Chapter 3: Don’t Walk Around with Your Hands Tucked Away

Before transmigrating, Jian Ruochen had been on the verge of joining the police force; it was the peak of his ambition to become an officer. He hadn’t expected someone, in a moment of accidental insight masked as foolishness, to actually articulate his deepest desire.

“Heh.” Jian Ruochen fixed his gaze on Chai Jinwu and let out a soft chuckle. “You’re rather amusing.”

Unsettled by the intense gaze, Chai Jinwu felt a prickling sensation spread over his skin and involuntarily began to jiggle his leg.

It’s so strange, Chai Jinwu thought. How can he stay so calm? He’s a murder suspect, he’s been interrogated and searched by the police, and I’ve been provoking him for no good reason… How is he still this composed?

Chai Jinwu’s heel tapped out a restless rhythm on the interview room floor. His leg kept shaking, and after a moment, his hands started to tremble uncontrollably too, making the table rattle slightly in response.

Sergeant Zhong couldn’t even keep the table still. He frowned at Chai Jinwu. “What are you shaking for?”

The rapid tapping of shoe leather on linoleum ceased abruptly. Chai Jinwu seemed to suddenly become aware of his own actions.

Jian Ruochen explained coolly, “He’s shaking because he’s embarrassed and nervous, of course. Medically speaking, adrenaline levels surge when under stress. To cope, the body exhibits subconscious reactions, like leg shaking.”

Chai Jinwu swallowed hard, awkwardly drawing his legs back as if trying to tuck them beneath his chair.

Jian Ruochen carried on as if oblivious. “Leg shaking helps divert focus and lessen the self-consciousness of being observed. If it fails to calm him… well, that just means the nervousness is excessive. Too much adrenaline results in this.”

He tilted his chin, directing the officers’ attention to Chai Jinwu’s hands. “See? Tremors.”

Chai Jinwu quickly clasped his hands together, trying to disprove the statement, but it was futile. The trembling continued.

Jian Ruochen casually reached out, fingers together, located the two photos on the table, and with a deft flick of his thumb, swept them into his palm. “Relax,” he said to Chai Jinwu. “Ultimately, cracking this case largely depends on you.”

Chai Jinwu stammered, “Wh-what? Why me?”

Because I have ‘amnesia’ regarding this body’s life and don’t have a single clue myself, Jian Ruochen thought wryly.

He ignored the question, instead waving the photos slightly to draw Chai Jinwu’s focus back. “Think hard now. Can you recall anyone who dislikes both you and me, and also absolutely loathed Feng Jiaming?”

“Neither of us lives in the dorms,” Jian Ruochen reasoned aloud. “We likely only interact during our medical courses. Assuming you’re not the type to gossip maliciously, any friction someone observed probably stems from instances where you were… let’s say, giving me a hard time directly. There can’t be too many people who fit all four conditions: dislike you, dislike me, hated Feng Jiaming, and witnessed our interactions.”

As his words faded, the interview room fell utterly silent; you could have heard a pin drop.

Sergeant Zhong and Chan Wanchuen locked eyes again, mirroring the same stunned expression. They had deliberately interviewed Chai Jinwu and Jian Ruochen together, hoping their interaction and potential disagreements would yield additional information.

But Jian Ruochen was operating on another level. His logic was impeccable, each statement calculated. Not a single word had been wasted since he’d walked in.

Suppressing her astonishment, Chan Wanchuen picked up the thread Jian Ruochen had laid out. “Think carefully, Mr. Chai,” she prompted. “Start with people who might hold a grudge against you.” She pushed a sheet of paper and a pen towards him. “Write down names as they come to you. Take your time.”

Head bowed, Chai Jinwu gripped the pen and scribbled a few names, only to hesitate and cross some out again.

Jian Ruochen watched this for a moment before his stomach began to audibly protest its emptiness. So hungry. He wondered how Luo Binwen was faring outside. One thing’s for sure, that Porsche seat beats this backless wooden stool any day.

If only I had my phone, he mused. Could call Luo Binwen, have him bring some late-night snacks… might be a good way to build a bit of goodwill with these officers too.

Jian Ruochen drifted off in thought for a moment. He snapped back to attention when he heard two distinct knocks on the door.

Chan Wanchuen rose and opened it. Luo Binwen stood outside, impeccably polite, holding up a paper bag. “My young master asked me to bring some refreshments for the officers,” he said smoothly. “It is quite late, and he hasn’t had dinner yet. He’s also running a bit of a fever at the moment. Might I inquire if he can take a brief rest?”

