Lai San’er followed Zhou Jin’s gaze. The man was handsome and cold, his dark eyes chilled to their absolute limit.

An inexplicable fear rose in Lai San’er’s chest. He pulled his hand back. After a moment, he found some of his composure again by taking in Jiang Hansheng’s slightly lean frame.

He sneered: “You’re alone? Brother, did you come here to fight, or to get yourself killed?”

Jiang Hansheng straightened his spine and reached out to draw Zhou Jin behind him.

His arm was trembling involuntarily from the pain, yet his voice betrayed not the slightest ripple.

“I’m not here to fight. I’m not that foolish either.”

Immediately after — two sharp cracks split the night air, startling and piercing: the sound of warning shots being fired.

Lai San’er and his men lurched in sudden alarm, instinctively hunching down to take cover.

“Police! Hands up — or we open fire!”

“Damn it.”

Lai San’er glared at Jiang Hansheng, grinding his teeth as he cursed. He knew he was in serious trouble. This was no ordinary patrol officer or two who had shown up.

Every single person — Lai San’er included — raised both hands behind their heads and pressed tight against the wall to be thoroughly searched.

Facing the damp night breeze, Jiang Hansheng rested his left hand on his right arm, gripping it to control the trembling the pain had set off.

Knowing that Jiang Hansheng had called in reinforcements ahead of time, the rigid tension in Zhou Jin’s spine finally eased.

She noticed his trembling hand and was instantly gripped by both shock and fury. She demanded: “Who told you to come here?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that just was?”

The rain, fine as silk threads, continued to fall quietly.

Jiang Hansheng was not well-equipped to handle Zhou Jin’s anger. He could only blink at her helplessly, then pulled off his jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” Jiang Hansheng looked at her with a mild, gentle gaze and said, keeping his voice even: “I was worried about you.”

At those words, Zhou Jin’s eyes suddenly turned red.

Jiang Hansheng put one arm around Zhou Jin from the side, and because there were still so many people around, he only gave her shoulder a light pat before withdrawing his hand. “I’m fine, Zhou Jin.”

Zhou Jin swallowed against the tightness in her throat, and was just about to ask about Jiang Hansheng’s injury.

At that moment, Tan Shiming came striding over, furious, and unleashed a torrent of scolding directly at Zhou Jin: “Zhou Jin, if you really don’t want to be on this team anymore, get out right now! How many times have I said to notify the operations group? What were you trying to prove on your own?!”

If Jiang Hansheng hadn’t called in to report that both Zhou Jin and Lai San’er were in the back alley, Tan Shiming didn’t dare imagine what the outcome might have been.

Zhou Jin didn’t argue or defend herself — she lowered her head and took the dressing-down quietly.

In her heart she felt no guilt over having acted alone. Given the circumstances, she’d had no better option. What she felt guilty about was having dragged Jiang Hansheng into it.

Jiang Hansheng stood beside Zhou Jin and said: “Team Leader Tan knows Zhou Jin — she gives everything to the job and is most afraid of letting a suspect slip away. Fortunately, this time it turned out alright in the end.”

Zhou Jin quickly followed up with an apology: “Mentor, I was wrong.”

With Jiang Hansheng stepping in to smooth things over, Tan Shiming couldn’t be bothered to keep laying into her. He said: “Go home and write me a self-criticism!”

Zhou Jin nodded obediently. “Yes, sir.”

Under Tan Shiming’s direction, the special forces officers escorted the men from the alley into the police vehicles one by one.

Lai San’er was slouching along with an insufferably cocky, couldn’t-care-less air. As he passed Zhou Jin, he slid her a provocative look, drew his thumb across his throat from left to right, and muttered under his breath: “Come outside, I’ll finish you.”

Zhou Jin’s gaze stayed cold. Unmoved by his provocation, she turned her attention to Jiang Hansheng’s injured arm.

She was in the middle of asking “Do you need to go to the hospital” when she saw Jiang Hansheng suddenly lunge forward, slam his hand onto Lai San’er’s left shoulder, seized his wrist, and wrenched it behind his back without mercy.

Lai San’er dropped straight to his knees, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain: “It hurts, it hurts! It hurts — ! Let go! Let go!”

His sudden move startled everyone present. Jiang Hansheng’s looks leaned toward a cool, understated kind of refinement — normally, with his composed manner, it was hard to notice. But the moment anger surfaced, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes and brow turned exceptionally icy and sharp.

Lai San’er was in so much pain he could barely breathe, his cries choking back into silence.

Jiang Hansheng betrayed nothing outwardly — yet his grip grew more ruthless with every second, close to wrenching Lai San’er’s left hand clean off.

Jiang Hansheng said, word by deliberate word: “What did you just say?”

Zhou Jin snapped back to her senses and stepped forward to pull Jiang Hansheng away. “Jiang Hansheng — let go.”

Others rushed in quickly to take Lai San’er back from him. With the crowd urging him, Jiang Hansheng finally released his hold. By the time he stood still again, he had already returned to his usual composed and steady self.

Lai San’er had only been running his mouth — no one would take it seriously, and Jiang Hansheng had always been so level-headed. It made no sense for him to have lost his temper over it.

Zhou Jin looked at him with puzzlement: “What’s gotten into you?”

Jiang Hansheng smiled, and reached to take Zhou Jin’s hand. “Nothing.”

Once everyone had been loaded into the police vehicles, Jiang Hansheng called after Tan Shiming: “Team Leader Tan.”

