After Tang Jie’s car left the parking lot, Jiang Chengyi started the engine and pulled out of the parking space.

On the way, Lu Yan gathered her thoughts and spoke first: “The reason I approached Liu Yulie tonight was because I knew she was Ding Jing’s best friend. I wanted to test if she had also heard about ‘Winter Solstice.’ From her reaction, she most likely knew about it and, like Ding Jing, was frightened by it. But for some reason, even though she sensed the danger, she deliberately kept it hidden.”

Jiang Chengyi remained silent, the atmosphere in the car so heavy it felt like a thunderstorm was brewing.

Lu Yan continued on her own: “Regarding tonight’s killer, I have several theories. First, when the incident occurred, Liu Yulie collapsed in the hallway in front of the small balcony, not far from Ding Jing’s bedroom. Because the room contained Ding Jing’s black and white photo, nobody except Ding Jing’s brother wanted to go near there tonight. In other words, that area was very secluded, but for some unknown reason, Liu Yulie not only went there away from the crowd but was also killed there.

“Second, judging from Liu Yulie’s symptoms, several minutes must have passed between her poisoning and when Ding’s younger brother found her. The killer could have easily used this time to leave calmly and blend back into the crowd.”

She was about to continue when Jiang Chengyi’s phone rang. Lu Yan looked at the screen—it was Old Qin.

Jiang Chengyi’s Bluetooth automatically connected, and he listened quietly to Old Qin for a while before responding: “No, that’s the wrong approach. The killer didn’t act on impulse—this was premeditated.”

Lu Yan showed surprise, and Old Qin seemed equally shocked.

After Old Qin spoke again, Jiang Chengyi said: “The syringe was found in the bushes below, probably thrown from the balcony after the killer attacked Liu Yulie. Looking at tonight’s method, the killer is very intelligent, not impulsive. Choosing to act in a crowded place was deliberate—first because thorough preparations were made, and second, because it was intentional. In other words, they’re fucking taunting us.”

Taunting? Something resonated in Lu Yan’s mind like a plucked string. Almost everyone at tonight’s gathering knew Jiang Chengyi was a criminal investigator. Despite this, the killer deliberately chose such an occasion to strike—it was obvious who they were trying to provoke.

Jiang Chengyi continued: “Liu Yulie has been sent to First Affiliated Hospital’s ICU. She must know some crucial information. I’ve already had Xiao Zhou stationed there—as soon as Liu Yulie’s condition improves, Xiao Zhou will call me immediately.”

After hanging up, Jiang Chengyi fell silent again.

Lu Yan watched him quietly before speaking: “There’s something I’m not sure is related to the case, but because it involves my colleague Wang Qianqian, I think I should tell you. During my night shift yesterday, I heard two other colleagues talking about how Wang Qianqian had accessed a website before she died—some kind of Tarot card divination site. Users could draw cards after entering their details. There was one card with an extremely low probability of being drawn, but if you got it, you could make a wish. It sounds absurd, but for some reason, Wang Qianqian seemed to believe in it.”

Jiang Chengyi still didn’t respond, but Lu Yan knew he was listening, so she continued: “This website was recommended to Wang Qianqian by a classmate from B City. Her classmate should also be a medical worker. I can’t help feeling that Wang Qianqian’s belief in the website’s nonsense had a lot to do with this classmate from B City.”

Jiang Chengyi’s gaze flickered slightly as he picked up his phone to call Xiao Zhou.

Once connected, he said: “Xiao Zhou, check that strangulation case in B City—yes, the one with details similar to Wang Qianqian and Ding Jing’s cases. The victim was also a nurse. See which school she graduated from, and if she was Wang Qianqian’s classmate.”

Lu Yan was secretly startled.

A minute later, Xiao Zhou called back. After listening, Jiang Chengyi said: “Understood. Tomorrow at the bureau, check Wang Qianqian’s computer for search history from the past year.”

Lu Yan’s heart leaped as she held her breath and asked: “Was the B City victim… Wang Qianqian’s classmate?”

Jiang Chengyi didn’t nod, but he didn’t seem to deny it either.

Lu Yan’s mind exploded into whiteness. After a long while, she was still dazed: How could it be? Wang Qianqian’s classmate was also killed? Was it a coincidence, or was it related to that Tarot card website?

She recalled the chat messages in their group. More than one colleague had mentioned Wang Qianqian’s strange mood before her wedding. Combining this with the news she’d just heard, she suddenly had a theory: Had Wang Qianqian learned about her B City classmate’s death and feared she might be next, leading to her paranoia?

But why would a wish-granting website cause Wang Qianqian to make such an eerie connection? Were there specific details when making wishes that could have alerted Wang Qianqian to danger afterward?

At home, Jiang Chengyi went to the kitchen with a stern face to get water.

Lu Yan stood in the entryway, watching him.

Though Jiang Chengyi had been quiet for the past few days, tonight’s mood was worse than ever before.

That atmosphere of an impending storm hung heavily overhead.

Recognizing this wasn’t a good time for communication, she quietly followed behind him and headed toward her room.