Jian Ruochen was speechless. Luo Binwen truly is the ‘gold standard’ butler from the book. So perceptive of his employer’s unspoken needs, so skilled in navigating social situations. It was almost like they had a telepathic connection!

“Is this from… Royal Gourmet?” Chan Wanchuen stared, wide-eyed, at the gilt crown emblem on the bag. “I heard even their cheapest congee goes for two thousand dollars a bowl!”

Jian Ruochen nearly choked. What? Two thousand for a bowl of congee? These prices are insane.

Luo Binwen beamed. “The Young Master specifically requested I procure this. You have all been working diligently. I have here five bowls of shark fin congee, along with some accompanying side dishes.”

Then, turning to Jian Ruochen, he added pointedly, “There’s a blister pack of fever medicine in there as well. Remember to take it after you’ve eaten.”

Still slightly dazed, Jian Ruochen stood and took the bag. Even before opening it, the rich, savory aroma filled the air, instantly making his stomach growl louder.

He glanced towards Chan Wanchuen, who quickly waved a hand. “That’s far too much.” She couldn’t believe she was calling congee extravagant. “You should eat it yourself.”

Jian Ruochen opened the bag. Inside were five small, insulated ceramic bowls with plastic lids, stacked neatly. Each bowl was roughly the size of a grown man’s fist. He felt a wave of dizziness. Two thousand dollars… for a fist-sized portion of congee.

Then again, he considered, with ten billion sitting in the bank, the daily interest alone must be close to a hundred thousand. And that’s just going to snowball… Oh. Right. Guess it’s fine then…

Jian Ruochen’s mood lightened instantly. “Really, it’s no problem,” he said cheerfully. “I can’t finish all this alone, and it’s best eaten hot. Let’s share.” He glanced back towards Luo Binwen, who was still lingering by the door. “And you? Have you eaten yet?”

Luo Binwen looked momentarily surprised, clearly not expecting the question. “I have already dined, Young Master. Thank you for asking.” He took a few steps back, then leaned forward just enough to gently pull the door closed.

Elegant, Jian Ruochen mused. So very elegant.

Jian Ruochen handed bowls of congee to Chan Wanchuen and Sergeant Zhong, then placed one next to Chai Jinwu. Chai Jinwu’s paper was already half covered in writing, mostly names he seemed to have crossed off or discarded.

He stared at the bowl, looking completely bewildered. “Royal Gourmet… shark fin congee? This costs a fortune… Why are you giving one to me?” After he’d acted so aggressively, spouting off recklessly… Didn’t Jian Ruochen hold any sort of grudge?

“Don’t worry about it. Just eat,” Jian Ruochen replied easily. Five bowls… that’s barely a fiftieth of the daily interest, he calculated inwardly. Plus, there are probably dividends… Yup. Definitely impossible to spend all this money.

He took a small spoonful. The rich texture and complex aroma flooded his senses, a wave of flavor rushing from his tongue up through his sinuses.

Posh. This is seriously posh.

After swallowing the first bite, Jian Ruochen added with a hint of teasing, “If you actually did commit a crime, the law will ensure you’re punished. In which case… consider this your last decent meal.”

A final feast before the chopping block.

Chai Jinwu froze. He gripped the delicate porcelain spoon tightly, the realization dawning: Jian Ruochen genuinely didn’t care one bit about people who rubbed him the wrong way.

To someone like Jian Ruochen, people like Chai Jinwu were less significant than this bowl of congee. Like pebbles on the path—easily kicked aside and forgotten.

This Jian Ruochen was nothing like the rumors suggested. Far from being timid, he wasn’t remotely cowardly, nor did he seem socially awkward.

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After the four of them had finished eating, Sergeant Zhong proactively cleared the empty bowls and wrappers, disposed of the rubbish, and returned with two cups of hot water.

Still savoring the faint aftertaste of shark fin, he looked at Jian Ruochen. “Never thought we’d get such a treat thanks to a witness. This isn’t something we usually get to eat. Here, drink some water and take your medicine.”

“Thank you.” Jian Ruochen took the water and swallowed the pills. A warmth spread through him. Cradling the cup of warm water, he turned his attention back to Chai Jinwu. “So? Have you recalled anything useful?”

“I haven’t yet—” Chai Jinwu started, but his voice choked off. He gave a sudden shudder, his expression twisting in horror as he stared down at the paper in his hands, his gaze locked onto a single name.

Jian Ruochen noted the signs: accelerated breathing, constricted pupils, tightened muscles around the eyes, slightly raised eyebrows. Surprise mixed with fear. “It seems you’ve recalled something.”

“How can you tell?” Chai Jinwu blurted out instinctively. Without pausing to wonder how, he rushed on, “Yes! I remember! The one who fits all those criteria—it’s Huo Jinze!” The hand gripping the paper began to shake again.

