Chapter 43: A Bitter Swallow ·1

Though it was the end of March, Zechuan City already felt like the height of summer.

Even the wind was hot and restless, the sunlight beating down like a sizzling griddle on bare skin, leaving everyone drenched in sweat.

Several young prosecutors had just wrapped up a scene survey and returned to the office, their backs and underarms soaked through. It was only after stepping inside that they let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Prosecutor Lin, the drone actually picked up something!” one of them said excitedly. “Thanks to your heads-up—we never even considered checking from up high.”

Lin Shanyan gave a slight nod, about to reply, when a colleague pushed open the door.

“Little Lin, Bureau Chief Zhao’s waiting for you in Conference Room 405. Got a cross-province case.”

“Got it. On my way.”

When he entered, Old Zhao was sipping an orange-juice Americano that one of his subordinates had brought him. He smacked his lips, clearly not a fan.

“You kids into this stuff these days?”

“No clue.”

“Last weekend, Ya Jie tried to set up a dinner get-together, but you wouldn’t come.”

“Busy.”

“You’re twenty-seven now. Work’s one thing, but you gotta think about starting a family too.”

“Oh.”

Bureau Chief Zhao took another sip of the Americano, grimacing at the odd flavor, then beckoned him over to look at the case file.

“Alright, I’m not here to hound you about blind dates.”

“It’s the Zechuan City ‘3.25’ Cross-Province Major Fraud Case. Nature’s unusual—Procuratorate needs to jump in early on the investigation. Provincial Public Security Department’s sending over a few officers from the Special Cases Investigation Section. Should be here any minute.”

Lin Shanyan was already leafing through the file.

“Was planning a trip to Yunnan. Looks like more overtime instead.”

Bureau Chief Zhao laughed and gave the table a hearty slap. “What vacation? Young buck like you—rack up more cases, climb the ladder faster!”

Fifteen minutes later, four or five criminal investigators pushed through the door.

Bureau Chief Zhao’s eyes instinctively flicked to the neck of the man in front, and he greeted him warmly.

“Officer Meng, welcome. Let me introduce—this is Prosecutor Lin, assisting on the case. Young hotshot just like you. PhD from Peking University School of Law, Criminal Law Department. Now deputy director of the Third Prosecution Division.”

Old Zhao turned with a grin. “And this is Section Chief Meng—”

Lin Shanyan looked up—and froze.

He and Meng Duimo were separated by the length of the room: the man stood in the doorway, while he sat at the far end of the long conference table.

Three years since they’d last crossed paths. Even just catching the outline of his figure, without a clear view of his features, a wave of primal dread surged up from deep inside, engulfing him in an instant.

Bureau Chief Zhao hadn’t even finished when he saw his star subordinate snatch up the trash bin right there in front of everyone, clamp a hand over his throat, and start heaving.

Bureau Chief Zhao: “…Huh?”

Meng Duimo fixed him with a steady gaze, his expression devoid of any warmth.

“Sorry, today—” Lin Shanyan retched up what felt like lunch and breakfast in one go, the reflex too powerful to fight: “Just… a bit of food poisoning—”

A young female officer hurried over with tissues, patting his back. “Need a hospital? Here, let me grab you some water to rinse.”

Bureau Chief Zhao thought back to the cafeteria’s stewed pork elbow—so tender and savory. He’d even gone back for seconds with rice, and felt perfectly fine.

Once Lin Shanyan had finished, he straightened up and greeted the group.

“Apologies for the show. No more delays—let’s dive into the case.”

Bureau Chief Zhao, still worried: “You good?”

Lin Shanyan kept his distance, eyes carefully averted from one particular person.

“Yeah. Let’s get started.”

Everyone took seats around the table. Someone fired up the PPT and launched into the case briefing.

If you ignored the trash bin now tucked discreetly under the table, the scene was the picture of professional efficiency—crisp, orderly, and easy on the eyes.

