Wei Lan and Xiao Yan took the late-night shift. The night was deep, everything silent. The TV played in the living room as Wei Lan smoked, weariness showing between his brows. Xiao Yan had simply tilted her head, falling asleep against the sofa.

Around three o’clock, when people are typically at their drowsiest, Wei Lan was drifting off when he heard a door open upstairs.

Yin Feng came down wearing a bathrobe.

Wei Lan immediately snapped awake, watching him descend and sit on the sofa. Yin Feng’s hair was wet, clearly fresh from a shower. His bathrobe hung loosely at his waist, revealing a patch of firm chest—faintly marked with pink bite marks and nail scratches. Though slightly tired, Yin Feng’s expression showed obvious satisfaction of complete release. As a fellow man, how could Wei Lan not understand what had happened?

“Everything alright?” Wei Lan asked.

Yin Feng smiled slightly: “Very good.” His eyes still held that dark gloom. This version of Yin Feng felt both strange and familiar to Wei Lan as if this was his true nature, rarely revealed.

Wei Lan chose his words carefully: “We’ve already prepared the aftermath arrangements, just in case.”

Yin Feng nodded once, seemingly having expected this, offering neither approval nor disapproval.

“So… what next?” Wei Lan glanced upstairs at the half-closed door, from which came no sound.

Just then, the dozing Xiao Yan’s head dropped forward, startling her awake. Seeing who was there, she exclaimed: “Teacher Yin!”

Yin Feng nodded.

Xiao Yan also glanced upstairs, hesitating: “That… Miss Yu…”

Yin Feng said: “She’s still sleeping. Guan Jun’s drug was strong, she won’t wake until dawn at least.”

Xiao Yan and Wei Lan fell silent.

After a while, Yin Feng said: “Xiao Yan, go to the basement, bring four pairs of handcuffs.”

Xiao Yan froze for a moment but said nothing, rising to go to the basement.

Wei Lan’s brow furrowed slightly as he tentatively asked: “Is there no other way?”

Yin Feng replied: “I’ll talk to her when she wakes. The handcuffs are precautionary—one pair won’t hold her.”

Wei Lan couldn’t help imagining the scene, feeling his heart flutter with excitement. But he still said: “Best to explain things clearly. Even if she’s a police officer, she’s still your woman.”

A cold smile crossed Yin Feng’s face as he said: “True, someone like me could never be with a police officer. But I also can’t bear to let her leave me.”

Wei Lan started, looking at his cold features, saying nothing.

Just then, Xiao Yan returned with four pairs of handcuffs. Yin Feng took them, weighing them in his hand, a quiet smile appearing as he thought of something. Wei Lan and Xiao Yan exchanged glances, both knowing this situation was likely irreversible—Yin Feng was determined.

Just as Yin Feng stood with the handcuffs, they heard a crash from the master bedroom upstairs. All three changed expression, Yin Feng immediately running up with the others close behind.

Yin Feng pushed open the door to find the bed empty. His master suite included a private study. Seeing the study door open, he frowned and strode over, Wei Lan and Xiao Yan catching up.

A desk lamp was on in the study, and You Mingxu was indeed inside.

She stood at the desk wearing one of Yin Feng’s shirts, covering half her thighs, bare beneath. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, and her exposed neck, arms, and calves clearly showed fresh, deep red kiss marks and even bruises—evidence of the intense treatment she’d just endured.

One hand braced against the desk, the other held a folder she’d found somewhere, reading something unknown. Her body swayed slightly, clearly weak, her cheeks still flushed, showing the drug’s lingering effects. She stared intently at what she held, looking up at Yin Feng when she heard them.

As their eyes met, Yin Feng saw the shock and hidden pain in hers.

She swayed again, bracing hard against the desk, asking: “Are these yours? Both these test results, they’re yours?” Tears welled in her eyes.

Yin Feng felt his heart contract violently, then gave a bitter laugh: “Yes, you’ve finally seen them.”

You Mingxu threw the folder on the desk. It lay open, and Wei Lan and Xiao Yan behind Yin Feng could see its contents. Two stacks of paper—one showing brain structure scans, the other marked as internal evaluation results from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Wei Lan and Xiao Yan remained silent.

You Mingxu said: “No wonder you understand criminals’ psychology so well when solving cases… No wonder these people gather around you, willingly following you… You…”

Yin Feng stared at her, saying coldly: “Get out.”

You Mingxu pressed her hand to her head, swaying again.

Wei Lan and Xiao Yan left but stayed by the door, listening.

They heard You Mingxu say, almost deliriously: “So you’re just like them! You’re also a psychopath, you… No wonder you have dissociative identity disorder, split into two completely different personalities. Have you committed crimes? Have you?!”

After a while, they heard Yin Feng laugh softly: “Yes. Haven’t you seen my brain scans? I was born different from you, the same as them. I was born to be a psychopath. I work in this field, and I’ve known it for a long time. I wouldn’t accept it, went to America for another opinion, but the behavioral analysis results were the same. You’re right, I understand them perfectly because I was cursed to be born one of them. So, are you going to leave me now?”

You Mingxu asked again: “Have you committed any crimes?! Have you killed anyone?”

Yin Feng paused, then repeated: “If I say yes, will you leave me?”

They heard You Mingxu give a bitter laugh, saying: “Yes, what a stupid question. You already committed a crime last night.”

Just then, there was a click as someone kicked the master bedroom door shut, and Wei Lan and Xiao Yan could hear no more. Both their expressions were grim.

Though Yin Feng had never explicitly said anything or shown them any authoritative scans or analysis results, they had always sensed certain things.

Teacher Yin could always so precisely grasp their psychology, and understand criminal behavior; his gaze toward them never felt unfamiliar; he wasn’t afraid of them—while most people trembled at the sight of them, he pulled them back from the abyss one by one, living among them for years with no one else around. They had all read some of his books, with their incredibly cruel criminal methods and vivid psychological descriptions that made their blood boil…

They killed and committed crimes in reality.

Yin Feng was killed in the virtual world. Killed more than any of them, more brutally.