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Zhao Yunlan woke in a bed that wasn’t his, in a bedroom that wasn’t his.
This, in itself, wasn’t a new experience for him.
He was, however, wearing pyjamas that were clearly his. Pyjamas which he only ever wore in the comfort of his home, on the rare occasions that he wasn’t too tired, or feeling too lazy, to grab a proper shower before tumbling into bed.
That made this a new experience.
Blearily, Zhao Yunlan swung his feet onto the floor and stood up. And sat down again almost immediately. His head hurt. Tiny spikes of pain danced behind his eyes, in perfect tempo to the throbbing tightness about his temples. The back of his skull felt as though it had spent the night clamped in a vice.
The strength of his headache suggested a hangover, most likely baijiu-induced, but his mouth lacked the tell-tale sourness that typically followed a night of heavy drinking. Besides, he wasn’t the sort who forgot what he did when he was drunk.
Cautiously, Zhao Yunlan brought his hand up to his head, feeling around carefully. No tender spots or swollen bumps. No bandages either. Not a head injury, then. He couldn’t decide if he should feel relieved.
It was a while before he risked standing up again, and only because he needed the bathroom desperately. Fortunately, the bathroom was exactly what was behind the first door he tried.
Bodily functions attended to, he felt a little better, just enough to start looking around. The bath towel hanging on the rail looked unfamiliar, although it had the character Zhao monogrammed on a corner. He did, however, recognise his toothbrush cup on the small shelf above the washbasin. He eyed it contemplatively as he washed his hands. There was a smallish, chalky white halo on the bit of shelf beside his cup. He ran a wet finger along its circumference absently as he picked up what he assumed was his toothbrush with his other hand.
Tooth-brushing would be in order, he thought. As would some mouthwash, if he could find any in the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. God, his breath stank.
Back in the bedroom, Zhao Yunlan flung the doors of all the wardrobes open, and was unsurprised to find that they contained his clothes. This was starting to feel like a trend. He stripped out of his pyjamas, and dressed slowly.
The bedroom had a second door. This door cracked open as Zhao Yunlan was reaching for a jacket, and he stilled, his hands reaching habitually for the gun which he usually wore tucked behind his waistband, against the small of his back. He swore silently as his fingers closed around air.
Then, his gaze dropped, and he relaxed immediately, swearing again for good measure. “Oi, you damned fat cat, where am I?”
“At home.” Daqing had paused at the open door. He darted in now, coming up to rub his body against Zhao Yunlan’s legs, before sitting on his haunches and cranking his neck up to peer at Zhao Yunlan unblinkingly.
For a moment, Zhao Yunlan had the feeling that Daqing was worried about him. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “You’re joking,” he said instead. “This isn’t my house. Where is this place?”
Daqing continued to stare at him. “Near University Road,” he said eventually. “Your cigarettes are in the top drawer of the bedside table on the left of the bed,” he added, with a meaningful glance at Zhao Yunlan’s hands.
Zhao Yunlan glanced down, only realising then that he had been rubbing his index and middle fingers of his right hand against his thumb absent-mindedly. He made himself stop.
The drawer in question did indeed contain a box of cigarettes and a lighter, and his missing gun. He shook out a cigarette, lighting it eagerly. The nicotine, it turned out, did nothing for his headache, but the astringent smoke helped centre him, helped him think, just a little.
“Hey,” he said, as he stubbed his second cigarette butt in the ashtray that had been placed on top of the bedside table, next to the mobile phone he recognised as his too. Someone – not Daqing, not unless the cat had developed opposable thumbs overnight – had placed a glass of water on the bedside table. The same someone, presumably, had thoughtfully plugged Zhao Yunlan’s mobile phone in to charge while Zhao Yunlan was out cold. Zhao Yunlan wondered if he should be reading into the fact that this bedside table was on the same side of the bed that Zhao Yunlan had woken up in. “Daqing, what the hell is going on?”
Daqing licked his nose. “You fainted,” he said.
“I did not,” Zhao Yunlan protested reflexively.
“You fainted,” Daqing repeated calmly, as though Zhao Yunlan had not interrupted him, “but before you did, you…”
“I…?”
Even for a cat, Daqing’s expression looked odd. “What do you remember?”
“If I remembered, I wouldn’t be asking you,” said Zhao Yunlan crossly.
Daqing licked his nose again. “Your phone,” he said. “Check the date on your phone.”
A frisson of unease skittered up Zhao Yunlan’s back, like a skeletal hand scrabbling up his spine. Wordlessly, Zhao Yunlan did just as Daqing suggested.
Some time later, while Zhao Yunlan was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that there was now a gap of nine months in his memory, Daqing said, “You should eat something.”
Zhao Yunlan paused at the doorway of the kitchen of what was apparently his new house, if both Daqing and the balance of Zhao Yunlan’s bank account were to be believed. He took in the two mugs that had been left to dry by the sink, the way the pots and pans had been arranged more neatly than he could ever recall doing in his imperfect memory. He wondered if he would find bottles of spices and cooking sauces he did not know in the cupboards, or fresh groceries in the fridge he did not remember buying.
Zhao Yunlan shook his head. “No. The office first.”
“Never seen you so eager to head to work,” Daqing offered as he padded along behind Zhao Yunlan.
“Maybe I’m a changed man,” Zhao Yunlan shot back. He shrugged his jacket on. “Hey, fat cat, does anyone else live here?”
Daqing leapt forward with a grace that belied his bulk. “No one else,” he said.
The single pair of boots – Zhao Yunlan’s boots – laid out neatly by the front door seemed to confirm this, at least.
=-=-=
The Special Investigations Department was still located at No. 4 Bright Avenue, a fact that relieved Zhao Yunlan greatly, not that he would ever admit it out loud. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if not only his home, but even his place of work had changed.
It had only been nine months, for crying out loud.
Zhao Yunlan threw the doors of the office building open with a flourish, stepped in grandly… and blinked.
The main office floor was more crowded than it would typically have been at this hour. It was not quite sunrise yet, and the S.I.D. employees who were ghosts were still about, carrying out their usual tasks. Less expected were the employees who usually worked the dayshift, but who were already seated at their desks, hours earlier than their usual reporting time. They kept their faces fixed towards their computer screens, their hands moving busily over their keyboards, the very impression of employees hard at work – that is, if Guo Changcheng wasn’t doing a poor job of hiding how he was watching Zhao Yunlan from the corner of his eye. On the other side of the office, Wang Zheng darted a swift glance at Zhu Hong, who shot an equally swift glance at Daqing, who had entered the office at Zhao Yunlan’s heels.
“Stare, stare, stare, is that all you lot know how to do?” Zhao Yunlan griped loudly.
