Content Warning: The following chapter contains graphic and disturbing scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

[“Does Miss Bai enjoy eating tofu?”]

Huo Zhenye dropped Da Tou off at the station. The case still had no new leads—he felt like he had touched on something, but just couldn’t figure out how everything was connected.

Back at the Huo residence, he locked himself in his study and wrote down all the known clues on paper.

Aunt Liu knocked and came in. “Young Master, you’ve been running around all day—you must be hungry. What would you like to eat?”

Only then did Huo Zhenye realize how hungry he was. All he’d had today was a piece of bread. “Anything’s fine, just something filling.”

But Aunt Liu wouldn’t just throw together any old meal for her young master. She made a big bowl of duck broth wontons—duck leg shredded and stir-fried with bean sprouts, carefully pinching off the sprout tips one by one.

Seeing Huo Zhenye eating with such appetite, she asked, “So… how are things going with that Miss Bai?”

Huo Zhenye nearly spat out his wonton soup. He swallowed and said, “Pretty good, actually.”

Aunt Liu beamed. “Good, good. I’ve already started simmering the claypot dish—low heat, slow-cooked till evening. It’ll be rich and flavorful. You can bring it over to her tomorrow.”

“Put in extra tofu.”

“Miss Bai likes tofu?”

Huo Zhenye took another big wonton and casually made something up: “Old Madam Bai likes it. You know how elders are—softer food like tofu is easier on the teeth.”

Hearing that even the Bai family’s elderly matron would be receiving something, Aunt Liu got even more enthusiastic. “Alright, alright. Don’t worry. I’ll use abalone, sea cucumber, dried scallops to build the flavor. I’ll swap the ingredients out continuously over three days, then strain everything, and stew a piece of aged tofu in the broth. Anyone with a refined palate will taste the difference right away.”

Huo Zhenye suppressed a smile and flattered her, “Exactly. Old Madam Bai has the most discerning palate. If she eats your claypot tofu, she’ll definitely be pleased.”

Aunt Liu was pleased too. With a picky-tongued old madam in the Bai family, they must be a prominent household. She offered more advice: “You should also take Miss Bai to a movie or a concert sometime.”

Thinking of what it’d be like to take Bai Zhun to the movies, Huo Zhenye couldn’t help but laugh. When he laughed, Aunt Liu laughed too, thinking to herself: in the end, every man needs a woman to smooth him out.

That Miss Bai had managed to tame their little demon king so well.

Huo Zhenye finished the wontons with a smile, stretched, and got back to the case. He had “borrowed” the case file on the kidnapping and ransom murder of Song Mingjie from the station.

Back then, the police had even locked in on a suspect, but without evidence—and since the man was from a gang—they hadn’t made an arrest.

He flipped through the files on those gang members, but halfway through, he suddenly had a strong feeling—someone was watching him.

The gaze was behind him. And behind him was the floor-to-ceiling glass door, which opened onto a small balcony on the second floor.

Without pausing his writing, Huo Zhenye reached into a drawer, pulled out his sidearm, and quickly walked over to the glass door. He yanked the curtain aside—nothing was behind it. The door was tightly shut.

He opened the door and stepped outside, leaning on the balcony railing to look down at the garden.

The Huo residence was fully wired with electric lighting, including in the garden. Rose beds, stone paths, and lanterns on both sides created a scene that allowed the owner to enjoy the garden even at night.

At this hour, the garden was completely empty—only the hazy glow of lamps lingered.

Could it be that he was just too tired and imagined it?

The wind blew into the study, rustling the papers on his desk. Huo Zhenye shut the door, then looked down—on the glass, there was a small round handprint, only reaching up to his shin. It looked as if a child had once hidden there while playing hide and seek.

Huo Zhenye frowned. The residence did have servants’ children around, but they weren’t allowed upstairs. Still, he’d been away for half a month—maybe one of them had sneaked up here.

