Chapter 14

Ruan Mingxi’s practiced, familiar manner left Lin Cheng stunned. It really felt as if they were there to catch a truant kid sneaking into the café.

Hearing this, the manager gave a long “oh” and said meaningfully, “This café has people coming and going all day. How could I keep track of anyone?”

“Our kid is still in high school, still a minor. Letting minors into an internet café is illegal. Believe it or not, I could report you.”

Lin Cheng, fresh out of police academy and more of a technical type, had never faced a situation like this before. Seeing the manager uncooperative, he nearly wanted to throw the law straight in his face.

“Well, aren’t you bold. Which eye of yours saw us letting minors in? This is a proper business. Everyone has to show an ID to log in.”

The manager, annoyed by Lin Cheng’s attitude, grew even more defiant, his disdain written all over his face.

“If you’re not here to play, then get out. Don’t get in the way.” He moved as if to push them out. “Out, out.”

The argument at the counter quickly drew attention from others nearby.

Ruan Mingxi shot Lin Cheng a look, signaling him to stay calm. “Hey, hey, that’s no way to talk. If you’re asking someone for a favor, you need the right attitude.”

Turning back to the manager, Ruan Mingxi smiled, flicked his lighter, and lit the cigarette in the man’s hand. “Don’t be angry, brother. My colleague was just anxious, no harm meant.”

The manager’s expression softened, and with his free hand he gestured casually.

Ruan Mingxi, quick to play along, pulled out another cigarette and offered it. “The kid’s worked hard for years, and now he’s just one step away from the college entrance exam. Our family’s luck hasn’t been great — all these years and not one university student. Finally there’s some hope, so of course we’re watching him like a hawk. Don’t you agree?”

The manager lit up, took a drag, and began chatting with Ruan Mingxi. “Nice cigarettes. What line of work are you in?”

Ruan Mingxi smiled easily. “I deal in fruits and vegetables, supplying food stalls.”

The manager’s eyes lit up. “That must make good money.”

“Don’t mention it. Restaurants drive prices down so hard the profit’s pitiful. It’s all about small margins and high volume. I suffer so the kid can study well — I don’t want him ending up like me, doing hard labor.”

Ruan Mingxi’s act of playing the weary parent was flawless — he sounded so convincing it was as if he really were a small‑time businessman.

In no time, the manager was looking at him like a trusted brother.

“What does your kid look like? Next time I see him, I’ll let you know.” The manager even asked for a photo.

Smiling, Ruan Mingxi handed one over. The manager recognized him immediately. “I know this kid. He’s terrible at games. He only sneaks out on Friday nights to play.”

“You don’t even need me to watch for him. Just come after half past midnight on Fridays — that’s when he always shows up.”

The manager spoke with surprising clarity about Yan Zhan’s visits. A flicker of something passed through Ruan Mingxi’s eyes, though his expression stayed unchanged.

“You remember that so clearly?” he asked, feigning surprise.

The manager chuckled. “Of course. Honestly, your kid’s got a bad temper. He’s awful at games, but instead of quitting, he smashes keyboards when he loses. He’s broken plenty of ours.”

Ruan Mingxi froze for a moment, then quickly recovered. “That brat’s got a strong temper, even smashing things now. Just wait till I get home and deal with him.”

“Sorry about that. How much for the keyboards? We’ll pay.”

The manager waved his cigarette. “No need. He pays himself — throws down hundreds at a time. Very generous.”

“Then you shouldn’t give him too much pocket money. How else could he waste so much?” the manager advised, pointing toward a corner of the café.

That corner was poorly ventilated, and the smokers gathered there made the air even thicker. If not for the brief gust from a fan, Ruan Mingxi might not have noticed someone sitting there at all.

“That kid’s really good at games. Your nephew kept losing, so later he asked that boy to team up with him,” the manager explained, pointing deliberately. “Right there — on the 17th, they played together.”

The words had barely left his mouth when both Ruan Mingxi and Lin Cheng’s expressions changed.

So Yan Zhan had actually been here on Friday the 17th. Ruan Mingxi thanked the manager, then turned toward the boy in the corner.

The teenager was completely absorbed in his game, oblivious to anyone around him.

Standing behind him, Ruan Mingxi watched. The kid’s skill was impressive — every shot hit its mark.

As time passed, he reached the final round. Ten minutes later, the match ended.

The boy removed his headset and turned to Ruan Mingxi. “Something you need?”

Ruan Mingxi asked directly, “The person who played with you Friday night — do you know where he went?”

The question had barely landed when the boy suddenly jumped up, shoved both Ruan Mingxi and Lin Cheng hard, and bolted.

“Damn!”

Caught off guard, Lin Cheng stumbled backward, crashing into a standing air conditioner with a loud bang.

Reacting instantly, Ruan Mingxi sprinted after the fleeing boy.

