Qian Xingzhi showered first.
Shen Li used the excuse of grabbing his phone to step out of the bathroom. He didn’t return until he heard the sharp whoosh of the sliding door and the steady rush of the shower running for a full ten seconds. Only then did he carefully retrieve the ring from his pocket and tuck it away in the least-used drawer. After confirming it was securely locked, he sauntered back into the bathroom—where Qian Xingzhi was already under the spray.
Shen Li had just squeezed toothpaste onto his brush when Qian Xingzhi spoke up first, cutting straight to the question burning in Shen Li’s mind.
“The task segment was indeed changed at the last minute. The blame fell on some assistant director who supposedly grabbed the wrong proposal—one that had already been rejected. Li Zhiming fired the guy on the spot.”
Qian Xingzhi paused, and the water inside the glass door fell silent as well.
The next second brought the crisp click of a shampoo bottle pump.
Shen Li asked, “Was that for real, or was it all arranged?”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the sound of foamy hands scrubbing hair emerged, accompanied by Qian Xingzhi’s magnetic voice. “That assistant director’s only been out of school for a couple years. He latched onto Director Li right after graduation and climbed the ranks pretty fast. Couldn’t get anything else out of him.”
“Li Zhiming thought highly of him?”
“Yeah, but I suspect Li Zhiming wanted the change himself. When I showed up to call him out, he just needed a scapegoat to pin it on, claiming it was a mix-up.”
Shen Li frowned. “But what’s his motive? Stir up buzz to boost the show’s ratings?”
“Boost ratings?” Qian Xingzhi scoffed. “The daily spend suppressing hot searches costs more than buying traffic outright.”
…
Shen Li listened coolly as Qian Xingzhi spoke, finally shoving the toothpaste-laden brush into his mouth.
“Also,” Qian Xingzhi continued, “someone posted on the forum tonight. They dug up that old article claiming I was keeping you, complete with the video.”
“Video?”
Shen Li barely remembered any video.
Qian Xingzhi explained matter-of-factly, his tone utterly neutral, as if reciting dry facts. “The one where I groped your ass.”
Shen Li’s brushing hand froze, and his eyes instinctively squeezed shut.
He racked his brain, trying to recall the details…
It was so long ago that the memory was hazy, but Qian Xingzhi’s words jogged something loose. Yeah, there had been something like that.
He’d tried to watch it closely back then, only for Qian Xingzhi to clap a hand over his eyes, snatch the phone away, and stuff him unceremoniously under the covers.
Even at the time, Shen Li had never gotten a clear look at… whatever it showed him doing in that video.
Groped his ass? He had zero recollection.
Had he ever let Qian Xingzhi grope him like that in public? Shouldn’t it have been his waist?
Shen Li’s gaze chilled another few degrees.
“Not many people had access to that video, right?” he asked. “Just some random netizen who posted it?”
Qian Xingzhi’s voice hesitated for a few seconds, his shampooing motions halting as well.
It was only after a long moment that the shower roared back to life inside.
“Probably someone from Jiang Nan’s side.”
Shen Li’s narrow eyes widened slightly. “Jiang Nan’s crew?”
“Yeah. I just checked with them, but the cops haven’t shared details yet. They’re still investigating.”
Shen Li instinctively glanced toward Qian Xingzhi, his gaze unfocused on the man’s blurry, flesh-toned silhouette through the glass. He spat out the foamy toothpaste, rinsed his mouth twice, and set the brush aside.
“I’m making a call to check,” he told Qian Xingzhi. “Stay quiet.”
Qian Xingzhi must have finished rinsing or finally learned some manners. He shut off the water immediately, murmuring a hoarse “Mm” in acknowledgment.
Shen Li dialed Lin Jie, figuring he could put it on speaker so Qian Xingzhi could hear firsthand and save the recap later. He switched to speakerphone.
To his surprise, a male voice answered—vaguely familiar. “Hello? Master!”
Shen Li paused for a second before placing it: Zhao Rong.
“Little Rong?”
“It’s me, it’s me!”
Zhao Rong’s voice brimmed with excitement. “Lin Jie’s tracking the IP right now. I saw your name pop up and snatched her phone.”
“Mm.”
Shen Li acknowledged him without dwelling on it and got to the point. “What’s the deal with that post? Figured it out yet?”
“Oh yeah,” Zhao Rong replied. “You’re a party to this, Master, so I’ll lay it all out. The posting IP looked foreign at first glance, but we traced it. The target device hit some niche site with unencrypted DNS requests over the local network. The SSL cert leaked the real IP—right here in our city. It’s Jiang Nan’s people. Looks like the kid had it planned before the variety show even started. He lined up someone to drop the bomb if things went south for him. We just grilled him, and he spilled everything.”
“Spilled what?”
“He said if he was doing fine on the show, fine. But if not, his assistant would release the pre-edited dirt.”
Shen Li thought for a moment. “The call this morning from Yang Zhiqi’s phone?”
“Spot on.”
Shen Li rubbed his aching brow. “Any progress on the drowning case?”
