that price was mostly for the atmosphere. But alas, duty called.

“To go, thanks.”

Ling Lie put away his cash and stared at Ji Chenjiao.

Ji Chenjiao leaned against the counter a bit lazily—unusually casual compared to his usual posture. “What? Moved by my refusal to exploit the people?”

“Not really.” Ling Lie didn’t look embarrassed at all. In fact, he smiled a bit too mischievously.

Ji Chenjiao: “Hmm?”

Ling Lie: “I just thought it was really funny when you said ‘ex-tra—large.’”

Ji Chenjiao frowned. “What’s so funny about ordering extra-large?”

“It’s allowed. Not like I’m paying.”

“Then what’s funny?”

“You sounded like a little kid.”

“…”

It was the first time in Ji Chenjiao’s life that someone had called him “like a little kid.” He was so stunned he needed a full thirty seconds to respond. “Don’t mock a government official.”

Just then, the barista called out, “Sir, both extra-large drinks are ready.”

Ji Chenjiao grabbed the extra-large mocha and walked straight to the door without waiting. Ling Lie followed behind. “Captain Ji, can I catch a ride?”

Ji Chenjiao stood by the car door. “Big boy, how’d you get here?”

Ling Lie laughed so hard he nearly tripped. “I took the subway.”

“Get in.”

The car Ji Chenjiao drove that day was his personal one. Ling Lie had never ridden in it before. After looking around front and back, he asked, “Can I sit in the passenger seat?”

Ji Chenjiao was preoccupied with the case and didn’t register the subtext. “If you can’t sit there, should I strap you to the roof?”

Ling Lie: “I was just worried… what if this is the wife’s special seat? If I sit here, things might get awkward.”

Ji Chenjiao had to suppress the urge to slam on the gas and leave this guy on the curb. “Get in!”

Ling Lie got in cheerfully, pressed his palms together and said, “Sorry, wife.”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

Once out of the business district, Ji Chenjiao intended to drop off the so-called wife-seat occupant at the family housing unit. But Ling Lie spoke up first. “Captain Ji, where are you headed? I’ve got nothing going on—I’ll go with you.”

Ji Chenjiao was still stuck on the “wife” line and snapped a bit, “Miaoshan Park!”

Ling Lie: “Then I’ll come along and check it out.”

 Miaoshan Park was where Liu Yuchun and Zhou Qingxia had arranged to take photos. The mountain flowers were blooming, and the place was full of scarf-wearing retired aunties. It was also where Ji Chenjiao had first met Ling Lie, and the waist-drum troupe were regulars there.

Ji Chenjiao hadn’t known much about this demographic before, except for the online jokes and ridicule. But to dig into Liu Yuchun’s case, he had to immerse himself in this group.

With nothing else to talk about on the road, the conversation naturally shifted to the viral screenshots.

Even though the public had basically declared Wang Xiaowen the killer and were launching a massive online crusade, Ji Chenjiao and Ling Lie had finally found something to agree on—the screenshots proved nothing. Family members who live together often develop all sorts of tensions. People who vent online aren’t necessarily capable of murder.

“Liu Canyang was Wang Xiaowen’s close friend from elementary through high school—they were really close,” Ling Lie said. “Close friends often say wild things to each other. The fact that Wang Xiaowen never mentioned killing her mother in any other group shows how much she trusted Liu Canyang.”

That’s also what Ji Chenjiao found contradictory. Liu Canyang seemed to harbor complicated feelings toward her close friend—almost like he wanted to see her fall. And for a man and a woman to be this close without being in a romantic relationship—that in itself was rather odd.

“Because Liu Canyang is Wang Xiaowen’s ‘gay bestie,’ there’s a subtle competitive relationship between them,” Ling Lie said. “They both come from dual-income households and didn’t grow up in great environments. I talked to him today and learned that Liu’s family’s situation has gotten worse since his parents retired. His own career isn’t going well either. Meanwhile, the Wang family is on the rise. Although Wang Xiaowen and Liu Canyang work in similar fields, she landed a job at a very promising company.”

Ji Chenjiao mulled it over. “So Liu Canyang’s friendship with Wang Xiaowen had already turned sour, which is why, when the reporter came to him, he handed over the screenshots.”

Ling Lie replied, “But I wouldn’t go so far as to say he misled the police or framed her. He just wanted to see her fall from grace.”

The car fell silent for a while. Ji Chenjiao then asked, “So in your opinion, Wang Xiaowen was just screwed over by Liu Canyang and had nothing to do with the case?”

Ling Lie said, “I’m only saying that private venting isn’t enough to prove she killed her mother. I never said she was truly innocent.”

Ji Chenjiao shared the same thought — Wang Xiaowen’s suspicion hadn’t been cleared.

