Ji Chenjiao sleepily nodded and finally drifted off.

Ling Lie quietly closed the door, walked to the balcony in the living room, and slid the glass door shut behind him.

The city bloomed with a different kind of life in the night. The lights were like strings of a harp, playing a faint nocturne in the breeze.

Ling Lie closed his eyes and let the wind brush against him, his hands resting on the railing. After a moment, he lowered his head and chuckled softly.

Fate really was an amusing little thing.

The red wine he had drunk contained hardly any alcohol; most of it had evaporated during heating—it was no different from juice. Once the clamor in his heart faded, Ling Lie lit a cigarette and made a call.

Shen Xun answered quickly. “What a rare thing—you’re calling me on your own.”

Ling Lie flicked off some ash. “The Kang Wanbin case is solved. Soon you’ll be able to access the investigation files on the internal network.”

“Your judgment?”

“Unrelated to the other entrepreneurs’ cases. He was just a tool for the killer’s revenge.”

Shen Xun was silent for a moment. “If that was all you wanted to say, you wouldn’t have called specially.”

Ling Lie chuckled and cut to the chase. “The Kang Wanbin case may not be connected to the entrepreneurs, but during the investigation, we found a lead—a dark web site called ‘Fuguang.’ Both suspects used it. One of them very likely has someone pulling strings from behind; I’m not sure if that someone is tied to ‘Fuguang’ as well. If ‘Fuguang’ isn’t just a simple platform for transactions and video transfers, then it means there may be more moves to come.”

Shen Xun digested this. “Thanks.” Then he chuckled. “Good work.”

Ling Lie knew what he’d say next and quickly cut him off: “I still have things to do in Xiarong City.”

“Oh?”

“Helping the police is helping the police, no matter the city, right?”

Shen Xun sighed. “Fine.”

Ji Chenjiao didn’t wake until past ten the next morning. His fever was gone, and his body felt relaxed. It had been a long time since he’d slept so well. Even when awake, it all felt somewhat unreal, as if his conversation with Ling Lie had been a dream.

Until he saw the message Ling Lie had sent on his phone:
“Honest Young Master Xia, brunch is on the table. Heat it up yourself. Don’t forget your medicine.”

“…”

Ji Chenjiao splashed cold water on his face, the chill shocking his nerves awake. So it hadn’t been a dream. A’Dou really was Ling Lie. His “suspect” roommate actually shared such a strange childhood connection with him.

That afternoon, Ji Chenjiao returned to the Major Crimes Unit. Liang Wenxian fussed like a worried father, asking repeatedly if he still felt unwell, casting anxious glances every time Ji Chenjiao coughed. It made him hold back sneezes until he was suffering.

Shen Qi now had two tasks: one, to track down Xu Jiajia; two, to investigate “Fuguang.” The latter could wait, but progress on the former was slow and difficult.

What was certain was that Xu Jiajia hadn’t used any online payments. The last time he appeared on surveillance footage, he was wearing a black backpack that didn’t seem to contain much, waiting at a crosswalk in the eastern part of the city.

Two days later, Xi Wan reported from Liyun City—they had found bones at the burial site mentioned in Ji Nocheng’s confession. Preliminary inspection showed they hadn’t been moved since burial.

To confirm if the bones belonged to Xu Yinyue, they needed to extract DNA and compare it with samples Xu Jiajia had left in his rental apartment.

The Major Crimes Unit released news of the discovery to the public, hoping Xu Jiajia would surface. But he remained completely vanished—no trace at all.

Before the team went off duty, they held a meeting. Their next tasks still revolved around investigating Xu Jiajia. Ji Chenjiao was the last to leave. On the way home, passing the community market, he suddenly thought of Ling Lie.

His cold was cured, but the conversation they’d had during that fever still lingered like an aftertaste. Something between them had shifted. Now that he knew Ling Lie was that skinny little A’Dou, he couldn’t look at him the same way. Even though their childhood encounter had brought them closer, it somehow made things feel more distant.

Before, he often teased Ling Lie, delighting in watching him suffer misfortune—it was a rare chance to let out that hidden mischievous streak he always kept in check. But now, every time he spoke to Ling Lie, he paused to think. The sharp words stayed in his mouth.

Ling Lie hadn’t come to the bureau today—who knew what he was doing? Technically, he was half a member of Major Crimes, but their rules couldn’t restrain him. Every time someone reminded him, he’d retort, “I’m not on payroll anyway,” infuriating everyone.

