Beijing in March, the spring chill was biting, and the sky had cleared somewhat, with clouds piled high.

Ye Meng met with Officer Liang at Li Chen’s club. The club was a spacious warehouse, cluttered with various car parts and miscellaneous items stacked together. The walls were built entirely with uniquely shaped tires of different sizes, each displaying its character. Every word spoken echoed faintly.

Officer Liang looked quite young with a dark, thin face. His thick eyebrows framed keen eyes that conveyed vigor. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Liang Yun’an got straight to the point: “Yesterday I briefly went through the files of your mother’s case from eight years ago. What do you think are the similarities between the two cases?”

Ye Meng said, “If I said it was intuition, would you think that’s too hasty?”

“It’s fine, but we police officers still need to rely on evidence when handling cases,” Liang Yun’an smiled gently, his white teeth standing out against his dark face. “Or is it that you don’t trust me? From the suicide method and angle, these two cases don’t meet the conditions for a joint investigation, and your mother’s case has already been closed. That’s one of the difficulties.”

Ye Meng was dressed casually today in fresh sportswear, looking like a college graduate who had just finished school.

She leaned back against the tire chair and nodded, “I know. Eight years ago, after my mother died, I had contact with many depression patients. I discovered that patients with severe depression don’t usually make such meticulous suicide plans. In the later stages, patients often experience hallucinations that they can’t control or that cause them great pain. They don’t truly want to end their lives, but when they’re controlled by hallucinations, they might try to escape this painful experience through violent actions. Methods like running into walls, jumping from buildings, or cutting their wrists are some ways to do this. Few patients maintain clear consciousness until death. Data shows that most depressed patients who jump from buildings still face downward, indicating a remaining desire to live.”

Liang Yun’an thoughtfully added, “But we investigated and found that Wang Xingsheng didn’t have depression, and neither did his secretary. Neither of them had any mental illness.”

“Right, but Wang Xingsheng was from Shanghai and lived primarily in Singapore. Why would he bring his secretary to commit suicide in China?” Ye Meng pointed out directly. “This trip wasn’t part of Wang Xingsheng’s planned itinerary. The contract with my boss was originally supposed to be signed by the secretary as a proxy, but my boss strongly insisted, forcing Wang Xingsheng to make this trip. Wang Xingsheng didn’t have depression, so logically, he wouldn’t just randomly find a place to commit suicide on an emotional impulse, right? And this place wasn’t random at all – he must have carefully selected this abandoned car factory with no surveillance cameras. I’ve lived in Beijing for nearly ten years, and even I didn’t know there was such an abandoned car factory in Guanshan District. How did Wang Xingsheng find such a place in just one night? Who told him about it? Or, had he met someone before this happened?”

Liang Yun’an looked at her with a serious expression, “But we’ve checked all his phone records and social media, including call logs – everything was normal. We’ve even checked his computer network records in Singapore. We checked everything. There were no suspicious contacts, and we’ve recovered all the deleted information as well. What he deleted were just some flirtatious messages he didn’t want his wife to discover. Nothing suspicious.”

Liang Yun’an was still being cautious with what he shared with Ye Meng. After all, there were department rules against discussing cases with uninvolved individuals. He had contacted Ye Meng impulsively, hoping to find a breakthrough by connecting the two cases, so he could only reveal information that the police had already made public.

“Did you check the hotel surveillance footage from that day?” Ye Meng asked after a moment of contemplation.

“We did. Everything seemed normal. Apart from going down to the restaurant for meals twice, he didn’t meet anyone,” Liang Yun’an said. “What makes this case difficult is that while everyone on our team feels this Chinese Singaporean’s suicide is strange, we can’t find any evidence of a third party’s involvement. If there’s no breakthrough next week, I’m afraid our bureau chief won’t be able to withstand the pressure.”

…

The two fell silent for a while, and then two cocktails with lemon slices were placed before them. Li Chen, dressed in rebellious motorcycle gear, sat down next to Liang Yun’an: “I mixed these myself, to help my detective friends stay alert.”

Only today did Ye Meng notice that he also wore an earring, and it was the same style as Li Jin Yu’s – just a small ring, very ordinary, the kind you’d see everywhere. She stared at it for a while, “Nice earring.”

Li Chen smiled slightly and tilted his ear, “Do you want one? I have plenty at home.”

Ye Meng smiled and shook her head. If she wanted one, she’d ask Li Jin Yu when she got home.

Liang Yun’an coughed, “Let’s get back to the point. Let’s talk about your mother’s case?”

“Let me interrupt,” unexpectedly, Li Chen smiled calmly and said abruptly, “I have something here, would you like to see it?”

Both of them looked over almost simultaneously. Li Chen lowered his head to open a video and tossed his phone onto the table. “The surveillance at my entrance was broken, but I remembered my car had been parked at the entrance those days. Last night I checked the dashcam footage. Unfortunately, I rarely use this car, and I’ve never cleared the dashcam’s memory since I bought it. The memory’s full, and there are only a few seconds of video from recent days.”

