Four servings were still too much for two people. The leftovers were packed into two containers by Ling Lie.

When they reached the roadside, Ling Lie headed toward the residential compound, while Ji Chenjiao went to the municipal bureau. Just before parting ways, Ling Lie asked, “Are you still working on the case?”

Even detectives needed rest, and technically there was no need for overtime tonight. But Ji Chenjiao had a case in hand—he wasn’t the type to rest before solving it. “Mm.”

Ling Lie asked again, “Heading to Shenggui Bridge?”

Ji Chenjiao said, “You checking the household registry?”

“I just want a ride,” Ling Lie replied. “These roses will wilt if I don’t sell them soon. You refuse to buy, so I have to walk around the old town. If not Shenggui Bridge, there are other streets.”

A non-police vehicle stopped at the entrance to Shenggui Bridge Street. Ling Lie got out before Ji Chenjiao, carrying bags on his shoulders and in his hands, looking as though he were bearing the weight of life itself.

Ji Chenjiao gave him a glance. “Still putting on a show?”

Ling Lie said calmly, “I really am here to set up a stall.”

“You should’ve gotten out one intersection earlier if you were.”

Without hesitation, Ling Lie shoved the two bags back into the car but kept his basket on his back. “I’ll sell as many flowers as I can.”

Some businesses near Shenggui Bridge were still operating, but business had drastically declined since the murder. Ji Chenjiao walked into a narrow alley that led to the river.

The police tape fluttered in the river breeze, as if telling a story no one knew.

Ling Lie followed Ji Chenjiao at a not-too-close, not-too-far distance—just enough to look sneaky. But Ji Chenjiao wasn’t worried. Someone with Ling Lie’s build couldn’t do much harm to him. If he wanted to tag along, so be it.

“Bet this isn’t the first time something’s happened here, huh?” Ling Lie suddenly said.

Ji Chenjiao turned. “Hm?”

“Don’t you watch the news, Captain Ji? Secluded paths in bustling areas like this are the most dangerous for women. They don’t usually go to truly remote places at night, but spots that look safe—like this—they get attacked jogging or walking home late.”

Ji Chenjiao said, “But the victim was male.”

Ling Lie shook his head. “But when I first set up my stall here, I overheard vendors talking—said there were often punks harassing young girls here. Caused trouble more than once.”

This was information the Major Crimes Unit hadn’t yet learned. Ji Chenjiao asked, “Anything else you heard?”

Ling Lie grinned slyly. “Ooh, am I providing a major clue now?”

Ji Chenjiao played along. “Yes, clever little Xia Xiaodou.”

“…,” muttered Ling Lie.

He cleared his throat and continued, “Seems like people around here weren’t too surprised something happened. They all said it was bound to happen sooner or later—but they didn’t expect the victim to be a man.”

The police had to work with facts, but the public didn’t. Upon hearing about an incident, they would immediately start speculating based on their own assumptions.

Since the victim’s identity was clear, the Major Crimes Unit couldn’t go down the “women alone at night” line of reasoning. But the public didn’t care about such details. Knowing there had been past harassment of women in the area, they’d instantly assume the victim was a late-night woman walker.

The seemingly unrelated clue got Ji Chenjiao thinking.

Seeing his silence, Ling Lie pulled out his phone and showed him news from other provinces. “See? Several cases this year of girls killed while out alone at night.”

Ji Chenjiao knew logically that Wei Xuyan’s death had nothing to do with the broader dangers women faced in society. But receiving this kind of clue—he couldn’t ignore it either.

He turned it over in his mind. Still no breakthrough.

“Achoo—” Ling Lie rubbed his nose. “Captain Ji, show some compassion and buy my flowers? Otherwise, who knows how long I’ll be stuck selling them.”

Ji Chenjiao usually liked thinking at the scene, and tonight’s visit had given him plenty to ponder. He turned to leave.

Back on the main street of Shenggui Bridge, foot traffic was sparse. Because of the lack of customers, most vendors had packed up—Ling Lie was the only flower-seller left. On the way to the parked car, he actually managed to sell three roses.

A pair of girls passing by whispered, “That guy’s dressed so weirdly. So young, and he’s carrying a basket like a grandpa.”

Getting in the car, Ling Lie sighed. “Still didn’t sell them all. Life’s tough for us little folks.”

“Who are you mocking now?” Ji Chenjiao had meant to tease him, but when he looked back, he saw Ling Lie’s red nose and cheeks.

A moment of distraction. Ji Chenjiao asked, “How much for the rest?”

Never one to miss a sale, Ling Lie quickly replied, “Original price: 999! Special deal for you: 99!”