There was a guilty silence. Finally, Guo Changcheng gave up the pretence. He turned in his seat, squared his shoulders, and took a visible breath, “Ch-Chi-Chief Zhao –”
“I’m fine,” Zhao Yunlan cut him off impatiently as he surveyed his recalcitrant employees. “Where’s Lao Chu? Since all of you are here, I’m surprised he’s not.”
“Chu-ge, he… he’s out investigating that… that case from yesterday…”
“He left the file and his updated report on his desk before he headed out,” Zhu Hong interjected, probably taking pity on Guo Changcheng and his awkward stammering.
Zhao Yunlan scowled at the reminder of the mysterious case that had cost him nine months of his memory and, from the way his staff were behaving, possibly a fair amount of his dignity too. He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. His headache, it seemed, was a persistent one.
“I’m going to my office,” he announced as he strode towards the stairs. “No one disturb me unless you have something new to report.” He paused at the first step, adding over his shoulder, “And don’t think you’ll be getting overtime pay just because you reported early today!”
Upstairs, most of his office looked exactly as it always did, another small source of relief.
The papers on his desk, however –
“What the heck is this? When did S.I.D. do a recruitment call?” Zhao Yunlan dropped an application form back onto the messy pile of more application forms. “Xiao Guo still sounds wet behind his ears. I don’t have time to train another rookie.”
“We didn’t,” replied Daqing from the top of a filing cabinet.
“Huh.” Zhao Yunlan shoved the piles of forms haphazardly to the far corner of his desk. He paused, eying the forms contemplatively. Then he stood, gathered all the forms into his arms, crossed the room, and shoved them into the box for paper to be recycled. Finally, he turned on his heel and glared at Daqing, who had curled up into a black, furry ball. “Damned fat cat, what are you doing here? Didn’t I say that I was not to be disturbed?”
Daqing yawned. “Someone has got to watch over you. Everyone’s worried. You fainted and lost your memory. You might have a concussion.”
“Like hell I have a concussion.”
Daqing licked his paw and began grooming himself silently.
Zhao Yunlan stomped back to his seat, dropping heavily into his chair and propping his feet on his desk. With the mini mountain of forms cleared away, his desk looked more spacious. A manila folder had been placed neatly in the middle of his desk, no doubt the file containing Chu Shuzhi’s case report. Zhao Yunlan flipped it open.
The case, it turned out, was a murder. A businessman by the name of Zhang Yao had been found dead in the bathroom by his part-time cleaning lady, with no signs of forced entry or of anyone else having been in the bathroom with him. That itself might not have warranted the case being referred to the S.I.D., but an autopsy had revealed that the man had choked to death on marbles. Lots of marbles, in fact, filling his lungs and throat, and spilling out of his mouth.
Zhao Yunlan stared at the autopsy photographs for a while, before he sighed and picked up another sheet of paper, this time containing a list of the people whom Zhang Yao had interacted with in the days leading up to his unfortunate demise. He skimmed through their photographs and backgrounds. So many names and faces, all of them seemingly without any motive for wanting a man like Zhang Yao dead.
Zhao Yunlan blinked. Maybe he should have listened to Daqing, and spent the day at that strange place that was now apparently his home, because his vision was starting to swim.
He rubbed his eyes.
Blinked again.
A thin, black mist still hovered over a photograph halfway down the list. Zhao Yunlan studied the subject of the photograph carefully: a slim lady, possibly in her late twenties, with a bit too much make-up on her face for Zhao Yunlan’s tastes but still rather pretty. His eyes flicked to the short write-up beside her picture. Huang Meiyan was a social escort. Zhang Yao had engaged her the night before his death, as his companion for a business dinner. According to eyewitness accounts, public camera surveillance and Zhang Yao’s own credit card report, the pair had visited a karaoke lounge after that, before checking in at a love hotel. They left the hotel three hours later, and parted separately.
Something stirred at the back of Zhao Yunlan’s mind. It was an odd sensation, one Zhao Yunlan couldn’t quite place a finger on, like a tiny hook tugging at the edge of his preconscious as Zhao Yunlan made his way quickly through the rest of the list.
Huang Meiyan’s photograph was the only one affected by the black mist.
Frowning, Zhao Yunlan set the list of people aside, and picked up Chu Shuzhi’s latest case report. According to Chu Shuzhi, he had visited the scene of the crime, together with Zhao Yunlan, Daqing and Shen Wei, when Zhao Yunlan had collapsed suddenly and could not be woken up.
Zhao Yunlan paused. Quite apart from the fact that his subordinate had recorded something so embarrassing in the official case file –
“Hey, you damned fat cat, why was Shen Wei with us at the scene of the crime yesterday?”
From what he could remember, he had cast a charm on Shen Wei to make him forget the whole business with the Sundial of Reincarnation and, after three months of determined pursuit, had finally managed to get Shen Wei to agree to a date on the coming Sunday. He had even bought them theatre tickets. There was no reason for Shen Wei to be involved in the S.I.D.’s work. Even if his date with Shen Wei had gone well – and Zhao Yunlan wished that he still had his memories of how that went – Zhao Yunlan did not think he would have revealed the true nature of his work to a civilian like Shen Wei. Certainly not after only a few months of dating.
Daqing stirred, seemingly about to respond, when there was a knock on Zhao Yunlan’s door.
“Chief,” Zhu Hong’s voice sounded from behind the door.
Zhao Yunlan scowled at the interruption, but set the case file down and swung his feet off his desk. “Come in.”
Zhu Hong entered. Less expected, was Shen Wei, with a takeaway cup in his hand.
“Professor Shen?” Zhao Yunlan did not have to feign the surprise in his voice. Speak of the devil, and all that. “What are you doing here?”
“You hired him as our consultant,” Daqing piped up helpfully.
“Really,” Zhao Yunlan purred, automatically moving to stand beside Shen Wei and making sure to cock his hips just so. “And what brings our lovely consultant here so early in the morning?”
Shen Wei pushed his glasses up his nose with his free hand. “Here,” he said, passing the cup to Zhao Yunlan, “I don’t have classes until the afternoon, so I thought I’d bring everyone some soy milk to go with breakfast. This is yours.”
“Beautiful and generous,” Zhao Yunlan smirked, accepting the cup and prising its lid off. The soy milk was rich and creamy in a way that showed it had been freshly pressed and cooked from yellow soybeans, and still warm. “I can see why I hired you as our consultant.”
He took a large sip, and pretended not to see the way Shen Wei’s eyes darted at Daqing, or the way Daqing shook his head subtly. He made a show of smacking his lips as he lowered his cup. “Delicious,” he said, catching Shen Wei’s gaze when Shen Wei glanced back and holding it as he flicked his tongue across his upper lip, licking off the white froth that the soy milk had left behind.
The tips of Shen Wei’s ears turned gratifyingly pink.
