Chapter 19

“Coach Luo?”

The low voice snapped Luo Jingyao out of her shock. She blinked and saw Zhao standing in the doorway, watching her curiously.

“Was that hallway too dark? I could walk you out after I take my medicine.”

Sweat from the pain glistened on his forehead and nose under the light, adding a strange realism to the deep lines on his face.

“No need. I’m not afraid.” Luo Jingyao’s heart clenched, but she answered with practiced calm and slowly turned to leave.

Before she turned around, she stole a glance into the room behind him—but the lighting was too dim to make out anything clearly.

Tap, tap, tap.

Her measured footsteps echoed through the empty, narrow hallway. Only after she heard the door click shut behind her did she dare glance back.

Zhao’s figure was gone, and the light above had gone out, plunging the corridor into pitch-black darkness.

She took a deep breath and unconsciously picked up her pace, breaking into a run by the time she reached the mall’s side exit.

Letting the cool night air brush against her face, Luo Jingyao stared at the passing cars on the street, a strange, surreal feeling washing over her—like waking from a dream.

Turning around to glance once more at the mall behind her, she didn’t have time to think further. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dashed back toward the subway station.

About an hour later, Luo Jingyao appeared outside the Jinshi City Public Security Bureau.

After signing a contract with the police earlier, she had been given an access card for the main gate—but unfortunately, it only allowed her into the compound, not into the solemn office building in front of her.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long before someone pushed open the glass doors and strode toward her.

“Coach Luo! Our captain asked me to come down and escort you up.” The person was Pang Guangbuyi, the kind of guy whose voice reached before he did—his booming greeting nearly echoed across the whole block.

Luo Jingyao glanced uncertainly at her watch. It was already past 10 p.m., yet this guy looked like he’d been wound up like a toy, oddly energetic.

As she wondered about it, Pang Guangbuyi reached her side. The moment he saw the bag in her hand, his eyes lit up. He immediately extended his arm and eagerly took it from her. “Oh wow, Coach Luo, you didn’t have to bring anything! So polite of you!”

“…That place makes decent porridge. If you’re working late on a case, you need something in your stomach to keep going,” Luo Jingyao replied, though for some reason she felt a little guilty and avoided his gaze.

“Come, come, let’s go up and chat,” Pang Guangbuyi urged, practically dragging her into the building. Once in the elevator, he pulled a crispy pastry out of the bag and stuffed it into his mouth, speaking around his food with a mischievous tone: “I heard… you went to that training camp on your own today?”

“Coach Luo, you’re amazing. Didn’t you find our Captain Lin scary at all? After all these years, anyone who dared go against him like that is—well, as far as I know, probably in jail now.”

“Why would I be afraid?” Luo Jingyao raised a brow and gave him a strange look. “You guys work with him every day, not me.”

Besides, she only intended to pull this off and then disappear, which made her even more fearless.

Hearing that, Pang Guangbuyi gave her a respectful look before swallowing his food. “Earlier, Captain Lin sent the handwriting samples you forwarded to the forensics team. Unfortunately, nothing unusual came up in the comparison.”

“As for the training camp owner’s background check and the medical records of the two deceased victims, I’m still working on those. The police system didn’t show anything useful, so now I’m trying to pull data from the courts and hospitals. But it’s across different systems, and the procedures are a bit of a pain.”

While the young officer was updating her on the case, the elevator arrived at the seventh floor.

As the doors slid open, Pang Guangbuyi was the first to step out. He swung the bag of porridge like a trophy and marched to the Special Investigations Office, kicking open the door.

“Surprise! Dinner’s on Coach Luo tonight!”

He was met with complete silence.

Even Luo Jingyao, following behind, couldn’t help but cover her face. Her chronic second-hand embarrassment flared up—her toes even curled in sympathy.

“Thank you for all your hard work, officers! Please warm yourselves up with some porridge!” Since she was already here, Luo Jingyao pushed down the urge to flee and carefully stepped into the room to help distribute the food.

The atmosphere lightened up considerably once her presence was noticed. Guo Zhen and Pan Chang got up to greet her, thanked her, and helped Pang Guangbuyi set up the food on the side table.

That left Luo Jingyao standing alone, frozen, as she watched a tall figure walk toward her.

Lin Jiafan stopped in front of her. He seemed about to say something but instead frowned and sniffed the air. “Did you drink?”

His tone was full of disbelief, and his eyebrows knit tightly together.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Luo Jingyao took a small step back and awkwardly rubbed her hands together. “Just a bit… unavoidable. A necessary social interaction between colleagues. Officer Lin, surely you understand?”

