At first, Rong Qian thought she’d been mistaken — but when she ran to her room and fetched the photograph for comparison, she confirmed without a doubt: it was the same person.

This male actor was the sort that, once seen, could never be forgotten. His looks were one thing, but the innate, effortless refined elegance that emanated from him was something rarely encountered.

Especially in the modern era — it was exceptionally rare indeed.

Rong Qian sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes fixed on the screen, not missing a single moment he appeared.

In the film, the character he played seemed to be a villain of sorts — morally ambiguous, inscrutable — yet with just a single glance, you could tell whether his next action would be noble or wicked.

But he didn’t have many scenes. When the film ended, Rong Qian rewound it and continued staring at his face.

At times she even hit pause, both eyes locked onto him, not willing to blink — as if she’d been bewitched.

By the time she finally finished, dawn had broken.

Rong Qian, sporting dark circles under both eyes, stared at the figure on the television and muttered with a mix of exasperation and awe: “This man is something else. How can anyone be this ridiculously good-looking?”

It had never once occurred to her that she would end up staring at a man for an entire night — and a handsome man who no longer existed, at that!

This actor, if he were alive today, would probably be an old man by now, wouldn’t he?

That thought made Rong Qian pause. Why had she used “if” to frame it that way? Did she — somewhere in her subconscious — already believe he was dead? Or was it that the skeleton found in the car was actually him?

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Rong Qian suddenly remembered something and hurried to check the closing credits.

The screen displayed the names of the actors and their roles. Rong Qian read carefully and, near the very end, spotted four characters meaning “special appearance” followed by a single name: Wei Long.

This man’s name was Wei Long.

Rong Qian’s first instinct was to search it on her computer — but the results that came back left her stunned.

She typed “Wei Long” into the search bar and got nothing — absolutely no information about any such person, just a jumble of completely unrelated results.

Refusing to believe it, she searched for the film she’d just watched instead — and something even stranger happened.

The film’s resources were still there, but every single scene featuring Wei Long had been excised — edited out completely, without a trace.

Rong Qian wondered if she had a fever, reached up to touch her forehead — no, she wasn’t sick. She immediately ran downstairs and, after checking the television, discovered that what she’d been watching was on a pirated disc.

“A’Qian — what are you doing up so early?”

At that moment, her father walked through, mid-yawn. The words had barely left his mouth before she rushed over and held up the disc, demanding: “Tell me! Where did you get this disc?”

Her father faltered briefly, then laughed it off and said evasively: “Oh, it’s… a friend gave it to me ages ago. I was bored last night and popped it in.”

“And you didn’t turn the television off when you were done?” Rong Qian fixed him with a suspicious look.

Her father frowned. “Did I forget? I could have sworn I turned it off.”

“Never mind the television for now, Dad — do you know an actor called Wei Long? I searched and couldn’t find any information about him at all. Even in the official release of the film, his scenes are completely gone. It’s as if someone has deliberately wiped out every trace of him.” Rong Qian’s expression was grave.

Her father, however, remained entirely calm and simply asked her: “Why are you asking about something like that?”

Rong Qian pressed her hand to her forehead in exasperation. “Dad, you’re the bureau chief — don’t you know about the case my team is working on?”

“I know about it — but what does it have to do with this actor you’re asking about?” Her father still didn’t give her a direct answer.

To stop him from asking more questions, Rong Qian had no choice but to tell him what she’d discovered the night before. Her father listened, gave a nod of acknowledgment, and then said: “Don’t know.”

Rong Qian: “…”

She now strongly suspected her father had deliberately asked questions just to find out what she was investigating. The old fox — truly as shrewd as they came.

Since the whole affair was so peculiar, Rong Qian quickly washed up, skipped breakfast entirely, and drove to the police station in a rush, wanting to ask her colleagues there to help investigate.

But as if her luck had decided to fail her at the worst moment, while she was stopped at a traffic light, the car behind her suddenly came crashing into her rear bumper.

The impact sent her vehicle lurching forward a considerable distance, crossing the line.

Gripping the steering wheel, Rong Qian thought darkly: who on earth was bold enough to hit a criminal detective’s car?

She unclipped her seatbelt and was just about to get out of the vehicle when she glanced into the rearview mirror — and her brow immediately furrowed.