Beside them, Zhu Hong coughed, and shoved a thin sheaf of papers, stapled together, into Zhao Yunlan’s spare hand. “If you’ve read the case file, here’s my report of my interview with Huang Meiyan. Oh, and Lao Chu’s back – he’s doing another report.”
Zhao Yunlan placed the cup of soy milk on his desk, shooting Shen Wei another smile, one which he hoped conveyed the right mix of appreciation and flirtatiousness, as he did so. Then, he straightened, taking Zhu Hong’s papers with him back behind his desk. “Summarise your interview,” he said absently as he flipped through them.
“She didn’t say anything that was helpful,” Zhu Hong replied. “I don’t think she likes talking to the police much. I managed to speak to some of her ‘sisters’ too. They weren’t willing to talk much either, but I found out that Zhang Yao was a frequent client of theirs. Huang Meiyan was his favourite.”
The final page of Zhu Hong’s report included a couple of surveillance photographs, both clearly taken on the same day. The first was a full-body shot of Huang Meiyan entering a low building; the second, a close-up as she bought a bag of oranges from a street vendor. The same faint, black mist hovered over both photographs, albeit slightly darker above the middle of the first photograph, right where Huang Meiyan’s lower torso was.
No one in the room commented on the mist. Zhao Yunlan was beginning to suspect that he was the only one who could see it, and it was distracting enough that it almost made him miss the purple markings peeking out from behind Huang Meiyan’s collar in the second photograph. He held the report up, tapping his finger against Huang Meiyan’s neck in the close-up. “What’s this?”
“Zhang Yao liked to strangle the girls he hired. In bed.” Zhu Hong’s voice was level, but the corners of her mouth twisted with distaste. “I doubt Huang Meiyan was spared. Neither Huang Meiyan nor her ‘sisters’ appeared to be particularly affected by his death.”
Shen Wei reached for Zhu Hong’s report. Zhao Yunlan found himself handing it over before he was even aware of it.
Huh, he thought, not for the first time.
As Shen Wei bowed his head to study the contents of the report, Zhao Yunlan took the opportunity to admire the pale skin of Shen Wei’s neck and his graceful side profile. Feeling pleased, Zhao Yunlan picked up the cup of soy milk once and continued to sip from it.
“So Huang Meiyan could have a reason for wanting to see Zhang Yao punished, and the same can be said for any of these other women whom you interviewed,” Shen Wei mused as he turned to Zhu Hong.
“No matter how strong a woman is, it would still be difficult for an ordinary human woman to kill a man by stuffing his lungs with marbles,” Zhu Hong countered.
Daqing stood up and stretched. “Or she could have had help,” he offered, before leaping down from the filing cabinet and padding over to join them.
“Huang Meiyan is the key to understanding this,” Zhao Yunlan declared suddenly.
Zhu Hong turned “What makes you so sure?”
“Instinct.” Zhao Yunlan drained the last of the soy milk from the cup. He cast his mind back to the list of people whom Zhang Yao had interacted with. “Have we interviewed Huang Meiyan’s go-between yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Then we’ll be seeing him next,” Zhao Yunlan decided. “Tell Lao Chu I want Xiao Guo and him to come with me; that new report can wait.” Aiming carefully, he threw the now-empty cup across the room, where it dropped neatly into the waste bin. Then, he turned with a grin towards Shen Wei, and took Shen Wei’s hand in his, raising it to his lips. “Professor Shen too. As our external consultant, you may bring fresh views.”
Daqing coughed. Zhu Hong rolled her eyes. Shen Wei yanked his hand back hurriedly.
Zhao Yunlan didn’t care.
=-=-=
Not only did Huang Meiyan’s go-between live in a penthouse apartment in an upscale part of Dragon City, he also had the money to hire a full-time housekeeper in the day.
For a moment, Zhao Yunlan reflected ruefully on the money that one could make on the grey side of the law.
“Mr Liu is taking a bath right now,” the housekeeper said apologetically as she led them to the living room and gestured for them to sit wherever they pleased. “I’ll bring you some snacks and drinks while you wait.”
“There’s no need, auntie,” said Guo Changcheng hurriedly, half-rising from the sofa. “There’s already a plate of sweet biscuits here. We can help ourselves to those.”
“Oh, those can’t be eaten!” the housekeeper exclaimed. She looked apologetic. “They’re not for guests. Mr Liu says they must be displayed for good fengshui.”
“Would you say that your employer is a superstitious man, auntie?” Zhao Yunlan asked, pausing in his slow circuit around the living room.
The housekeeper smiled kindly. “Mr Liu is very devout, officer. He visits the temple regularly. While he has his certain practices that he’s strict about, I think everyone has their own little beliefs.”
Zhao Yunlan returned her smile with a nod and a polite smile of his own. “You’re probably right.” He cast another glance at the prayer altar in the living room, with its sticks of incense and saucers of sweets and milk. There was something odd about the small, gold statue seated above the offerings, barely visible beneath the thick cloud of black mist that hovered around it, something Zhao Yunlan couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Zhao Yunlan rubbed his eyes, suddenly annoyed with himself. Tendrils of black mist snaked this way and that in Liu Hanfeng’s apartment, although nowhere as thick as at the prayer altar. On the one hand, it was assuring to know that he was on the right trail. On the other hand, the mist was making it difficult for him to see anything clearly in the apartment, not just the statue, and trying to focus past the mist only seemed to make his headache worse.
“Chief Zhao,” Shen Wei said gently from the sofa, “aren’t you going to sit?”
“You know, you could call me Yunlan,” Zhao Yunlan suggested as he lowered himself on the sofa beside Shen Wei. His feet kicked against something small, round and hard, and there was a soft clack beneath the sofa.
Beside him, Shen Wei smiled tightly. “That would not be appropriate.”
“Why?” Zhao Yunlan asked. “I’m not going to complain.”
“We’re working,” Shen Wei hissed.
As though proving Shen Wei’s point, Liu Hanfeng’s housekeeper re-entered the living room with tea and a plate of sesame brittle. They waited in relative silence, sipping on tea and nibbling on brittle until the housekeeper returned to announce that Mr Liu was having breakfast in the dining room and would see them now.
“Mr Liu,” Zhao Yunlan began, striding towards the dining table, his hand extended.
Liu Hanfeng did not glance up as he continued to cut the melon on his plate into cubes. “You’ll forgive me, officer. I’m very busy today. If it’s about my business, your people can get in touch with my people. ”
Zhao Yunlan let his arm fall to the side. He allowed his lips to curve into a toothy smirk, shark-like. “Ah, but we’re not from the Vice Department, Mr Liu. Any arrangement you have with the Vice Department has nothing to do with us.”
Liu Hanfeng stilled. Slowly, every movement precise, he put his cutlery down neatly by the side of his plate. Then, he looked up. “Oh?”
Casually, Zhao Yunlan held up his badge. “Special Investigation Department.” From the corner of his eye, he watched Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng do the same.
