Bai Yiyi was indeed trembling. Ever since that childhood incident that forced them to move, he had never seen that neighbor again. Yet the man’s face remained etched vividly in his memory, transforming without warning into an overwhelming shadow that engulfed him.
The moment this man walked in, Bai Yiyi had a moment of disorientation severe enough to mistake him for that figure from his past.
The resemblance was uncanny—the same age range, the same build and height, the same neatly combed three-seven part held in place with gel, the same gold-rimmed glasses. Even the way his eyes narrowed into friendly slits when he smiled felt identical.
Squinted eyes were terrifying, okay? In anime, nine out of ten characters with perpetually narrowed eyes were major villains! Bai Yiyi was certain he suffered from severe squinted-eye PTSD.
Of course, he knew this wasn’t the same person—the age gap was at least a dozen years. Still, that first glance transported him back in an instant to that early autumn day in the little park when he was seven. The man had beaten him black and blue for resisting, and though Bai Yiyi had cried out to passersby for help, a single “Just disciplining my kid” had shut them all down. No one else paid any attention.
That feeling of being trapped in despair, utterly ignored and unbelieved—it had seared itself into his bones. All he could do was huddle quickly inside his coconut shell, venting his terror alone, not daring to so much as peek outside again.
Yan Tuo had no idea what was going through his beloved pet’s mind right then. He just figured the little guy hadn’t slept well the night before and was now curled up in his nest for a nap, ignoring everyone.
With a touch of apology, he said to Xu Qingru, “This little guy’s always been a bit shy around strangers. He’s gotten better lately, but who knows—he might be having an off day today. Next time there’s a chance, I’ll have him give you a proper greeting. He can say a bunch of words, you know. Real cute about it.”
Xu Qingru wasn’t about to hold it against him, of course. Delivering the documents and checking on the bird had just been a pretext anyway. What actually concerned him was something else.
“Tuozi, your birthday’s coming up soon, right? Next Wednesday?”
Yan Tuo, who had just turned to head back to his desk, paused ever so slightly. Then he picked up the file folder from earlier, pulled out the documents, and flipped through them casually as he replied, “Uncle Xu, you know I don’t celebrate birthdays. Why would I keep track?”
Xu Qingru fell silent for a long moment before murmuring softly, “Back when Qing Shu-jie was around, no matter how busy things got, she always made a big family meal with her own hands that day—especially your favorite mapo tofu. You could never forget that. You’d bury your rice under a whole basin of it and polish it off in one go.”
The test report in Yan Tuo’s hands didn’t turn a single page for the longest time. The familiar layout suddenly looked like gibberish, but he didn’t want anyone noticing, so he forced his tone to lighten up and started rambling off-topic. “Come on, Uncle Xu, think about our ages. Mom was fifteen years older than you, so you called her ‘jie.’ You’re only ten years older than me, but you insist on me calling you ‘uncle.’ Isn’t that a bit unfair? I should’ve been calling you Big Brother Xu. You aren’t worried I’ll make you sound old…”
Unfortunately, the man leaning against the desk wasn’t thrown off in the slightest. He came back with a direct hit: “Tuozi, are you still chasing that case?”
Yan Tuo’s feigned casualness crumbled. He set down the report, rubbed his temple, and sighed. “Did Hongqing tell you?”
Xu Qingru didn’t deny it. “Ran into him by chance a few days ago. We grabbed a meal together. I just never expected that after more than a decade, you still haven’t let it go.
“Tuozi, I’m in evidence identification. To me, evidence is what decides everything. No evidence, no case. You really shouldn’t let some vague hunch make you abandon the family business, force your way into criminal investigation, and torment yourself for all these years. And now you’re not even settled down in life. You…”
Yan Tuo spun around, cutting off the nagging. “Uncle Xu, haven’t I done pretty well? How many people my age have two bars and two stars nationwide? The family business is fine—Big Uncle’s handling it. Besides, you’re living solo too, and compared to you, I’m still young.”
Xu Qingru choked on that, growing a bit flustered. “He’s not even blood-related big uncle—just a cousin once removed. Don’t you know what kind of person your aunt is? Yan Zhen slaved away half his life building up that business. Don’t let it all go to ruin in your hands.”
Yan Tuo looked helplessly at the man before him—the director of J City’s Medical University Affiliated Appraisal Center. After Grandpa’s war buddy died on the job, he’d brought this guy home to raise. Mom had treated him like a real little brother.
Back then, reeling from his parents’ case, Yan Tuo had given up his beloved electric guitar and an invitation to a top-tier overseas music conservatory to enroll in the national police academy. Amid the whole family’s objections, this man had been the only one supportive. How had he turned into someone fretting over “family business” now?
But his intentions were good, no doubt—probably worried Yan Tuo was still lost in the past, drowning in hatred with no way out. After all, compared to some rich kid playing refined arts, holing up in a tiny apartment and working himself like a dog every day would give anyone the wrong idea.