“Hey! Why are you running?” The manager looked baffled as the scene erupted.

“Stop! Don’t run!” Lin Cheng shouted as he chased.

The boy darted ahead at full speed, weaving through the maze of narrow alleys he clearly knew well.

Unlike the clean streets outside, the alleys were cluttered with cardboard boxes and discarded junk, turning the chase into an obstacle course.

The poor lighting and unfamiliar terrain put the pursuers at a disadvantage.

Within minutes, Ruan Mingxi had banged his legs against countless obstacles, the sharp sting burning with each step. He couldn’t even tell if the skin had been scraped raw.

“Stop running! Stand still!” The gap between them was closing, and just as they were about to catch him, the boy suddenly swerved left and slipped away like an eel.

Realizing he’d been tricked, Ruan Mingxi cursed under his breath — the kid was slippery.

At the fork in the road, Lin Cheng, who had vanished earlier, suddenly darted out from another alley, blocking the boy’s path.

“Don’t run. The police just want to ask you something.”

Lin Cheng was about to pull out his badge when the boy suddenly sprang at the wall, trying to climb over.

The sudden move stunned Lin Cheng. His mind went blank, and in that moment he saw Ruan Mingxi also vault off the wall, using his foot for leverage to flip over to the other side.

“Unbelievable!”

Shocked, Lin Cheng couldn’t follow over the wall and had to chase from another route.

By the time Ruan Mingxi caught the boy, Lin Cheng was already gasping for breath, completely winded.

“You sure can run,” Ruan Mingxi panted, gripping the boy like iron clamps.

“Let me go! What are you trying to do?” The boy struggled furiously, but the difference in strength was too great. “Do you even respect the law? I’ll call the police!”

Ruan Mingxi laughed. “Funny coincidence — I am the police. You nearly hit me with those plastic crates just now. That’s assaulting an officer, and I haven’t even charged you for it yet.”

…

Ruan Mingxi brought the boy back to the station and left him under watch.

Meanwhile, Lin Peixin was tending to Ruan Mingxi’s injuries, using tweezers with cotton to clean the wounds. The moment the antiseptic touched his skin, he hissed in pain.

Several cotton pads were soaked red with blood, piled together in a disturbing sight.

The cuts on his hands from climbing had gone deep. But since he refused to go to the hospital — insisting he still had work to finish — Lin Peixin had to perform emergency treatment right there.

The bandaged wound had barely lasted two hours before splitting open again — and this time it was worse than before.

“This tear is too deep. You really should go to the hospital and get a couple of stitches,” Lin Peixin said as he packed away the medical supplies.

Ruan Mingxi’s forehead was still damp with cold sweat. “It’s not that serious. By tomorrow it’ll probably be fine.”

“You’re just being stubborn,” Lin Peixin muttered. He didn’t bother arguing further. After years of working together, he knew Ruan Mingxi was the type who couldn’t rest until things were settled, no matter the cost.

“How’s the boy we brought in tonight?” Lin Peixin asked.

Ruan Mingxi lowered his rolled‑up sleeve. Even in the short time it took to treat the wound, his arm had grown icy cold.

“Yan Zhan saw him on the night of the 17th. I had a blood sample taken from him to compare with the one we found on the railing.”

At that, Lin Peixin remembered something. “I was just about to call you. The blood sample we collected earlier doesn’t match Yan Zhan’s.”

Ruan Mingxi’s eyes flickered, though his face remained calm. “Alright. I understand.”

“You had no right to arrest me! Do the police think they can just grab people without reason?”

The boy in the interrogation room slammed the table angrily, shouting for an explanation.

Before entering, Ruan Mingxi picked up the newly gathered case file.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound of knocking cut through the boy’s shouting.

Ruan Mingxi entered with the case file in hand. The boy glared at him, eyes blazing with fury.

“Let me go!” the boy spat viciously.

Ruan Mingxi raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanged. If he were the type to be intimidated, he would have packed up and quit long ago.

“You’ve been yelling for quite a while. Your throat must be tired. Zhang Shuang, pour him a glass of water — we can’t have the flowers of our nation going thirsty.”

With a smile on his face and a casual tone, Ruan Mingxi left the boy momentarily stunned.

The others in the bureau were clearly used to Ruan Mingxi’s unconventional interrogation style and quickly cooperated, bringing over a glass of water.

But they didn’t place it within reach — it sat just far enough away that the boy couldn’t grab it.

Seeing him glare even more angrily, Ruan Mingxi only smiled. “Not thirsty? That’s fine. We’ll talk for a few minutes first.”

“You had no right to arrest me!” the boy repeated over and over, refusing to say anything else.

Meeting his gaze, Ruan Mingxi spoke calmly: “Because you had contact with a victim in a criminal case. According to our country’s law, citizens are obliged to cooperate with police investigations. Is that reason enough?”