Liu Hanfeng raised a brow. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of your department.”
Unperturbed, Zhao Yunlan met Liu Hanfeng’s gaze squarely. The clock on the wall ticked. Finally, Liu Hanfeng cocked his head.
“How may I help you, officer?”
Still smirking, Zhao Yunlan sauntered the final few steps to the dining table, where he hoisted himself up casually to sit on top of the table and pretended not to notice the way Liu Hanfeng flinched. He snapped his fingers, and Guo Changcheng scurried forward with a file.
“This,” Zhao Yunlan announced, pulling out a picture of Zhang Yao and placing it deliberately on the table in front of Liu Hanfeng.
Liu Hanfeng gave the photograph the scantest glance. “I can’t say I recognise him.”
“Really,” Zhao Yunlan drawled. “And here I was under the impression that he was a frequent customer of your business.”
Liu Hanfeng shrugged his shoulders. “We have a lot of clients, officer. I can’t possibly recognise every one of them.” He picked up his fork, speared a square of melon, and brought it to his mouth.
“What if I told you that he’s dead?” said Zhao Yunlan archly as he watched Liu Hanfeng chew the melon slowly.
“Well, I’d love to help you, officer, but my business thrives on client confidentiality. Do you have a warrant to go with your questions?”
“How about this lady here?” Zhao Yunlan continued blithely as he pulled out Huang Meiyan’s photograph and set it beside Zhang Yao’s.
The fingers of Liu Hanfeng’s right hand twitched almost imperceptibly. Still, his voice was calm, and his expression unruffled, when he replied, “She is an employee.”
“She was your last employee to meet with the deceased,” Zhao Yunlan remarked, light and unconcerned.
“Are you suggesting that my employee murdered this man?” asked Liu Hanfeng pointedly.
“Only making an observation,” Zhao Yunlan replied mildly as he leaned forward. “But surely your kind of business must keep a record of your employees’ movements.”
Liu Hanfeng leaned back in his seat. “You must be joking, officer. Not only does my business respect the privacy of our clients, we also respect the privacy of our employees.”
“Then perhaps you can at least tell me,” Zhao Yunlan said cheerfully, tapping a finger on the background of the photograph, “where this place is?”
There was a pregnant pause as Liu Hanfeng studied Zhao Yunlan openly, and Zhao Yunlan returned the favour unabashedly. Eventually, Liu Hanfeng shrugged again. “A clinic,” he said.
Zhao Yunlan waited.
“What, you didn’t think that a businessman like me wouldn’t care about the health of my employees?” Liu Hanfeng asked, the barest hint of defiance creeping into his voice.
Slowly, Zhao Yunlan shifted his weight, leaning back and increasing the distance between the two of them. “Not at all.”
He gestured for Guo Changcheng to return the photographs to the file, while Chu Shuzhi recorded the name and address of the clinic which Huang Meiyan had visited.
“I’m afraid we interrupted Mr Liu’s meal with his family,” Zhao Yunlan remarked afterwards to Liu Hanfeng’s housekeeper as she led them back to the front door, leaving Liu Hanfeng to his breakfast. “The other plate of fruit and bread on the table, and the glass of milk,” he prompted at the blank look on her face.
Her expression grew more puzzled. “Mr Liu doesn’t have any wife or children, officer.”
Zhao Yunlan smiled easily. “Of course. My bad.”
He lapsed into silence as he put on his shoes, leaving Guo Changcheng to murmur polite niceties to the housekeeper as they bid her farewell. The others seemed to catch his mood, and none of them spoke as they rode the lift down to the lobby of the apartment building. Finally emerging onto the streets once more, Zhao Yunlan pulled out the packet of cigarettes and lighter from his coat pocket. He shook out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply.
“Lao Chu,” he said on the exhale, “I want you to look up everything you can about that clinic and its doctor. Xiao Guo, help him. We’re paying a visit to the clinic after lunch.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “Tell Zhu Hong that I want her to continue keeping an eye on Huang Meiyan, and tell Daqing that I want him to watch Liu Hanfeng for the afternoon. I want to know if either of them go anywhere.” He paced impatiently. “As for Lin Jing… That prayer altar in Liu Hanfeng’s home – if that was a statue of Buddha, then I’m a virgin. Tell Lin Jing that I want him to tap his contacts. I want to know which temples Liu Hanfeng frequents, and if any of them are located overseas, especially South East Asia.”
“What about me?” Shen Wei asked.
Zhao Yunlan blew out a final curl of smoke, before flicking the cigarette onto the pavement and putting it out with the heel of his boot. “You, Consultant Shen, are going to discuss your views about the case with me. Over lunch.”
He dared say that the look Shen Wei shot him was seven parts exasperated, two parts resigned, and one part fond.
=-=-=
Zhao Yunlan had toyed with the idea of bringing Shen Wei to a lavish restaurant with a cosy and romantic setting, perhaps one of the restaurants listed under Dragon City’s Top 10 Places to Impress Your Date. However, Shen Wei had given him another sideways glance from the passenger seat, and Zhao Yunlan had found himself turning onto the street that would take him to his usual route home. His former home, he corrected himself. He would have to remember that.
“I go to this place often,” he began, as he led Shen Wei across the road outside his former apartment and down a smaller street. “It’s near where I used to live.” He paused for effect, before smirking. “It also has a homely feel – perfect for a first date, wouldn’t you say, Professor Shen?”
Shen Wei ducked his head, but it did not hide the fact that he was biting his lip.
“Are you laughing at me?” Zhao Yunlan demanded.
Still biting his lip, Shen Wei shook his head. Zhao Yunlan thought about protesting, but they had arrived at the small eatery. He started to raise his hand, to signal to the waitress at the door that he wanted a table for two, when, to his surprise, the waitress nodded at them and gestured for them to take a table closer to the back. Shen Wei nodded back.
“You should have said that I’ve taken you here before,” Zhao Yunlan said with a self-conscious laugh as they took their seats. At Shen Wei’s questioning glance, he continued, “I could have taken you somewhere new.”
Shen Wei shook his head, although the corners of his lips twitched. “Here is fine.”
“You’re right,” agreed Zhao Yunlan easily as he leaned back in his seat. “The food here is good.” He watched as the waitress bustled up to their table with a pot of hot tea and two cups. When she had set them down, he rattled off, “Miss, a plate of pork ribs in sticky sweet sauce, some stir-fried pea shoots, a bowl of sour and spicy wonton soup, and a serving of fried rice – ”
“You’ve not had anything else this morning besides the soy milk, have you?” Shen Wei interrupted.
“What…”
“Daqing told me, before we left your office,” Shen Wei explained, before turning to the waitress and replacing Zhao Yunlan’s order with sliced fish soup, steamed egg custard, and rice porridge with a side of salted and pickled mustard greens. The order of pea shoots remained, but with a request for the pea shoots to be cooked with extra slices of ginger.