Miaoshan Park was noticeably quieter than the previous times Ji Chenjiao had visited. The flowers were still blooming, but there were far fewer people under them.

He didn’t flash his badge right away and instead approached quietly to listen to the ladies chat.

“The weather’s so nice today, and it’s just us. Had I known, I’d have brought more scarves.”

“Others think it’s unlucky. I heard that the ‘Hat Queen’ was supposed to come take pictures today.”

“It’s your fault for dragging me here. I feel unlucky too!”

“That’s just superstition. We’ve got no feud with her, never even met her. So just because she’s been here, we can’t come?”

“Still, it’s weird. I haven’t seen anyone from Qiang Chunliu’s team.”

“They’re probably hiding. They’re the ones who hate Hongyun the most…”

As the ladies were chatting away, they suddenly noticed a handsome young man standing nearby and called out, “Hey young man, come take a group photo for us! The selfie stick’s a hassle!”

Ji Chenjiao instinctively wanted to call Ling Lie, but turned around to find him gone. So he walked over and tried to imitate the way Ling Lie had helped the ladies last time — patient, courteous, helping them pose, suggesting scenery. Before he knew it, he had spent half an hour snapping photos with them.

In the process, he also picked up some useful intel: among retired folks in Xiarong City, there were a few competing teams of models and waist drum dancers.

Wang Xiaowen’s mother Liu Yuchun belonged to the Hongyun Model Team, which was mostly unknown — until the “Hat Queen” nickname started catching on, and Hongyun began rising in popularity. Zhou Qingxia was especially skilled at networking and took away a lot of gigs, which most affected the Chunliu Waist Drum Team. Reportedly, members of Chunliu had even cursed Liu Yuchun out on Muyin.

Ji Chenjiao returned the phone to the ladies. Chunliu seemed worth investigating. What surprised him slightly was that this case had some connection to Ling Lie once again.

By the time he returned to the car, Ling Lie had reappeared — his head and back speckled with grass, eyelashes still damp. Ji Chenjiao guessed he’d probably gone to nap in the sun while he was talking to the ladies.

After all, it was such a nice day. Even cats liked to bask in the sun.

Back in the car, Ji Chenjiao got a call from Liang Wenxian. They had retrieved Wang Xiaowen and her father’s communication and internet records. It confirmed that she had lied about the knife — she had indeed ordered the small kitchen knife from “Image 2,” but couldn’t explain where it went when questioned.

“There’s another key lead,” Liang continued. “At 11 p.m. on the 26th, surveillance on Ganzi Street caught Wang Xiaowen. She was in the vicinity during the time of the murder.”

Ji Chenjiao had originally planned to ask Ling Lie more about the Chunliu team but now had to set that aside.

In modern times, few things are harder to hide than a phone’s contents. The major crimes unit found that on March 10 — the same day she vented in the group chat about wanting to kill Liu Yuchun — Wang Xiaowen had purchased the small kitchen knife. She also had at least six searches related to murder. Her motive was solid.

Ji Chenjiao made a U-turn and drove to Yunbin Residential Complex in the South District, where Wang Xiaowen rented a unit, and immediately applied for a search warrant.

Buying the knife alone didn’t make her guilty — it was not being able to explain where it went that was truly suspicious. Why hide the knife? Because it had blood on it? Or something else?

If she was innocent, the knife should still be at her apartment. If it wasn’t found, the logical explanation would be that she disposed of it after the crime.

The South District was part of Xiarong’s recent development push — far better than the old Ganzi Street neighborhood. Yunbin was mid-tier but had new buildings, good facilities, subways, malls, and relatively high rent.

Her one-bedroom unit cost 2,400 a month — a hefty sum for a regular salaried worker.

The landlord came to unlock the door and immediately tried to defend her tenant. “She’s a good girl — clean, careful with the furniture, always pays rent early. Something must be wrong. This has to be a misunderstanding…”

The team began searching. The living room looked like her work area, with a long table that could seat six, covered in a laptop, a home printer, colorful pens, and a dozen design or marketing books.

Apparently, she really did work from home. And Liu Yuchun’s loud Muyin videos likely disturbed her greatly.

Besides her laptop, there was also an old phone and a tablet left on. Ji Chenjiao sealed them as evidence for Shen Qi to examine.

The apartment was small, and many cabinets were empty. With the landlord familiar with the layout, hidden compartments were unlikely, so the search went quickly — they found bone cleavers and fruit knives in the kitchen, but not the small kitchen knife.

Surveillance coverage in Yunbin was decent. Ji Chenjiao asked property management for footage from April 26–27. Cameras showed Wang Xiaowen leaving the East Gate at 9:36 p.m., wearing a gray tracksuit and carrying a backpack. She didn’t appear again until 5:11 a.m.

That outfit and backpack were found in her washing machine — already washed and spun, but not yet hung to dry.