He looked directly at Jian Ruochen. “Lots of people at uni dislike you, envy you. But you keep to yourself, never stir things up. The only one who might actually hate you enough for this… it has to be Huo Jinze! His GPA is lower than yours; he’s ranked second. Because of that, he missed out on applying for the top scholarship.”

Chai Jinwu caught his breath. “As for hating me… It’s probably because I once suggested he might have stolen something from the restaurant where he worked part-time. Got him fired. He couldn’t find another job for ages afterwards, really struggled financially.”

“About a week after he lost the job,” Chai Jinwu continued, lowering his voice slightly, “Feng Jiaming summoned him to the rooftop. You know Feng… wasn’t picky about partners. I heard Huo Jinze… uh, ‘associated’ with Feng for a time. His money situation apparently got better during that period.”

Chai Jinwu’s face went chalk white. “And… during dissection lab one time… I made a comment about you. Said you were too pretty, didn’t really look like a guy. Huo Jinze’s in our major too; he was in that lab section. He must have heard.”

Jian Ruochen clicked his tongue. Looked like Huo Jinze had motive aplenty. Now, they just needed proof.

Knock, knock. The door opened, and the forensics trainee from before, now clad in a white lab coat, poked his head in, clutching a sheaf of A4 paper.

“Madam,” he reported, “we recovered some skin fragments from under the victim Feng Jiaming’s fingernails – likely from a struggle with the assailant. Ran it through the database, no hits. Have you got a primary suspect we can get a DNA sample from for comparison?”

Jian Ruochen recognized the talkative rookie from the container search.

A bit of a motormouth and maybe prone to spilling details, he assessed, but seems good-hearted. Potentially useful to know.

He smoothly interjected, “Madam’s identified the suspect. They’re just heading out to bring him in now.”

Pulling on her jacket as she moved towards the door, Chan Wanchuen remarked to Jian Ruochen, “Without your input, this suspect likely wouldn’t have emerged this quickly.”

Sergeant Zhong added his own praise, “Jian Ruochen, you weren’t just ‘cooperating’ here today, you were practically running the investigation!”

Jian Ruochen laughed it off. “Pure coincidence, really.”

Chan Wanchuen paused at the door. “You’re completely in the clear now. Would you like to go home first? I’ll call you if we require any further assistance.”

Jian Ruochen thought for a second. “No, thank you. I’d prefer to meet Huo Jinze as soon as possible.”

There were inconsistencies in Chai Jinwu’s statement regarding Huo Jinze’s supposed grudge against him, Jian Ruochen. These loopholes created a subtle dissonance in Chai Jinwu’s overall account. He needed to see Huo Jinze face-to-face to be sure.

Huo Jinze had grounds for deep resentment against both Chai Jinwu and Feng Jiaming, involving matters of personal dignity: Chai’s slander about theft, Feng’s treating him like a toy.

But the scholarship? The original Jian Ruochen had earned that fair and square through his own abilities. It seemed unlikely Huo Jinze would harbor such venomous hatred solely for that reason. The motive felt weak, almost contrived.

If the scholarship wasn’t a solid reason for Huo Jinze to involve ‘Jian Ruochen’ in the frame-up… then what was the real motive for dragging him into it?

Lost in thought, Jian Ruochen ambled out of the room, hands tucked deep into the pockets of the oversized jacket. Head bowed absently, his eyes vaguely registering the pattern of the floor tiles, he approached a corner in the corridor.

Suddenly, a tall figure rounded the corner from the direction of a nearby pantry. In his peripheral vision, Jian Ruochen registered a man, likely over 190cm tall, wearing a long trench coat and reading some papers as he walked. He quickly tried to sidestep left to avoid a collision.

Unfortunately, both were hugging the wall—one lost in thought, the other absorbed in his documents. The man reacted instantly. As Jian Ruochen moved left, the man, likely on instinct, also took a long stride… directly into Jian Ruochen’s path. Both executed their evasive maneuvers with utter confidence, neither slowing their pace. They collided head-on.

Jian Ruochen stumbled over the man’s leg as it shot out. With his hands still jammed in his pockets, he couldn’t even fling them out to try and catch his balance.

Crap! he thought. This body has zero physical conditioning. Terrible agility!

Holding his breath, Jian Ruochen squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact of his head against the hard floor. But an instant before the collision, a strong arm snaked around his waist, yanking him sideways.

Instead of the floor, he stumbled into a firm chest that smelled faintly of black tea. His forehead missed the unforgiving tile, landing instead with a solid thud against someone’s chest.