Chapter 2: This World Has Quite a Few Idiots

Right now, what Jian Ruochen wanted most was to send that pair of life-disregarding, lawless lovebirds from the original novel straight to jail. If this world lacked police, things would be considerably more difficult. It was a relief they existed; at least he wouldn’t need to establish a police force from the ground up.

Jian Ruochen took advantage of the light to size up the female officer.

Chan Wanchuen looked to be around thirty. She appeared sharp and competent, with a serious expression that suggested straightforwardness and integrity. Her posture was tense, her expression guarded. She was wearing a short khaki utility vest over a white turtleneck sweater. A gun holster and handcuff pouch were attached to her belt. Below, she wore relaxed-fit black jeans and casual shoes with low, almost flat heels.

Chan Wanchuen, in turn, was studying Jian Ruochen.

She hadn’t anticipated Jian Ruochen being quite so striking, nor so pale and thin. Strands of dark hair near the young man’s cheeks fluttered in the wind. His face was gaunt, and the oversized dark suit jacket draped over his frame made him appear younger than the age noted in his file. His amber eyes glistened slightly, and an unhealthy flush colored his cheeks. He looked listless, like an eggplant touched by frost.

Too thin, she thought. Doesn’t look like he has the strength to kill anyone.

Chan Wanchuen’s expression eased slightly. She stepped closer. “Jian Ruochen?”

“Yes.” Jian Ruochen offered a small smile and extended his hand. “Hello, Madam.”

Chan Wanchuen hesitated for a beat, surprised, then reached out her own hand. “…Hello.”

He really is… breathtakingly beautiful. When he smiled, his eyes shone like stars. He seemed completely incongruous with the run-down structures flanking the quarry.

Jian Ruochen asked, “Officer Chan, how can I cooperate?”

Chan Wanchuen replied, “Let me see your ID.”

“That’s exactly why I came back. They’re inside my place.” Jian Ruochen gestured towards his door, then glanced at the two male officers behind Chan Wanchuen. His eyes lingered for a moment on the silver cases in their hands. “Are you from Forensics, here to search the premises? May I see the warrant?”

His tone perfectly mirrored Chan Wanchuen’s own authoritative request for identification.

The younger of the two, evidently a trainee, jumped slightly and reflexively held out the search warrant.

Jian Ruochen glanced at it, then lifted the hem of the oversized jacket, retrieved a key, and held it out. “Go ahead, let yourselves in and search. When you’re finished, if you could trouble yourselves to bring my ID out, I’ll stay out here so I don’t get in your way.”

The forensics officer stammered, “Ah… okay.”

He took the key, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and crouched down to look through a pile of books in the corner. He had absentmindedly flipped through a couple before his brain caught up.

Strange, he thought. How did he know we were Forensics? We didn’t introduce our specific unit.

The trainee, feeling a bit embarrassed about how quickly he’d shown the warrant, started muttering to his colleague as they searched.

“This suspect’s acting way too calm. Bet there’s nothing here.” He continued, “Reckon he did it? He’s quite good-looking… doesn’t seem like the murderous type.” Then, “And how did he know we were Forensics, anyway? Hey… I’m talking to you, why the silence?”

His colleague kept his gaze down. After shooting a quick glance back towards Chan Wanchuen, he turned and warned the rookie beside him, “Knock off the chatter.”

After a thorough search yielded nothing, the two officers gathered the identification documents they’d found, placed them in an evidence bag, and brought them outside to Jian Ruochen.

Jian Ruochen took the bag, a subtle smile playing in his eyes. “Only Forensics officers carry those silver equipment cases on call-outs… Any other questions? Feel free to ask me face-to-face.”

The trainee’s face instantly turned crimson. Even though he hadn’t said anything particularly malicious, getting caught talking about someone behind their back was mortifying. He stammered, “S-sorry.”

Jian Ruochen waved it off. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Run along now.”

The trainee winced. He might as well have just chewed me out. That condescending tone, like soothing a toddler, showed just how little regard Jian Ruochen had for him.

Jian Ruochen retrieved the Hong Kong Identity Card from the bag, glanced over the details, mentally committed the ID number to memory just in case, and then passed the card over.

Chan Wanchuen briefly illuminated the card with her flashlight to check its authenticity before clipping it into her notebook. “I’ll keep this for the time being. You’ll get it back once our interview is concluded.”

Jian Ruochen simply said, “Alright. Let’s go.”

