The driver and the two bodyguards in the front seat also got out of the car.
All three bodyguards walked to a convenience store not far from where they parked—about a ten-second walk—and sat at a table facing the street.
“Is it really okay for us to be this far from Miss?” one asked curiously.
Only Miss remained in the car… oh, and Young Master Luo.
“You think Young Master Luo would hurt Miss?” his companion snapped. After all, the person in that car was a potential future heir of the Song family.
“That’s not what I an… or maybe I an the other kind of harm?” he chuckled. “I bet the old master would be thrilled if Young Master Luo took Miss’s first ti.”
“Watch your mouth.” The man behind him smacked the back of his head. “Since when is it your place to gossip about Miss and the Young Master? Eat quickly and get back to guarding outside! Even though we’re near the police station, we can’t relax!”
“Yeah, yeah… rice rolls, huh.” The bodyguard swallowed hard and decided to ask the clerk for a cup of instant noodles instead.
Truth be told, while most people in Song Family Village were of Chinese descent or their descendants, their diets had long been shaped by South Arican flavors. It wasn’t that Chinese food didn’t taste good—it was just hard to get used to, especially eating the sa thing every day.
Instant noodles, though—that was different. Those had spread all over the world.
The Song family secretly maintained a village of rcenaries in training. They often took on dangerous missions, and so Song family warriors inevitably failed and were imprisoned by local forces. It was said that in prison, instant noodles were hard currency—on par with cigarettes and scented soap.
…
Inside the Alphard, Song Ying was nibbling delicately on her rice roll. It was rare to see Miss Song eat in such a ladylike way—it was as if she were savoring a Michelin-starred al. A rice roll that could be finished in a few bites was still mostly untouched after several minutes.
“Not used to it?” Luo Qiu asked.
“No… I was just thinking about sothing.” Song Ying shook her head and set the roll down, looking at him. “My people found that Gao Wen and Zhou Yusheng both went to your father’s grave today.”
Luo Qiu frowned slightly.
Song Ying quickly added, “My people were very careful—they didn’t disturb Uncle Luo Qi’s grave, don’t worry! I even had them donate to the cetery so they’ll clean it twice a day.”
“You’re thoughtful,” Luo Qiu said with a faint smile.
Song Ying replied, “Your father was part of the Song family—my uncle. It’s only right I do that. By the way, your ho isn’t around here, is it? Passing by, or… are you also investigating Zhou Yusheng?”
Passing by? Hardly. When Song Ying thought about it calmly, she could tell why Luo Qiu was here… Still, this annoying guy did have so conscience—he even brought food. Hmph.
“Not investigating exactly.” Luo Qiu shook his head. “But there are so people one has to et, eventually.”
He sounded subdued. After saying that, he turned his eyes to the police station gates outside the car window.
Song Ying hesitated for a mont, then her eyes lit up. “Luo Qiu, can I ask you sothing?”
“Go ahead.”
She shifted closer. “Just hypothetically… if the real culprit behind it all were caught, what would you do?”
Luo Qiu turned back toward her. They were so close their faces were only a finger’s width apart. Their eyes t.
Song Ying suddenly felt her face grow hot under his gaze, but she refused to back down. “With the Song family’s resources, even if you wanted to shoot that murderer on the spot, we could make sure you’d walk free the next day. So… what would you do?”
“You’re right,” Luo Qiu said softly. “What should I do? By rights, I already have the qualification to do it.”
Qualification? Song Ying blinked. Was this guy too calm for his own good?
“Don’t you want revenge?” she asked instinctively.
Luo Qiu shook his head, voice faint. “For , every ti I finish sothing, there’s one less thing left… But if sothing really must be erased, I’ll still make it disappear.”
Song Ying stared at him, confused—then suddenly acted on impulse. She spread her arms and pulled his head into her embrace.
Boss Luo froze for a mont, his face pressed gently against her chest. He could hear her heart beating faster and faster.
Song Ying’s face burned. “It must be hard for you… Seeing your enemy right in front of you. When I was a kid, I watched my parents die right before my eyes. I know how that feels. I knew who did it, but I was just a little girl—too scared to kill even a chicken, let alone get revenge. I didn’t want my grandfather to see how much I was hurting, so I pretended to smile and act innocent… I get it. But you don’t have to keep pretending to be strong. If it hurts, it’s okay. I won’t laugh at you.”
