If First Hospital was the midpoint, then Songshan Road and Anshan District Police Station were like two ends of a long axis.

The route from Anshan District Police Station to the Songshan Road apartments inevitably passed by First Hospital.

Old Qin, cigarette dangling from his mouth, fastened his seatbelt and rested his arm on the window, flicking ash while casually looking outside.

They passed the city library, shopping mall, and a hotel, with First Hospital—the city’s best hospital—just ahead.

From inside the car, one could see the hospital’s modern buildings, still brightly lit despite being after working hours.

The bustling outside made the car’s interior seem even quieter. He silently exhaled smoke, and when his throat itched, he couldn’t help but try to make conversation: “Captain, did you buy on Songshan Road for the convenient commute?”

Jiang Chengyi checked the rearview mirror, turned on his signal, and merged into the straight lane: “No.”

Old Qin nodded: “True. In our line of work, we’re out at all hours—convenience hardly matters. I think the ones who’d benefit most from living on Songshan Road are the doctors at First Hospital, but I hear even the cheapest places there cost tens of millions. Everyone living there is wealthy. What’s that saying—born with a silver spoon? Captain, that’s exactly like you—”

Jiang Chengyi smiled and turned on the radio: “Old Qin, if you’re bored, just listen to the radio.”

Old Qin chuckled. His fault for killing the conversation. The captain didn’t like discussing personal matters—how could he respond to that?

To break the awkwardness, he started fiddling with the radio: “Let’s listen to some music.”

After trying several nearby stations playing rock music, he frowned, surprised that the captain enjoyed such music.

Seeing Jiang Chengyi focused on driving, he switched to his usual favorite program, “Gossip at 7:30.”

It was an interesting show that started at 7:30 every evening, where citizens would call in and the host would take their calls live. The content varied widely, mostly interesting local stories, sometimes including strange tales and unusual news.

While the stories’ authenticity was questionable, it was good for passing time during the commute home, which explained the show’s enduring popularity over the years.

A middle-aged woman was speaking on the radio, vividly describing how she had discovered evidence of her husband’s affair through various clues.

Old Qin had tuned in halfway through the story, but the woman’s pleasant voice and clear articulation made it engaging nonetheless.

However, as she continued, she began listing her terrible husband’s misdeeds, breaking into loud sobs, and becoming increasingly emotional.

Old Qin frowned, thinking the show needed a filter function—it would be better if they could remove all the trivial family drama and keep only the interesting gossip.

He glanced at Jiang Chengyi, whose face showed no reaction, apparently unbothered by Old Qin’s choice of such mundane programming.

He marveled at how easygoing the captain was.

The host, skilled at controlling the show, promptly hung up when the woman began sobbing uncontrollably.

The next caller was male, with a voice as rough as coarse sand—an elderly man.

The host directly addressed him as Uncle: “What would you like to share with everyone today, Uncle?”

But whether intentionally or not, after saying “hello,” the old man fell silent.

The host joked: “Uncle, many listeners are waiting to share their stories. If you don’t speak up, I’ll have to hang up.”

The old man finally cleared his throat and spoke slowly: “Winter Solstice is coming. Young people and children shouldn’t wander outside at night.”

“Why do you say that, Uncle?”

“Because of ghosts.” The old man snorted. “You young people have thrown away all the ancestral wisdom. Don’t you know that China has always had three major ghost festivals—Qingming, Zhongyuan, and Winter Solstice? And of all days in the year, the yin energy is strongest on Winter Solstice.”

Even through the phone, Old Qin could almost see the old man’s bristling expression.

The show knew how to set the mood, quickly adding eerie background music.

Host: “Recently, many listeners have been sharing Winter Solstice stories. Uncle, did you call specifically now because you experienced something during Winter Solstice?”

The old man paused for a few seconds, then said mysteriously: “Don’t dismiss this—Winter Solstice is truly strange. Just last year, near Winter Solstice, I saw a dead person with my own eyes.”

“A dead person?” The host grew interested. “Uncle, I don’t quite understand. What do you mean by a dead person?”

Old Man: “A woman who should have been long dead.”

Another silence.

Old Qin cursed: “Can’t this old man just finish his story—”

Suddenly, there was a sharp braking sound. Caught off guard, his upper body lurched forward then back.

When he regained his senses, he steadied himself and turned in surprise.

Jiang Chengyi’s face was extremely dark. As soon as the car stopped, he grabbed his phone from the console and immediately dialed a number.

The screen clearly showed two characters: Lu Yan.

Everything happened so suddenly that Old Qin was bewildered: “Captain, what’s wrong?”

Jiang Chengyi, face full of anxiety, stared intently at the intersection not far behind them, muttering lowly: “Lu Yan, Lu Yan, damn it, Lu Yan, answer the phone!”

His voice was angry but carried an underlying tone of prayer.

Old Qin was stunned for a moment. Seeing Jiang Chengyi fixated ahead, he quickly leaned out to look too.

The traffic light had just turned green, and pedestrians were flowing steadily through the intersection. At a glance, nothing seemed unusual.

He looked toward the front of the car. This road only allowed right turns and going straight—no U-turns or pulling over. If they didn’t move soon, they’d get a ticket from traffic police.