Just as she was about to push open her door, she remembered earlier events and, after hesitating, took the tie from her bag and called out to him: “Jiang Chengyi—”

Those three syllables were like triggering a switch. As soon as they left her mouth, Jiang Chengyi, as if stimulated by something, suddenly turned and pushed her against the wall: “Lu Yan!”

Lu Yan was caught off guard and froze.

His force wasn’t strong at all, but the anger in his eyes was very real, like long-suppressed hail carrying countless sharp ice shards, striking her face with dense, stinging pain.

She used all her strength to control her emotions: “Jiang Chengyi.”

“Shut up.” Jiang Chengyi stared at her, enunciating each word: “I don’t want to hear you speak tonight.”

With that, he abruptly released her and slammed the door shut.

Lu Yan remained in the hallway, staring at the closed door before her for a long while before returning to her room.

Setting down her bag, she suppressed the urge to break down crying and lay on her bed fully clothed, utterly exhausted.

Those two sentences from Deng Man’s diary that Tang Jie mentioned earlier—she not only remembered them but knew them by heart.

Yet even so, after eight years, she still hadn’t reached the edge of the truth.

She’d read somewhere that “happiness shortens time while suffering lengthens it.”

For her, the memories of before and after Deng Man’s incident were particularly long and bitter.

In search of the truth, she had spent years sifting through her memories like picking through riverbed pebbles, over and over. But no matter how much she recalled, the most striking memory was still that time she caught Deng Man looking for Jiang Chengyi outside the basketball gym.

It was a few days before the college entrance exam. She had arranged to meet Jiang Chengyi behind the gym, but just as she was about to leave, Teacher Zhou called her to the office for a talk.

Teacher Zhou asked about her college application plans and gave her some advice about managing exam stress, speaking kindly for quite a while before letting her go, which made her ten minutes late for the meeting.

When she reached the back of the gym, she saw Deng Man standing before Jiang Chengyi from afar. Jiang Chengyi looked somewhat puzzled, watching Deng Man impassively.

Deng Man kept her head down, her face flushed red.

Upon seeing Lu Yan approach, a flash of panic crossed Deng Man’s face, and she turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Lu Yan called out twice, but Deng Man only ran faster. Not understanding, she approached Jiang Chengyi and asked in confusion: “What’s up with Deng Man? Why did she run as soon as I came? What was she saying to you?”

Jiang Chengyi watched Deng Man’s retreating figure thoughtfully and said: “She just said she had something to tell me. I thought you’d sent her with a message, so I came out, but she just stood there without saying anything.”

Thinking of this, Lu Yan’s head suddenly began to throb violently. Eight years ago, she and Jiang Chengyi seemed to be in a fog, led by an invisible rope, step by step into the wrong corner.

“No, I shouldn’t be so selfish, I shouldn’t betray friendship.”

She closed her eyes, repeatedly turning over these words from the diary, and after a long while, let out a sardonic sigh before getting up to take a shower.

Although he had yelled at Lu Yan, Jiang Chengyi still couldn’t suppress his anger. As soon as he entered his room, he took off his suit jacket and threw it onto the bed.

He should have gone straight to shower and sleep, but standing inside his door, hearing the silence in the hallway, he suppressed the urge to walk away.

He waited half a minute—no, at most ten seconds—before hearing the door close across the hall.

He froze. Good, no knocking, not even a word of explanation. Although he’d long known things weren’t that simple, it had been eight years, and this woman still owed him an explanation.

He unbuttoned his shirt and went to shower, forcefully suppressing his anger.

After showering, he collapsed onto the bed, forcing himself not to think about anything related to Lu Yan, and squeezed his eyes shut.

The day had been exhausting, and despite his pent-up anger, he quickly fell asleep.

Somehow he found himself in a spacious, clean room. Outside was lush greenery, and the sunlight was bright and piercing—a summer scene.

Beneath him was a face covered in a sheen of sweat.

Though his vision was somewhat hazy, he could still see her black hair sticking to her fair, smooth forehead, her cheeks like wind-blown flower buds, flushed with peach blossom color.

With each of his thrusts, her gaze became more unfocused, like a spring pond full of water, rippling in circles.

He caught her every subtle expression, his heart stirring more with each look. He lowered his head, wanting to kiss her lips.

But his vision blurred, and suddenly he was in the outside hallway, glaring at her angrily. Though he maintained a very cold demeanor, she didn’t retreat at all, instead reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to kiss him proactively, just like how she used to smile and throw herself into his arms every time they met long ago.

He was extremely repulsed yet allowed her to come closer. Just as her warm breath brushed his face, he suddenly remembered how she had given Liu Yulie mouth-to-mouth resuscitation earlier and quickly pushed her away.

He didn’t want his lips carrying another woman’s breath.

She looked hurt and was about to say something, but just then, the phone rang.

Out of professional habit, his consciousness immediately pulled away.

It must have been morning. Opening his eyes to see sunlight filtering through the curtains, he ignored the peculiar sensation in a certain part of his body and reached for the phone, his voice very hoarse: “Hello.”

He heard Xiao Zhou saying on the other end: “Captain Jiang, Liu Yulie is awake.”