Understand?

Lin Jiafan nearly laughed from anger. He had taken her for the well-behaved type—turns out she was chaos wrapped in a smile.

Rubbing his temples in frustration, he didn’t dwell on it: “Since you’ve been drinking, you should go home and rest. Don’t worry—once we have concrete updates on Boss Jiang or the two victims, we’ll let you know, as long as it doesn’t affect the investigation.”

After all, the lead had come from her. She deserved to be kept in the loop.

“I’ve always trusted Officer Lin,” Luo Jingyao said with a slightly flattering smile. Then she picked up a bowl of seafood oyster porridge and stuffed it into Lin Jiafan’s hands. “You work so hard every night—you need to nourish yourself!”

“Pfft!” On the couch, Pang Guangbuyi couldn’t hold it in. The porridge he just drank sprayed right back into his bowl.

The slightly older Guo Zhen didn’t bother being subtle: “Oysters? Captain Lin, are you having kidney issues?”

Pan Chang joined in with a smirk: “Coach Luo, that’s a bold move—implying a man can’t perform?”

All Luo Jingyao could do was stare blankly, utterly lost, while Lin Jiafan shot the three of them a sharp glare that nearly cut through the air.

After successfully shutting them up, he returned to his desk with the bowl of porridge, sat down, and began coordinating with other departments via his phone while sipping slowly.

Watching his focused side profile, Luo Jingyao hesitated for a moment before biting her lip and walking over.

“Um… Officer Lin, when you were shadowing that logistics guy, Zhao, at the mall today… did you notice anything suspicious?”

She’d been mulling this over the whole subway ride to the station, struggling to find a way to bring it up without sounding crazy.

She couldn’t just blurt out, “I think Zhao might be the killer,” could she? Where was the evidence? The police worked with facts—not gut feelings.

Should she confess that she’d seen the crime scene before, and that the killer’s sweater looked exactly like the one Zhao wore?

In that case, Zhao might not get arrested, but she’d definitely be admitted to the psych ward.

After much hesitation, she finally chose a relatively safe approach: to first probe the police’s stance before making any move.

“Zhao Weiqing? I took a photo of his signature while he was working and sent it to the forensic department, but the handwriting doesn’t match the letters found in Huang Guifen’s home,” Lin Jiafan recalled briefly and replied casually.

Zhao Weiqing, who had free access to the weight-loss training camp, was naturally one of the suspects he wouldn’t let slide.

“It doesn’t match…” Luo Jingyao’s disappointment was visible, but she quickly remembered something and anxiously asked, “I remember Officer Guo said earlier that based on the marks on the bones of the two victims, the killer this time was left-handed, right?”

“That’s right.” While speaking, Lin Jiafan glanced at her, seemingly puzzled as to why she was so fixated on a logistics worker at a mall.

“When analyzing the handwriting from those letters later, did the results support that assumption as well?” Luo Jingyao continued.

The man put down the spoon and his phone, and though he said nothing, his silence served as confirmation.

“So Zhao Weiqing signed using which hand while working? His right hand?”

Lin Jiafan nodded slightly, his gaze growing deeper and more thoughtful as he looked at her.

“Boss Jiang mentioned that he had been injured in an accident before. Just over an hour ago, I even ran into Zhao Weiqing outside the mall. He said his right arm was acting up again and hurting badly. I ended up taking him home,” Luo Jingyao shared everything she’d encountered that evening truthfully.

After a slight pause, she asked again, this time with a touch of speculation: “So, is it possible that he’s able to write or work with his left hand as well?”

Narrowing his eyes as he recalled everything about Zhao Weiqing from earlier that day, Lin Jiafan had to admit the possibility was real: “For some of the more difficult tasks, he did use his left hand to assist his right. And since he often comes in and out of the training camp, it makes sense for him to have traces of magnesium powder on him.”

As he spoke, there was even a faint trace of admiration in the way he looked at Luo Jingyao.

“…”

Seeing this, Luo Jingyao lowered her head even more. The current situation felt like a failing student scoring full marks by cheating—so guilty she’d probably have nightmares about it.

She believed that the police would eventually track down Zhao Weiqing on their own. She’d merely stumbled upon a “cheat code” that sped up the process. Otherwise, even with his right arm disabled, she never would have associated him with the murderer.

Of course, all of this was just speculation without solid evidence. The truth would ultimately depend on the police investigation.

“Coach Luo, did you just say you took Zhao Weiqing home?” Lin Jiafan picked up his phone again and checked something: “He should be on the afternoon shift tomorrow. Want to join me in paying a visit to this ‘mentor’ of mine?”