“Your stomach is weak,” Shen Wei added after the waitress left. “Eating too much oily and spicy food after skipping meals will upset a stomach.”
Zhao Yunlan leered. “I’m glad Professor Shen cares so much about me,” he declared smugly as he poured them tea. “Like everyone else on my team, you probably know that I’m having some problems remembering things right now. I’m going to need your help to fill in some gaps. For example, does this mean that my wooing nine months ago paid off?”
“Don’t talk nonsense.” Shen Wei picked up a cup of tea, his expression calm. “I’m only doing this because it’ll be inconvenient for the team if their captain had a stomach ache in the middle of investigating this case.”
Zhao Yunlan sipped his tea silently as he kept his gaze fixed, very clearly, on Shen Wei’s face. He continued to do so, even while the waitress returned with their porridge and condiments.
Eventually, Shen Wei sighed. “Didn’t you say that you wanted to discuss my views about the case?”
Zhao Yunlan thought he heard a hint of desperation in Shen Wei’s voice, and allowed himself a slow smirk as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “I’m more interested in discussing your views about our relationship.”
Shen Wei blinked “What do you mean?”
Zhao Yunlan began counting off his fingers. “One, someone must have helped Daqing bring me home after I passed out yesterday. Daqing’s not telling me who it is, but Chu Shuzhi didn’t mention that he’d brought me home in his report, which leaves you as the remaining candidate.”
“Two, I may have amnesia, but I remember that I had been texting you fairly frequently. Yet, when I was looking through my phone this morning, I discovered someone had deleted my entire chat history with you. Now, I’m not the sort of petty person who deletes my entire chat history with someone after we break things off. So either I had a huge personality change in the few months that I can’t remember, or someone did a clumsy job of trying to hide my relationship with you, hoping that I won’t remember at all.”
“Three – ” and he paused, looking meaningfully at Shen Wei’s hands while Shen Wei drizzled a swirl of soy sauce into one of the bowls of porridge. Before the soy sauce, he had mixed in a heaping spoonful of the preserved mustard greens, followed by a dash of white pepper. It was exactly how Zhao Yunlan liked to eat his porridge. “You clearly know my tastes and habits. So tell me, Professor Shen, what is our relationship?”
“Eat your porridge,” Shen Wei said, pushing the bowl he had fixed across the table.
Obligingly, Zhao Yunlan picked up his spoon. Unsurprisingly, the porridge tasted perfect.
“You know, the last thing I remember is buying tickets to take you out to the theatre,” Zhao Yunlan said idly after a few mouthfuls. “Tell me, did that date happen?”
Shen Wei ate a spoonful of porridge wordlessly.
“Come on,” Zhao Yunlan coaxed. “If it didn’t go well, you should tell me. Then I can learn from my mistakes, and do better the next time I try to date someone again, after I get over you breaking my heart.”
Shen Wei set his spoon down, and Zhao Yunlan frowned. Perhaps it was his imagination, or his persistent headache and the odd atmosphere from Liu Hanfeng’s apartment was finally getting to him, but he could swear that there had been a slight shift in the air about their table, almost like there was now something waiting in the eaves, like a furious whirlwind about to happen.
“Do you feel – ” he said distractedly, just as the waitress came up with the rest of their food, and the peculiar sensation vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared.
“You’re thinking too much,” said Shen Wei mildly as he ladled out the soup.
“Maybe I am,” Zhao Yunlan agreed thoughtfully, accepting the bowl of soup which Shen Wei handed him. The soup had been cooked with fish bones until it was milky. Napa cabbage gave it a hint of sweetness, while tomatoes gave it a light tang that complemented the sliced fish perfectly. It was flavourful without being too heavy, and Shen Wei was right – Zhao Yunlan’s stomach did feel the better for it. “Maybe I am,” he repeated.
They ate in silence for a while. Every now and then, Zhao Yunlan would deliberately serve some of the food into Shen Wei’s bowl, and was secretly pleased when he noticed Shen Wei doing the same for him.
“Hey,” he said, “how about you tell me more about some of the cases you helped S.I.D. out as our consultant?” When Shen Wei cast a confused look at him, he gave a winning grin. “You know that I can’t remember, and it’s more pleasant to hear it directly from a beauty’s lips than to read the case files on my own.”
Shen Wei looked away, the tips of his ears growing pink for the second time that day.
Not that Zhao Yunlan had been keeping count.
Zhao Yunlan thought he could very easily fall in love with the sight of a flustered Shen Wei.
=-=-=
It was just as well that he’d had lunch with Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan reflected, for it was the only thing that was keeping him from snapping at Li Guoqiang now.
“Like I said, officers, I cannot give you the information you’re asking,” Li Guoqiang was saying, for easily the tenth time since Zhao Yunlan and his team had been shown into his consultation room, and it was a testament to Zhao Yunlan’s acting skills, honed by years on the job, that he hadn’t lost his temper yet.
“My clinic observes strict patient confidentiality. My patients, they’re all at a sensitive stage of their lives. I’m sure you understand,” Li Guoqiang continued.
Zhao Yunlan chanced a sideways glance at his team. Chu Shuzhi’s expression was still as deadpan as ever, but the vein in his temple was pulsing in a way which suggested that he was as close to losing his temper as Zhao Yunlan was.
Guo Changcheng, on the other hand, was nodding along with Li Guoqiang’s spiel, all wide-eyed earnestness, as though he really did understand. He had, however, stopped taking notes in his ever-present notebook. Zhao Yunlan suppressed a snort.
“If you wish to access my patients’ records, you’ll need to obtain a warrant,” Li Guoqiang finished, not even looking up from the paperwork on his desk.
Think about Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan told himself. Think about the way he ducked his head to hide his smile when you gave him a lift back to the university and promised to call him later. Don’t lose your cool.
“Look, Doctor Li, we’re not asking to see your patient’s records,” was what Zhao Yunlan said out loud, just barely managing not to grit his teeth. “We’re just saying that this lady was photographed visiting your clinic, and we wish to confirm some information about her.”
The consultation room was quiet, save for the rustle of papers and the occasional scratch of a pen nib.
“Don’t tell me, we’ll need a warrant before you will assist us,” Zhao Yunlan sighed.
Li Guoqiang looked up from his paperwork with a tight smile. “I’m glad you understand, officer. I’m not trying to be difficult. In other circumstances, I would be glad to assist officers like you. But my patients…”
“I know, I know,” Zhao Yunlan waved a hand dismissively. He leaned back in his seat, letting his gaze unfocus and his senses wander. He’d had his doubts at the start, but now that he had sat in Li Guoqiang’s consultation room for almost fifteen minutes, he was sure of it. The consultation room felt different from the clinic’s reception area and the waiting room outside, although it was as brightly lit, and its walls painted the same cheerful, lemon-y yellow. It felt like an itch in a place that he couldn’t reach, like the ozone-laced stillness before a thunderstorm. Zhao Yunlan would have sworn that they were a hair’s breadth away from something happening, although if pressed, he would not have been able to say why.