The young investigators brimmed with energy and enthusiasm; their leader cut a striking figure with his intense eyes and heavy brows, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist—like the undisputed alpha of the pack.

He dissected the case with calm authority, his gaze sharp with both intimidation and piercing insight. Every word and action was precise, leaving no gaps.

Bureau Chief Zhao snuck a few extra glances, wondering if the guy was snake-type or bird-type.

Everyone present had signed nondisclosure agreements, but some things were just too outlandish. If he hadn’t witnessed it himself, he’d swear it was straight out of a movie.

People… turning into animals?

The province had even stood up the Special Cases General Office. He’d heard a few cases during training sessions—pure third-rate sci-fi schlock.

A wife oblivious to the fact that her saliva was lethally toxic, biting her abusive husband’s wrist in self-defense and dropping him dead on the spot.

A thief who realized he could turn into a bird, flying into a museum under cover of night to swipe artifacts—only to get fried by the security netting and discovered buck-naked come morning.

And now this case: a suspected cult leader leveraging that kind of ability to brainwash followers and rake in cash, operating in secret across several surrounding provinces and cities. The sums involved already qualified as a major felony.

“So far, we’ve confirmed the fraud exceeds nine million, and these activities are starting to spread through rural townships.”

“The ringleader’s surname is Tong. He peddles courses, drugs, and health supplements, claiming genetic mutations are harbingers of ‘ascension through seated transcendence,’ weaving in all sorts of superstitious nonsense.”

Lin Shanyan’s gaze lingered between the projection screen and his laptop, occasionally flicking to the case files.

“How much of the electronic evidence have you locked down?”

“The bank statements and third-party payment records are progressing quickly, but their live-streaming app keeps changing servers like they’re firing shots on the run. We’ve pulled some footage from a few dens, but it’s not complete enough.”

“Your criminal investigation materials lack a determination on the dissemination range of the cult propaganda,” Lin Shanyan said. “If the views exceed five million, it qualifies as particularly serious.”

“That’s tough to pin down in practice.” Meng Duimo spoke up to explain. “Cases like this—in—”

Lin Shanyan instinctively turned toward him. The moment their eyes met, he clapped a hand over his mouth and lunged for the trash can.

“Urp—”

Fine. Yesterday’s dinner was officially out of his system.

The young policewoman beside him reflexively patted his back, looking a bit dazed.

Wait, was Prosecutor Lin allergic to our boss or something?

He’d just thrown up after spotting Meng… Nah, that couldn’t be it, right?

Meng Duimo’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed silently, his face a mask of neutrality.

The AC was blasting cold air, but his throat burned with a dull ache, laced with bitterness—like an old wound reopening.

Lin Shanyan finally heaved up nothing but air, then calmly chugged some water.

“Sorry about that. Touch of stomach flu. Let’s keep going.”

Everyone offered a few words of concern before diving back into the case.

Prosecutors had to guide evidence collection, oversee procedural legality, and ensure the whole process was airtight and compliant.

Even after puking twice in front of everyone, Lin Shanyan’s words were concise and to the point, zeroing in on the crux of issues. A couple of sentences from him cleared the fog for several detectives, who now looked at him with newfound respect.

Once the meeting wrapped, Bureau Chief Zhao signaled the liaison to escort the others downstairs, keeping Lin Shanyan behind.

The young man stayed seated in the shadows, his pen flying as he sorted through the case details.

His hands were pale and slender, his skin like polished cold jade, with slightly long bangs falling over eyes that hid their gleam.

This wasn’t his usual self.

Lin Shanyan wasn’t much of a talker, but he worked hard, and his occasional smiles lit up his handsome features, making him popular with the girls at the office.

Bureau Chief Zhao figured the kid was sunny and upright—a model young cadre with rock-solid skills. Prime material for promotion.

—Hitting four-star prosecutor at twenty-seven was no small feat.

“What’s got you looking so under the weather today?” Bureau Chief Zhao glanced at the nearly empty mineral water bottle.

“Really food poisoning? Puking twice in a meeting?”