“Xi Wan,” Ji Chenjiao said, “Take them for blood testing. I’m going to interrogate Wang Xiaowen.”

“I didn’t kill my mom!” she cried when confronted with her search history. Her face was filled with fear and regret. “I admit I often wished she were gone. I don’t know how I ended up with such a foolish, vain, selfish mother. But I only thought about it! It’s not a crime to think!”

Ji Chenjiao neatly folded the printed pages. “Looking up crimes isn’t illegal, so I won’t use this to charge you. But…” — his eyes were sharp as a hawk’s — “you lied about the knife, and still won’t say where it is. I have every reason to believe you had to get rid of it. And what do people destroy? The murder weapon.”

Wang Xiaowen stiffened. “I really don’t know where it is. I threw it away after I got it!”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Why?”

“Because I never really wanted to kill my mom!” she said. “It was just a moment of rage. I slept on it and regretted it. I felt sick. But the knife had already shipped, and I couldn’t cancel!”

“Where did you throw it?”

“In the trash can across from the parcel locker!”

She said after venting in the group chat, she was still furious and impulsively bought the knife. But waiting for it made her feel more and more guilty. When the pickup code arrived, she couldn’t bear to hold it. She didn’t even open the package, just tossed it straight into the bin.

Ji Chenjiao closely observed her microexpressions. The knife had become Schrödinger’s knife. Her story sounded plausible — people were complicated and could change their minds. But unless the knife was found, the doubt couldn’t be erased. And if she really threw it away, could someone else have picked it up?

Parcel locker areas usually had cameras — he’d check, but footage from a month ago had likely been overwritten.

“On April 26, you returned to Ganzi Street,” Ji Chenjiao said. “But when I asked you before, you didn’t say a word. Why?”

Wang Xiaowen roughly raked her hair, then gave a bitter laugh. “If I told you I went back to relive childhood memories of maternal love, would you even believe me?”

Ji Chenjiao replied, “No need to guess what I believe. Just tell the truth. I’ll judge.”

She fell silent. Two minutes later, she finally said, “Half a month ago, I got a creative brief — the theme was childhood and family. I’m not good at heartwarming stuff. My ideas were falling flat. My boss told me to draw from my own experiences.”

Stuck at home with no inspiration and a deadline looming, she impulsively returned to Ganzi Street. The old factory area held all her childhood memories. Her family had been poor, but her parents got along. Liu Yuchun often bought her stickers from saved-up grocery money.

Her love for comics and creativity started there.

The old school gate, the rusted monkey bars, the overgrown field — all part of a pure and happy time.

That night, she walked through Ganzi Street alone. The past came back like a soft breeze, clearing her mind. Ideas finally flowed. She decided that once the project was done and the bonus came in, she’d reconcile with her mom — try to understand her, take her shopping, help her take better pictures. After all, she was semi-professional — better than the average retired auntie at photos and videos.

It rained lightly that night, soaking her clothes. She went home inspired, worked until morning, and headed straight to her job. The clothes and backpack were tossed in the washer, and she forgot to hang them up.

“That’s what happened,” she said, her shoulders slumping, as if a weight had finally been lifted. “I didn’t lie. I never wanted to hurt my mom.”

Xi Wan’s test report came back — no traces of blood on the clothes or backpack.

The Major Crimes Unit and North District Division held another meeting. Wang Xiaowen remained the primary suspect, but she denied everything, and the knife was missing. The team couldn’t fixate solely on her — more leads were needed.

Ji Chenjiao shared what he’d learned at Miaoshan Park. Xi Wan asked, “How is Mr. Ling involved again?”

Ji Chenjiao choked. “‘Mr. Ling’?” He almost didn’t connect that title with Ling Lie.

Xi Wan explained, “He always calls me ‘Ms. Xi.’ He’s so polite, of course I call him ‘Mr. Ling.’”

Ji Chenjiao: “…” Polite… well, he is polite around the ladies.

Shen Qi exclaimed, “If the Chunliu team competed with the Hongyun team and resented Liu Yuchun, and if Ling Lie is connected to them again — doesn’t that make him a suspect yet again?”

Even Liang Wenxian couldn’t help but exclaim, “Good grief.”

He Feng offered, “Should we handle the Chunliu team investigation?”

These self-formed groups were usually scattered, and tracking down all members would be tough. The sub-bureau was more experienced with these background checks, so it was the efficient choice.

Ji Chenjiao nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Captain He.” Then to Shen Qi, he added, “They posted angry rants about Liu Yuchun on Muyin. Help the sub-bureau dig deeper — see if we can trace anything back.”

Shen Qi was pumped. “Ling, it’s me again — here to investigate you!”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

After a long pause, he said, “Captain He, I’ll handle Ling Lie.”