Chapter 52: Clues

The first day after confirming their relationship, their daily routines showed no difference from before. Yet the atmosphere between them had grown incredibly intimate and clingy.

Even though Bai Yiyi spent most of his time in bird form these days, it couldn’t stop a certain someone who had only just awakened to romance at the age of thirty. At the slightest provocation, Yan Tuo would ignite like a spark in dry grass, burning with fervent passion. He seized every brief moment when Bai Yiyi shifted back to human form and kissed him until they could barely tear themselves apart.

They didn’t even bother having anyone cook dinner. They had to get their fill of kisses first.

In the end, they settled for instant noodles.

Yan Tuo slurped at his noodles while inquiring, “What’s the score now? When will you be able to fully shift back into a human?”

Bai Yiyi replied, “It’s hovering between 94 and 96. No matter what I do, those last 4 points just won’t budge. I have no idea what’s wrong. I even asked the system, but it doesn’t know either.”

“What if you hold out and avoid shifting for a few days? Still no progress?”

“Yeah, during that half month filming on location, I didn’t shift once, and it didn’t rise even a single point.”

He was genuinely troubled. In this state, his desire to regain his human form had only grown more urgent. Otherwise, their romance would be… For others, it might be a heartrending tale of human and ghost, lovers parted by death, or at the very least a poetic divide between human and demon. But for them? Human and beast, bound by affection?

The instant noodles in Yan Tuo’s mouth tasted utterly bland—nowhere near as delicious as his boyfriend’s lips. He forced them down and let out a heartfelt sigh. “One hour… it’s just not quite enough.”

The lingering innuendo in his words made Bai Yiyi’s face burn hot beneath his feathers.

The next day at work, Yan Tuo received a major windfall.

Little Liu from the Technical Group, aware of his particular interest in M and Passerby A, had gone digging far and wide. Remarkably, she had uncovered fresh leads.

Passerby A’s real name was Lu Renjia. He favored the alias because of its similar pronunciation and used it consistently for comments across various forums. Little Liu had followed the trail and unmasked him.

Once his identity was verified, his whereabouts became crystal clear.

The moment Yan Tuo heard the name, he had a hunch. Flipping through the old case files confirmed it: one of the three kidnappers in the Huangdingshan Yan family villa abduction case was Lu Renxi, and their naming conventions were strikingly similar.

Over the years, Yan Tuo had tried tracking down relatives of all three men. Lu Renxi had been the most isolated—no parents, no siblings. This new figure was likely a cousin or some other blood relation.

The man was still in J City. Armed with the address, Yan Tuo couldn’t resist paying him a visit right after work that evening.

Liyu Alley in Xiacheng District was a notorious urban slum, chaotic and rundown. As Yan Tuo made his way from one end to the other, he passed three stumbling drunks, two brawls in progress, and several women engaged in street prostitution, loitering under the streetlights.

The heavily made-up women spotted the lone man walking at night from afar and considered throwing him a flirtatious glance. But up close, his towering, muscular build and intimidating presence gave them pause. His eyes alone marked him as not their kind, so they left him alone and went back to their phones.

At the target address, the man wasn’t home. His middle-aged housemate was certain: “He’s definitely downstairs at the mahjong parlor.”

Yan Tuo followed the directions through a pitch-black side path and found the little mahjong den.

What passed for a parlor was just a cramped ten-square-meter room with two automatic mahjong tables. Eight players were deep in their games, while a few others crowded around, placing bets amid raucous shouts and cheers.

Yan Tuo’s unfamiliar face drew immediate attention. The boss assumed he was a new customer looking to play and stepped forward with a greeting.

But the tall man with a white fluffball perched on his shoulder ignored him entirely. He called out directly, “Lu Renjia?”

The dozen or so people in the room turned as one toward a spot against the wall. A chubby bald man looked up, his face twisted in irritation. “Who the hell are you?”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

The bald man, likely frustrated by a string of bad luck, exploded in temper. “Who the fuck are you? Talk about what shit? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a game?”

Without another word, Yan Tuo strode forward, yanked open the drawer of the man opposite him, snapped photos of the stacks of bills inside—both large and small denominations—and slapped his police badge down on the table.

“Either we all head to the station to keep playing, or you and I have a nice chat.”

This shut down the boss first—better no trouble than extra hassle. The others piled on with jeers and shoves, forcing the man away from the table.

Lu Renjia had no choice but to follow him outside. He tore open a bag of betel nut and started chewing, flashing a cheeky grin. “A cop, eh? You’re the boss. Fire away. But let me be clear upfront: I’m a model citizen. Been out seven years and haven’t done a damn thing wrong. Don’t try pinning any bullshit on me.”

“You’re Passerby A on K Forum, right?”

Lu Renjia paused, processing it, then stared in disbelief. “Holy shit, I barely said a few words there, and now you’ve got a problem with that?”

“Maybe it’s connected to you, maybe not. Depends on how clearly you explain. How did you know M was linked to the 2004 Huangdingshan Yan family villa kidnapping? What’s your connection to Lu Renxi?”