It was the first time Ji Chenjiao had ever received roses—and it was via hard sell.

The roses were of the cheapest variety, battered by a full day in Ling Lie’s basket, withered at the edges like they’d been through a storm.

Just picturing Ling Lie shouting “Nine ninety-nine!” made Ji Chenjiao feel thoroughly ripped off.

Back home, even though he disliked the roses, Ji Chenjiao figured: since he bought them, might as well use them. He found three large vases, arranged the roses, and placed them in the living room, study, and… his bedroom.

Ling Lie had already gone to sleep in the guest room. Ji Chenjiao lay awake thinking about the case. With the faint scent of flowers in the air and the shadow of the roses on the windowsill, he suddenly zoned out and began searching on his phone: how to make fresh flowers last longer. Seeing suggestions for flower food, he ordered some—then realized he must’ve lost his mind.

At dawn, the city moat gleamed under the morning sun. The Major Crimes Unit began a new round of investigation.

The diving team retrieved a sharp spike from the water. After comparing with the wounds, it was confirmed as the murder weapon that had pierced Wei Xuyan’s back. Broken beer bottles were also found on the riverbed. The killer had discarded the evidence after the murder, and the spike had separated from the body due to decomposition and water flow.

No fingerprints were found on the beer bottles or the spike. But Shen Qi discovered through purchase records that the spike had been bought by Wei Xuyan himself—on March 19 this year.

Whether he bought it with intent to harm was unclear. But Zhong Cheng had indeed been continuously “harassing” him. The spike might’ve been intended for dealing with Zhong Cheng—yet it ended up piercing himself.

Meanwhile, surveillance footage from Shenggui Bridge and nearby shops revealed that Wei Xuyan often came to the area at night for snacks and drinks—sometimes with colleagues, sometimes alone.

If this mysterious third person existed, what kind of conflict did they have with Wei Xuyan?

Liang Wenxian handed Ji Chenjiao a boxed meal. “Eat first.”

Ji Chenjiao was still staring at the surveillance footage. “The 22nd wasn’t the first time Wei Xuyan went to the river. He entered this alley several times. It only leads to the river. What was he doing there?”

The alley in question was the same one Ji Chenjiao and Ling Lie had visited. Surveillance only covered the main street—not the alley beyond.

“Getting fresh air? Reflecting on life?” Liang Wenxian joked, opening the box and splitting the chopsticks for him.

“It was Wei Xuyan who led Zhong Cheng to the river—he knew the area better,” Ji Chenjiao said while stirring his food. “So even though Zhong Cheng is the prime suspect, his account has credibility.”

“I also believe one thing Zhong Cheng said,” Liang Wenxian added. “That Wei Xuyan was trying to kill him. But whether Zhong Cheng ended up killing him in self-defense—or if there was a third party—we have no proof yet.”

“One thing feels off,” Ji Chenjiao said. “Zhong Cheng has clear motive to kill Wei Xuyan. But Wei Xuyan’s motive for killing Zhong Cheng isn’t that strong. He’s a businessman, always profit-driven. Killing Zhong Cheng gains him nothing. He could’ve kept milking him for articles or money.”

“So that just proves Zhong Cheng made up the whole thing—that Wei Xuyan tried to kill him,” Liang countered.

Ji Chenjiao ate in silence, then finally said, “There’s more to Wei Xuyan than we know. Judging from his usual behavior, it’s hard to believe he’d try to kill Zhong Cheng. But he did bring a spike—and chose Shenggui Bridge, a place he knew well. Maybe he already had violent tendencies.”

Liang Wenxian caught the implication. “But his original target might not have been Zhong Cheng?”

Ji Chenjiao nodded. “Last night, I went to the river again with Ling Lie. He mentioned a detail—that several women had been harassed there before. Based on the footage, every time Wei Xuyan went through the alley, he was alone. Combined with the harassment, is it possible his intentions were related to women?”

Liang Wenxian paused. “You mean… Wei Xuyan was harassing women? But how does that connect to the case?”

“Maybe it doesn’t,” Ji Chenjiao said. “But if he had a history of this behavior, it explains the violent impulse.” He tossed the meal box away. “Check this angle in the investigation. Have Shen Qi look into the kind of social news Wei Xuyan browsed. Also, as for the harassment incidents at Shenggui Bridge… forget it. I’ll take a team to look into it.”

When Shen Qi got the assignment, he was puzzled. “Does brother think if Wei Xuyan harassed some girls, they might’ve sought revenge? That doesn’t make sense. All signs still point to Zhong Cheng.”

Liang Wenxian smiled. “Why are you questioning the guy you admire so much?”