The next morning, as he was packing to head to the station, Aunt Liu came chasing out: “Here, this one’s Tiaotou Gao ^[1] sticky rice cake, and this is Shuangniang Tuan ^[2] double-fermented glutinous dumpling. Bring them to Miss Bai. The tofu pot still needs two more days.”

Huo Zhenye nodded with a smile. “Alright, I’ll bring it to him.”

Thinking about how exhausted Bai Zhun must be these days, he figured a few sweet snacks would be good for him. Huo Zhenye drove first to Yuqing Alley and gently knocked on the Bai family’s door.

When he entered, he set the dessert box down and said softly to Ah Xiu, “When your brother wakes up, give these to him. There’s some for you too.”

Ah Xiu nodded.

Bai Zhun lay in bed. He heard Huo Zhenye’s voice but couldn’t be bothered to get up. He turned over to keep sleeping—until a strange scent, one that didn’t belong to Huo Zhenye, reached his nose.

His eyes flew open. He sat up and wheeled himself out of the room. “What’s that smell on you?”

Huo Zhenye turned around and saw Bai Zhun in his wheelchair, several steps away, frowning deeply at him.

Huo Zhenye chuckled. “You’ve got a hell of a nose. Shuangniang Tuan—want some?”

He opened the box. Inside were four round, plump dumplings, their white skins just faintly showing the bean paste and sesame filling beneath. They smelled sweet and rich.

Bai Zhun shook his head. “That’s not the smell.”

Huo Zhenye set down the box and lifted his sleeve. “Nothing weird—took a shower right before heading out this morning.” Then, thinking of showers, he stole a glance at Bai Zhun. The Bai house really ought to have a bathtub and shower installed.

Bai Zhun leaned in, grabbed Huo Zhenye by the tie, and yanked him down. Huo Zhenye bent at the waist—he hadn’t been expecting it and nearly bumped noses with Bai Zhun.

They were so close he could see himself reflected in Bai Zhun’s eyes—those jet-black eyes, like stars scattered across a boundless sea. Huo Zhenye had meant to make a joke, but at that moment, not a single teasing word came to mind.

Bai Zhun then pushed him away and interrogated him, “What did you mess with this time?”

“What do you mean I messed with something? That business with Jin Dangui—she mistook me for someone else!” He was the innocent one here—mistaken by Jin Dangui for some clueless sucker, and then treated by Han Zhu like some ruthless playboy.

“You’re the one always stirring up trouble with women.” Bai Zhun snorted and gave him a slow once-over, then let out a soft whistle.

The little yellow bird came fluttering out of the house, stumbled mid-air, and dropped onto Huo Zhenye’s head with a plop.

His neatly combed hair—done just that morning—instantly turned into a bird’s nest.

“Let it follow you,” Bai Zhun said. “We’ll see what kind of thing dares to act up.”

Huo Zhenye picked the yellow bird off his head and held it in his palm. The little creature seemed to know it had a mission, strutting proudly in circles on his hand.

“This tiny thing… is supposed to protect me?” Huo Zhenye had barely finished the sentence before the bird gave his palm a sharp peck. He yelped and flung it away, but it flew a loop around the room and landed back on his head.

Bai Zhun shot him a sideways glance. Still daring to complain?

“It may be small, but its foundation is solid. More than enough to be your bodyguard.”

Well, alright then. Huo Zhenye glanced around at the piles of paper charms and talismans. Taking a bird with him was better than lugging around a paper figurine. He waved to Bai Zhun. “Then I’m off.”

Bai Zhun gave a nonchalant “Mm,” but after a beat, couldn’t help adding begrudgingly, “I’m not doing this to protect you.”

Huo Zhenye held back a laugh. “Of course. Seventh Master is noble and selfless. You just couldn’t bear to see me getting bullied, so you sent a bird to watch over me.”

That earned him a single word in reply: “Scram.”

Young Master Huo promptly scrammed from the Bai family’s little building. As he walked, he scratched the bird’s little head. “You’ll be tagging along with me today, alright?”

The yellow bird stretched its neck and swiveled its eyes nonstop. Huo Zhenye placed it in the car and kept sneaking glances at it.