They had already passed the traffic post, and after just a few hundred meters, they could turn right into the famous luxury residence “Yifeng Bay,” known for its extensive greenery amid the bustling city. Why had the captain suddenly stopped by the roadside?

The call seemed unsuccessful, and Jiang Chengyi tried several more times, his expression darkening. Finally, he yanked off his seatbelt and opened the door: “Old Qin, drive the car forward first, wait for my call.”

As a veteran detective, Old Qin sensed this was no ordinary situation and quickly said: “Alright, we’ll meet up later. Be careful, Captain.”

When he started driving and looked back, Jiang Chengyi had already disappeared into the crowd.

Lu Yan and Tang Jie had spent the whole afternoon looking at apartments, growing increasingly discouraged.

The two adjacent buildings on Songshan Road were all super-sized units, with monthly rent equivalent to nearly half a year of her salary.

She still had some money left from what her father had given her to buy a house, enough for three months’ rent, but having just started working, she was still in the saving phase and didn’t want to waste money unnecessarily.

Tang Jie took out her wallet, ready to pay the rent with her card: “Don’t even think about renting an old place again. Those communities have no proper management or security. If something happens, no amount of money can make up for it. Besides, this isn’t much—I can cover it for now, and you can pay me back gradually.”

Lu Yan stopped her: “No, I’ve decided. I’m going to stay with my mom in East City. I’ll just get up an hour earlier to take the subway.”

Tang Jie exclaimed: “An hour earlier? Your department has handover at 7:30 AM, and when there’s extracorporeal circulation surgery, you need to be in the operating room by 7:00. Plus, it’s a twenty-minute walk from the subway station to the hospital. In this cold weather, don’t tell me you’re planning to get up at 5:30 every morning. And your department is so busy—when there are multiple surgeries, the subway’s almost closed by the time you finish work.”

But Lu Yan had made up her mind: “It’s just for a month at most until the police figure out who that woman is. Then I can move back. I’m not spending so much on rent.”

Tang Jie was furious: “What about Lu Jiaming? I heard his business is booming, and he’s about to get married for the third time. He’s been spending fortunes on his new bride, buying mansions, and planning island weddings. How can he stand by when his daughter needs help?”

Lu Yan: “That’s his money, he can spend it however he wants. He has no obligation to fulfill his adult daughter’s unreasonable demands.”

Tang Jie gave up.

Lu Yan checked the time: “It’s almost 7:30. If I take the subway now, I can get home before 9:00. I’ll stay at my mom’s tonight.”

Tang Jie followed Lu Yan out of the real estate office: “Let’s eat first, then I’ll drive you home.”

Just then, Tang Jie’s phone rang.

Seeing the caller ID, her eyes lit up specially.

Lu Yan noticed and said with a smile: “Is Dazhong back from America?”

Tang Jie let the phone ring several times before answering lazily: “Hello.”

After hearing something from the other end, she replied sweetly: “I’m with Lu Yan, near First Hospital.”

After a few more exchanges, she hung up and said sheepishly: “This guy, not even calling ahead to say he’s back.”

Seeing Tang Jie’s barely contained joy, Lu Yan stepped forward to adjust her scarf: “Come on, you haven’t seen each other for almost a month. Now that Dazhong’s back, don’t waste time with me. Go quickly, I’ll take the subway home.”

Tang Jie hesitated a bit more before saying: “Well, be careful. Call me as soon as you get home.”

Lu Yan: “I will. Go on, don’t keep Dazhong waiting too long.”

They parted ways, and Lu Yan walked toward the nearby subway station.

The night wind was fierce, constantly blowing open her coat collar, making her neck feel cold.

Finding it increasingly difficult to walk against the wind, she put her phone in her bag to free both hands to hold her collar tight.

Being the weekend, there were many pedestrians. At an intersection waiting for the light, quite a crowd gathered—mostly people hurrying home, their faces showing undisguised fatigue.

After waiting a while, she suddenly felt as if someone had pressed their palm against her back, adding unexpected weight.

Startled, she was about to turn around when the light turned green, and the crowd surged forward, pushing her along like a tide.

Unable to turn back to check, she had to move with the flow of people.

After crossing the crosswalk, turning right, and walking several hundred meters, she reached the subway station.

Line X wasn’t very crowded. Standing on the platform, she recalled what had just happened and felt puzzled, but looking around, the nearest person was several meters away.

She sighed in relief and, remembering she should call her mother in advance, took out her phone. Before she could unlock the screen, she noticed several missed calls.

Recognizing those familiar three characters, she froze for a moment.

Soon, the phone rang again.

She stared at the screen, trying to stay calm as she pressed to answer.

“Lu Yan.”

Though she should have remained composed, hearing that man’s voice call her name after eight years made her heart clench as if gripped tightly, blood rushing through her veins to her eardrums.

“Don’t speak.” Jiang Chengyi’s voice was low and fast. “Don’t let anyone near you. I’m coming right now. Tell me where you are—”

Just then, the subway arrived, and the crowd surged forward. Lu Yan had just lowered her phone and was about to turn away quickly when suddenly, a mysterious force struck from behind.