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The Sham Shui Po Police Station in West Kowloon wasn’t far from the quarry, normally about a twenty-minute drive. However, their convoy drove as if propelled by wind and lightning, managing to cut the journey down to just ten minutes.

The Sham Shui Po station itself wasn’t particularly large. The marble sign by the entrance looked aged, streaked with yellowish stains from years of rain. Late at night, the station was nearly deserted apart from a few detectives working overtime, cloaked in an intense quiet.

Jian Ruochen followed Chan Wanchuen as she navigated the station’s winding corridors, eventually leading him into a small room. It wasn’t large, perhaps only four or five square meters, dominated by a long table in the center. Two men were already seated there, facing each other across the table.

Chan Wanchuen introduced them. “This is Sergeant Zhong, station sergeant. The other man you already know—Chai Jinwu.”

I don’t know him at all, Jian Ruochen thought with an internal sigh. He was going into this blind. The only certainty was that the original ‘Jian Ruochen’ wasn’t the killer. He needed to take control of this interview quickly, or he’d inevitably slip up.

Sergeant Zhong gave Jian Ruochen a quick look, then gestured with an upward tilt of his chin. “Sit.”

He slid a photograph off the A4 clipboard he was holding and placed it in the middle of the table. “Feng Jiaming—recognize him?” he asked, slipping into Cantonese. “Body was found today, dumped in the woods behind the south gate of your university campus. Three stab wounds. Preliminary time of death estimated between 3:30 and 5:00 PM yesterday.”

Jian Ruochen answered first. “I don’t really recall him.”

Before the sergeant could respond, Chai Jinwu scoffed, “Impossible!”

“Oh?” Jian Ruochen turned his head towards Chai Jinwu. “Then please enlighten me. Why should I remember him?”

Chai Jinwu faltered, then mumbled, “He… Didn’t he say last week he was going to invite you up to the medical building rooftop for some ‘fun’? He couldn’t stand you! How could you not remember?”

This ‘fun’ clearly wasn’t the enjoyable kind, Jian Ruochen noted. Sounds more like bullying.

Jian Ruochen paused reflectively. “Plenty of people at university dislike me. Am I expected to keep track of every single one?”

Provoked by the dismissive tone, Chai Jinwu’s eyes grew colder.

Chan Wanchuen, perhaps sensing Chai Jinwu might lose his temper, quickly interjected, “Where were both of you between 3:30 PM and 5:00 PM yesterday?”

Chai Jinwu answered, “Yesterday afternoon? Skipped my elective, was asleep in my dorm… Hang on, Sir,” he added nervously, “why d’you ask? You don’t think I killed him, do you?”

Chan Wanchuen ignored the outburst. “Is there anyone who can verify that?”

Chai Jinwu picked nervously at his fingers. “No, I was the only one in the dorm.”

Chan Wanchuen turned back to Jian Ruochen, her tone a little gentler. “And you?”

I only got here tonight, Jian Ruochen thought. How the hell would I know where this body was yesterday? Don’t know the answer, but I can probably get it by provoking Chai Jinwu and seeing what comes out in his reaction.

He shot a sideways glance at Chai Jinwu and, without giving a location, simply stated, “I was also by myself. No witnesses.”

“However,” Chan Wanchuen countered, tapping her pen on the table, “we have a witness who placed you at the library at 2:45 PM. The library is only about a five-minute walk from the woods where Feng Jiaming’s body was discovered. That gives you plenty of opportunity.”

Jian Ruochen shook his head. “Opportunity doesn’t equate to action. Following that logic, wouldn’t everyone present in the library at 2:45 PM be a potential suspect?”

Chan Wanchuen and Sergeant Zhong shared a glance. Jian Ruochen was calm, composed, seemingly frank, and articulate—not the typical demeanor of a killer, but certainly not easy to manage.

Sergeant Zhong produced two more photographs: one depicted a wristwatch, the other a bracelet. “Witnesses have confirmed these items belong to you two, respectively,” the sergeant stated. “They were found at the crime scene. Any explanation?”

Chai Jinwu instantly retorted, “That watch is mine, but it was stolen a week ago!”

Jian Ruochen mentally sifted through his recollections of the novel, finally dredging up the bracelet’s backstory from some obscure detail in the early chapters. It was the only accessory the original ‘Jian Ruochen’ had ever managed to buy, pinching pennies to afford it. It was a high-quality replica of a luxury brand—the same model Lu Qian owned. The original owner had been ecstatic to have acquired this ‘matching couple’s bracelet’, only for it to be stolen shortly after purchase.

