The newcomer didn’t resemble the seasoned experts who usually entered C-Lab. At first glance, she looked more like a sharp, elegant white-collar professional walking out of a CBD tower.
She wore a fitted, high-waisted red wool coat, cinched tightly at the waist so the hem flared like the edge of a skirt. Slim jeans and high-heeled ankle boots elongated her figure, making her look effortlessly tall and striking. The bold red she wore was impossible to ignore—bright, confident, and immediately eye-catching.
The male detectives in the office subtly lifted their eyes to look at her again and again. It wasn’t disrespect—just surprise. No one in the bureau ever dressed this boldly.
Her lipstick-tinted lips curved gracefully as she raised her chin, speaking in a calm, clear voice.
“Hello everyone. I’m your new colleague, Su Ya. I hope we’ll work well together.”
Polite greetings rose from all corners. Cheng Fang and Brother Tan already knew her, nodding in acknowledgment.
Su Ya walked directly to Yan Han. Her watery eyes softened as she looked up at him.
“Yan Han, long time no see.”
Everyone caught the unmistakable shift in her tone. These people made a living off observation—nothing escaped them. They traded meaningful glances in silence.
Only Zhen Nuan stood stiff as a carved wooden figurine, her brows pinched as she pondered the two questions Yan Han asked her earlier. Even if she’d been paying attention to Su Ya, her limited social intuition wouldn’t have helped her understand any of this.
Yan Han gave a small, distance-kept smile.
“Mm. Yes. It has been many years.”
His composed indifference made Su Ya’s smile tighten faintly, disappointment flickering across her eyes before she pushed it away.
Director Shang stepped forward with a laugh.
“Since it’s been so long, catch up properly. It’s almost noon. As the team leader, you should take your new colleague out to get familiar with the area—and eat.”
Shang Jie’s intentions were hardly hidden. After Xia Shi’s death, after failing to solve her case, he carried a deep, private regret. Yan Han was more than his apprentice—he was like a son. Seeing him live alone for years weighed heavily on him. Su Ya, who matched Yan Han in background, looks, and education, seemed like a good match. He knew they attended the police academy together. He wanted to help them reconnect.
Before Yan Han could respond, Lao Bai poked his head out from behind a monitor.
“When Little Kitten arrived, why didn’t the boss treat her to lunch?”
Then he ducked back down like an ostrich burying its head. “Bullying people,” he muttered.
Zhen Nuan blinked. It took a moment before she realized Little Kitten referred to her.
They gave her… a nickname?
And in front of the bureau chief—
Her embarrassment shot through the roof. She waved both hands quickly.
“No, no, no need!”
The idea of sitting with the chief and a complete stranger made her scalp tingle painfully.
Su Ya had noticed the girl earlier but hadn’t seen her face. Seeing her now, even she faltered for a split second. Su Ya was always confident, rarely impressed, but Zhen Nuan’s beauty was unusual—comparable only to Xia Shi years ago. Combined with Yan Han’s subtle attitude toward her, Su Ya couldn’t help paying attention.
As Zhen Nuan flustered, Yan Han—deliberately not letting her escape—spoke mildly:
“Alright. I’ll bring you along too. Consider it making up for what I owe you.”
Zhen Nuan, hearing the teasing weight behind his voice, waved frantically.
“Really, no need—I don’t need to eat!”
The entire office erupted into laughter. Lao Bai even let out a delighted “woof!” and nearly rolled across the floor.
Yan Han’s smile widened, bright and white.
“Oh? So you run on photosynthesis? Come on then—stand by the window and recharge.”
Before she could react, he leaned forward, caught her sleeve lightly, and pulled her toward the sunlight.
Winter sunlight filtered through the window—thin, soft, pale gold. It made her skin look almost translucent, pink-tinged, and her little ears glowed like warm red agate.
The whole room watched, amused.
“No, I mean…” Her voice grew slower, softer. “Eating is fine… not eating is fine… I can… eat alone…”
She spiraled into her own confusion again.
Yan Han followed her rhythm, imitating her tone lightly.
“You can eat with me too.”
Her whole face flushed crimson. She covered it with her hands, tiny and overwhelmed.