Li Guoqiang nodded, reaching for the telephone on his desk. “I’ll ask one of my nurses to show you out.”
A call later, and the same nurse who had taken them to Li Guoqiang’s consultation room, was ushering them out.
“Where does that lead to?” Zhao Yunlan asked, nodding at the set of lift doors as they passed them by.
“Doctor Li’s surgery room,” the nurse answered immediately, her tone light and cheerful. She tucked a loose lock of her hair behind her ear as she spoke, and smiled shyly as she glanced at Zhao Yunlan.
Zhao Yunlan curved his lips into a friendly smile. He slowed as he passed the nurse’s station, propping his elbow on its counter-top and catching the attention of the other nurse behind the counter too. “Ladies, this is embarrassing, but I need your help. I asked a friend to meet me for dinner in this area tonight, but I don’t know where’s a good place to take them. Would you happen to know any?”
As Zhao Yunlan drew them into an animated discussion and away from the nurse’s station, he watched as Chu Shuzhi casually sauntered behind the counter, pausing at the computer. He waited until Chu Shuzhi had stepped away again with the barest nod in his direction, before he began to steer his conversation with the nurses to a close.
Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng were waiting for him on the street outside Li Guoqiang’s clinic.
“Chief Zhao, are doctors usually so unhelpful?” Guo Changcheng burst out as Zhao Yunlan drew closer. “Someone could die next…!”
“Mostly those who get paid on the black market,” Zhao Yunlan answered absently. He scrunched up the map which the nurses had drawn for him on the back of a loose sheet of paper, and threw it into the bin for recyclable paper waste near the clinic, before turning to Chu Shuzhi. “Were you successful?”
Chu Shuzhi’s lips quirked as he flashed a small black data-transmitter, before palming it back into his coat-pocket. “Zhu Hong has received the information transmitted from the clinic’s computer system. She should be calling me with her findings soon,” Chu Shuzhi said, just as his mobile phone began to ring.
“Tell me she has good news,” Zhao Yunlan said, when Chu Shuzhi ended his call.
“She does.” Chu Shuzhi looked thoughtful. “Huang Meiyan is currently Li Guoqiang’s patient. She was also his patient three years ago, for an abortion. Both then and now, her medical expenses were paid by Liu Hanfeng.”
Women’s Health Clinic, read the neat sign above the main entrance of the clinic Zhao Yunlan eyed the sign contemplatively. Then: “Call a stake-out tonight,” he said suddenly, after a long pause. “I want a car outside this clinic, another outside Li Guoqiang’s home.”
Guo Changcheng gave them both a startled look. Chu Shuzhi looked intrigued. “You think something will happen?”
“Something’s going to happen soon, and it’s centred on our good doctor.”
“And you know this because…?”
Zhao Yunlan grimaced. “Call it intuition.”
=-=-=
The lights in Li Guoqiang’s consultation room were still turned on. They provided the only bright, orange glow from the squat building on the other side of the street where one of the S.I.D.’s SUVs was parked.
Zhao Yunlan shifted in the driver’s seat of the black SUV restlessly. Beside him, Lin Jing’s head lolled against the back of the passenger seat as an overly loud snore escaped his lips. For a brief moment, Zhao Yunlan considered jabbing Lin Jing awake, going so far as to lift his elbow before he let it fall back onto his seat once more.
Stakeouts were boring work. He might as well let the lazy monk sleep.
Instead, he picked up his communication device, for want of anything better to do. “Lao Chu, any movement in our good doctor’s home?”
There was a burst of static, before Chu Shuzhi’s voice crackled, “Nothing. The lights went out half an hour ago, when his wife went to bed.”
“Meanwhile, her husband is still in his office,” Zhao Yunlan drawled. “Guess our good doctor is the conscientious sort.”
When Chu Shuzhi did not reply, Zhao Yunlan sighed. “Keep watching his home. I’m prepared to bet that something will happen to him tonight.” The odd prickling feeling he had felt in the afternoon still lingered, as though whatever it was, was still lying in wait, even closer than it had been before. He just wished he could pinpoint where it was coming from.
He dropped the communication device onto the central console, then pinched his nose bridge tiredly. That odd feeling wasn’t the only thing that was still persisting. He was thoroughly sick of his headache.
A sharp rap on the window startled him. Zhao Yunlan craned his neck back sheepishly, doing his best impression of someone who hadn’t jumped a split second ago.
Shen Wei blinked at him through the glass.
Hastily, Zhao Yunlan fumbled at the lock controls of the car.
“Professor Shen,” he exclaimed as Shen Wei let himself into the backseat of the car, “I wasn’t expecting our consultant to work such long hours.”
Shen Wei smiled faintly. “I brought you supper.”
“Even more beautiful than this morning, and still as thoughtful,” Zhao Yunlan declared as he accepted the small but bulging paper bag from Shen Wei and opened it eagerly. Two steamed buns, still warm to the touch and – he discovered when he bit into one – stuffed with juicy pork. “Once again, I can make an educated guess as to why I hired you.”
“Eat slowly,” was all Shen Wei said in reply as he unscrewed the cap of a thermos flask. The cap was designed to double up as a cup, and he filled it with tea from the flask before offering it to Zhao Yunlan.
“Where’s Daqing?” Zhao Yunlan asked as he hastily balanced the buns on his lap, in order to receive the cup. “I thought we had arranged for him to take over Lin Jing’s shift?”
“I told him to join Chu Shuzhi instead,” Shen Wei replied calmly as he put the thermos flask away. “I felt that it would be good for Xiao Guo and him to have back-up at Li Guoqiang’s home, in case whatever it is you think might happen, happens there instead of here.”
That seemed reasonable. The Guo Changcheng he remembered had accumulated plenty of merits, more than enough to persuade Zhao Yunlan to keep him onboard the S.I.D., but otherwise had little else to recommend him. Unless Guo Changcheng had improved by leaps and bounds in those missing nine months, Chu Shuzhi would need all the extra help he could get, if their mysterious culprit made his attack at Li Guoqiang’s home.
“Does your head hurt?”
Cool fingers brushed against Zhao Yunlan’s forehead, breaking his reverie. Zhao Yunlan glanced up slyly. “Is Professor Shen observing me?”
“You have a slight frown, here,” Shen Wei said as he gestured between his brows.
“So Professor Shen has been watching me,” Zhao Yunlan purred.
“Chief Zhao,” Shen Wei sighed.