The car fell silent.
When she finished talking, she could even hear her own heartbeat.
But Luo Qiu said nothing.
She just kept holding him.
“Hey… hey? Say sothing, will you?” Song Ying muttered, feeling awkward. Her nose brushed against his hair—it tickled.
Don’t tell he’s asleep?
What kind of cliché scene is this? Seriously? He looked totally fine a minute ago—you think you’re in so shoujo manga, huh?!
My back’s killing …
Grumbling internally, Song Ying wanted to push him away—but she couldn’t bring herself to. Maybe, like her younger self, he could only let his pain show when no one else was watching.
Fine, sleep if you must. If he’s really asleep, I’ll just accept it.
She tilted her head back and exhaled slowly. If she kept looking down, she was definitely going to sneeze.
But then, as she stared at the car ceiling, her vision suddenly blurred—flashes of strange images passed before her eyes.
She saw a bustling tropolis—so prosperous it made every major city in the world look small. Towering skyscrapers filled the sky, and floating vehicles stread through aerial tracks.
Flash.
Now she saw a world consud by war, like the 1960s or 70s reborn.
Flash.
The sky was gray, thick smoke rising from enormous factories. The world seed covered in ash. People walked in perfect order, heads bowed, no words spoken. The world moved—but was utterly silent.
Suddenly, a monstrous beast leapt over a massive wall, dozens of ters high, pouncing down toward her—its gaping jaws the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen.
Song Ying scread instinctively, a chill running through her body.
Then she was staring again at the cream-colored ceiling of the Alphard.
Luo Qiu’s eyes opened instantly—his awareness sharpened across dinsions.
At the sa ti, all those flashing images vanished from Song Ying’s mind, as if sothing had yanked her back. She blinked and saw Luo Qiu’s calm eyes staring at her.
“W-what happened to ?” she asked, dazed.
“You suddenly scread,” Luo Qiu replied.
Song Ying frowned, her head spinning, a dull ache forming. She shook it off. “Maybe I zoned out. My head just went blank for a mont, saw so weird stuff. It’s fine—probably just sleep deprivation.”
Luo Qiu studied her intently. “Has this ever happened before?”
She lowered her gaze. “I… don’t rember. I don’t think so.”
He’s pretty concerned, huh…
“Get so rest,” Luo Qiu said. “Leave this kind of surveillance to the professionals.”
“I’ll keep watch a little longer,” Song Ying replied with a nod.
“It’s getting late. I’ll head back first.” Luo Qiu said, getting out of the car. Before leaving, he glanced at Song Ying. “Thanks—for letting have a peaceful nap.”
“Just consider it repaynt!” Song Ying said calmly. “Didn’t you sleep with once before too? Once each, we’re even!”
Luo Qiu smiled. “Your perfu slls nice.”
Miss Song’s lips curved slightly, showing a faint smile… Then she leaned forward onto the driver’s seat, watching Luo Qiu walk away through the windshield, and muttered, “Even a deadpan guy like him can complint people, huh…”
“Miss, has Young Master Qiu left?” the bodyguard finally dared to co back.
Song Ying glared. “Are you blind? Can’t you see for yourself?”
The bodyguards looked at each other—none dared to speak.
“Right, find the nearest beauty salon. I need soone to give a massage…” Song Ying rubbed her waist as she sat back down. “I’m exhausted… my waist’s killing .”
The bodyguards looked at one another again, and one swallowed nervously.
Exhausted?
Her waist… sore?
Young Master Qiu’s that… intense? D–did they do it right on the street?!
“Understood!” the bodyguard nodded quickly. “Miss, you’ve worked hard!”
“??”
…
In a dim alley, two n in black suits arrived, each carrying a briefcase—Liu Minghao and Wei Zidào.
Liu Minghao, a bit of a clean freak, covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief the mont he entered. Wei Zidào, anwhile, sealed off the alley entrance with yellow tape.
“Brother Hao, both ends are blocked off. No one should co in,” Wei Zidào reported briskly.
Liu Minghao glanced at the ground. “This should be where Qian Er was beaten… let’s begin.”
Wei Zidào nodded and started taking bottles, jars, and a bronze mirror from his case.
So had once imagined that if a cri scene could sohow be “rewound,” they could directly see the killer and the process. If that were possible, countless cold cases could be solved—and wrongful convictions would vanish.
