“Shi Ting, look — this passage lists the major wealthy households in Zhiqing County at the time, saying these families had accumulated wealth that could rival the national treasury. As it happens, among these wealthy households, there are exactly the surnames Chen and Xu. Could it be a coincidence?”

“I hadn’t noticed that.” Shi Ting took the small booklet. It listed four major wealthy households of Zhiqing County: Chen, Xu, Qiao, and Liang.

The surnames Chen and Xu were exactly the surnames from the two massacre cases.

“The only problem is that the people of Zhiqing County have long scattered to all parts of the country. The Chen Family came to Shun Cheng, and the Xu Family went to Wenshan County. We still don’t know where the Qiao and Liang families ended up — or perhaps they perished in the chaos of war and the fire. If we could find survivors from Zhiqing County, we might be able to find more clues.”

“It seems we need to find a way to draw out a few people from Zhiqing County.” Shi Ting thought for a moment, then suddenly ruffled Yan Qing’s hair.

Yan Qing, ruffled without warning, immediately shot him an indignant look. “What are you doing?”

Shi Ting smiled. “Nothing — just wanted to ruffle it.”

He leaned his nose close and gave her hair a light sniff. “What did you wash your hair with? It smells wonderful.”

“Jing Zhi added jasmine essential oil to the rinse water.”

“No wonder.” With an air of contentment, he gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Just as he was about to lean in further, Yan Qing quickly held up the booklet between them. “You still haven’t told me — what are you giving Zheng Yun for his birthday?”

“Two days off.”

Yan Qing: “……”

Quite the generous superior.

Regarding Zheng Yun’s birthday, Yan Qing had casually mentioned it to Ling Ai when she came over to play.

“Zheng Yun is having a birthday?” Ling Ai had been about to step up to the pavilion to play chess when she stopped at these words.

“Shi Ting asked me to prepare a gift, and I’m still at a loss about it.”

Yan Qing climbed the steps and sat down in the pavilion, the faint sound of flowing water drifting over from the small stream nearby.

“Hey — didn’t you come to play chess? Why are you dithering?” Yan Qing beckoned at Ling Ai, still standing at the foot of the steps. “Afraid of getting lost?”

Ling Ai then hurried up. “Coming.”

Yan Qing didn’t know how to play this particular style of chess, so she had taught Ling Ai five-in-a-row instead. They had only played a few rounds, and Ling Ai kept losing — clearly her mind was elsewhere.

Yan Qing knew what she was thinking, but said nothing to expose it. Instead she leisurely collected the chess pieces, preparing to start another round.

“Yan Qing.” Ling Ai finally couldn’t contain herself, setting down her piece. “Do you think Zheng Yun would invite me?”

“Bai Jin is the one hosting it — Bai Jin did all the inviting.”

“Ah, I see.” Ling Ai’s face showed evident disappointment.

“But if you want to go, I can take you along.”

“Nobody invited me — why would I go? I’m not doing that.” Ling Ai pouted. She did have her pride.

As it turned out, on the day of Zheng Yun’s birthday, Ling Ai’s own words came back to slap her in the face.

They hadn’t even reached Zheng Yun’s front gate when she ducked behind Yan Qing: “Do you think it’s really appropriate for me to come?”

“Don’t you know Bai Jin too? What’s inappropriate about it? Besides, you brought a gift — it’s not as if you’re there for a free meal.” Yan Qing gave her a wink. “And besides, friends are made by reaching out. If you don’t make the first move, will they just fall from the sky?”

“I just feel that Zheng Yun is a very decent person, and I’d like to be friends with him.”

Yan Qing stifled a laugh. Needing to be this eager just to make a friend? That could only be called a young woman’s heart awakening to something more — even if she herself hadn’t realized it yet.

Two police cars were parked outside Zheng Yun’s gate, which stood half open. Before they had even gotten close, the noise from inside was already audible.

Yan Qing knocked at the gate. It was Bai Jin who opened it.

“Oh, sister-in-law is here.” Bai Jin grinned broadly, showing a row of white teeth, and quickly noticed Ling Ai half-shrinking behind Yan Qing.

“Isn’t this Miss Ling Ai?” Bai Jin recognized her instantly. “Distinguished guest, welcome, welcome!”

Ling Ai hadn’t expected Bai Jin to be so warm, and the awkwardness she’d felt coming in immediately dissolved by half. She hurried to greet him. “Hello, Bai Jin.”

“Come in, come in — the Seventh Brother and the others have been here a while.”

Zheng Yun’s home was small, and at the moment it was packed with noise and bustle.

Three tables had been set up in the courtyard in the middle, each laid with cold dishes.

Bursts of laughter rang out from inside the house — the military police staff were clearly playing cards in there.

When Yan Qing stepped in, Shi Ting was playing mahjong at one of the tables with Shi Cheng, Gu Zhen, and E’Yuan.

Yuan Hang stood by watching, and Gu Zhen kept consulting him from time to time.

E’Yuan called out, “Bai Jin, you can’t keep asking Captain Yuan anymore — that’s cheating, and everyone knows it. Captain Yuan only needs to arrange the tiles himself once to know where every tile is. So he can see exactly what’s in your hand. Yuan Hang wiped his nose with some chagrin, feeling quite wronged. “I’m not even supposed to be in your game, can’t you just let me not remember? Would it kill you?”

“No chance.” E’Yuan waved him off dismissively. “We mere mortals don’t play cards with immortals.”

