Shen Yi had reserved a private room at Shulange Cantonese Restaurant, tucked in the city center. The chill of winter lingered outside, so he suggested warming up with more soup.
The room exuded antiquity, adorned with delicate Chinese watercolor paintings. Zhen Nuan tilted her head, a small smile curving her lips. “One of my colleagues is a painter.”
Without a word, Shen Yi poured a steaming cup of chrysanthemum tea, sliding it toward her.
“Did I have any special skills?” she asked, curious.
“Dancing. Especially ballet,” he replied after a sip.
Zhen Nuan pouted. “But my balance is awful now.”
Shen Yi’s hand covered hers. “Do you feel uncomfortable in this cold?”
Her smile faltered, a faint shadow of distress passing over her features. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” Then, noticing his disabled right hand, she asked, “How about you? Does it still hurt?”
“No sequelae,” he assured her. “Unlike you. Let’s go to Hainan for vacation.”
“I’m busy with work.”
“You can find a job in spring.”
“No,” she shook her head. “If someone takes my place, I won’t be able to return.”
“You can find another job. Come to Washington.”
“I don’t want…” Her gaze fell. Her memory spanned only a few short years, and the one thing she controlled in this world was her work. She wouldn’t give that up.
After a pause, her voice softened, hesitant yet resolute. “I don’t want my world to be nothing but you.”
A fleeting shadow crossed Shen Yi’s eyes. She stared at the chrysanthemum petals floating in her cup. “Shen Yi, I don’t know why, but this makes me uneasy… confused.”
His dark eyes fixed on her. “So you work to get rid of me?”
Startled, she replied quickly, “Don’t misunderstand, I…”
Then he smiled, the corners of his lips curling—rare, sincere, effortless. “Just kidding.”
Her heart softened. Candlelight flickered over her blushing face. His faint smile seemed like the sky clearing after a storm.
“Still blushing so easily,” he teased.
“I don’t know my constitution,” she murmured, sheepishly rubbing her cheeks. Then her voice caught, hesitant. “I think… I may never remember anything from the past.”
“If you want to know anything, I can tell you,” he said calmly.
Their conversation paused as a waiter arrived with the meal. Hunger shone in Zhen Nuan’s eyes. She savored sea bass, steamed pork ribs, and mushroom-shrimp soup with a rosy-cheeked delight. Shen Yi watched her silently, captivated by the subtle blush, the delicate features, the shy movements. Her beauty was in her natural grace.
He recalled what Ji Fala had said: “Brother Shen Yi, protect Sister Nuan Nuan. She’s so humble around Yan Han.”
A warmth brushed her hand—a bowl of shrimp soup.
“Are you tired from this trip?” she asked.
“Not tired.” He sipped the soup.
“And you’ve heard about Shen Zetian’s ex? Jumped off a building… Huasheng stock fell, the board’s angry…”
“Hmm,” he replied, uninterested.
“Fara’s thrilled. At year-end, Ji Chen will propose removing Chairman Shen Zetian.”
A call interrupted. Shen Yi briefly exchanged words, then excused himself. Zhen Nuan gestured for him to leave, washing her hands.
In the corridor, their eyes met. Shen Zetian smiled ambiguously. “Hi.”
Zhen Nuan froze, instinctively trying to step aside. He closed in, a shadow pressing down. Panic flitted across her face, pale and breathless. Her hands pressed against him as she tried to escape.
Amused, he recalled her slender neck, leaning closer. She reacted instantly, scratching him with a reflexive jab. Her knee struck him, breaking free. Shen Zetian sneered and composed himself, disappearing down the corridor.
Dong Sisi arrived, composed even in the face of her husband’s flirtation. “If there’s anything, wait until the police close the case,” she said coolly, leaving Shen Yi untouched.
Later, Zhen Nuan returned to Shen Yi’s side. He hung up his phone coldly, eyes sharp. She resumed eating, but he fixed her with a stern gaze.
“Who did you meet just now?”
“Shen Zetian… I kicked him in the groin. Lesson learned. Don’t be angry,” she confessed.
He merely stroked her chin and said calmly, “I know.”
That night, she returned home, showered, and lay on her bed, reading, her thoughts tangled between Jiang Xiao’s case and Shen Yi’s role. Her city felt empty, yet close enough to the bureau to visit at a moment’s notice.
By eight-thirty, restlessness stirred. She considered going to the bureau, only to find seven missed calls—Yan Han’s single call first, then Guan Xiaoyu’s frantic texts: “Ancestor, where are you now?”
Filled with guilt, she responded and rushed to the office. Yan Han was in the interrogation room. Zhen Nuan quietly moved beside him, unnoticed.
Dong Sisi and Shen Zetian were being interrogated separately. Timelines were reconstructed, alibis scrutinized. Zhen Nuan’s sharp eyes noted every interval, every movement.
After the interrogations, Yan Han remained. She approached cautiously. “Captain, I accidentally muted my phone… don’t be angry.”
His expression softened slightly. “During these three months, you’ll be involved in every aspect—autopsy, analysis, trace detection, investigative reasoning. Every detail matters. A misstep can mislead the investigation.”
Her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and resolve. Lessons were clear. Responsibilities heavy. She vowed silently to learn from every colleague, every case, every moment.
“Any more questions?” he asked.
“No!” she replied firmly, determination burning in her eyes.
Prwvious/Next
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