“Captain, I really don’t—”
“Stop fussing,” he cut in impatiently. “Pack your things. We’re leaving.”
This time she didn’t push back. Just whispered, “Oh,” packed up, and stood obediently beside him—waiting for him to move first so she would know where to go.
Su Ya glanced at the two of them, the corner of her mouth lifting.
“Let’s go.”
In the Car
When they reached the vehicle, Su Ya naturally opened the passenger door and sat in the front.
Zhen Nuan secretly breathed out in relief. With a stranger in front, she could disappear into the spacious backseat like a puff of air.
But Yan Han glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to catch the barely noticeable smile tugging her lips—her tiny expression of freedom.
He didn’t know how to describe this girl.
She deliberately slid herself to sit directly behind him, neatly out of his peripheral vision. Once hidden, she seemed satisfied, sinking a little lower as if trying to vanish entirely.
Only the little tufts of baby hairs on her forehead were visible in the mirror now.
Yan Han: “…”
A tiny, timid creature had wandered into his car—something between a frightened hamster and a mole.
Up front, Su Ya talked comfortably about her recent years: studying abroad in the U.S., returning to work in a central government department, encountering unusual cases. She mentioned hearing his name everywhere, how his cases were still being used for teaching.
Yan Han’s responses were measured—neither distant nor too warm.
Zhen Nuan listened silently and gradually realized—
Yan Han treated everyone the same way.
He was reserved, never overly enthusiastic but also never cold to the point of discomfort. He kept a perfect balance—approachable but not invasive.
Eventually the conversation shifted to choosing a restaurant.
“It’s so cold,” Su Ya said. “Let’s have something spicy. Hot pot?”
Yan Han nodded. “Zhen Nuan.”
She jumped upright. “Yes?”
“Hot pot?”
Su Ya turned back with a polite smile.
“…Sure.”
Su Ya ordered spicy hot pot. Yan Han followed.
Zhen Nuan raised a timid hand.
“I want… clear broth.”
“Sorry,” the waiter said, “clear broth is temporarily out.”
Zhen Nuan looked at the menu—Thai sour soup, curry, dozens of confusing flavors.
Yan Han didn’t wait for her panic to build.
“Give her a nourishing hot pot.”
“Okay.”
She quietly closed the menu.
As they waited, Yan Han asked Su Ya, “How long will you stay this time?”
“You’re kicking me out already? Maybe I’ll stay forever.”
He chuckled. “Your dad won’t allow that. You’re here for temporary assignment. You’ll have a promotion when you return next year.”
Su Ya smirked. “Speaking of promotions—rumor has it the central government wants to transfer you over. You’re the one about to move upward.”
Zhen Nuan paused mid-bite. She had heard this too.
Yan Han spun his water glass lightly. His expression dimmed to mild indifference.
“It’s nothing. I won’t leave.”
Su Ya frowned. “Why?”
“I’m not leaving Yucheng.”
She stopped asking.
Everyone knew why.
Xia Shi died here.
And Yan Han would not abandon this city.
Once the food arrived, Zhen Nuan focused entirely on eating. The warmth of the broth softened her nerves.
Su Ya shifted her attention to the girl with a polite smile. She asked the basic questions: where she grew up, what she studied, her background. Zhen Nuan answered carefully—nervous, earnest, polite.
Yan Han’s eyes drifted to her hands—white, delicate, gripping chopsticks like they were unfamiliar tools—then shifted to Su Ya’s composed confidence. Something unreadable flickered in his gaze.
After a moment, he spoke:
“Zhen Nuan, get me some peanut sauce.”
She nodded quickly. “Okay!”
But after she left, Su Ya frowned.
“Who brought her into C-Lab?”
“Me. Why?”
“She has severe social anxiety—and intimacy phobia. You can see that, right? How could you let her join?”
Yan Han leaned back lazily.
“Beautiful.”
“What?”
“She’s too beautiful. I got addicted to looking at her, so I recruited her.”
Su Ya stared speechlessly. She knew he didn’t mean it literally—he was being ironic, mocking her earlier analysis. But his bluntness still caught her breath.
She wanted to blurt, Is it because she has amber eyes—like Xia Shi?