Ji Chenjiao stood at the market entrance for a while before realizing he hadn’t eaten dinner. Before Ling Lie moved in, his dinners were mostly bland low-fat meals, but now, thinking of those boiled dishes killed his appetite. After a round through the market, he came out carrying a bag of clams and scallops.

He didn’t really know how to cook them—but someone at home did. And he hadn’t mooched—he’d bought enough for two, with extras.

Back home, Ling Lie wasn’t there. Ji Chenjiao felt oddly disappointed—like showing up eagerly for a banquet only to find the chef had taken the day off. He took out his phone, opened their chat, typed something, then deleted it. Calling someone home to cook felt like too much. Forget it.

He dumped the clams and scallops into a steel basin and followed an online recipe to soak them in salt water to purge the sand.

After several rinses, the sand seemed gone, and they were ready to cook. But Ji Chenjiao paused.

He could fry them—high heat, garlic, scallions—it wouldn’t taste bad even if he winged it.

But he didn’t want to. He’d rather go hungry and wait for Ling Lie. Otherwise, this bag of clams and scallops would have been for nothing.

Past nine, the lock clicked. Ji Chenjiao, sprawled on the sofa like a dog, quickly sat up. He rarely lazed like this—if tired, he went to bed; if awake, he worked or read. But ever since living under the same roof with Ling Lie, he’d picked up that boneless sprawl.

Ling Lie hummed as he entered, peeking from the doorway. “Honest Xia, good evening.”

“…”

Since that night of truth-telling, Ling Lie had changed how he addressed him—calling him either Honest Xia or Little Snake. Because they were the same age, but Ling Lie insisted he was older.

The exact birth year was unknown, but Ling Lie firmly believed he was the elder.

Honest Xia sounded awful, but when Ji Chenjiao protested, Ling Lie sweetened it with Little Young Master—so sugary it hurt. He could only let Ling Lie call him whatever he pleased. Luckily, Ling Lie knew his limits and wouldn’t use those names in front of others.

Ling Lie stepped into the kitchen. “Hey, raising clams here?”

Ji Chenjiao couldn’t admit his real reason and asked instead, “Did you eat yet?” If not, I’ll fry these and we can eat together.

But Ling Lie ruined the topic. He rubbed his stomach. “Had beef noodles downstairs.”

“…”

Ling Lie retreated to his room and shut the door.

Ji Chenjiao paced the kitchen and living room, getting hungrier. He’d waited over an hour for Ling Lie—and for this?

He stood outside Ling Lie’s door a few times but didn’t knock. He even considered going downstairs for noodles, but one look at the clams made him feel they’d go to waste.

Ling Lie, lounging in his lazy chair with a Switch, felt his phone buzz. Without looking, he smiled knowingly.

Little Young Master: [I don’t know how to cook clams. Come take a look? I bought your share.]

His bedroom door opened. Ling Lie rubbed his belly like he was full. “What lousy benefits your Major Crimes Unit has—not even a salary, and now I have to cook?”

Ji Chenjiao saw his smug face and got mad, but Ling Lie knew how to smooth things over. He whipped an apron off the wall. “Garlic or spicy?”

Ji Chenjiao swallowed his curses. “Garlic.”

“Got it!”

Cooking clams and scallops didn’t take long. Apart from peeling and chopping garlic, the other ingredients were ready. Ji Chenjiao sucked at cooking but could prep ingredients fine. He quickly peeled the garlic and waited for Ling Lie to take over.

Ten minutes later, a heaping plate of clams and scallops hit the table. Ling Lie pulled cold rice from the fridge and made two steaming bowls of garlic egg fried rice.

Ji Chenjiao: “Didn’t you eat already?”

Ling Lie: “Labor makes me hungry again.”

Ji Chenjiao realized—this jerk never ate beef noodles. He’d been waiting for this dinner invite. Why was Ji Chenjiao the only one awkward after their confession, while Ling Lie acted as shameless as ever? Their childhood didn’t weigh on him at all?

As they ate clams, both spoke at the same time:

“Where’d you go today?”

“Still no sign of Xu Jiajia?”

Typical cop talk—always circling back to cases. Ji Chenjiao shared the meeting updates: even after they announced finding Xu Yinyue’s remains, Xu Jiajia remained missing, likely silenced. But they had no clues of foul play, so maybe he’d uncovered some secret.

