Assuming Qi Yan hadn’t died, every suspicious point would now fall into place.

But how could he not be dead?

Jiang Hansheng closed his eyes briefly.

The scene from that day might have gradually blurred with the passage of time, but the moment Qi Yan collapsed before him remained vivid in his memory to this day.

Before Qi Yan, Jiang Hansheng had never entertained any thought of killing anyone; yet from that point onward, every time anger rose within him, the cold, damp sensation of gripping that gun would slither up his arm like a venomous snake.

The right hand gripping the umbrella handle tightened slightly.

Zhou Jin’s mind was elsewhere. She hadn’t noticed anything amiss about him. She carefully turned over what Jiang Hansheng had said, then asked, “Is it also possible that Qi Yan wasn’t his real name?”

“No.” Jiang Hansheng said. “He had no intention of letting me leave alive. There was no reason to lie to someone who was about to die.”

……

“While the others were receiving commendations for recovering the lost firearm, Hansheng had to begin drug rehabilitation treatment.”

……

Now, Jiang Hansheng stood silently in the rain. His face was fair and handsome, his dark eyes still as a pool of deep water.

Zhou Jin gazed at him, something catching in her throat, as though an unseen hand had closed around it.

She steadied her breathing and said, “It seems we’ll be walking away empty-handed today. Tomorrow we’ll be holding a meeting with the detectives from Jingang and Ningyuan to hear their thoughts.”

Jiang Hansheng gave a small nod.

The two of them walked out of the back alley, exchanged greetings with the detectives on the scene, then returned to the car together.

Zhou Jin insisted on driving and had Jiang Hansheng sit in the passenger seat. “You didn’t sleep well last night either. Rest a while longer — I’ll drive.”

Jiang Hansheng was somewhat surprised. “What do you mean, didn’t sleep well?”

Zhou Jin smiled but didn’t answer. She reached back, grabbed the pillow from the rear seat, and pressed it firmly over Jiang Hansheng’s face, then adjusted his seat for him.

“Sleep,” she said. “It’s over an hour on the road.”

Zhou Jin’s tone left no room for refusal.

Jiang Hansheng had no choice but to obediently comply, reclining in the passenger seat with his eyes closed.

Perhaps he really was that exhausted.

Body and mind utterly worn down, heavy with a weight that kept pulling him deeper, deeper, sinking and drifting through a pitch-black sea.

After what felt like a very long time, his legs finally moved again, carrying him down a long corridor toward its far end.

At the end of the corridor was a brilliant light. Against that light, a young girl stood not far before him.

She wore a white dress. Her long hair was as dark as a raven’s wing. Her face was delicate and clean, and she was smiling — radiant and full of warmth.

This version of Zhou Jin — he had never seen her with his own eyes.

She existed only in a small photograph, stored inside a pocket watch engraved with a pattern of pine branches.

That pocket watch’s owner was not him. It had originally belonged to Zhou Chuan.

Jiang Hansheng stood before the door of No. 24 Gardenia Lane, gift box in hand, paying a visit to the Zhou family.

The Zhou family elders were not home. Only Zhou Chuan came to the door.

The bearing of a soldier seemed to have been tempered into him from the marrow of his bones — his back and shoulders straight as a sword, his brow and eyes clear and open, his appearance carrying an air of integrity and directness, projecting both steadiness and warmth.

Faced with him, Jiang Hansheng, never one for easy conversation, fell into a long silence. In the end, it was Zhou Chuan who spoke first.

“Jiang Hansheng.”

Zhou Chuan remembered his name. He smiled and said, “I remember when you used to live next door — you were only this tall.”

He raised a hand to indicate Jiang Hansheng’s height from those years ago.

Jiang Hansheng felt embarrassed, and found himself even less able to speak.

Zhou Chuan didn’t mind. He made a guess at the purpose of the visit. “You’re here to see Zhou Jin?”

Just as Zhou Chuan remembered Jiang Hansheng’s name, he naturally also remembered what Jiang Hansheng had done during his time in Gardenia Lane.

Zhou Chuan was older, after all. Where Jiang Cheng might have seen something pathological in Jiang Hansheng’s behavior, Zhou Chuan saw it simply as the first stirrings of a young boy’s admiration.

Only that Jiang Hansheng was more persistent than most.

Zhou Chuan invited Jiang Hansheng inside and led him to his own room.

Jiang Hansheng stood at the doorway and looked around. The room was clean and neat, everything arranged in perfect order — even the blanket had been folded into a precise, block-like square.

Zhou Chuan had served in the military.

Jiang Hansheng quickly withdrew his gaze, wary of letting himself pry further into someone else’s life.

Zhou Chuan sat down and continued tinkering with his pocket watch.

The pocket watch had been his reward for earning a second-class merit commendation in the police force. The outside was engraved with a pattern of pine branches — the same pine branches as those on the police emblem — and carried considerable sentimental value.

A pity he had no use for something so refined. Zhou Jin, however, had spotted it at first glance and had been clamoring for it ever since.

He was thinking about how to set Zhou Jin’s photograph inside it so he could give it to her as a gift.

After a moment, Jiang Hansheng forced the words out with difficulty. “I — I’ve been accepted into the University of Public Security.”

“Oh? Congratulations.”

Zhou Chuan raised an eyebrow. Inwardly, he was surprised — he hadn’t expected Jiang Hansheng to choose that field.

He gave a bemused smile and said, “I graduated from the University of Public Security myself. So in a sense, we’re now fellow alumni. If you ever need any help in the future, just come find me.”

“Thank you.” After a pause, Jiang Hansheng’s palm grew damp with nervous sweat. He asked, “Could I see Zhou Jin?”

“She’s not home.”

