Chapter 15

The boy was stunned by the words “victim,” staring blankly at Ruan Mingxi.

“What victim? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

His attitude betrayed clear panic, and Ruan Mingxi quietly observed his expression.

The change in his face and the slight dilation of his pupils gave Ruan Mingxi a measure of his state.

“Who… who died?” the boy asked.

Ruan Mingxi’s voice stayed level. “Name.”

Their eyes locked — one anxious and flustered, the other calm as still water. It was like a silent contest of wills.

In the end, the boy broke first. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his whole demeanor shaken. “Wen Yang.”

“Where were you on the night of the 17th?” Ruan Mingxi asked.

At that, Wen Yang suddenly remembered what Ruan Mingxi had said behind him at the café.

“Was it Yan Zhan who got into trouble?” Wen Yang’s pupils contracted, torn between wanting confirmation and fearing the answer.

Ruan Mingxi’s tone was firm. “Answer the question first.”

They faced off for a moment longer. Realizing Ruan Mingxi would never relent, Wen Yang finally replied angrily, “At the internet café, with Yan Zhan.”

“Did he come to find you, or did you go to his house?” Ruan Mingxi pressed.

At the second half of the question, Wen Yang’s face paled, his eyes instinctively avoiding Ruan Mingxi’s.

“I went to his house,” Wen Yang admitted, taking a deep breath, his tone resigned as if giving up. “We meet every Friday at half past midnight. He never misses. That night he didn’t show, so I worried something had happened and went to check on him at home.”

Ruan Mingxi asked, “How did you get to his house?”

“I… knocked on the door,” Wen Yang replied, his voice so faint it was almost inaudible.

“What? Louder,” said Zhang Shuang, who was recording the information. He saw Wen Yang’s lips moving but heard nothing.

Wen Yang took a deep breath and forced himself to speak: “Other than going through the front door, how else could I have gotten in?”

He was lying.

The surveillance footage from the area around Yan Zhan’s home on the night of the 17th had already been reviewed. Between midnight and 2 a.m., the cameras showed only Yan Zhan leaving the house — no one else appeared.

“What time did you go to Yan Zhan’s house?” Ruan Mingxi asked, without directly exposing the lie.

Wen Yang’s eyes instinctively shifted to the left. “Half past midnight. He… he didn’t show up.”

“You remember the time that clearly?”

“Yes… yes. He didn’t come when he was supposed to. I looked at the computer screen before going to find him. It was exactly half past midnight.”

Ruan Mingxi pressed further: “Did you go through the main gate of the complex, or another path?”

“The main gate,” Wen Yang answered automatically, without thinking.

Ruan Mingxi drew in a deep breath and adjusted his posture in the chair.

The sudden shift in posture startled Wen Yang, making him flinch like a frightened bird.

“Relax. I just got tired sitting this way and changed sides,” Ruan Mingxi said lightly, though his presence carried undeniable pressure.

Wen Yang’s throat moved as he swallowed. He glanced at him quickly, then dropped his eyes, afraid to meet his gaze.

“I’m… I’m not nervous,” Wen Yang muttered.

Ruan Mingxi’s expression was calm, almost kindly. “We obtained the surveillance footage from the residential complex. During the time you mentioned — after half past midnight — our team reviewed it carefully. No one was recorded entering through the main gate.”

Wen Yang’s back stiffened instantly. His breath caught for a moment, then he grew uneasy. “Maybe I remembered wrong. I… I must have remembered wrong.”

Ruan Mingxi tapped his fingers lightly on the table. Repeating the same words was Wen Yang’s way of giving himself psychological reassurance, as if saying the lie twice might make it true.

“If you remembered wrong, then tell me — how did you avoid the cameras to enter the complex? And where exactly did you meet Yan Zhan?”

Ruan Mingxi’s tone was unhurried, each word chipping away at Wen Yang’s defenses.

“I remembered wrong. I didn’t go to his house. I was at the internet café waiting for him. That’s all.”

Wen Yang lowered his head, biting hard on his lip to keep himself steady.

Seeing that Wen Yang still refused to tell the truth, Ruan Mingxi’s expression hardened. “Wen Yang, I’ll ask you again. On the night of the 17th, where exactly did you meet Yan Zhan?”

Wen Yang stayed silent, lowering his head even further.

Ruan Mingxi narrowed his eyes. “Yan Zhan is dead. From the clues we’ve gathered, you appear to be the last person who saw him alive. If you don’t explain what happened that night, you could become the prime suspect in this criminal case.”

At those words, Wen Yang’s head shot up, his face filled with shock. “Yan… Yan Zhan is dead? Impossible! How could he die? How did he die?”

His mind went blank, and then his emotions surged uncontrollably.

Watching his reaction, Ruan Mingxi judged it didn’t look like an act, so he revealed another piece of information.