Lin Shanyan had been about to brush it off, but seeing the chief’s probing look, he just smiled faintly.

“Old ailment. It’ll pass in a few days.”

Bureau Chief Zhao didn’t press. “That Meng Duimo—looks like you two worked a case together a few years back. I thought you were friends.”

Old Zhao had figured familiarity would smooth things out.

But after two hours, these two hadn’t exchanged so much as pleasantries—no eye contact, even. Worse than regular colleagues.

That wouldn’t do. It hurt team unity.

“Yeah, back in Xingqing City, we crossed paths on the job and teamed up for a year,” Lin Shanyan said evenly. “Then I got injured on duty, took half a year medical leave, and he transferred to another city.”

His smile turned icy.

“Never figured that bastard would climb all the way to Provincial Hall.”

“The guy’s earned a few third-class merits with his life on the line—brains and brawn,” Old Zhao said. “You could’ve at least said hi.”

“Next time for sure.”

Old Zhao leaned in a bit, half-joking. “You two aren’t enemies, are you? Did he steal your girlfriend?”

Lin Shanyan thought, Nah, but I was his boyfriend for a few months.

“You’re kidding, Chief.”

“Good to hear. This weekend, you’ll both head to Jingjin County for the case. I’ll assign a couple subordinates to assist—they’ll sign NDAs—but the less you spill about Snake-Bird Division, the better.”

“Got it.”

After Old Zhao left, Lin Shanyan unlocked his phone and saw a friend request, plus a new work group.

The ‘3.25 Case’ public security-procurement chat was loaded with materials. Meng Duimo chimed in now and then with quotes and clarifications. His avatar hadn’t changed in three years—sharp silver-white contrasts, like snow leopard spots.

Lin Shanyan had stroked that snake countless times; he could still recall the cool, intricate texture of its scales.

The guy was so full of himself, strutting around the mirror flicking his tongue, convinced he was the handsomest snake out there.

Three years post-breakup, still using an ex’s old photo. What a sentimental slob—totally unreliable.

It was quitting time, but Lin Shanyan ignored the friend request and headed to the cafeteria for dinner on his own.

Meng Duimo @’d him directly in the group chat.

[Meng]: @Prosecutor Lin, approve the friend request. Sending over the confidential materials we discussed at the meeting.

[Lin]: 1

The moment the friend request went through, Meng Duimo bombarded him with a stack of work documents. Not a single superfluous word.

Three days flew by.

Lin Shanyan found himself idly checking WeChat a few times and couldn’t help but laugh at his own foolishness.

What was he doing—waiting for the man to harass him?

Good riddance that Meng Duimo wasn’t messaging. That showed at least a shred of sense. Once this case wrapped up, they’d go their separate ways, bridges burned and roads diverged, never to cross paths again.

Come Friday, the team piled into the police van and headed for Jingjin County, checking into the central hotel in plain clothes.

Meng Duimo led the pack at the front of the group. Lin Shanyan brought up the rear. They didn’t exchange a single glance the entire trip.

Prosecutor Xiao Xu, however, watched with sparkling eyes.

“Brother Meng is so handsome—those thick brows, those big eyes. He’s got such a strong alpha vibe!”

Lin Shanyan merely grunted in response. He swiped his keycard and stepped into his room, methodically sweeping for any hidden surveillance devices as per routine.

In the bathroom, he flicked on the light—and came face-to-face with a snake coiled in the tub.

Lin Shanyan retreated with calm precision.

He knocked on Meng Duimo’s door. Keeping his gaze locked firmly downward on the faded pattern in the carpet, he said coolly, “There’s a snake in my bathroom. Deal with it.”

The man leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he eyed him.

“You could just call the front desk.”

Lin Shanyan thought to himself that if he didn’t mind startling some poor girl at reception, he wouldn’t have come knocking here.

He gave a curt nod and turned to leave.

In the next instant, the man spoke again.

“Prosecutor Lin, is it really that hard to look me in the eye?”