Copying Chai Jinwu’s phrasing, Jian Ruochen said, “That bracelet is mine. But it was stolen.”

Chai Jinwu flushed with anger, slamming his hand on the table. “Why do you keep mimicking me! Who’d steal your trashy bracelet? It’s just a fake! Did you steal my watch? And then drop it accidentally while you were killing Feng?”

Jian Ruochen countered calmly, “And why would I have taken your watch?”

Chai Jinwu sputtered, “My watch is worth two hundred thousand! You could have sold it!”

Jian Ruochen regarded Chai Jinwu and sighed slowly. “You claim your watch disappeared a week ago. If I were the thief, I would have had a full week to sell it and, shall we say, upgrade my lifestyle. Pray tell, why would I choose to keep it with me instead?”

Chai Jinwu rolled his eyes. “How would I know? Maybe you liked the look of it, decided to wear it yourself!”

Jian Ruochen’s expression as he looked at Chai Jinwu gradually shifted to one of pity. He picked up the photo of the bracelet, pointed to the measurement scale included in the image, and explained patiently, as if to a preschooler, “You see? The bracelet circumference is 14 centimeters. The watch strap circumference is 21 centimeters. This demonstrates a rather large disparity in our wrist sizes.” He continued, “Given this, if I intended to wear your watch, wouldn’t I logically take it to be resized first? Rather than, say, keeping it for a week only to discard it at a crime scene?”

Chai Jinwu clenched his teeth so hard they audibly ground together. “So what, are you implying I stole your bracelet? That I’m the killer?”

“That wasn’t my implication,” Jian Ruochen said with a sigh of resignation. “Think logically for a moment.” He posed the questions gently, “Could your 21cm wrist possibly fit into my 14cm bracelet? And would a person accustomed to wearing a 200,000-dollar watch even bother with a fake?”

He was beginning to suspect that the only reason the likes of Lu Qian and Jiang Hanyu could thrive so blissfully in their tangled romance in this world was simply because it contained a disproportionate number of fools.

Fine if Chai Jinwu missed it, but surely the police hadn’t overlooked such basic logical fallacies? They definitely covered this stuff at the academy. Can’t assume the worst; have to proceed as if they understand.

Jian Ruochen adopted a placating tone. “Mr. Chai, there’s no need to be so agitated. In reality, the suspicion against either of us isn’t very strong.” He elaborated, “Think about it. The police conducted thorough searches of our residences and persons before bringing us here. If they’d found any incriminating evidence, like the murder weapon, we’d currently be in separate interrogation rooms, likely in handcuffs, not sitting together in this comfortable, heated interview room.”

Jian Ruochen stated calmly, “This appears to be a fairly obvious frame-up. Someone stole personal belongings from both of us and intentionally planted them at the scene after the murder to implicate us. The perpetrator likely knows we have friction between us and wanted to watch us point fingers at each other.”

Chai Jinwu’s lips parted slightly. The person opposite him was already distractingly, almost androgynously beautiful. Hearing him speak now in that low, gentle, coaxing tone—like calming a child—sent an uncomfortable shiver prickling up Chai Jinwu’s spine. Frowning, feeling intensely awkward, Chai Jinwu turned towards Chan Wanchuen, his expression a mixture of bluster and uncertainty, looking for validation.

Chan Wanchuen gave a slight nod. “Mr. Jian’s analysis,” she stated diplomatically, “is generally consistent with our own assessment.”

‘Generally consistent’ was an understatement; it was practically the standard conclusion, Chan Wanchuen thought.

After the searches of their respective living quarters, neither Chai Jinwu nor Jian Ruochen remained the prime suspect. The incident strongly suggested a deliberate setup. Bringing them in served two main purposes: first, to formally eliminate them as suspects, and second, to assess their dynamic, probe for shared enemies, and hopefully unearth fresh leads.

It was clear their relationship was strained; Chai Jinwu appeared to hold Jian Ruochen in considerable contempt. Yet, both were students at the HKU Faculty of Medicine.

Jian Ruochen was obviously far more composed and astute, having effectively controlled the flow of the interview since walking through the door. He felt less like an interviewee and more like the interrogator.

As for Chai Jinwu…

Chai Jinwu, flushed and awkward, his toes practically gripping the floor inside his shoes, retorted stubbornly at Jian Ruochen, “What’s the use of all that talk? Doesn’t help solve the case! What, you fancy yourself sitting in the cops’ chairs, do you?”