Chang Fangyi had his throat slit clean by someone. From the wound’s marks, the killer showed no hesitation—precise and cold-blooded.
Jin Ming crossed his fingers and tapped the desk. “He received your ‘reminder’ on Friday night and didn’t sleep a wink. The next day at noon, he went to his lover’s place, left in less than ten minutes in a hurry, headed to the undeveloped area near Saibo City, and wasn’t found until last night—hooked up by some night-fishing guy at the seaside.”
Though Chang Fangyi worked in a mixed bag like Cloud Summit, his personal relationships were very simple.
He was thirty-seven, unmarried, had a lover he didn’t live with, his mother had passed early, his father had been gravely ill back home under relatives’ care and had just died last month.
Before dying, Chang Fangyi had even requested half a month off from the club. In other words, if not for that fisherman stumbling upon him, no one might have noticed he was dead for a while.
Even if he didn’t show up for work after half a month, the club manager might not think much of it. People working in such places often skipped resignation procedures, and sudden no-shows were par for the course.
Jin Ming slapped a photo of Chang Fangyi’s death on the table and pushed it into Lai Li’s view.
Last night, the water police had hauled the body ashore and snapped this photo under a strong flashlight—
Chang Fangyi’s body had bloated and swelled from the seawater, his face deathly pale, the cross-section at his neck gaping and gruesome.
Lai Li looked up indifferently. “You haven’t pulled out the handcuffs yet, so you’ve already checked my itinerary.”
Jin Ming smiled. “Indeed. Someone who drove to another neighborhood, staked out from afternoon till six or seven at night clearly had no time to commit the crime.”
The neighborhood surveillance captured it all crystal clear. But to the police, Lai Li’s spur-of-the-moment “scare” looked a bit like a deliberate alibi.
Jin Ming probed curiously. “But do young masters like you, born with a silver spoon, really need to do things yourselves?”
Lai Li sneered. “Can’t tell—you must’ve been born with a silver ass.”
“…” After chatting with the refined, well-read eldest son of the Dai Family, it was hard to fathom why he had such a brother.
Jin Ming chuckled. “Alright, let’s get to the point. Why did you ‘remind’ Chang Fangyi?”
“Because of one of his employees, Song Zichu. Maybe you’ve dug this up already—the manager fired Song Zichu the day before he died.” Lai Li leaned back relaxed in his chair, meeting Jin Ming’s gaze calmly. “I’d helped him out once before, back when he was my college roommate, dealing with a harassing guest. But then he turned clingy, harassing me nonstop, giving me those disgusting looks… even slithering up to my brother. Naturally, I couldn’t tolerate it.”
Jin Ming had indeed verified the rest. Surveillance from Cloud Summit showed that on Friday night, Lai Li had clashed with Song Zichu in the hallway, and Chang Fangyi, to curry favor, fired Song Zichu.
Jin Ming leaned back. “Maybe Song Zichu was just trying to butter you up, nothing more.”
“Maybe? I prefer certainties.” Lai Li scoffed. “I think he’s more like a pervert.”
Jin Ming raised a brow, noncommittal.
Lai Li spread his hands casually. “The… deceased fired the pervert, so he might’ve faced retaliation. I was just kindly reminding him not to walk alone at night.”
Jin Ming stared at Lai Li for a moment. From anyone else’s mouth, this would sound like pure bullshit, but coming from Lai Li, it somehow rang convincing.
“To be honest,” Jin Ming leaned in with a smile, “we’ve already questioned Song Zichu. He left just before you arrived. His itinerary yesterday didn’t overlap with Chang Fangyi’s.”
Lai Li had expected as much—
From their first encounter at Cloud Summit over summer break, Lai Li had recognized Song Zichu and kept tabs on him, but found nothing unusual. That’s why, after school started, Lai Li deliberately “rescued” him—to see what he was up to and flush out whoever was behind it.
For something from twelve years ago to end up at the same university, same dorm as him? No coincidence. Someone powerful had arranged it.
Yet Song Zichu seemed like just a regular poor college kid—classes, part-time jobs. The guests he interacted with at Cloud Summit were unremarkable too.
Lai Li had planned to watch longer, but Song Zichu tried approaching Dai Linxuan, which Lai Li couldn’t stomach. He tore into Song Zichu directly, indirectly causing Chang Fangyi’s death.
Theoretically, whoever backed Song Zichu had bigger plans—killing so easily would just invite trouble.
So when Lai Li warned him, he’d figured the odds of Song Zichu acting out over a firing were slim.
Too bad—kids from the Slum District weren’t normal. Even after twelve years of “reform,” you couldn’t predict them with normal logic.
The puppet master thought he controlled a knife, unaware it might be a ticking bomb.
…
Since the tail on Song Zichu hadn’t reported anomalies to Lai Li, either he’d shaken them off or hadn’t done it himself. The police coming up empty was no surprise.
“Already done questioning him?” Lai Li lifted his eyelids in surprise. “Your casework efficiency can be this high? Who knew.”
Stung repeatedly, Jin Ming stayed unruffled. “Human life is at stake.”
Next came pointless rehashing, like confirming Lai Li’s itinerary again.
Jin Ming summed up. “You saw a shrink early morning, staked out someone’s building in the afternoon, home by six or seven for dinner—is that right?”
Lai Li drooped his eyes lazily. “Not staking out. I had an appointment with a realtor to view a place.”
Jin Ming said, “First time I’ve seen a buyer wait a whole day for a realtor.”
Lai Li picked up the photo, flicking it playfully at Jin Ming’s face. “Why not ditch the uniform and become a realtor yourself? Broaden your horizons.”