She saw two large, powerfully built Black men in black suits stepping out of the car behind her. The moment they got out, both of them simultaneously and instinctively moved a hand to the small of their backs.

Others might not know what that meant — but Rong Qian understood perfectly. Only someone carrying a concealed weapon at their lower back would make that unconscious gesture when stepping out of a vehicle.

Rong Qian narrowed her eyes slightly. She didn’t panic. She glanced at the traffic light — seven seconds remaining. She leaned back in her seat and used the rearview mirror to study their faces more carefully.

Unfortunately, both men were wearing sunglasses — but Rong Qian quietly committed their features to memory all the same.

Then, as they drew closer and closer, approaching her car as if to open the door, Rong Qian seized her moment. She floored the accelerator.

The car shot forward through the crosswalk and sped away.

Through the rearview mirror, she could see the two men pause for a moment — clearly not expecting her to simply drive off. They scrambled back into their vehicle and resumed pursuit.

Rong Qian was no fool. She wasn’t about to naively believe this was an accidental collision. Judging by the force of that deliberate ram, those two men had come specifically for her.

With one hand on the steering wheel, she picked up her phone and called the colleague at the station responsible for monitoring road surveillance, asking them to run the license plate of the car that had hit her.

She set the phone down and glanced out the window — just in time to see the car from before already catching up.

The window rolled down. The person inside made a shooting gesture at her, and simultaneously gestured for her to pull over to the side.

Rong Qian’s brow tightened. She was confident they wouldn’t actually fire — but they clearly intended to give her trouble.

She ignored them and kept driving. But then, without warning, they slammed into the side of her car — a resounding crash — clearly attempting to force her vehicle off the road.

Rong Qian gripped the steering wheel hard, pressed the accelerator to the floor, and in the midst of accelerating, weaved continuously past the cars ahead. When it came to high-speed driving, Rong Qian had never lost to anyone.

But no plan survives contact with the unexpected. What Rong Qian could never have anticipated was that as she passed through an intersection, another car came hurtling out from the side — and the tremendous impact slammed directly into her vehicle.

The tires skidded wildly across the pavement, the friction producing a sharp, piercing screech —

Skreeeech —

At the moment of impact, Rong Qian swore loudly: “Damn it!”

The airbag deployed automatically upon impact. The collision force was enormous; the bag on the passenger seat, its zipper undone, spilled its contents everywhere.

Including the old photograph — which, carried on the air current, drifted slowly toward her.

Her forehead cut by a shard of glass and bleeding, Rong Qian forced her eyes open with great effort and, seeing the photograph, instinctively reached out to catch it.

And the moment she grasped it in her hand, the photograph crumbled into ash and vanished.

Rong Qian froze — but there was no time for shock. The next instant, she was plunged into utter darkness.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Dimly, hazily, Rong Qian opened her eyes.

What met her gaze was a white ceiling. Thinking she was in a hospital, she slowly closed her eyes again.

But then, familiar voices reached her ears — not loud, as if drifting in from outside the room.

Rong Qian’s brow creased. She opened her eyes again, and suddenly felt that something was wrong. Rong Qian jerked upright, her hands moving rapidly across her own body.

No injuries. No pain.

“Strange — didn’t I get into a car accident?”

She immediately checked herself over. She was still wearing the same outfit she’d left the house in. Her phone and everything else were still in her pockets. The only differences were: she had not, apparently, been in a car accident — and she was in a place utterly unfamiliar to her.

Warily, Rong Qian stepped down from the bed and looked out the window. Darkness outside — already nighttime? Completely at a loss, Rong Qian made her way out in a daze.

The moment she noticed someone outside, she immediately darted back and pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath, cautiously surveying the situation and surroundings.

At that very moment, she heard a familiar voice ask in puzzlement: “Is that A’Qian?”

Rong Qian paused. Who was A’Qian? And why did that voice sound so familiar?

She thought carefully — and then it suddenly struck her. Wasn’t this the voice of that man called “Wei Long,” the one she’d spent an entire night watching?

Cautiously, Rong Qian peeked out — and there in the European-style living room, a man in a white button-down shirt sat on the sofa with a white cat cradled in his arms.

At the sight of this, Rong Qian’s jaw dropped. Was she so desperately in need of a man that she had actually lost her mind and started dreaming?