When Wen Yang learned that the body had been found on Qingping Road, his whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Captain, something’s wrong with him,” Officer Zhang Shuang said, his pen pausing mid‑note.

No sooner had he spoken than Wen Yang tried to stand up, only to be blocked by the small table in front of him, which banged loudly.

“Someone wants to kill me! I want to call the police! I want to call the police!” Wen Yang shouted, his eyes bloodshot and wide with panic.

…

The interrogation dragged on from the middle of the night until the next morning. Wen Yang was on the verge of collapse, and even Officer Zhang Shuang looked drained when he finally stepped out of the room, his face pale and expression hollow.

Ying Shi had come to check on the situation, and he saw Zhang Shuang staggering toward him.

“You alright?” Ying Shi asked with a frown, concerned.

Officer Zhang Shuang shook his head. “Not good. I’m so hungry my chest feels stuck to my back. I need two big meat buns from the cafeteria to recover.”

Ying Shi blinked. “So are you exhausted or just starving?”

Zhang Shuang shook his head again. “Both.”

Ever since Wen Yang shouted ‘Someone wants to kill me’ last night, Zhang Shuang had been in shock, frantically scribbling notes without pause.

“There are crab‑roe dumplings outside, and soup‑filled buns too. Plenty of breakfast options. Go eat something.”

At those words, Zhang Shuang’s eyes lit up. His stride toward the buns was steady and purposeful, completely different from the frail, drained figure he had been moments before.

Ying Shi pushed open the door and walked over to Ruan Mingxi. “You look pale. Is the situation bad?”

Ruan Mingxi drew a deep breath. “Our line of investigation may be wrong.”

Ying Shi froze, stunned that in just one night the case had taken such a sharp turn.

“Is everyone here? Call them together for a meeting.” Ruan Mingxi adjusted the notes, preparing to brief the task force.

“Not yet. The director wants you in his office first.”

Ruan Mingxi paused mid‑step. “Right now?”

Ying Shi nodded.

At the office door, Ruan Mingxi heard voices inside. The tone wasn’t loud, but he could sense the director’s mood was relaxed.

He knocked, and after hearing a response, pushed the door open.

The moment he entered and saw who was inside, his eyes widened slightly.

The two men locked eyes. Jiang Xuzhou clearly saw the shock in Ruan Mingxi’s gaze, his lips curving slightly as amusement flickered in his eyes.

“You’re here,” Feng Yuping said. “You two probably don’t know each other, so let me introduce you.”

Ruan Mingxi’s mouth twitched. Not know each other? They were more than familiar — they’d grown up together, sharing the same crib as babies. He even knew exactly where the moles on Jiang Xuzhou’s body were.

“Director, no need for introductions. I’ve already met Captain Ruan,” Jiang Xuzhou said.

Feng Yuping paused, recalling that people at the bureau had mentioned Jiang Xuzhou accompanied Professor Yan to report the disappearance. He assumed that was when they had met.

“Alright, I won’t waste words. I’ve got a meeting at the department soon.”

He turned to Ruan Mingxi. “Professor Wei is a specially appointed consultant for the provincial office. Jiang is his prized student. Since this case involves the family of police personnel, the higher‑ups are paying close attention. Professor Wei suggested Jiang assist us in the investigation.”

Jiang Xuzhou had been involved from the start. Wei Wenshan and Professor Yan were longtime friends, so whether out of respect for the case or to comfort an old colleague, Jiang’s role as consultant was beneficial. There was no reason to refuse.

Ruan Mingxi chuckled. Yesterday he had jokingly called him “Consultant Jiang,” and now the joke had come true — Jiang really was a consultant.

“What’s so funny?” Feng Yuping eyed him suspiciously, convinced Ruan Mingxi was up to something.

“Director, that look of distrust hurts my feelings,” Ruan Mingxi said glibly, feigning wounded innocence, as if he were mistreated at the bureau.

Feng Yuping clenched his teeth. “Have some shame!”

His emotions ran so high that spit flew as he spoke. Luckily, Ruan Mingxi dodged quickly or he would have been sprayed.

“Director, Consultant Jiang is here. You should mind the bureau’s image,” Ruan Mingxi coughed lightly, deliberately straightening his face.

Jiang Xuzhou’s smile deepened. He knew Ruan Mingxi liked to stir trouble, but hadn’t expected him to act this way even inside the bureau.

“My image was ruined by you long ago,” Feng Yuping sighed, rolling his eyes. “What’s going on with you?”

Suddenly, a notebook was tossed his way. Ruan Mingxi glanced at it and raised his brows.

It looked familiar. He saw it every month.

“Last month you promised me. And now this? Take a good look!”

Feng Yuping was exasperated. “Every month it’s a pile of illegal parking tickets. You’re practically a VIP at the traffic police department. And you’re using the bureau’s car! Director Wang at traffic enforcement grins like he’s meeting the God of Wealth every time he sees me.”