Zhou Jin’s eyes cooled slightly as they met his flippant gaze. He seemed to concede the point — the corner of his mouth curved, and he obediently looked away.

Tan Shiming asked, “Since you knew Guan Ling, did she ever mention anything to you about Lai Zhengtian? Any bad blood between them?”

Based on the Shangye Hotel manager’s testimony, Guan Ling had been holding something over Lai San’er — but what that leverage actually was, the investigation had yet to uncover.

Jiang Cheng took a slow sip of his drink. “No.”

Tan Shiming decided to approach it differently. “Then how well do you know Lai Zhengtian? Did he ever mention anyone threatening him recently?”

The men behind Jiang Cheng laughed again at that.

Jiang Cheng smiled too. “Whether Guan Ling and Lai San’er had bad blood between them, I couldn’t really say — but if you’re asking who in this establishment has the most bad blood with Lai San’er, that would probably be me.”

He leaned back, utterly at ease. “If someone really was threatening him, he certainly wouldn’t have told me.”

“What’s the bad blood about?”

“He looked repulsive. I found it offensive, so I beat him up. Does that count?”

Tan Shiming’s expression darkened.

Jiang Cheng said, “To be straight with you, Captain Tan — you’re asking the wrong person. I only got back to Haizhou half a month ago. I’ve been out of the loop on everything here.”

“…”

“You’ve already taken the people you needed. The bar just opened, and there are a lot of people here depending on their livelihood. We’ve taken up enough of your time.”

The lightness had left his voice. His eyes settled into something heavier — the light and shadow caught the sharp ridge of his brow, the cold line of his mouth. His expression flattened, and for just a moment there was something unexpectedly cutting beneath the surface.

Tan Shiming understood. Jiang Cheng had come out as He Wu’s proxy to send them on their way. He had appeared to answer every question while saying absolutely nothing of substance.

Recognizing there was nothing more to extract, Tan Shiming didn’t waste further time. He asked the standard question: “On the afternoon of July 23rd through the early hours of July 24th — where were you?”

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment. “Drank too much. Slept here overnight.”

Zhou Jin followed up: “Can anyone verify that?”

Jiang Cheng, seeing her speak at last, smiled. “Everyone here can verify it. But if you still don’t believe me—” he raised a hand and pointed to the surveillance camera mounted in the corner, “—best witness there is. That should be enough, shouldn’t it, Officer?”

Zhou Jin rose without expression. “We’ll be taking a copy of the surveillance footage. Please cooperate with the police.”

“No problem.”

He extended his hand toward Zhou Jin. She looked right through it and didn’t take it.

Jiang Cheng withdrew his hand with a faint, dissatisfied air. “Until next time.”

Tan Shiming and Zhou Jin left Phoenix Fire. Just outside the door, Zhou Jin stopped and turned to him.

“Shifu — I want to go take another look at the back alley.”

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing specific. I just can’t work out how Lai San’er made me yesterday.”

Tan Shiming noticed the slight press of her lips — the look of someone who refused to let something go. He smiled and called out, “Xiao Zhao. Come here, go with Zhou Jin and have another look at the back alley.”

Zhao Ping answered and set down what he was doing, following Zhou Jin back into Phoenix Fire.

Jiang Cheng saw her return and raised an eyebrow. “Officer Zhou — couldn’t bear to leave?”

“Police business.”

“Need me to come along?”

“No.”

Zhou Jin led Zhao Ping back through the route from the night before, starting from the spot where she’d first crossed paths with Lai San’er, retracing every step.

At one point, Lai San’er had stopped at the bar to order a drink and exchanged a few words with the bartender. After that, he had moved through the emergency exit into the back alley.

She stepped outside and stood quietly in the alley.

That night, Lai San’er had spotted her. Using the blind corner, he had doubled back and ambushed her from behind. She had dodged on instinct, and in that moment, he had blurted something out.

She had been so shaken at the time — her mind seizing for a few seconds from the spike of fear — that she hadn’t stopped to think carefully about what Lai San’er had actually said.

“Damn. Knew there’d be a cop.”

Knew?

Zhao Ping, standing beside her, watched her stand motionless for a while. “Senior sister, what are you thinking about?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Zhou Jin said.

She wasn’t sure whether Lai San’er had spotted her much earlier. Wasn’t sure whether he had deliberately led her to that alley.

Zhao Ping heard the vague, inconclusive answer and scratched his head, then shifted to something else. “You must have gotten a real scare. Honestly — if Professor Jiang hadn’t been there, who knows what might have happened. You have no idea how worried we all were.”

“Stop lecturing me.”

He got the retort and let out a disgruntled “hey,” ready to fire something back — but then Jiang Hansheng came to mind, and he switched tactics, deploying his trump card: “Fine, fine, it’s not my place to lecture you anymore, is it? You’re a taken woman now. I wouldn’t dare.”

Zhou Jin’s brow furrowed, and she fixed him with a withering look. “You want a beating?”

Zhao Ping pulled on an ingratiating face and fished a cigarette box from his trouser pocket, offering one to her.

Zhou Jin didn’t take it. “I quit,” she said flatly.

Zhao Ping stuck it in his own mouth.

He lit up and spoke around the cigarette, his words a little indistinct: “Don’t get mad — getting mad ages you fast. You’re a married woman now, and you’ve still got that temper. Better watch out, or Professor Jiang will hit his limit and divorce you.”

He paused, then grinned. “Actually, no — if he couldn’t handle it, he wouldn’t have gone for you in the first place. Professor Jiang is young, talented, not exactly short on options either… Senior sister, I’m genuinely curious — how exactly did you reel him in?”

Zhou Jin reached out and twisted his ear. “You done?!”

Zhao Ping yelped through his laughter, pleading: “Alright, alright, I’ll stop! Ow — ow, let go, let go, I dropped my cigarette—”

Zhou Jin released him. She swept her gaze quietly around the still alley, then waved a hand. “Enough. Let’s go back.”

Zhao Ping held up his cigarette. “Give me a minute — let me finish this, won’t take long.”

“You’re surviving on instant noodles at the unit every day, but you’ve always got cigarettes.” Zhou Jin gave him a passing reprimand and left it at that. “I’ll go check if they’ve finished copying the surveillance footage.”

She retraced her steps and had just stepped back inside when she walked directly into Jiang Cheng’s gaze.

The corridor had no lights. The door swung shut behind her, and there was a brief pocket of darkness.

“Come here.”

He grabbed her wrist without warning, pulling her sharply around the corner into a dead end.

The space was tight and narrow. They were pressed close together. She could hear Jiang Cheng’s breathing — low, and fast.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they did, she could make out his face.

He had been so effortless against the police questioning — always that casual, impervious smile, as though nothing could touch him. Now, his lips were trembling.

He stared at her, as though caught in a long hesitation.

After a stretch of silence, he seemed to find the only framing he could live with. His breathing steadied. With something careful and tentative in his voice, he asked: “Are you seeing someone?”

Zhou Jin shook her head.

The tension in him didn’t quite release — but somehow his mouth was already curving, as though he had chosen to believe her. He lifted both hands and cupped her face, leaning in as if to kiss her, his voice and breath arriving together, closer and closer.

“Xiao Wu — there’s so much I never got around to telling you. Just wait for me. Once I’ve finished this one job, I’ll come back. How is everything at home? Dad’s health was never good — has he been…”

“Jiang Cheng.”

Zhou Jin cut him off. The gaze she turned on him was sharp enough to press.

“I’m married.”