“The more you admire someone, the more you should stay critical. Otherwise, I’m just a fanboy.” Shen Qi said, “There’s no record of Wei Xuyan ever being reported for harassment. So even if he did do it, none of the victims came forward. If they’re the kind of people who wouldn’t speak up… would they be the type to kill someone?”

He had a point, but Liang Wenxian still gave him a swat to the back of the head. “Less talk. If your brother comes back asking for results and you’ve got nothing, don’t come crying to me.”

“When did I ever act pitiful…” Shen Qi muttered as he buckled down to work.

Ji Chenjiao thought that since Xi Wan was a woman, it would be more appropriate for her to inquire about the harassment cases, so he gave her a call and asked her to come to Shenggui Bridge.

During the day, Shenggui Bridge was even quieter than at night. Ji Chenjiao spotted Ling Lie again.

Although Ling Lie kept complaining that business at Shenggui Bridge was bad, he had set up his stall right next to the bus stop. He wore a sign with a QR code on his chest, handing out free gifts alongside four others.

His prizes were the least attractive, yet he had the largest crowd around him.

These days, good looks often meant better sales.

Ji Chenjiao walked over, and Ling Lie actually pretended not to know him. “Sir, would you like to scan the code? Offline promotion from an e-commerce platform—scan for a free gift!”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

Ling Lie beamed with a “professional” smile. “You’re so handsome—I’ll give you two gifts if you scan!”

Ji Chenjiao couldn’t help laughing. He knew Ling Lie was here for the case too. He took the little gift but deliberately didn’t scan the code, waved his hand, and walked off.

Ling Lie switched the balloon to the other hand and chased after him with the QR code. “Handsome guy, scan it!”

Ji Chenjiao didn’t even look back.

“Stingy,” Ling Lie muttered toward his back, then turned to the passersby. “Scan the code for a gift…”

Ji Chenjiao and Xi Wan split up. Xi Wan inquired with local shop owners about the harassment incidents, while Ji Chenjiao went straight to the local police station to check the report records.

The community police officer didn’t dare be careless. Not only did he find the records, he also shared everything he knew.

“There have been occasional harassment cases around here, Captain Ji. As you know, this area doesn’t have any parks or running trails, and definitely no sports fields. Young people who want to jog morning or night—other than going to the gym—can only run along the river.

“We’ve received three reports. Only one case ended in detainment—the guy who caused the disturbance got held for a few days. That’s because the girl he harassed practiced taekwondo and dragged him here herself.”

Ji Chenjiao checked. It wasn’t Wei Xuyan.

The officer looked a bit awkward. “The others weren’t due to negligence. The girls were panicked when reporting, couldn’t describe the harasser’s appearance clearly—just said it was a man. We checked the surveillance footage and conducted visits, but couldn’t find the person.”

“Besides, harassment is hard to define. The girl says he harassed her, he claims he was just passing by. If there was no physical contact, we can’t really detain him…”

Ji Chenjiao asked for the contact info of the three women and visited them one by one.

The girl trained in self-defense was named Xiao Li. She worked at a law firm in the old city district, with a busy schedule. By the time she got off work, the gym was already closed, so night running was her way to de-stress.

“I’ve been harassed more than once,” Xiao Li said with disdain. “That time I just couldn’t hold it in anymore and fought back. Those men are the worst—cowards and perverts. When they can’t win, they get all dark and twisted inside.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “What exactly did they do?”

“Oh, they just follow you. Usually don’t dare to touch you, but they say disgusting things. Sometimes it’s one guy, sometimes a group. The group ones are the worst, like a swarm of flies. They shout stuff like ‘hey beautiful,’ talk about se-x, threaten you, whistle, and laugh in creepy tones.”

“As women, we’re scared when that happens. But reporting it is useless because they don’t actually touch us. Cops ask questions, and the guys just say we overreacted. But emotional harm isn’t harm?”

“If I didn’t know self-defense, I’d be scared too. That perv only admitted to following me because I scared him. Imagine if it were a woman who couldn’t fight back?”

It was the first time Ji Chenjiao truly paid attention to the issue of harassment against women walking alone. “The harassment you encountered—was it all verbal? Is this common?”

Xiao Li sighed. “As far as I know, it’s very common. These creepy guys are mostly gutless. They seek thrills, get a sense of power from their words.”

People who are straightforward and honest often can’t comprehend the mentality of rot. Ji Chenjiao frowned, almost talking to himself, “What are they getting out of it?”

“Who knows?” Xiao Li sneered. “Their lives are miserable, so they seek dominance over seemingly vulnerable women. Our fear and panic excites those worms.”