“Doesn’t it have a loop recording function?” Ye Meng asked.

Li Chen smiled with a corner of his mouth, saying, “It’s an old beat-up car. I’m even surprised that I installed a dashcam on it – I thought it didn’t have one. There are a few seconds of footage from 5 AM on March 17th. Not many vehicles pass through our area, especially at that time, so it’s easy to check.”

Liang Yun’an asked suspiciously, “Don’t you guys usually race at Jiumenling in the back? Isn’t that time when most racers are out?”

Li Chen glanced at him sideways, looking like a good citizen: “Didn’t you shut that down? Who would dare break the law now? Besides, does this car look like it could be used for racing? It might fall apart after just two kilometers.”

“Boss Li, stop being clever. You think we don’t know?” Liang Yun’an looked at the video and smiled, then confirmed with Ye Meng once more: “Wang Xingsheng left the hotel at 3 AM on the 17th?”

Ye Meng nodded. But the police received the report from the car factory on the morning of the 18th. Due to the severity of the situation, the superiors had deliberately withheld the information. So at that time, Ye Meng didn’t know that Wang Xingsheng had already died in China, and she had even gone to Singapore with Tai Mingxiao. It wasn’t until the 20th when online discussions caused an uproar, that the police contacted Gou Kai, and they learned that Wang Xingsheng was dead.

Liang Yun’an instinctively felt something was off. Wang Xingsheng’s time of death was 9 AM on the 18th. If he was already at the car factory on the 17th, did he and his secretary spend the entire day having sex in the car? A final celebration before death? That seemed unlikely. There were no bodily fluids from each other in their bodies, indicating they hadn’t had sexual intercourse for at least 48 hours before death.

The south wind blew, mixing dampness into the air. Layers of moldy green spots covered the corners of the walls, crumbling down with the peeling paint. On the anti-theft windows in the residential complex hung colorful bed sheets. Peach blossoms, like women’s rouge, gradually covered the dry branches, a restlessness that even the wind couldn’t suppress.

Li Jin Yu leaned against the wall, the dog leash loosely coiled around his hand, while his other hand held a cigarette, patiently waiting for Ping’an to finish his business. Ping’an was full of energy today, going again and again, which was quite annoying and seemed somewhat provocative.

“That’s enough,” Li Jin Yu said impatiently.

Ping’an whimpered twice, seemingly dissatisfied, and stepped back, unwilling to leave.

Li Jin Yu squatted down against the wall, beckoning with his hand, “Come here.”

Ping’an walked over dejectedly. Li Jin Yu looked at it, but without really looking, directly extinguished his cigarette on the ground, put on the dog leash, and earnestly advised in a masculine tone, “Can you be considerate of others’ feelings? Being so eager makes you look inexperienced.”

Ping’an raised its dog eyes disdainfully: And you’re experienced?

“Although I haven’t seen much of the world either,” Li Jin Yu patted its head and said with contempt, “But brother is more patient than you.”

In the evening, Li Jin Yu was reading when his phone suddenly vibrated. Fang Ya’en unexpectedly started a video call. The screen showed Chen Jiayu’s chubby little face, round and flushed with excitement, calling out to him through the phone in a childish voice: “Brother Jin Yu, I used the method you taught me yesterday and got praised by the teacher for reciting the text in class today!”

Li Jin Yu smiled, just like a big brother, pure and clear: “Then ask your mom to reward you.”

“My mom is letting me play with the phone for a while. Hehe.” Chen Jiayu laughed carelessly.

“Hmm,” Li Jin Yu said, “Keep the method to yourself, don’t teach it to others.”

Chen Jiayu was different from Cheng Jingjing. Cheng Jingjing understood memory palaces; she had systematically studied this area and had quite a fervent interest in it. But Chen Jiayu was young, only in elementary school, without the ability to think independently. Fang Ya’en could understand this, but other parents might not necessarily do so, and they might regard him as a fraud.

Chen Jiayu was surprised, “Why?”

Li Jin Yu thought for a moment, with his hair tips hanging down. He let out a long “hmm” sound and told him softly, “Because if you tell others, you won’t be able to get first place anymore. This method is quite strange – once you tell a second person, it stops working for the first person.”

How powerful, Chen Jiayu marveled, immediately covering his little notebook tightly, and promising firmly: “I definitely won’t tell anyone else!”

“Good boy.”

The two chatted casually for a couple more sentences. Li Jin Yu asked him, “Are you happy with your studies?”

Chen Jiayu said with a precocious air: “I don’t know if I’m happy or not, but my mom is happy.”

This resulted in a beating from Fang Ya’en, who directly took back the phone without a word, hastily saying: “Alright, I won’t disturb you anymore. Hanging up now. I have to put him to bed. By the way, did Ye Meng say when she’s coming back?”