The note-taker beside them yelped “Hey!” Jin Ming stopped his colleague, caught the falling photo, and said, “No worries. Too long on the sulfuric acid case soured Mr. Lai on us. I figure more chats will change that.”
Lai Li slammed the desk suddenly, locking eyes coldly. “Who are you threatening?”
Jin Ming sighed. “Threat? Just hoping Mr. Lai fulfills a citizen’s duty to cooperate.”
The interrogation ended sourly.
Lai Li stood, sidestepped Jin Ming at the door like dodging trash, and left without looking back.
Jin Ming narrowed his eyes, a flash of irritation crossing his face, but then he thought of something and grinned brightly. “Oh right—for something this serious tied to a criminal case, I should notify your guardian.”
Lai Li glanced back.
Jin Ming said, “Your household registry might be solo, but your brother’s raised you all these years…”
Before he finished, Lai Li was already striding away, unbroken pace.
“…” Jin Ming took a sip of water from his colleague. “This Young Master Lai isn’t the arrogant dimwit from the rumors.”
“Maybe we need a new angle,” the colleague said. “If Dai Linxuan’s clean, cracking Lai Li’s pointless—he won’t spill anything useful.”
Lai Li reached the parking lot and spotted a bright yellow note under the wiper from afar.
He circled the area, approached, and opened it—
[Glad you recognized me at a glance. How’ve you been all these years?
I’ve thought of you every moment. We all have…
The ring went down, but the fights continue—just a different form, different stakes.
Hope you’re still sharp as ever.
Oh, and does Dai Linxuan know what his ‘little brother’ did as a kid? Know you’re a nutcase?
Don’t deny it—we’re all the same.
Bet he doesn’t. Think he’ll still want you once he knows everything?]
Lai Li clenched his fist hard, crumpling the note into a ball. It arced into the trash bin.
He pulled a wet wipe from the car, wiped his hand in disgust, circled the vehicle once more, popped the hood, and checked thoroughly.
Satisfied no tampering, Lai Li floored it out of the lot.
He should’ve headed to his apartment or school dorm for an early eight a.m. tomorrow, but after looping the bustling city, the car followed the falling night into Hezi Mountain Mansion.
He lay on the master bed, pulled the pillow over his face, inhaling the familiar scent obsessively.
“Ge…”
Lai Li slipped a hand into his waistband, video-called Dai Linxuan impatiently.
It connected quickly. Dai Linxuan bent at the waist, shirt wrinkling in folds on screen. He propped the phone on the coffee table and sat on the adjacent sofa.
Wearing earbuds, clearly mid-call. “No worries, my brother’s calling. Please continue.”
As the other voice droned, he pressed a finger to his lips, shushing the camera’s Lai Li silently.
Lai Li bit his canine subtly, stroking himself slowly.
His brother always exuded calm control at work, effortlessly steering talks, drawing others into his logic.
Lai Li’s throat bobbed, stifling breaths. The noisy chatter flooding his ears scattered under his brother’s clear, gentle voice.
Even the sour, fishy reek at his nose gave way to a faint, different tang.
Thirty minutes later, Dai Linxuan wrapped up smoothly. “No problem. See you tomorrow.”
Lai Li grunted muffled, palm slick and sticky. His voice hoarse, he called, “Ge.”
Dai Linxuan removed his earbuds. “Dinner yet?”
“Just finished.”
Lai Li sprawled lax on the bed, zipper wide open. He grabbed tissues, wiped his hand, cleaned the stains from his pants.
Dai Linxuan saw only Lai Li’s neat upper half and usual aloof arrogance—clueless his dear brother had jerked off mid-video.
Lai Li flipped prone, nuzzling the bed. “Ge, when you coming back?”
“Checked into the hotel two hours ago.” Dai Linxuan unpacked room service, amused. “What’d you have for dinner?”
The “you” lingered on Lai Li’s tongue before he swallowed it. “Dumplings.”
The auntie-made kind, plump filling, thin skin. Dai Linxuan recognized the background. “Didn’t I finish the freezer ones?”
Lai Li kept straight-faced. “Didn’t say I ate at home.”
Dai Linxuan pressed. “Where then?”
Lai Li half-lidded his eyes. “Cafeteria across from Municipal Public Security Bureau.”
His bodyguard had tipped him off at noon about the new order—”Report any unusual itinerary for Little Chestnut immediately.”
No hiding police summons from Dai Linxuan.
Plus, assisting an investigation counted as “trouble”—bodyguards were supposed to report it. Blocking would’ve raised flags later.
Dai Linxuan asked, “Something happen?”
Lai Li watched him eat from the pillow. “You don’t know?”
Dai Linxuan’s tone stayed mild. “Want to hear it from you.”
So Lai Li recited the police version again.
Dai Linxuan lowered his eyes, chewed slowly, then spoke. “Little Chestnut, sure there’s nothing else to tell me?”
Lai Li’s heart skipped, flashing to Song Zichu’s note.
But he steadied. “You wanna know why I targeted Song Zichu?”
Dai Linxuan: “Hm?”
“He’s from the Slum District.” Lai Li said flatly. “Dangerous. Keep him away from you.”
“Okay.” Dai Linxuan agreed first, then probed. “Why dangerous?”
Lai Li watched his face. “You knew already?”
“Found out recently.” Dai Linxuan said. “The big sweep back then prioritized shipping out homeless kids first. They all had some PTSD, so to integrate them fast, they went to a Welfare Home up north, far from Danshi.”