But she dared not touch his scars.
“Her personality is completely unsuitable—”
“What personality?” His voice remained casual, but the air chilled. “Don’t analyze my people. She’s not your patient. She’s a professional pathology researcher and forensic doctor. That’s enough.”
Su Ya stiffened at the warning before finally smiling faintly.
“…Alright. I won’t mention it again.”
At that moment, Zhen Nuan returned holding an empty plate, looking troubled.
“Captain, they have five kinds of peanut butter… original, beef, tomato, chocolate…”
She opened her phone quickly. “Ah—cheese too. Which one do you want?”
Yan Han: “…”
Su Ya: “…”
A normal person would bring all five.
A lazy person would bring one at random.
But Zhen Nuan returned… with none.
Yan Han gestured for her to sit.
“I’ll choose myself.”
“Okay…” she whispered and resumed eating.
When he returned, he set shrimp balls in front of her.
Only then did Zhen Nuan realize—he’d noticed how she tried and failed repeatedly to pick them up earlier, then gave up in embarrassment.
“Thank you… Captain.”
Her eyes brightened, soft amber catching the glow of the hot pot steam.
After leaving the restaurant, they walked through a mall as Su Ya browsed for necessities.
Yan Han followed calmly.
Zhen Nuan glanced anxiously at her watch.
Su Ya said, “I need a lot of things. Help me finish shopping before afternoon.”
Yan Han looked at Zhen Nuan. “You?”
“I—I have work to finish. You two go ahead. I’ll return to the office.”
Su Ya shrugged. “That works.”
But as Zhen Nuan was about to leave, Yan Han stopped her.
“Wait. I’ll drive you.”
She froze, then remembered—the masked men.
She nodded immediately. “Thank you… for the trouble.”
Su Ya patted her coat.
“Yes, the weather is freezing. Don’t wait for the bus.”
Near the end of the workday, Zhen Nuan heard that Qin Shu finished the sketch of the girl from the swimming pool based only on Hei Zi and the others’ descriptions.
The drawing was startlingly realistic—identical to the girl Zhen Nuan saw.
“Qin Shu, you’re incredible!”
“It’s good I can help,” Qin Shu said softly, rubbing her sore eyes. Then, hesitating:
“You… had lunch with Su Ya today?”
“You know her?”
“Not personally. I just… heard of her.”
Qin Shu remembered Xia Shi faintly—just a few encounters with the beautiful, shy surgical intern who studied with her father. She had heard that Su Ya fell for Yan Han at the police academy and pursued him relentlessly despite knowing he already had a girlfriend.
But Yan Han had protected Xia Shi so well that she never knew.
After Xia Shi died, Su Ya clung to Yan Han for a long time. But his grief was ice—untouchable, unmeltable. She eventually returned to the capital.
Now that she’d come back—Qin Shu knew the reason.
People walk in circles sometimes.
Returning to what they once couldn’t obtain.
Qin Shu wasn’t sad. Whether Su Ya existed or not, her own feelings stayed the same.
Once, thinking Yan Han was hurt, she cried uncontrollably, exposing her crush to all their colleagues. They even tried matching them. But Yan Han always kept a polite, comfortable distance. She was grateful for that.
And with Su Ya back, the teasing about her and Yan Han would lessen.
That was good too.
After work, Brother Tan and Lao Bai insisted on driving Zhen Nuan home. They even inspected her house—doors, windows, gas, wiring.
“Isn’t this… too much?” she asked.
“Yes, yes,” Lao Bai said dramatically. “Otherwise, if something happened to you, I’d die of regret.”
Zhen Nuan felt deeply moved. She invited them in for tea, but they refused—afraid she’d be uncomfortable. They simply reminded her to lock the door.
That night, she relaxed completely—listening to music, chatting with Shen Yi, then drifting off to sleep.
She didn’t know when the phone began ringing.
But the sharp trill pierced the stillness of the night, jolting her awake. Her heart hammered as she grabbed the phone.
“Hello…?”
Silence.
Then—
A chilling voice:
“Look out your window. Tell me… do you see a long-haired woman in a red dress hanging there like a ghost?”
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