“Or you could just call me ‘Yunlan’,” Zhao Yunlan suggested. “Hey, wasn’t I trying to get you to call me that, months ago? Don’t tell me that it’s been so many months and I haven’t succeeded.”
“Aren’t you going to wake him up?” Shen Wei said, nodding his chin at Lin Jing, and clearly doing his best to ignore Zhao Yunlan. He would have succeeded, too, were it not for the faintest hint of desperation in his voice.
Zhao Yunlan allowed himself a smirk as he settled back into his seat, draining his tea in a long swallow. “Let him sleep,” he said, returning the makeshift cup to Shen Wei. “Sleeping on the job. The longer he sleeps, the more I can deduct from his salary.” He picked up the half-eaten bun and took another bite from it.
Perhaps he should not have spoken so soon. He had barely swallowed his bite when Lin Jing began to stir. “Sleep, sleep, sleep,” Zhao Yunlan groused as he popped the last of the bun into his mouth, not caring that he was speaking while his mouth was full, “is that all you’re going to do tonight, you useless monk? Who do you think you are, that damned fat cat?”
“Amitabha, I was meditating, not sleeping. Buddha, too, gained enlightenment after meditating under the Bodhi tree for forty-nine days.” Lin Jing sat up in his seat, seemingly unperturbed by Zhao Yunlan’s grousing. His fingers drifted to adjust the bracelet of sandalwood prayer beads about his wrist, and then the pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. His gaze was fixed squarely on the second bun, which Zhao Yunlan was now easing out of the paper bag.
Zhao Yunlan raised the bun to his mouth and took a large, deliberate bite. “And Buddha did not eat for those forty-nine days under the Bodhi tree,” he shot back in between noisy chews.
In the backseat, Shen Wei cleared his throat softly. “There is tea…”
“Don’t offer him anything.” Zhao Yunlan interrupted. “Fake monks like him don’t deserve your kindness.”
Lin Jing looked as though he might protest, when his eyes darted to the side. Reflexively, Zhao Yunlan turned to look out of the passenger window behind him, just in time to watch the lights in Li Guoqiang’s consultation room go out abruptly. At the same time, the light in another room came on – but instead of the warm, orange glow that had shone steadily from Doctor Li’s office, it had a weak, cold cast as it flickered sickly through the glass.
The uneasy anticipation that had haunted Zhao Yunlan all afternoon and night coalesced at that moment, like a sharp punch to the gut. Instinctively, Zhao Yunlan pushed his sleeve up and glanced at his watch. As expected, a crimson light glowed on its face.
Immediately, Zhao Yunlan grabbed the communication device. “Lao Chu, our target, it’s here. Leave Daqing and Xiao Guo to guard the doctor’s house, just in case, and come over.” He stuffed the device into his pocket without waiting for an acknowledgment, and shoved the door of the SUV open before pausing to glance at the backseat. “Shen Wei, stay in the car. You’re a civilian. There may be danger.”
He threw himself out of the car before Shen Wei could respond, slamming the door shut in his wake and triggering its locks. The locks wouldn’t stop Shen Wei if he was determined to come along, but having to look for the relevant button on the SUV’s complicated console would delay him.
The clinic’s staff had not locked or shuttered the main door, out of consideration for their boss who was working late. Zhao Yunlan kicked it open, and sprinted through the now-empty waiting room, past the nurse’s station, to Li Guoqiang’s consultation room at the back. The door was open.
A room’s light switch was typically located near the door, and Li Guoqiang’s consultation room was no different. Running his hand across the wall beside the door frame, Zhao Yunlan smiled grimly as his fingers brushed against a panel of switches, and flicked them one by one.
Nothing happened.
He cursed under his breath as he pulled out his torchlight, shining it into the room. There was no sign of a struggle. Everything appeared to be where it should be. A file was open on the desk, with some paper beside it, and a ballpoint pen, still uncapped, as though Li Guoqiang had stepped away in the middle of making notes.
“He’s not here?” Lin Jing’s voice sounded behind him, slightly breathless, as the light from another torch joined his.
“Upstairs,” Zhao Yunlan said tersely. That was where the room that had lit up was.
The lift was down, and the emergency stairs, when they found them, stretched upwards into the dark ominously.
“None of the clinic’s lights are working,” Lin Jing confirmed.
Warily, Zhao Yunlan transferred his torchlight to his left hand, then reached behind to wrap his right hand around the handle of the dagger he kept strapped to the back of his belt, loosening it from its sheath. Beside him, he heard Lin Jing cock his gun. “Let’s go.”
They took the stairs two steps at a time. Somehow, their torches seemed inadequate as the darkness pressed in on them. Time seemed to stretch, and the flight of stairs seemed endless. Eventually, they reached a landing, where they paused to catch their breath. Another flight of stairs loomed before them. And then another.
“Why did they build the second floor in this building so high?” Lin Jing complained as they reached the next landing. “The building didn’t look that tall outside.”
They still took the next flight of stairs two at a time, although their legs had slowed down considerably.
“Does this landing look familiar to you?” Zhao Yunlan bit out when they next paused to catch their breath.
“One more,” Lin Jing panted, gesturing at the next flight of stairs.
Zhao Yunlan’s calves burned.
“This can’t be right,” gasped Lin Jing finally, bending over to rest his hands on his knees when they arrived at yet another landing. “We should have reached the second floor already.”
Wordlessly, Zhao Yunlan shone his torchlight on the wall of the stairwell, and the numbered sign: One.
“A ghost wall,” said Zhao Yunlan grimly. “We’re trapped in a loop.” He shoved his torchlight at Lin Jing, who took it without a word. Then, he pulled out a yellow paper talisman, and lit it with his lighter, before flinging it towards the stairs ahead of them.
Instantly, Zhao Yunlan felt, rather than heard, something shatter. The dark no longer seemed as oppressive. “Let’s go,” he said.
This time, when they reached the top of the flight of stairs, the sign on the wall read: Two.
There were three rooms on the second floor, all of them with their doors firmly shut.
The first, when Zhao Yunlan nudged it open, appeared to be a rest area for the nurses who worked at the clinic.
The second had two neatly-made beds, and curtains around the beds that had been drawn back. A place for the patients to rest after their surgery, most likely.
Lin Jing had barely cracked the third door open, when the stench of blood and faecal matter rushed out to meet them. Zhao Yunlan wrinkled his nose, while Lin Jing gagged visibly.
The third room was Doctor Li’s surgery room. Only, this time, it was Doctor Li who had been operated on. His lifeless body was strapped to the operating table, as his eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling while his mouth remained twisted in a silent scream. Someone, or something, had torn a hole in his belly, and his intestines spilled in a slick, grotesque pool of purples and reds on the floor.