Afterward, Ji Chenjiao visited the other two reporters. Like Xiao Li, they hadn’t been physically harmed, but the fear cast a long shadow over their nights.

One of them said that when she screamed in fear, her stalker laughed maniacally.

That confirmed what Xiao Li said about them getting “excited.”

These women were already the most courageous of the victims—those who dared report. From Xi Wan’s investigation, most women chose to downplay the incidents and simply avoided walking by the river again.

Xi Wan showed a photo of Wei Xuyan to the victims. One of them, Ms. Quan, said uncertainly, “I think he’s the one who harassed me.”

Ms. Quan, 25, worked for a video platform. Because of her job, she got off work after midnight for at least a third of the year.

She was a local of Xiarong City, living with her parents in an old apartment complex across from the commercial street. Her family wasn’t wealthy, and she didn’t own a car. Though her company provided a taxi subsidy for late shifts, she always tried to save the money and took the night bus home.

Between the bus stop and home was a significant walk. After midnight, a gate in the commercial street closed, forcing her to take a long detour. To save time, she sometimes passed by the river.

Walking alone late at night by a poorly lit riverbank, she had always been afraid—but didn’t want to trouble her parents to pick her up.

In the previous two years, nothing ever happened along that path, so her courage grew. But this year, when the night shifts resumed, she experienced something she wished she could forget.

That night, she was walking quickly along the river when someone suddenly jumped out of the bushes.

“Yaho——!” the man screamed.

She nearly went into cardiac arrest. Her mind blanked until he added, “What a coincidence! You heading home too? Let’s walk together.”

She snapped back to reality and bolted.

The man chased after her, his footsteps like death closing in. She thought hopelessly, I’m done for.

He was about 5’10”, face twisted. From the way he jumped out of the bushes, he clearly wasn’t clumsy.

She, on the other hand, was out of shape and in heels—there was no way she could outrun him.

But for some reason, he didn’t catch her. Instead, he toyed with her, like a cat playing with a mouse—getting closer, then pulling back.

“Hey babe, why’re you running? I’m not a bad guy, okay? I’m scared too, walking alone at night. Let’s stick together!”

“It’s so dark here. What if I r*ped you and threw you in the river? No one would ever find you.”

“Wait—you’re not seriously scared I’ll r*pe you, are you? Stop running or I won’t be able to hold back…”

The more he spoke, the more outrageous it got. He sounded like he was joking—but the tone was sinister and threatening. Ms. Quan couldn’t think—just ran for her life.

She finally reached the main road. Looking back, the man hadn’t followed. But she saw him—still hiding in the shadows.

She didn’t dare tell her parents, afraid they’d worry. She confided only in female colleagues who also worked late. Though none had experienced something so terrifying, all had walked home alone and could deeply relate.

They advised her not to report it. Incidents like this were too common, the man hadn’t hurt her, and the police wouldn’t take it seriously. Even if they did, he’d be detained for a few days—and she’d be marked forever.

After that, Ms. Quan never took the riverside route again. She either took the long way or spent the extra money for a cab.

Xi Wan showed her a few more videos of Wei Xuyan. Ms. Quan was about 90% certain. “I think it was him. He was killed?”

Xi Wan took the opportunity to ask, “What do you think the reason might be?”

Seeing that the officer across from her was a woman—and a confident, competent-looking one at that—Ms. Quan’s fear and nervousness eased a bit. “Can I say that I’m glad he’s dead?”

Xi Wan gently encouraged her, “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay to share it with me. I’m also a woman. I understand your pain.”

“I… I don’t know,” Ms. Quan said, head lowered. “After calming down and thinking about it, I felt like that man didn’t actually intend to hurt me—otherwise, he could’ve caught me easily. What he enjoyed was my fear. He’d rehearsed those words. He knew exactly how to scare a girl walking alone at night. And we had no way to stop him.”

“Someone like that… he definitely didn’t do it just once. He was way too practiced when he harassed me. I’m sure there were victims before and after me.” She paused for a long time, steadying the fear that had resurfaced. “Words can’t express how I felt in that moment. Only those who’ve lived it understand.”

“I can imagine,” Xi Wan said softly.

“I’ve walked alone at night for two years, I’m sort of used to it. So maybe this didn’t traumatize me the most.” Ms. Quan went on, “I think there are victims who suffered more than I did. But…”

She clenched the fabric of her pants. “If that man was killed because of this… then he deserved it. I don’t want the person who killed him to suffer the consequences.”

And with that, another thread emerged in Wei Xuyan’s web of connections—his darkest side now exposed.

Still, compared to the copyright fraud angle, the possibility of female revenge remained slim, with almost no supporting evidence.