Ling Lie suddenly asked, “Any leads on the 4-2 case killer?”

Ji Chenjiao froze, brows knitting. The 4-2 case—the last unsolved piece of the recent string of murders. Who killed Liu Yixiang?

Liu Yixiang’s death kicked off the Xieyang Road murder cases and made Ling Lie a suspect. All the other killers were caught, but they still couldn’t confirm who murdered Liu Yixiang. This unanswered question hung like a dark cloud over the unit.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “You think Liu Yixiang’s case is tied to Xu Jiajia’s disappearance?”

Ling Lie sucked the sauce from a clam shell. “Not necessarily, but when weird things pile up, it’s hard not to connect them. Besides…” He gave Ji Chenjiao a deep look. “Maybe Liu Yixiang was targeting me, but Xu Jiajia was targeting you. Right?”

That touched on the past Ji Chenjiao didn’t want to mention. He grunted in reply.

Ling Lie: “Why are we being targeted?”

Ji Chenjiao thought of Ling Lie’s mysterious background. “That’s what I should ask you—who are you really?”

Ling Lie dropped a clam into Ji Chenjiao’s bowl. “Eat more, kid. You may be past your growth spurt, but with our good meals, maybe you’ll have a second one.”

Ji Chenjiao couldn’t help retorting, “What, I’ll shoot up to 1.9 meters?”

Ling Lie laughed. “Such a good boy. You actually believe me about growing again?”

“…”

After dinner, Ji Chenjiao said, “Actually, I suspected Xu Jiajia during the last case.”

“Oh?”

“The Cangshui Town case. With his keen news sense and supposed sense of justice, he should’ve hovered around it. But I never saw him on site, nor did he post videos. In hindsight, he was busy scaring Ji Nocheng and Zhou Yun. He was in Liyun City then.”

Ji Chenjiao said, “I’m going to Liyun City. Both Ji Nocheng and Xu Jiajia had contact with ‘Fuguang.’ Ji Nocheng couldn’t clearly explain how he got access to ‘Fuguang’—maybe there are clues at his home.”

This time Ling Lie had little to say. “Then go.”

Two days later, Ji Chenjiao set out for Liyun City with two team members. Ling Lie didn’t stay at the bureau either—there weren’t any cases demanding his attention for now, so he returned to his old ways, riding his bicycle around looking for odd jobs. Summer was the perfect season for street stalls. As long as one’s cooking wasn’t as terrible as Ji Chenjiao’s, setting up a pan was enough to make money.

Inspired by that clam dish from the other night, Ling Lie started selling marinated clams. He didn’t make a lot—just cooked however many he felt like, unintentionally creating a sense of scarcity. Soon, customers lined up in droves.

In the South District stood the luxurious Yuyong Yongge Hotel—reputedly the finest in Xiarong City—built with heavy investment from the wealthy Yu Corporation. But just across from its dazzling facade was a shabby little street, where Ling Lie’s humble stall stood. Every evening, countless people gathered there, holding five-yuan bowls of potatoes or three-yuan grilled tofu sheets, relishing the sweaty, greasy joy of post-work life.

A dish of these marinated clams, far removed from the Yuyong Yongge Hotel’s offerings, now sat on a suite’s table. Bai Lingxue had eaten only two before tossing them aside—just MSG and chili bean paste, no real flavor to speak of.

He was the one who had asked for them in the first place; “Nashen” had even queued up among scalpers to get them. Now he didn’t want them anymore. “Nashen” felt he should change his name—not “Nashen” (meaning “the sound of promise”) but “Confused.”

Not long ago, he had gone north to Feng City to investigate Wei Liang at Bai Lingxue’s request. Though Wei Liang wasn’t struggling for a living, he was scorned by his maternal relatives, given all the dirtiest, hardest tasks at their hotpot restaurant. He was living under great pressure and could easily snap and cause trouble again someday.

“Nashen” was unsure whether he should kill Wei Liang immediately. He’d worked under Bai Lingxue for years—every move Bai made had a purpose. But what purpose could killing a lowly pest like Wei Liang possibly serve?

While he was still hesitating, “Ehou” unexpectedly announced she was coming to Xiarong City to see Bai Lingxue. “Ehou” was vicious and moody—if she stirred up trouble, it’d be hard to contain. So “Nashen” put Wei Liang aside and rushed back. And his first assignment on return? Buy marinated clams.