Li Jin Yu lounged casually in his chair, absently twirling a pen, and said, “No.”

“Take your time, you two have a long road ahead,” Fang Ya’en was being jostled by Jiayu, making the image unstable, swaying back and forth. “I don’t know much about her mother’s situation. At that time, I only knew that her mother committed suicide in Beijing, and the whole family rushed over urgently. The case was hastily concluded after just a few days. She stayed in Beijing for so many years; I guess it’s because she couldn’t let go of her mother…”

Outside the window, peach blossoms filled the branches, blooming into the magnificent spring landscape. Li Jin Yu ended the video call and absently stared out for a while. The phone on the table vibrated for quite some time before he answered.

“Why did it take so long?” Ye Meng complained, “Darling, what are you busy with?”

“Reading,” Li Jin Yu said lazily.

“Bullshit, who were you just video chatting with?”

Li Jin Yu looked at the captivating peach blossoms outside the window, lit a cigarette for himself, leaned back in his chair, and raised his hand impassively, tapping off the ash. His tone was somewhat surprised as he clicked his tongue softly and said, “You even know that, are you monitoring me?”

Ye Meng spoke in a gentle, soft voice: “I just tried to video call you, and it showed ‘the other party is busy,’ which means you were video chatting with someone else. Don’t you know that?”

“I didn’t know,” he answered honestly.

“Was it a man or a woman?” she quietly pursued.

Li Jin Yu extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, putting it out casually, and said softly, “Jealous?”

“Not really, just curious about who you could be video chatting with.”

“Your friend.”

“Oh, what were you talking about?”

“Helping Jiayu recite his lessons. He was scolded by the teacher a few days ago. I ran into them on the road yesterday, and Fang Ya’en asked if I had any methods to help.” Li Jin Yu held the phone and got up to get a bottle of water from the living room.

As soon as he finished speaking, Ye Meng suddenly wailed in distress, “Oh no, I have two client emails to reply to first.”

Li Jin Yu gave a faint “mm,” “Then let’s hang up.”

“No, don’t hang up, I’ll be quick,” Ye Meng said, “Darling, can we video chat?”

Li Jin Yu was about to agree when Ye Meng, holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, frantically typing responses to emails, half-jokingly and half-seriously adding, “Can I say hello to little Jin Yu?”

Li Jin Yu held the phone in one hand while the other was pressing his sore eye socket to relieve fatigue. He paused halfway and laughed helplessly, scolding: “Will you die if you don’t tease it for one day?”

Li Jin Yu wanted to shower before video chatting with her, but Ye Meng wouldn’t let him. She insisted he keep the video on, showing the empty little room. Then when he came in after his shower, bare-chested, Ye Meng finally revealed a satisfied, refreshed smile:

“I waited so long just for this moment. Ah, darling, you have abs!”

Li Jin Yu had brought a shirt too, and was halfway through putting it on when he thought for a moment, then took it off and threw it back into the basket, coming out wearing only gray sweatpants. He knew she would react like this as if she had never seen such a sight before.

The phone stood on the table, and in the frame, the man – whether intentionally or not – slowly leaned towards the camera.

In Ye Meng’s screen was a bare, fair, temptingly fresh, and tender body. Li Jin Yu had a good physique, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, clear muscle definition. He wasn’t as thin as he looked, with a layer of lean muscle. Especially the faint outline of his abs – two neat V-shaped lines that gradually disappeared into his loosely tied waistband.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Ye Meng asked.

The screen still showed his tantalizing abs, with his voice floating through the speaker: “Closing the window.”

With a “click,” he locked it, then a “whoosh” as he drew the curtains.

Then he sat down. Li Jin Yu was bare-chested, wearing only gray sweatpants with the waistband untied, hanging loosely at his waist. He nestled into the chair, and Ye Meng could see clearly through the camera. She sighed – tonight would be a sleepless night.

He watched her for a while, then suddenly rapped his knuckle hard on the edge of the table in front of him, gesturing for her to focus, “Come on, let’s talk.”

“Talk about what? Why do I feel like you’re deliberately trying to please me?”

Ye Meng wanted to flip through her ‘Li Jin Yu User Manual’ to see if there was a section on using his good looks as a tactic.

“Mm.”

This was the first time Ye Meng had seen him so proactive, and she asked suspiciously, “Darling, do you need something from me?”

Li Jin Yu had just showered, his hair half-dry and half-wet, looking especially fresh, like a lush, green, newly sprouted leaf with clear veins and texture. He looked quite delectable. His Adam’s apple rolled slightly, and his eyes fixed on her like barbed hooks as he asked in a low voice: “When are you coming back, exactly?”

Ye Meng felt the atmosphere was a bit unusual, and his eyes seemed abnormally red, “Are you… want me to help you with it?”

He was completely different from the person who had just advised Ping’an to quit while ahead, and let out a suppressed “mm.”