Just then, her phone rang. When You Mingxu saw the number, she froze.

The Bureau Chief.

She immediately stood up with her phone. Chen Feng lowered his head, grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the table, and took a drink. You Mingxu glanced at him before walking into the bedroom to answer.

“Chief.”

The police bureau was full of old foxes outdoing old foxes, wolves outdoing wolves. The Bureau Chief was approaching fifty, usually mild-mannered and not particularly talkative. Most of the young officers feared him. You Mingxu didn’t, but she deeply respected the old man—after all, the wall of medals and commendations in his office wasn’t for show. The criminals he’d caught in his lifetime probably outnumbered all the suspects the young criminal investigators like You Mingxu had ever encountered.

The Chief first expressed his concern and approval regarding You Mingxu’s meritorious service in Tibet. She stood ramrod straight, one hand behind her back, listening intently.

Then, the Chief changed tack: “I heard you also saved the great writer Yin Feng?”

You Mingxu replied, “Yes. I didn’t know his identity when I saved him.”

The Chief spoke warmly, “I’ve met him—an excellent young man, a true genius. I’m also a fan of his work; I have his complete collection at home, signed too. You probably don’t know this, but Director Duan from the provincial office was his senior at Peking University and greatly admires him. Let me tell you something, just between us: last year’s notorious Chen County murder case shocked the nation—we invited him to create a criminal psychological profile, which provided valuable insight for solving the case. Moreover, his books have always served as excellent publicity and set high standards for the police system, spreading many positive values. This man has been helpful and contributed to our police work. Of course, he’s also a close personal friend of Director Duan.”

You Mingxu hadn’t expected this turn of events and remained silent. She turned to look at the living room, where Chen Feng, who had been waiting for her reaction, quickly looked away, pretending to be disinterested. You Mingxu thought to herself: No way…

Sure enough, the Chief continued, “We all felt terrible when something happened to Writer Yin. Just two days ago, Director Duan personally visited him. His assistant has also explained the situation to us. We didn’t expect that he would develop such a strong dependency on you, his lifesaver, though it’s understandable. This is what they call post-traumatic stress disorder, right? To cut to the chase, both officially and personally, I hope you can help Writer Yin as much as possible—provided, of course, it doesn’t affect your work and personal life. Director Duan also asked me to convey his thanks to you.”

After hanging up, You Mingxu stood silently for a moment before returning to the living room.

Master and servant remained in their places—one genuinely well-behaved, the other harboring ulterior motives. You Mingxu and Chen Feng shared a moment of silence before she said sarcastically, “Going all the way to the Bureau Chief and Director—you’re certainly loyal to your master. He’s not thinking clearly, and you just follow along?”

Chen Feng replied, “Whether his mind is clear or not is his business. Executing his wishes is mine.”

You Mingxu said, “It cannot take up any of my work time, and no one else can move into my home. If he shows any extreme or uncontrollable behavior, I’ll throw him out immediately.”

Chen Feng hesitated before saying, “Agreed.”

You Mingxu said nothing more, looking toward the balcony while lazily tapping her fingers on the table. Chen Feng walked out and whispered something in Yin Feng’s ear. Then You Mingxu watched as Yin Feng scrambled to his feet and turned to look at her.

Those eyes of his seemed to hold drifting clouds in the sky, bright yet hazy.

You Mingxu’s face remained expressionless as she quietly returned his gaze.