Chapter 18

Chapter 18 Chapter 18 Gently.

He Linfeng’s WeChat profile picture was a Samoyed.

Tongue out, smiling foolishly, with none of a fox’s cunning.

It had already been five full hours since the other party passed his friend request, and Jian Qing still hadn’t completely suppressed the strong urge to block someone.

Aside from his aunt’s family, Doctor Feng, and Bian Shao, his friend list had always been clean.

Now, however, there was He Linfeng.

Extremely awkward.

Fortunately, perhaps because things were busy at the municipal bureau, apart from the initial celebratory sticker, the newly appeared chat window had remained quiet.

But soon, the energetic “big dog” became active.

【What time do you get off work?】

The first impression was too vivid; Jian Qing could almost imagine the tone the other person used when asking.

Because Chen Yang consistently denied the existence of an accomplice, and for a while they couldn’t find strong evidence supporting the “accomplice theory,” Captain Yan Qiuyu ultimately decided that off-duty officers from the serious crime unit would take turns picking up and dropping off Jian Qing.

—The company had many people, and the residential area had security patrols, so compared to that, the commute itself was actually more dangerous. After all, Jian Qing didn’t like driving, and he also had a “prior record” of accidentally falling into Beijiang.

Jian Qing accepted this rather simple and somewhat perfunctory arrangement quite calmly, or rather, he had already anticipated it: if the Ping’an Road murder case was truly the work of a transmigrator, then no matter how the police interrogated Chen Yang, it would be like fishing for the moon in water—there would naturally be no result.

Even so, Yan Qiuyu was still willing to make time under pressure to take care of him, which already counted as full trust and care.

…But clearly, tonight’s first “driver” assigned by the serious crime unit was He Linfeng.

Glancing at the mountain of documents on his desk, Jian Qing replied: 【6:30.】

The municipal bureau’s normal working hours were 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. He just wanted to understand the progress of the case as much as possible without delaying anyone’s rest.

Even if it was He Linfeng.

As for Jian Qing himself, whether he worked at home or in the office made no difference—Jian Corporation did not have a culture of overtime, because the boss only overworked himself.

Officially off at six, Jian Qing would often deliberately leave a bit later. He preferred quiet, and besides, running into the boss after work didn’t exactly make employees happy.

Who would have thought, he had completely underestimated the flamboyant nature of Officer He Linfeng.

When he went downstairs, the company’s reception area was unexpectedly filled with people, all pretending to make phone calls, pretending to rush progress, pretending to wait for a coffee or milk tea that would never arrive.

All manner of life’s postures.

But in reality, all of them were sneaking glances in the same direction through the floor-to-ceiling glass.

Tall and long-legged, the man looked like a model hired at great expense for an expo center. Leaning casually against the car, his posture was relaxed yet elegant, the kind of presence that could be captured into an art poster with a casual shot.

The vein at Jian Qing’s temple twitched.

At the same time, his phone vibrated: 【I’m here.】

Exactly 6:30 p.m.

Someone seemed to notice the boss’s arrival first. The crowd’s gaze clearly shifted, and He Linfeng, who had just been looking down at his phone, also sensed something. He looked up and casually waved in this direction.

Through the glass and the distance, Jian Qing couldn’t actually hear what he said, but from his lip movements, it was probably his name—rather than the usual “Mr. Jian” or “Boss Jian.”

Getting ahead of himself.

Peacock spreading its tail.

Jian Qing briefly closed his eyes. Then he stepped forward, opened the door, and shoved the smiling fox into the car. The entire process took no more than five seconds, completed in one smooth motion.

Yet the man still had the audacity to whine pitifully: “It hurts… gently.”

The gazes behind them instantly turned scorching.

So Jian Qing immediately shoved himself into the car as well, and raised the window completely.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Avoidance was sometimes a highly efficient choice.

If possible, he even wanted to throw He Linfeng out and return peace and quiet to the world.

Yet the man showed absolutely no intention of behaving himself: “I’m driving. No problem?”

Jian Qing glanced over and saw that He Linfeng was sprawled across the steering wheel, head tilted, staring at him without blinking.

Only then did he realize he had taken the passenger seat, leaving the driving position to the other party.

But at this moment—getting out of the car, switching seats, and getting back in—who knew what kind of story people would imagine.

After a brief stalemate, Jian Qing pressed his lips together and finally compromised with the option he resisted even more at the moment.

He fastened his seatbelt, using his actions to give the answer.

Even though He Linfeng’s brain was questionable, the probability of him suddenly snapping and killing him was very low.

“To intimidate the murderer, you have to be high-profile,” as if he had already guessed the young man’s response, He Linfeng started the car naturally. “This way everyone will know someone is picking you up. You’ll be safer.”

Because of his looks, even the most casual word or action from him carried a kind of flirtatious ease. Any serious explanation would be made to seem like teasing simply because of those smiling eyes.

Especially in such a narrow and private space like a car.

It was no wonder He Linfeng found it hard to keep a straight face around Jian Qing.

He had even prepared himself to be retorted or argued against, but the young man only frowned slightly and nodded: “Mm.”

—Displeased or not, Jian Qing knew He Linfeng wasn’t someone who would joke about a case.

He Linfeng also understood the implication in the young man’s response. He gave a faint inward laugh, finding him rather interesting.

Clearly he didn’t like him, yet when making judgments, he could remain completely unbiased.