Lu Renjia considered for a moment. There seemed to be no harm in spilling it. “Lu Renxi was my cousin—dead for years now. Village got demolished last year, and I went back to clear out his shitty old place. That’s when I found his diary. It mentioned this Mentor character. Out of curiosity, I used the invite code to join that damn forum and asked about it once. That’s it, Officer. Hardly a crime, right?”

“Where’s the diary?”

Lu Renjia’s eyes darted slyly as he changed the subject. “You say you’re a cop? I didn’t get a good look at the badge earlier. Mind showing it again?”

Yan Tuo immediately held it out. The bald man squinted in the dim alley light, scrutinizing every detail. His expression shifted noticeably.

From Bai Yiyi’s vantage point, the man had started off looking like he’d drawn the short straw with some plague-bringer. After eyeing the badge, excitement gleamed in his eyes, as if the plague had turned to fortune and his luck had finally turned.

Lu Renjia savored a mouthful of betel juice, delighted. Who would’ve thought the man he’d been chasing would walk right up to him? He grinned wolfishly. “Yan Tuo? The kidnapping’s sole survivor? Son of the victim, Yan Zhen? The real power behind Zhizhen Group?”

Yan Tuo replied evenly, “Yes.”

His left hand, hanging loosely at his side, clenched into a tight fist. The more this man knew, the greater the diary’s significance—and the stronger Yan Tuo’s resolve to obtain it.

Lu Renjia chuckled. “Heh, your folks are gone, but my cousin and his two buddies all bit the dust too. They didn’t get to spend a dime of the ransom. No one came out ahead… except this M. Bet you’re itching to settle the score with him.”

Yan Tuo said nothing, but his gaze made it plain: what else would bring him here in the dead of night?

Lu Renjia spat out the remnants from his mouth, ground his shoe against the ground with a harsh scrape, and dropped a bombshell. “I’ll let you in on something: he’s no mere Mentor. He’s the goddamn mastermind. My cousin’s diary spells it out from the very first stages of planning.”

Yan Tuo’s jaw tightened involuntarily. The man had read him perfectly and was gearing up for a big payoff. The question was whether Yan Tuo could afford the price.

The dynamic had flipped in an instant. No matter how composed Yan Tuo remained, the truth about the mastermind—obsessing him for over a decade—was dangling right in front of him. He spoke first. “I want that diary.”

Lu Renjia’s smile brimmed with satisfaction.

Ever since discovering the diary in a hidden compartment in his cousin’s wall, he’d been scheming ways to turn the trash into treasure.

Only two people would care about its contents: M, who wanted it destroyed to erase evidence; and the Yan family survivor, hungry for the truth.

He’d baited M first, but the bastard was slippery as an eel. Even laying out the case’s time and place in detail got no response. The guy lurked in the shadows of the net, untouchable.

This Yan scion seemed easier to track on the surface, but Lu Renjia’s probes at Zhizhen Building had yielded nothing—not a glimpse of him, and the staff played dumb.

He never imagined the silver-spoon heir, who could coast through life on daddy’s money, would become a cop—and track him down from a single offhand forum post, no less.

“Your family got wronged by my cousin, so I won’t make it hard. Money’s no object to you, but you won’t miss it. Five million, flat rate. Cash on delivery.”

Yan Tuo breathed an inner sigh of relief. The bald man clearly knew when to pick his battles. Money was no obstacle for him, and the amount was well within reason.

He agreed promptly. “Done. Now? Alipay?”

Lu Renjia was taken aback. Jealousy and resentment surged toward anyone who could toss around five million like pocket change. Regret crept in—had he lowballed? Maybe ten million, and the guy would’ve paid up just as quick?

He glanced at the man’s hulking frame, recalled the badge. A Second-Class Police Supervisor in his thirties…

He quickly reined in his greed and answered awkwardly, “Can’t be that fast. It’s stashed safely back in my hometown village. I’ll need time to go fetch it. Let’s set a date for the exchange. And cash only—no transfers.”

The two swapped contact info. With nothing more to say, Yan Tuo retraced his steps out of Liyu Alley.

Back at home, Yan Tuo remained immersed in the shock of suddenly learning the truth.

He had always been convinced this fourth person existed, but he had assumed they were merely an accomplice providing intelligence or keeping lookout—never imagining they could be the mastermind.

Back then, everyone at the scene had perished except for him. Yet this mastermind, who had never once shown their face, had evaded justice all these years, living prosperously and comfortably.

Intense resentment and an urgent thirst for revenge pressed down on him. Yan Tuo’s forehead throbbed, and he unconsciously reached up to rub it.

Soon, a few slender, delicate fingers replaced his own, massaging his temples with just the right pressure. A clear, boyish voice spoke softly from behind him: “I heard both Hongqing and Uncle Xu asked you, but you refused to say a word. About this fourth person—how did you know, and what are you thinking? Can you tell me?”

Bai Yiyi didn’t really want to reopen old wounds, especially scars that had festered for years without healing. But seeing his boyfriend so anxious, he worried that keeping everything bottled up inside would be too painful for him. Hesitantly, he ventured the question.