Tan Shiming turned.

Jiang Hansheng said in a low, measured voice: “Lai San’er’s left hand is barely functional. It’s highly unlikely he could have committed the murder and disposed of the body alone — there may be a third party at the scene. His men need to be questioned separately.”

Tan Shiming was taken aback. He glanced over at Lai San’er from a distance. The left hand that Jiang Hansheng had nearly twisted off was hanging limp at his side — you had to look very carefully to detect the abnormality in the arm.

Tan Shiming understood at once, and asked Jiang Hansheng: “Just now — you went after him specifically to confirm that?”

“No.” Jiang Hansheng answered with complete sincerity. “I genuinely wanted to hit him.”

Zhou Jin: “…………”

Jiang Hansheng refused to go to the hospital and insisted on going home. Seeing how pale his face had gone, Zhou Jin didn’t return to the Major Crimes Unit either, and accompanied him back to the apartment.

She switched on the entryway light, fetched Jiang Hansheng’s slippers for him, and asked softly: “Is your arm still hurting? Let me put some medicine on it.”

Jiang Hansheng’s throat moved as he swallowed. He nodded and walked straight toward the bathroom.

Zhou Jin caught his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To shower.”

Zhou Jin frowned. “Your arm is in this state and you still want to shower?”

“My body…” Jiang Hansheng found the smell clinging to his clothes difficult to endure. “I feel dirty.”

“…”

Zhou Jin rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers and couldn’t help but laugh. “How can you have so many particular habits?”

Her tone held no reproach in it, which left Jiang Hansheng uncertain of her mood. He lowered his head and cautiously studied her curved, smiling eyes.

Zhou Jin suggested: “Skip it for tonight — I’ll wipe you down instead. Would that work?”

She said it so plainly that it was hard to read anything into it — yet the moment Jiang Hansheng fell silent, the atmosphere between them gradually began to shift into something warmer and more charged.

Zhou Jin caught the subtle awkwardness quickly and rushed to clarify: “No — don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t mean anything by it.”

Her face was hot. She lowered her head and avoided looking at Jiang Hansheng, using both hands to push at his back, urging him to go sit down on the bed.

After being nudged a step or two, Jiang Hansheng stubbornly turned back to look at her. There was a faint trace of amusement in his voice. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t mind.”

Zhou Jin looked up and met Jiang Hansheng’s beautiful, ink-dark eyes. She had rarely seen him smile — she hadn’t expected that when he did, it would be so brilliantly, openly bright.

“…”

Jiang Hansheng raised an eyebrow slightly, as though he had witnessed something remarkable. “Zhou Jin, your face is red.”

Zhou Jin gritted her teeth. “Shut up.”

Jiang Hansheng complied, letting her do as she liked.

Zhou Jin found the medicine box following his directions, then knelt on one knee in front of him, and carefully rolled up his sleeve.

A bruise — red and purple — lay across his arm, vivid and ugly against his fair skin.

She let out a quiet breath. “That must hurt.”

Jiang Hansheng shook his head.

As Zhou Jin applied the bruise-dispersing ointment, she asked him offhandedly: “It was dangerous, Jiang Hansheng. Don’t do something like that again. When exactly did you follow me there?”

Jiang Hansheng’s whole body stiffened slightly.

Zhou Jin seemed to realize something too. Her hand paused in its work. She furrowed her brow and looked at him with a questioning expression.

He averted his eyes, evading her watchful gaze.

Both of them fell into silence. The easy atmosphere they had only just begun to rebuild slowly dissolved in the lengthening stillness between them.

Jiang Hansheng finally couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’ll admit it — I saw you with Jiang Cheng.”

He hadn’t actually seen Jiang Cheng with his own eyes, yet that person’s voice and manner of speaking were not something Jiang Hansheng would ever forget.

Before he had known Jiang Cheng existed, he hadn’t known it was possible for a person to feel something so intensely. It was Jiang Cheng who had taught him what jealousy was.

Jiang Hansheng said: “I don’t mind.”

His expression was impassive. Zhou Jin had never been able to read anything at all from his face.

Zhou Jin said: “Even if you don’t mind, I’m telling you anyway — don’t bring him up again. I married you. Whether Jiang Cheng comes back or not, that doesn’t change.”

Her face had gone a little rigid. She stopped acknowledging Jiang Hansheng and focused on wrapping the bandage around his injured arm.

The room’s cool, pale light fell over Zhou Jin. She raised her hand to brush away the loose strands of hair that had fallen against her ear, revealing her delicate cheek.

His reason told him he should not look. Yet his gaze slid down against his will — to her neck and shoulders, her collarbones, and the expanse of fair skin showing at her chest.

“Prove it to me.” Jiang Hansheng’s eyes darkened.

Zhou Jin looked up in confusion. “What?”

Jiang Hansheng finally lost the last of his restraint. He raised his hand, pressed it to the back of her neck, and his lips came down in a sudden, deep kiss.

His kiss still held the same inexperience as before — yet it carried with it a desperation that had never been there until now, as though he meant to lay everything bare, and so it tangled deep and fierce and unrelenting.

Zhou Jin’s breath came apart. Only when a faint, involuntary murmur slipped between their lips and teeth did the long, consuming kiss show any sign of drawing to a close — slowly, slowly coming to rest.

The hand at the back of her neck did not pull away.

Jiang Hansheng had very bright eyes. He pressed his nose to hers, and made his appeal to her in a quiet voice: “Prove it to me, Zhou Jin.”