Beijiang’s evening rush hour treated everyone equally. Whether you were a beginner, an experienced driver, or even an F1 racer, you would still have to inch forward slowly. After sitting in traffic for too long, irritated honks would sound every now and then. He Linfeng thoughtfully turned on the playlist and asked, “What do you want to listen to?”

Jian Qing: …

Honestly, what he most wanted to hear was the autopsy report and case analysis.

“Anything,” neon lights flickered endlessly outside the street, and Jian Qing withdrew his gaze, seeing his reflection in the window as he spoke. “How’s the case?”

“A slight breakthrough. We’re currently investigating the victim’s social connections.” He Linfeng, carefully adhering to internal regulations, picked out only what he could say and put on a piece of gentle instrumental music.

Knowing the victim’s address, knowing he returned home drunk that night making him an easy target, knowing the surveillance camera across the street was useless—the killer, even if not an acquaintance, must have staked out the area beforehand.

More importantly, sixteen stab wounds, every one drawing blood, with one blade driven vertically into the throat. Without strong emotional support, an ordinary person would easily hesitate.

A corpse of the same kind naturally emits signals of fear.

The victim’s enemies or a “madman” with antisocial personality traits were all possibilities within a reasonable range.

Jian Qing had long been in contact with the municipal bureau. With just a few sentences, he could already infer the investigation direction of the serious crime unit.

The process was correct.

But Jian Qing still felt uneasy.

Because in his mind, there was always the worst possible assumption hanging there.

If the murderer really was a transmigrator—someone who held the original novel in hand, who could use the author-given “god’s-eye view” to know all the details—then they would not need to risk approaching the victim at all, and could naturally bypass the police’s screening process.

“You seem particularly concerned about this case,” He Linfeng tapped his fingertips lightly to the rhythm, glancing sideways at the young man’s straight, expressionless lips. “Xiang Yun—you know him?”

Jian Qing tilted his head and met the man’s probing gaze: “I don’t.”

That was entirely the truth.

He had only accidentally heard the name during conversations between the transmigrator and the system.

“Jian Qing, Mr. Jian, Mr. Jian,” seeing that the other clearly misunderstood his intention, He Linfeng couldn’t help laughing and had to break things down carefully to emphasize, “This isn’t an interrogation.”

“I just want to chat with you a bit more.”

“Because you look a bit…” After considering the wording for two seconds, he continued, “tired.” Mentally tired, as if a taut thread had been stretched inside him for a long time—transparent and fragile, making its owner constantly tense and on edge.

Jian Qing subconsciously glanced at himself in the rearview mirror.

Expressionless.

No different from usual.

Again surprised by the man’s sensitivity to emotion, Jian Qing simply didn’t bother to deny it. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat, treating the person beside him like a ride-hailing driver.

He expected He Linfeng to be annoyed.

But the other remained as considerate and proper as always, rolling up the windows at a red light, adjusting the temperature, almost only missing a lullaby.

No one knew how long had passed. After leaving the bustling city center, the light gradually dimmed. Jian Qing, who had only been pretending to nap, actually began to feel a faint drowsiness.

Until someone picked up a phone in a low voice: “…Mm, it’s me… yes, he’s next to me.”

The young man, whose glasses had slid down his nose, immediately blinked alertly.

The car had already stopped. He Linfeng wasn’t wearing earphones, and through the lingering fatigue he faintly heard Song Xiaotong’s excited voice:

“The detailed autopsy report is out!”

“The irregularity of the wound is due to a dulled blade—just like when Chen Yang attacked Mr. Jian. This person also used a surgical knife! A 24# blade!”

Jian Qing snapped fully awake in an instant.

“Alright, I’ll head back to the bureau immediately,” He Linfeng slightly moved the phone away and looked over with an apologetic smile. “Did I wake you?”

Jian Qing shook his head.

He rarely saw someone from this angle and state, so it felt somewhat unfamiliar. Under the dim, warm light, the man’s appearance was blurred, but his bone structure looked upright and steady, unusually composed.

Pushing his glasses up with his index finger, Jian Qing unbuckled his seatbelt: “Thank you.”

“Message me when you get home, or turn on the lights,” He Linfeng said while multitasking on the call. “I’ll wait until I see it before leaving.”

Jian Qing felt this was entirely unnecessary.

He had carefully selected the residential complex and the weekly-changing passwords—those weren’t decorations.

But since fear was something he himself had already said, and he intended to act the part to the end, he ultimately still gave a soft “mm” before getting out of the car.

A sensation of weightlessness followed.

The elevator moved rapidly through the pitch-black corridor.

Jian Qing stared at the dog-head emoji in the chat window, repeatedly considering this: when setting up the character settings, just how big of a “face-obsessed” label had the author slapped onto He Linfeng for him to be so fixated on him.

Hard to understand.

After all, objectively speaking, that face of his could completely “self-produce” in a narcissistic loop.

Unlocking the door, Jian Qing raised his hand and pressed send:

【.】

A single punctuation mark—rigid and dull, like a silent protest—yet it made the corners of He Linfeng’s eyes curl slightly in the car.

“Received.”

“What time do you start work tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll come pick you up.”

He sent three voice messages in a row. Then He Linfeng restarted the car. When he spoke again, the gentle warmth he had shown toward Jian Qing was gone: “Xiao Tong?”

“Tell Captain Yan to wait a bit.”

“I’m planning to meet Chen Yang myself.”