Zhou Chuan looked at him for a moment, then pulled over a chair and gestured for Jiang Hansheng to sit.

Jiang Hansheng grew tense. “I’m not trying to — I just —”

Zhou Chuan raised a hand to cut him off, and gave a soft, wry smile. “I know, I know. Relax. Otherwise this is starting to look like a son-in-law coming to meet the family.”

A flush crept across Jiang Hansheng’s face. “……”

Zhou Chuan never beat around the bush. He said directly, “Hansheng, you may not quite understand yet — that sister of mine has a head that’s not particularly sharp, and she’s completely single-minded. Whatever fills it up leaves no room for anything else.”

“……”

“She still has her studies ahead of her. I’d like you to hold off for now and not disturb her.”

Zhou Chuan’s tone was measured and steady. Even saying something like this carried no edge to it — it felt more like a discussion between equals.

Jiang Hansheng apologized. “I was presumptuous. I’m sorry.”

“You’re so young — why do you speak like a stiff old traditionalist?” Zhou Chuan was both puzzled and amused. He found Jiang Hansheng’s manner rather interesting.

His hands hadn’t stopped moving. He lowered his head and tried twice more before finally setting Zhou Jin’s photograph into place inside the pocket watch.

Zhou Chuan let out a breath and rubbed his fingertips over the face of the watch.

Looking at the person in the photograph, he was probably marveling at what kind of charm this headstrong girl possessed, that the moment someone passed their university entrance exams, they came rushing to his door.

Jiang Hansheng knew he had come at the wrong time. There was nothing to do but take his leave.

Before going, he set down the gift box he had brought.

Zhou Chuan had no intention of accepting it. He said a young boy who didn’t even earn a living yet shouldn’t be playing at adult customs, bringing gifts like this.

Jiang Hansheng explained that these things had been purchased by his father — simply as a gesture of gratitude for the Zhou family’s kindness to him during the time he had lived in Gardenia Lane.

Jiang Hansheng’s manner was entirely sincere.

In him, Zhou Chuan saw a quality of innocence — not the innocence of immaturity, but something purer than that.

Unable to refuse, Zhou Chuan had no choice but to accept.

Just before he left, Zhou Chuan called after him, hesitated for a moment, and then held out the pocket watch.

“A gift deserves a gift in return.” Zhou Chuan smiled. “Congratulations on getting into the University of Public Security. Come by again when you have the chance — I’ll treat you to a drink.”

Jiang Hansheng saw the photograph inside the pocket watch.

He took it, first with a look of puzzlement, then as though something had become clear to him. He closed his fingers tightly around the pocket watch and said, “Thank you.”

Zhou Chuan said, “Don’t mention it.”

Jiang Hansheng walked through Gardenia Lane.

With a soft click, he opened the pocket watch. His gaze passed through the still photograph, and it was as though he could see the young girl coming alive, detaching herself, drifting upward — until she stood at the far end of Gardenia Lane.

Against the light.

He felt something like a premonition. Dread swallowed every last thread of his awareness. He called out, “Zhou Jin, come here.”

She looked at him quietly, unmoving.

Jiang Hansheng quickened his step toward her, but the path stretched on endlessly, as though it would never end.

He saw that behind her, a man had appeared.

Tall. Imposing. Like a shadow falling over Zhou Jin.

The man’s hand swept across her shoulder, her collarbone, before finally clamping hard around her jaw.

He flicked his tongue across the corner of his lips — like a serpent darting its forked tongue — then turned his head and pressed his lips slowly, deliberately, against Zhou Jin’s cheek.

Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her.

Don’t touch her——!

Fighting through searing pain, he threw himself forward without a second thought.

The man watched him thrash in place with a look of pity. His voice came out almost conversationally, as though raising a casual question: “Is this your girl?”

Jiang Hansheng’s foot found nothing beneath it. He plunged downward — the terror jolted through him like a current, and he gasped sharply.

He woke.

The sunlight was sharp enough to make his eyes ache, yet his entire body was cold, his back soaked through with a fine, clammy sweat.

A soft, warm hand came to rest over his brow bone.

Zhou Jin’s face appeared close to his, her expression startled. “What’s wrong?”

She touched his temple — drenched in sweat — and was taken aback by the look of him, jolted awake as suddenly as that.

Jiang Hansheng was disoriented, a breath lodged in his chest, struggling to come free.

“We’re here,” Zhou Jin said.

He nodded, his face still pale. After a moment, he reached up and took Zhou Jin’s hand from his forehead, raised it to his lips, and pressed a quiet kiss against it.

His lips were cold. Her hand was warm.

Jiang Hansheng closed his eyes, lost in some thought Zhou Jin couldn’t read. She let him hold her hand for a while, and when he seemed to have had enough, she said, “Time to get out.”

Jiang Hansheng didn’t let go.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was sharp and bright — like a blade that had been drawn through water.

“There’s one more option,” Jiang Hansheng said suddenly.

“What?” Zhou Jin asked.

“In the time I spent with Qi Yan five years ago, there may still be hidden clues I didn’t notice at the time.” He answered. “I’d like to try something.”

Zhou Jin still wasn’t quite following. “Try what?”

“Hypnosis,” said Jiang Hansheng.

He was the only person in the entire public security system who had come face to face with Qi Yan — and beyond that, the two of them had lived under the same roof for six days.

Through hypnosis, his consciousness could be guided back to that specific period. A sufficiently deep hypnotic state could help Jiang Hansheng recall the details of those days with clarity.

Zhou Jin looked uneasy. “Would that be alright?”

Jiang Hansheng gave a faint, labored smile and said earnestly, “I can’t promise we’ll find anything.”

Zhou Jin’s brow furrowed. She corrected him, her voice firm. “I’m not asking about the clues. I’m asking about you.”