Yan Tuo didn’t want to argue or explain anymore. He changed the subject once more, blurting out nonsense: “Hey, Uncle Xu, you call my mom ‘jie’ all sweet and familiar, but how come I never heard you call my dad ‘sister’s husband’ growing up? Always ‘Yan Zhen, Yan Zhen.’ That’s pretty rude, isn’t it? If you weren’t a decade younger than Mom, I’d swear you had a crush on her and were jealous of her man.”
Xu Qingru’s face flushed crimson in an instant. “What nonsense are you spouting? Can’t win the argument, so you start bullshitting?”
He looked flustered and embarrassed, as if some long-buried secret had just been exposed. He muttered hastily, “Forget it. With your stubborn streak, no one can talk sense into you. Do whatever. But if you get any real leads, tell me right away—I might be able to help. Oh, and Grandpa’s big birthday at month’s end. We’ll drive back together. Don’t forget.”
With that, he skipped the goodbye, yanked open the door, and hurried off—his steps a touch panicked.
Yan Tuo stared at his retreating back in surprise. He’d just been talking out of his ass, but this reaction made it seem… real?
Could Uncle Xu’s lifelong singledom actually stem from feelings for Yan Tuo’s late mother?
If so, it was hopeless. Unrequited love was soul-destroying enough, especially for someone gone—rose-tinted glasses polishing them to flawless perfection. For a stubborn type prone to fixation, years of clinging on made perfect sense.
Yan Tuo didn’t want to speculate further on the elders’ tangled affections and grudges. He pulled himself together, went back to the report from earlier, and read it carefully from the top. Then he headed out, planning to take it to the Technical Group for cross-referencing. With that, the Huangshaliao massacre case could basically be closed.
Before leaving, he glanced worriedly at his little dumpling. It looked like he was asleep now. Recalling those bleary little eyes from that morning, Yan Tuo smiled in understanding, left him be, and made for the Technical Group in the next building over.
The Municipal Bureau Criminal Investigation Detachment’s Technical Group wasn’t in the main detachment building, due to needs for transport, handling, and freezing equipment. Instead, it took up the entire B1 level of the structure right by the underground parking garage—earning it the running joke of “underground operatives” among the team.
The moment Yan Tuo stepped inside, a blast of frigid air hit him, a stark contrast to the sweltering heat outside. The office was empty, so without a second thought, he headed straight for the lab in the back.
Through the half-frosted glass partition, he saw two figures in white coats and masks meticulously examining a body on the worktable. Three more lay nearby, draped in white sheets.
It seemed they’d hit the scheduled power cut Sun Lei had mentioned. The lab lights winked out all at once. With no natural light this deep underground, it plunged into pitch blackness where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.
No one inside panicked—not even a gasp or word of conversation—because everyone knew the bureau had installed a backup generator just for the lab during outages, on account of the massive freezers.
Sure enough, after half a minute, the lights flickered back on gradually. A few bulbs still stuttered dimly, perhaps from unstable voltage.
In such a scene, anyone faint of heart would’ve been terrified out of their wits.
Yan Tuo was used to it by now. He walked right in, set the file folder aside, and called out to Fang Ping at the autopsy table. “Hey, Director Xu just personally dropped off the reports for the other bodies.”
Fang Ping, peering closely at the facial wounds on the corpse, asked offhandedly, “Why’d they send them straight to you?”
Before Yan Tuo could reply, Fang Ping snapped out of it and answered his own question. “Oh, right—probably stopped by to chat while he was at it. I remember now. My predecessor left me a tip before leaving: whenever you need help from the appraisal center, just loop in Captain Yan. Guarantees fast, quality results without the cold shoulder.”
Yan Tuo didn’t elaborate. “All in a day’s work—whoever you ask, same difference. How’s it going here? Ready to wrap up?”
Fang Ping replied, “Li You’s body took the worst damage—layers of wounds from multiple weapons, three different ones at that—so it ate up extra time. Should be done before end of shift this afternoon.”
Yan Tuo glanced at that body, curiosity piqued. “Axe and brick chops are straightforward to ID, but scissor stabs are rare. Any difference in the wound shapes?”
That question hit the forensic doctor’s sweet spot. He launched into an exhaustive lecture, citing cases and precedents nonstop. With his own boss as captive audience, he went on for a good half hour.
Yan Tuo treated it as picking up new knowledge, listening patiently until the guy had his fill. Only then did he bow out on work business.
Walking back, he mulled over Fang Ping. With such a teacherly personality, eager to impart wisdom—why hadn’t he stayed in academia? How’d he end up in policing, forever on the front lines instead?
Yan Tuo returned to the office on the second floor. The entire building was still without power, and all the cool air accumulated from the air conditioning that morning had dissipated completely. Now the atmosphere felt somewhat stuffy and hot.
He glanced around but couldn’t see White Dumpling anywhere. Shining the flashlight from his phone into the coconut shell, he found no trace of it. He called out Tangyuan’s name a couple of times, both inside the office and out, but there was still no response.
How could this be?
Even if it had hidden in some corner to play, it would surely come out when he called for it.
In this situation… where on earth had it gone?