“Actually, yeah—a bit.” Zhao Rong lowered his voice. “I’m leading it now. I visited the crematorium today. Their digital schedule shows Song Wenyu’s body was incinerated on February 25th, three years ago. But the paper log was altered to February 28th. Three days late.”
“Asked the family?”
“Yeah, they claim they don’t remember.”
Shen Li pondered.
“Pull bank records for the victim’s relatives three years back—late February and March. Look for large transfers.”
Zhao Rong sighed. “Already did yesterday. Nothing.”
Shen Li’s gaze hardened like tungsten steel dipped in liquid nitrogen. After a moment’s reflection, he recalled the files Qian Xingzhi had shown him…
“Did the victim have a brother of marriageable age?”
“Oh, right…” Zhao Rong paused to remember. “But he’s married. I checked today—his kid’s four.”
Shen Li said, “Dig into the marriage details: license date, dowry paid. Focus on the bride’s family’s accounts three years ago for any big incoming transfers.”
Zhao Rong got it instantly and responded with his usual instinctive obedience. “Got it! I’ll check tomorrow!”
“One more thing,” Shen Li added. “Press Xiao Ting hard on the victim’s habits, especially after she entered showbiz. Every little detail counts. If she can’t recall the day itself, think back to their time together.”
“Got it!”
Shen Li reminded him once more. “If it’s murder, not an accident, push any solid evidence to the prosecutors fast. Get that police bulletin out ASAP.”
Outsiders might not grasp the implication.
But Zhao Rong, handpicked and trained by Shen Li, understood perfectly.
For a case like Song Wenyu’s—short on evidence chain, powerful suspects, indifferent family—if investigation proved homicide but the court lightened the sentence due to family forgiveness…
Shen Li’s experience screamed murder. The suspect’s handling of traces suggested a slam-dunk for heavy sentencing—over ninety percent odds.
Rush evidence to prosecutors, and their procedural bulletin could ride the WCC and Jiang Nan arrest buzz, sparking public outrage.
Even if the final verdict couldn’t bend law to opinion, widespread fury highlighting societal harm would nail the maximum penalty. Family forgiveness wouldn’t save them.
And if the family was complicit in cover-up or extortion? They’d all go down too.
Showbiz teemed with sharks. Actresses like Song Wenyu or Xiao Ting might not be the last.
No cop—or citizen—wanted delayed justice sprinkling harmlessly on an umbrella of cash and clout.
“Don’t worry, Master. I’ve got this,” Zhao Rong said lightly. “I’m your prized pupil, after all.”
Lin Jie’s voice cut in, protesting. “Please. You think you measure up to me?”
Zhao Rong shot back, “I’m the big senior disciple. You’re second at best. Seniority says you call me ‘Senior Brother.’ Got it?”
“Oh? So, Senior Brother, why’d Master call me instead of you—the lead detective?”
Zhao Rong choked.
Moments later, his aggrieved wail floated from the speaker, theatrical as ever. “Now that you mention it, Master, you are playing favorites. Why her? Aren’t I your favorite little pup?”
Shen Li: …
Unsure how to respond, Shen Li heard the shower suddenly roar back to life in the long-silent stall.
Zhao Rong paused, then asked in surprise, “Master, are you showering?”
Shen Li: …
Face impassive, Shen Li glanced toward Qian Xingzhi, gaze drifting vaguely over the tall, hazy outline of his body. After two beats, he said, “Qian Xingzhi is.”
“Whoa? He’s showering right there? Sounds huge…”
Shen Li killed the speaker and wrapped up briskly. “I’m good. Back to work.”
Click.
He hung up rather ruthlessly, shooting a cold glance at the frosted stall. After a beat of silence, the scolding words died on his tongue unspoken.
The old Qian Xingzhi would have gotten an earful.
But this one…
Not his place to manage.
Shen Li set the tooth mug back, then said, “You finish up. I’ll go make the bed.”
It was just an excuse to slip out anyway, and Qian Xingzhi was nearly done. But to his surprise, Qian Xingzhi’s somewhat muffled voice replied coolly, “I already made it.”
“…Then I’ll toss the clothes in the washer.”
“I just did.”
Qian Xingzhi’s icy tone shot down each excuse in turn, blunt as ever—yet stubbornly refusing to yield the point outright. “Go ahead and head out, though. I won’t come back in when it’s your turn.”
Shen Li: …
He hadn’t expected Qian Xingzhi to treat every other man as a potential rival with such impartial vigilance.
Whether it was Lin Xu sitting on his bed or Zhao Rong cracking a casual joke, the man always showed his displeasure so blatantly. Yet he wasn’t denouncing or arguing like he used to, nor was he fixing Shen Li with those bright, aggrieved eyes full of utter heartbreak. Now…
What was this about?
Shen Li closed his eyes briefly, his heart caught in a painful squeeze, neither up nor down. In the end, he still explained.
“…Zhao Rong was just talking offhandedly. I’ve never called him that. We’re just ordinary colleagues.”
One second.
Two seconds.
The sound of water from the shower stopped again.
Qian Xingzhi’s voice came low and magnetic: “I’m not your husband anymore. You don’t need to explain to me.”
Shen Li: ?