But that was, of course, pure fantasy. How could anyone reverse ti?
According to relativity, you’d have to move faster than light—still just wishful thinking.
Even so, imagination had never been humanity’s limitation. Especially after discovering Daoist arts, humans had found new, extraordinary ways to use energy.
The Managent Bureau had developed another ans of investigation.
Now, Wei Zidào sprinkled the contents of his bottles around, then sat cross-legged on the ground. He drew a small knife, sliced his finger, and let three drops of blood fall onto the bronze mirror.
The mirror absorbed the blood instantly, turning pitch black.
Liu Minghao placed a palm on Wei Zidào’s back.
Wei Zidào closed his eyes tightly as the mirror began to tremble. Points of light appeared on the dark surface—first one, then another, scattered without pattern. The closer to the center, the brighter they shone; the ones near the edge were faint.
Wei Zidào finally opened his eyes, pale and sweating. “Brother Hao, it’s done… fifty-nine distinct auras passed through this alley in the past few days.”
Liu Minghao nodded. “To be precise, we only need to check fifty-four.”
Wei Zidào agreed—those included Qian Er and Chang Xiao’s group.
“Fifty-four people.” Liu Minghao muttered, “Still a lot, but better than searching blindly. Let’s start with this one.”
At the alley entrance, a tal door creaked open. A young bar waiter stepped out carrying two trash bags—the most likely people to co here were bar staff.
Wei Zidào stood up imdiately.
Liu Minghao smiled faintly. “Rest a bit. I can handle the hypnosis.”
“What are you guys doing?” The waiter tensed as the two n approached—but before he could react further, his vision went black, and he collapsed.
…
When the elevator doors opened, a stylishly dressed man happened to be standing outside. Zhou Yusheng frowned—it was indeed his neighbor.
The man seed to be heading out, but it was nearly eleven at night. Definitely not for anything decent…
“Uh… evening, Officer Zhou.” The man quickly greeted him, lowered his head, and entered the elevator looking nervous.
Zhou Yusheng gave a brief nod and stepped out.
The man hesitated, then asked, “Officer Zhou… everything okay? Your place these past few days…”
“Nothing,” Zhou Yusheng replied calmly. “A cabinet broke. I took it apart to fix it. Didn’t bother you, did I?”
“N–no, not at all.”
Fixing a cabinet? Yeah, right. No one believed that. He’d been hearing banging noises ever since Zhou Yusheng ca ho—but that guy used to be drunk all the ti, yelling and fighting with his wife, breaking things. The neighbors were used to it.
But lately, that hadn’t happened in years. Zhou Yusheng was often away, and his wife and son hadn’t been seen in ages. Rumor was, his wife took their son and left—maybe even divorced.
…
Unlocking the door, Zhou Yusheng turned on the light and rubbed his temples.
The living room was a wreck—broken coffee table, TV toppled, sofa askew, debris everywhere.
He sighed, shut the door, picked up a fallen decoration, then dropped it again when he couldn’t find a place for it.
Covering his face, he rubbed hard, then turned off the light again. Sitting on the slanted sofa, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
The room was deathly silent.
In the darkness, a shadow silently erged.
Seeing Zhou Yusheng slumped there—unkempt, reeking of alcohol—Luo Qiu’s gaze turned cold. He raised his hand and placed it gently on Zhou Yusheng’s throat.
His fingers tightened.
Once again, his left eye beca chaotic—but controlled this ti, without the terrifying distortion of before.
Even so, everything in the room began to float slowly.
Zhou Yusheng didn’t open his eyes, though pain crept across his face.
That suffocating pain triggered instinct—he kicked weakly, hands clawing at the one gripping his neck.
Finally, Luo Qiu loosened his hand.
Zhou Yusheng gasped, his expression easing as he fainted. The floating debris drifted back down.
Luo Qiu closed his eyes, then reopened them—normal again.
He extended his hand; a puff of black mist gathered in his palm. With a squeeze, it vanished.
He sat down beside the unconscious Zhou Yusheng and slowly closed his eyes.
…
Zhou Yusheng dread.
A dream he’d long wanted to forget—but couldn’t. For nearly four years, it had haunted every night.
In a police car, everyone was fully ard.
“...The suspects are heavily ard! Repeat, the suspects are heavily ard!!”
The radio crackled with urgent calls for backup.
(End of Chapter)
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