Zhou Jin paused for just a moment.

Their breath was close enough to mingle. In the dim and hazy light, Zhou Jin studied Jiang Hansheng’s face carefully. He was genuinely handsome — his complexion carrying the pale luminescence of porcelain, and because of that pallor, his dark brows and eyes seemed all the deeper.

Looking through Jiang Hansheng, Zhou Jin found Jiang Cheng surfacing in her mind with effortless ease.

Jiang Cheng was the complete opposite of Jiang Hansheng in temperament. He was brash and flamboyant, incapable of sitting still for even a moment. In his second year of university, he had led his team to the championship in the inter-school basketball league.

The opposing team had included some particularly young players — kids who had never been so thoroughly dominated by such ferocious play before. After the match, feeling utterly humiliated, they turned away and wiped their eyes with their jerseys.

Jiang Cheng came off the court with his back soaked through with sweat, and still threw himself shamelessly at Zhou Jin, slinging an arm around her shoulder and grinning with the unguarded delight of a child.

He was insufferably smug about it, a provocative gleam dancing in his eyes, as he said to Zhou Jin: “Xiao Wu, did you see that? Had them crying for their mothers.”

Zhou Jin could never forget Jiang Cheng’s scent — something that seemed like it could only exist after long hours under the sun, blazing hot enough to burn.

She was deeply reluctant to admit it, but whenever she thought of Jiang Cheng, it was as though a needle pressed deeper into the very tip of her heart.

Zhou Jin’s voice was less steady than it had been a moment ago. “There’s nothing worth comparing between you and him.”

Both of them fell silent at once.

Jiang Hansheng opened his hand and closed it around Zhou Jin’s arm, his gaze carrying what seemed like quiet scrutiny.

Through the fabric of her pajamas, Zhou Jin could feel the chill seeping from his fingertips, while his face, just above her, breathed warmth against her skin.

Then, unhurriedly, he loosened his grip and moved his hand down to her waist, pulling her close from behind.

“I know,” said Jiang Hansheng. “Go to sleep.”

He had always known. In Zhou Jin’s heart, he had never measured up to Jiang Cheng.

Anyone who knew Zhou Jin would have heard the legendary tale of how she had chased after Jiang Cheng all the way to Jingzhou Police Academy.

Back then, Jiang Cheng’s friends had teased Zhou Jin relentlessly, saying she pursued a boyfriend the way others pursued a criminal suspect — like a fierce little tiger that had bitten down and simply refused to let go.

Zhou Jin and Jiang Cheng had even been engaged at one point — they had come within a single step of actually getting married.

Within a single step. It took a thousand small strokes of misfortune against Jiang Cheng before his turn — Jiang Hansheng’s turn — could ever arrive.

He ought to have counted himself fortunate.

……

The rain had not stopped by the following morning, though it had eased considerably — falling now in fine, trailing threads, the air suspended in a pale, milky haze.

Zhou Jin heard the sound of the door and jolted awake from her dream. She sat up, alert and tense for a long moment, before remembering where she was — Jiang Hansheng’s apartment.

She lowered her head and pressed her hands over her face, quietly reproaching herself. For someone who was now a married woman, she truly had no sense of it whatsoever. Someone had simply come home, and Zhou Jin had assumed it was a burglar.

Jiang Hansheng had just returned from outside, carrying two paper bags, and was changing his shoes at the entryway.

He had brought breakfast, and had also bought Zhou Jin a complete set of toiletries. Jiang Hansheng arranged everything neatly in its place, then folded the empty paper bags with their corners perfectly aligned and tucked them back into the cabinet by the entryway.

Mildly obsessive-compulsive. A touch fastidious about cleanliness. And…

Admirably conscientious about being frugal and environmentally responsible.

Jiang Hansheng was dressed in a cotton shirt and trousers, the heathered grey of the fabric making his complexion appear even fairer. A pair of glasses with sleek, cool frames rested on the bridge of his high, straight nose — refined and striking.

“You’re awake?”

He leaned against the wall and looked over at Zhou Jin, who was still bleary-eyed with sleep. “I picked up breakfast.”

Zhou Jin climbed out of bed and tilted her head toward the bridge of his nose. “I had no idea — you wear glasses?”

“Yes, I wear them for work.”

Jiang Hansheng had carved out a separate workspace for himself in the apartment. The desk was stacked with thick sheaves of printed materials, and his laptop screen was still lit — evidently he had been working before he stepped out.

Zhou Jin felt a pang of shame. She understood completely now why her parents were so satisfied with Jiang Hansheng as a son-in-law. In terms of daily habits, Jiang Hansheng was to her what a grandmaster was to a hopeless novice.

She got herself ready with impressive speed, settled properly at the dining table, and set about making short work of the steamed soup dumplings.

Midway through breakfast, Zhou Jin received word from her superiors that there had been a new development in the case. She couldn’t sit still after that — she was already scrambling to rush back to the bureau before she had even finished eating.

Jiang Hansheng was helpless against her. He drove her himself, and because they were travelling against the direction of rush-hour traffic, the roads were clear. He had Zhou Jin dropped off near the South District Sub-bureau in under twenty minutes.

She wouldn’t let Jiang Hansheng drive her all the way to the main entrance — for one thing, his car was rather conspicuous, and for another, she dreaded the gossip her colleagues would unleash if they saw her arrive with him.

Zhou Jin said a hasty goodbye to Jiang Hansheng and made her escape at near sprint.

Jiang Hansheng hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella, and could only watch from a distance as her figure retreated and finally disappeared.

He thought back to the first time he had ever seen Zhou Jin as a child. He had just moved to Gardenia Lane with his father. His father had been standing at the courtyard gate calling out instructions to the movers hauling in the sofa, when he caught sight of a group of children running wildly up and down the lane, spinning colourful paper pinwheels.

His father had laughed heartily and pointed to one small girl among them — her hair pulled up into a little topknot — and said: “Hansheng, stop shutting yourself inside with your books all day and come out and play. Look at that little girl — she runs like she has wheels of wind and fire under her feet!”

Jiang Hansheng had smiled despite himself, a warmth lifting his mood.

Just then, Jiang Hansheng’s phone rang. The voice on the other end came through strained and muffled — urgent, tightly wound — pressing itself against his ear through the screen.

He put up his umbrella and listened patiently. With every passing moment, the furrow between his brows deepened.

……

Zhou Jin arrived at the Major Crimes Unit to find her colleague Yu Dan in the conference room making preparations for the briefing. Zhou Jin went over to help and asked, “Have they identified the victim?”

Yu Dan stifled a weary yawn. “No. I was up all night — still going through surveillance footage. But we just got the forensic report. The wound on the victim’s head — it was a gunshot wound.”

“A gunshot wound?”

Homicide cases were uncommon enough. Gunshot wounds were rarer still.

Zhou Jin frowned. “That doesn’t add up. A gunshot wound should be straightforward to determine — why would it take a full week?”

Gunshot injuries left very distinctive wound patterns, and there was every likelihood that bullet fragments were still lodged in the victim’s skull.

Yu Dan shot her a look full of intrigue and lowered her voice. “The team leader asked the exact same thing. The forensics team ran a comparison. Take a guess — what kind of firearm was it?”

Yu Dan pinched her index finger and thumb together in a subtle, deliberate gesture.

“A service weapon.”