Shen Li narrowed his eyes in confusion, taking a moment to discern whether Qian Xingzhi was saying it seriously or just out of spite.
He heard the man chuckle faintly. “Back when I was, you never bothered explaining any of this to me.”
…
Shen Li lowered his gaze.
He knew that if Qian Xingzhi was referring to the final years of their marriage, he wasn’t exaggerating at all.
In those last few years together, whenever something like this happened, Shen Li hadn’t just failed to comfort him—he’d even blamed Qian Xingzhi for being immature.
After all, he genuinely couldn’t understand what Qian Xingzhi had to be upset about.
If he were actually flirting with someone else, that would be one thing. But there hadn’t been even a hint of that.
To avoid any suspicion, he’d even cut ties with most of his male friends. And what had happened? Qian Xingzhi only escalated, to the point of insisting on deleting people from his contacts.
Shen Li had endured it again and again.
In the end, he’d even deleted Zhou Yulin, his classmate of twelve years.
But even that hadn’t been enough. Qian Xingzhi couldn’t stand even his colleagues, so Shen Li stopped indulging him and refused to yield any longer.
Now…
Shen Li still wasn’t sure what kind of “sense of security” Qian Xingzhi wanted from him, or how he was supposed to provide it.
If he didn’t explain, Qian Xingzhi got upset.
If he did explain, this was the response he got.
“You should go out. I’m coming out.”
Qian Xingzhi’s voice sounded hoarse, and the shadow behind the frosted glass shifted.
Shen Li’s face remained cold as he said nothing and strode straight out the door.
Bang!
The bathroom door slammed shut with a resounding thud.
Inside, Qian Xingzhi quietly brushed his teeth, got dressed, and applied his skincare.
Shen Li’s mind was a whirlwind as he replied to every message, one by one. Only when his finger scrolled to the one Zhou Yulin had sent that morning did he remember that the man had mentioned calling him tonight.
He had no idea what it was about.
If it wasn’t important, it would be best if he didn’t call.
That morning, when Shen Li had replied, he hadn’t known yet that he’d be sharing a room with Qian Xingzhi tonight. Things were too awkward now; it really wasn’t convenient.
His fingertips tapped lightly as he opened the chat with Zhou Yulin and typed a short message:
[Shen Li]: [Sorry, busy tonight, haven’t showered yet—]
Before he could finish, the screen lit up with an incoming call from Zhou Yulin.
Creak—
The bathroom door swung open abruptly, brighter light spilling out from within.
Shen Li wasn’t feeling guilty, but he nearly dropped the ringing phone. In a slight panic, he ended the call and switched the phone to silent before turning to look at Qian Xingzhi.
The man had on a pair of loose dark gray boxer shorts, his upper body completely bare except for a towel draped around his neck as he stepped out—
His muscles flexed with the motion of towel-drying his hair. The shadow under his brow bone sharpened into a fierce angle in the light, and as his damp hair fell, a droplet of water rolled down his Adam’s apple.
…
“The hairdryer is in there,” Shen Li reminded him expressionlessly, out of goodwill.
Qian Xingzhi glanced at him oddly. “When have you ever seen me use a hairdryer?”
Shen Li: …
Qian Xingzhi’s words were a bit unfair. As far as Shen Li knew, he’d used it a few times back in university, even if not often. And now, nearing midnight, it would surely be more comfortable to blow-dry his hair before bed.
Whatever. Use it or don’t.
Shen Li grabbed his personal clothes and phone, brushing past Qian Xingzhi as he headed into the bathroom.
Another call notification flashed silently on the screen.
Shen Li instinctively declined it without a second thought.
Qian Xingzhi’s voice came cold and clipped. “Who is it? Not picking up?”
Shen Li kept his face impassive. No sense stirring up more trouble. “Showering first. I’ll deal with it after.”
Once inside the bathroom, he locked the door with a click.
Click.
But as Shen Li realized how much that sound might hurt Qian Xingzhi emotionally…
His fingertips hovered over the lock for half a second before he unlocked it.
Half a minute later.
Shen Li opened his chat with Zhou Yulin and hurriedly sent: “Sorry, something came up tonight. Let’s talk another time.”
He then locked his phone, set it on the vanity, stripped off his clothes, and stepped into the shower. After a second’s thought, he hung the hotel bathrobe provided by the program group on the glass shower door.
With a swish, Shen Li closed the door and turned on the shower.
Ten seconds later.
He heard the bathroom door open again as someone entered.
Then came the sound of the hairdryer being plugged in, followed by silence and the hot rush of air.
…Wasn’t he not going to use it?
Steam clouded thickly, the cold water making him shiver.
Shen Li tensed up all over, even speeding up his face-washing without realizing it—
The hairdryer’s hum cut off abruptly after only a moment!
Qian Xingzhi’s voice rose faintly. “A call from Zhou Yulin.”
Shen Li’s spine arched instinctively, his pale shoulder blades pressing against the icy wall. Irritated, he almost held his breath.
Clunk.
The hairdryer landed on the vanity.
The next second.
Zhou Yulin’s gentle voice emanated from the phone’s speaker:
“Little Li?”