When Bai Lingxue abandoned the clams, “Nashen” picked one up and popped it into his mouth. Not bad at all, he thought. But when he reached for another, Bai Lingxue said, “Those are for ‘Ehou.’ You sure you want to finish them?”

“Nashen” was so shocked he dropped the clam shell onto the floor. Had he heard right? These fifteen-yuan clams… were meant for Ehou? Was Mr. Bai deliberately trying to insult her?

Ehou—the second-in-command of the Yu family—practically nobility!

A low-key black sedan pulled into the underground garage of the Yuyong Yongge Hotel. A middle-aged woman in a tailored business skirt stepped out, escorted by bodyguards. Her short hair curled slightly, her skin naturally showing the looseness of age, the sagging corners of her eyes marked by time. She wore a priceless watch and jewelry but made no effort to preserve youth through cosmetic surgery or heavy makeup—her light foundation couldn’t conceal the wrinkles. This only made her seem more dignified and imperious.

When the door opened, “Nashen” greeted her: “President Yu.”

Yu Qin’s sharp gaze swept over him and landed on Bai Lingxue, who was brewing coffee at the bar. As the bodyguards prepared to follow, Yu Qin gently raised a hand—no need for them to accompany her.

This suite was unlike the other hotel rooms—permeated with personal touches. Bai Lingxue set down his cup and smiled. “Please, sit, President Yu.”

Yu Qin sat down and noticed the dish of marinated clams in the center of the coffee table. Bai Lingxue brought over a cup of coffee and laid out new tableware on a napkin. “Try some?”

Yu Qin asked, “From the hotel kitchen?”

The hotel kitchen was what she meant, never imagining Bai Lingxue would dare to serve her street food.

Bai Lingxue’s expression didn’t change. “A new recipe our chef has been working on.”

Yu Qin actually picked one up and tasted it, elegantly setting her chopsticks down. “I didn’t come to discuss food today.”

Bai Lingxue sipped his coffee. “Then what for?”

Yu Qin’s eagle eyes locked on him. “I want to meet the ‘Black Peacock.’”

Bai Lingxue raised an eyebrow. “Nashen” said, “President Yu, you know the ‘Black Peacock’ never enters the country.”

Yu Qin sneered. “The Yu Corporation has worked with you for years. I’d say we’ve been generous. Why—is meeting the head of ‘Fuguang’ such an impossible request?”

“You’re exaggerating,” Bai Lingxue replied. “Precisely because of our long cooperation, you should know—the organization operates worldwide. The ‘Black Peacock’ doesn’t interfere with domestic business. Whatever you want to discuss with him, you can discuss with me.”

Yu Qin snorted softly, eyeing Bai Lingxue again. He looked nothing like a criminal—more like an ivory-tower scholar obsessed with research. Yet his hands were stained with much blood, including that of many from the Yu family.

Bai Lingxue said, “If you truly refuse to deal with me, I can pass your message to the ‘Black Peacock.’ But whether he agrees to meet—that’s not up to me.”

Yu Qin fell silent for a long while. Then: “Tell him—I want to join ‘Fuguang.’”

The suite fell deathly quiet. After a moment, Bai Lingxue set his coffee cup down with a clear clink of porcelain.

Bai Lingxue said, “President Yu, you jest.”

Yu Qin spread her hands. “See? I say it, and you don’t believe it.”

Bai Lingxue’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s a poor joke.”

Yu Qin said, “It’s not a joke.”

Bai Lingxue sighed. “Do you even know what the organization does?”

“Of course.”

Half a minute later, Bai Lingxue said solemnly, “I will convey your message to the ‘Black Peacock.’”

They then discussed the Yu Corporation’s chairman, Yu Qianming, and the critical operations still under his control. Before leaving, Yu Qin said jokingly, “Gray Peacock—with all the secrets ‘Fuguang’ holds, aren’t you afraid of becoming someone else’s prey one day?”

Bai Lingxue smiled. “Thanks for the warning. We have a well-established risk defense system.”

“And the other way around?” Yu Qin’s gaze sharpened. “With all the power you hold—aren’t you tempted to replace him?”

Bai Lingxue’s expression didn’t flicker. “In society, everyone has their role. What isn’t mine, I don’t covet. What is mine—if someone wants it, they’ll have to pay the price.”

Yu Qin gave him a meaningful look and turned to leave.