Sometimes it lowered its head and pecked at the air, sometimes it strutted forward a few steps, wings folded neatly against its plump little body. No matter how he looked at it—it was unmistakably alive.

“Do you have a name?” Huo Zhenye asked, one hand on the wheel, chatting away. “If not… how about Ah Jiu?”

The yellow bird turned its head away in disdain.

Huo Zhenye laughed. “You’re so tiny, and you still have standards? Ah Jiu it is!”

Back at the Bai house, Bai Zhun buried his head in his goose-down pillow, keeping a thread of consciousness connected to the bird. The more he listened, the deeper he frowned. Why is this man so chatty? He can even talk to a bird nonstop!

Huo Zhenye brought the bird to the police station. It refused to stay in his pocket and instead perched proudly on his shoulder, its tiny head turning this way and that.

Every constable who passed by in the police station gave the little bird a second glance.

Huo Zhenye didn’t bother explaining—so what if he, a notorious rich playboy, brought a bird to work?

He hadn’t even sat down at his desk when Da Tou came hurrying over. “Young Master Huo, three punks were killed in Hongkou last night.”

Huo Zhenye frowned. “Hongkou’s in the Japanese concession. What’s that got to do with our jurisdiction?”

“Three are dead, one’s half-crazy, and they found a little suit at the scene—it had Song Mingjie’s name embroidered on it. That confirms those guys were the ones who kidnapped Song Mingjie. And two days ago, they kidnapped a Japanese merchant’s child. Now they’re dead, but the kid is missing.”

“Let’s go take a look,” Huo Zhenye said and drove to the scene.

The kidnappers had rented a warehouse specifically to hold hostages. That whole area was filled with warehouses for goods unloaded from the docks—people pushed crates in and out all day, and no one paid attention.

It was the perfect place to move money—or people.

Inside the warehouse was a complete mess. The floor was soaked with blood, and red-and-white matter was smeared across the ground. Huo Zhenye took one look and turned his head away. “What… is that stuff?”

Da Tou leaned in for a closer look. “Looks like… intestines.”

Huo Zhenye fought the wave of nausea. “Intestines?” What kind of killer would go so far as to pull out someone’s guts?

“Those three were butchered. Stomachs cut wide open, hearts and livers taken out. Guts spilled everywhere,” Da Tou said calmly, describing the gruesome scene in detail.

“Enough.” Huo Zhenye felt like he could go a whole month without eating meat.

The yellow bird, perched quietly on his shoulder until now, suddenly whooshed into the air, circling the scene once before stopping by a wooden crate, tilting its head as if observing something.

Huo Zhenye, still covering his nose, stepped in. Besides the blood and entrails, there were patches of yellowish muck on the ground—a mix of blood, feces, and urine. He was certain now: no food for him today.

He stopped in front of the crate and saw a partial shoeprint on its surface. Part of an Italian brand name was visible. The print came from a small, custom-made leather shoe—judging by the size, the wearer couldn’t be older than ten.

“Da Tou! When that Japanese merchant’s kid was kidnapped—was he wearing wooden clogs or leather shoes?”

Da Tou blinked. “Young Master Huo, why’re you asking about that?”

Huo Zhenye didn’t answer. He pulled out his camera and snapped a photo of the shoeprint.

The yellow bird flew up again, flapping its wings as it landed by a ventilation window.

This was a warehouse, and windows only existed near the ceiling. Even an adult couldn’t reach this window, so Huo Zhenye moved some wooden crates over.

Da Tou saw him moving the crates and came over to help. “Young Master Huo, what are you moving those for?” Then he recalled the Su Manli case—Liu Er climbed up using a rope, so maybe the killer really did come in through the window. If that were true, the killer’s body must be really flat.

Could someone be cruel enough to kill three grown men and scare another into madness, and still be a skinny weakling?

Huo Zhenye stood on the crates, scanning the area until his eyes fixed on something.

There was a child’s handprint on the windowsill.