Shi Ting was in the middle of sorting his tiles. Perhaps sensing a familiar presence, he looked up — and seeing it was Yan Qing, the corner of his lips lifted with a faint smile.

Seeing their Director’s expression shift like that, everyone knew Yan Qing had arrived.

“Sister-in-law.”

“Greetings, Shifu.”

Everyone offered their greetings.

Yan Qing smiled. “Keep playing — I’m just here to watch.”

She turned to Ling Ai beside her. “Go give your gift to Zheng Yun.”

“By myself?”

“I want to watch Shi Ting play mahjong. Go by yourself.” Yan Qing gave her a gentle push. “Are you afraid of getting lost?”

Yan Qing paid her no further attention and went to sit beside Shi Ting, focusing intently on watching him play.

Ling Ai had no choice but to carry her gift box off in search of Zheng Yun.

Zheng Yun wasn’t in the courtyard — probably over by the kitchen. She followed the smell and found her way there.

Before she even arrived, Ling Ai heard the sound of a bright, tinkling laugh from the kitchen: “That case you cracked last time was the most interesting one — there was a snowstorm that day, wasn’t it…”

Ling Ai peered through the kitchen window and saw a young woman in a Western-style little sundress talking with Zheng Yun. The girl was quite delicate-looking, with a pair of eyes as bright and clear as stars, and when she spoke, two small dimples appeared in her cheeks.

Zheng Yun was washing cups in the basin, listening to her talk. When she got to something amusing, he would give a quiet laugh.

In all the times Ling Ai had seen Zheng Yun, he had always worn a cold expression. Had she not been naturally resistant to cold weather herself, she would probably have been frozen to death by that icy face long ago.

But this Zheng Yun before her now had shed his coldness and taken on a more relaxed, approachable quality — almost domestic in its ease.

She found herself studying the girl again, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt that the scene before her was very warm and tender — she almost didn’t want to disturb it.

Just as Ling Ai was about to turn and leave, her foot produced a sharp creak from the ground — a dry twig that had fallen from a tree, snapped cleanly in two beneath her step.

She thought Zheng Yun wouldn’t hear it, but his voice reached her immediately: “Who’s there?”

Knowing there was no way to slip away unnoticed, Ling Ai could only cough awkwardly. “Zheng — Captain Zheng.”

Recognizing Ling Ai’s voice, Zheng Yun seemed somewhat puzzled — how had she ended up here?

“I’ll step outside for a moment.” Zheng Yun set down the cup in his hand, dried his hands, and walked out.

Seeing Zheng Yun cover the distance in just a few steps to stand before her, Ling Ai flushed crimson right to the roots of her ears. Her hands clasped behind her back, she wished she could dig a hole and bury herself in it.

“Did you come with sister-in-law?” Zheng Yun didn’t ask why she had come uninvited; instead he found a lighter way to put it.

“Yes.” Ling Ai looked down at her own feet, her earlobes burning. “I heard today was your birthday, and I wanted to bring you a gift — to thank you for getting my bag back that time.”

“You already thanked me for that. The red berry wine you sent — it’ll be ready to drink in another month.”

His voice was mellow, carrying a faint resonance without being the kind that held people at arm’s length. It actually rather contrasted with his cool and distant image.

“Is it already fermenting?” Perhaps because of his voice, some of the awkwardness in Ling Ai’s heart began to ease.

“It is.”

Ling Ai thought for a moment, then held out the box she had kept clasped behind her back. “This is for you — happy birthday.”

Zheng Yun took it and opened the box right there in front of her. Inside was a pair of leather half-finger gloves.

A puzzled look appeared in his eyes. It wasn’t winter — why was she giving him gloves, and this style that left half the fingers exposed at that?

Ling Ai quickly explained: “I noticed the long-handled spear you often practice with — the shaft is already worn from use. These gloves are very durable and fit closely to the palm. If you wear them next time you practice, not only will your hands not get rubbed raw, but the friction they provide will also let you grip the shaft more firmly.”

Ah, so that was it.

Zheng Yun snapped the lid shut and said with genuine feeling: “Thank you — I like them very much.”

“I’m glad you like them. Then — then I’ll be going.”

Ling Ai finished speaking and turned to flee as fast as she could.

“Captain Zheng, who is this?”

That same clear voice rang out again, pulling Ling Ai’s feet to a stop.

“This is Miss Ling Ai — sister-in-law’s friend.” Zheng Yun made the introduction.

“So you’re Ling Ai — I’ve heard Yan Qing mention you.” The tall young woman walked over and held out her hand with a warm, friendly smile. “I’m Qiao Yiran, a reporter at the newspaper.”

Qiao Yiran?

Ling Ai knew of Qiao Yiran also through Yan Qing — after all, she was one of the very few friends Yan Qing had.

“Hello.” Ling Ai promptly shook her hand and offered a sweet smile.

“Were you leaving?”

“Yes, I’ve already delivered the gift…”  Ling Ai wasn’t sure what she was saying anymore; her words were getting jumbled.

“Stay and eat.” Zheng Yun looked at the flushed and flustered Ling Ai and, unable to bear watching her like this, said: “Since you’re already here, stay for the meal.”

“That’s right — once you’re here, you’re not allowed to leave.” Qiao Yiran stepped forward and linked her arm through Ling Ai’s. “Yan Qing is here too — let’s go find her together.”