Suddenly, Zhao Yunlan became aware of a third scent in the room, like ozone but not quite, strong but fading away gradually, a thunderstorm that had already passed. He closed his eyes, trying to lock onto that scent before it completely disappeared. If he could just reach a little further –
Something seemed to well up from Zhao Yunlan’s subconscious, just as a hand gripped his shoulder, hard. A bolt of pain spiked through into his skull.
Zhao Yunlan hissed as he opened his eyes. Shen Wei was staring at him, it was Shen Wei’s hand on his shoulder, and the tight-lipped worry in Shen Wei’s expression was almost enough to make Zhao Yunlan forget how his headache had just gotten a hundred times worse.
Almost.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car?” Zhao Yunlan roared.
Shen Wei blinked at him impassively.
There was a pounding of footsteps, as Chu Shuzhi’s voice rang loud in the corridor outside. “Chief!”
Zhao Yunlan gave Shen Wei a pointed look, one which he hoped conveyed, I’ll deal with you later. Shen Wei only blinked again as he retrieved his hand from Zhao Yunlan’s shoulder.
Resisting the urge to massage his temples, Zhao Yunlan turned to scowl at Chu Shuzhi, just as the latter joined them in the operating room. “Took you long enough to get here,” he sniped.
But Chu Shuzhi wasn’t looking at him. Zhao Yunlan turned, following Chu Shuzhi’s line of sight. Bloody handprints, small enough to belong to a child, covered the lower half of the walls of the operating room.
Beside them, Lin Jing spat a very un-monk-like curse.
=-=-=
At some point, the team insisted that Zhao Yunlan return home, on account of his looking pale.
“The full team is now here. We can secure the scene without you,” Chu Shuzhi said, seemingly unfazed by Zhao Yunlan’s scowl at the suggestion.
“Chief Zhao,” Shen Wei added, insistence weighing every syllable, and Zhao Yunlan turned the full force of his scowl to him.
“No.”
In the end, it was Daqing who convinced him to go, with a well-placed don’t blame us if you pass out in front of Professor Shen again. (And really, how was it that a damned black cat had more right to be on the scene than him?)
“I want the full analysis of the scene of my desk tomorrow,” Zhao Yunlan demanded over his shoulder as Shen Wei herded him out of the surgery room. A thought struck him then, and he paused abruptly at the doorway, ignoring the way Shen Wei tugged lightly on his sleeve. “And do a UV sweep of Zhang Yao’s murder scene while you’re at it.”
Standing outside the clinic once more, Zhao Yunlan crossed his arms, not caring to hide his displeasure. “I suppose Professor Shen can drive?”
Shen Wei blinked. “I was going to call a taxi,” he replied mildly.
Suddenly, Zhao Yunlan’s ire drained away entirely, leaving exhaustion in its wake, and a headache which seemed to grow worse with every passing second. “Sorry,” he sighed. “Just, I’m sorry.”
“You have a headache,” Shen Wei said, a statement rather than a question.
“Ever since I woke up,” Zhao Yunlan confessed.
Shen Wei nodded, as though Zhao Yunlan’s reply had confirmed something. “Come on, let’s go.”
“I’ll drive,” Zhao Yunlan insisted, digging the keys out of his pocket and tossing them in the air with forced bravado. “That damned fat cat suggested I check my bank balance this morning. I should start saving money.”
By the time Zhao Yunlan parked the car at his now-home, he thoroughly regretted his offer to drive. He kicked off his shoes and staggered into the living room, where he collapsed on the nearest sofa and dragged a cushion over his eyes. He wondered if he was running a temperature; his head was pounding wildly enough to suggest it.
He sensed, rather than saw, Shen Wei move past him, towards where Zhao Yunlan recalled the kitchen was. His blood seemed to pound in his ears, a relentless drumbeat to the rhythm of his headache, almost drowning out the splatter of running water in the distance. Somewhere in the kitchen, there was the light clink of porcelain, the muffled thud of a cupboard being opened and shut, the enthusiastic burble of an electric kettle finally coming to a boil. Then, footsteps.
“Yunlan?”
The cushion was eased away from his face. Zhao Yunlan hissed, screwing his eyes even more tightly shut.
“Zhao Yunlan, can you sit up?”
For a second, Zhao Yunlan contemplated feigning sleep. It took another beat before his brain caught up with his senses, and then, he shamelessly mustered up a miserable moan. “Call me ‘Yunlan’ again, and I’ll sit up.”
“Zhao Yunlan.”
“Please? My head hurts too much. I need encouragement.”
Silence.
Zhao Yunlan whined, as pitifully as he could. There was a sigh.
“Yunlan, please sit up.”
“You’ll need to help me sit up,” Zhao Yunlan mumbled. “I’m too weak.”
“How are you even – ” There was a frustrated-sounding huff. Still, Shen Wei’s hands were gentle as they cupped against the centre of Zhao Yunlan’s shoulder blades and the small of his back, and Zhao Yunlan went willingly.
“Here,” Shen Wei offered when Zhao Yunlan was finally seated upright on the sofa. “Painkillers and warm water.”
They sat in silence for a while, Shen Wei watching Zhao Yunlan sip at the water, Zhao Yunlan watching Shen Wei watch him. In that moment, Zhao Yunlan found himself struck by a feeling of déjà vu, as though they had been like this before, perhaps many times before, seated diagonally across on the sofas and watching each other in this same room, Shen Wei stealing glances at Zhao Yunlan in between marking his students’ work and Zhao Yunlan watching more openly over the top of case reports that he was ostensibly reading. They would laugh each time their gazes happened to meet, and Zhao Yunlan would eventually move to sit beside Shen Wei instead, insistent that they set their work aside for the night.
This time, however, it was Shen Wei who moved to sit beside Zhao Yunlan. “May I?” he asked, and Zhao Yunlan nodded, not caring what he was nodding to.
Without further ado, Zhao Yunlan found himself tugged backwards, until he was lying with his head on Shen Wei’s lap and his legs half-hanging off the side of the sofa. Shen Wei’s fingertips came to rest lightly on Zhao Yunlan’s temples, their touch so deliciously cool against Zhao Yunlan’s feverish skin that Zhao Yunlan almost moaned. Then, the pressure on his temples increased as Shen Wei slowly, but firmly, began to rub small, steady circles against the side of Zhao Yunlan’s forehead, working towards the centre, and Zhao Yunlan did moan.
“Is this better?” Even without seeing Shen Wei’s face, Zhao Yunlan could hear the soft smile in his voice.
“Don’t stop,” Zhao Yunlan mumbled, his eyelids fluttering shut, and was rewarded with the feeling of Shen Wei’s hands cradling his head gently, Shen Wei’s thumbs massaging his scalp along the dome of his skull. A dark, icy wave washed over his awareness, so freezing cold that it should have hurt. Instead, it felt like a cool balm against the jagged seams in his mind, soothing over the raw and bleeding edges left from where his memories had been ripped out, wounds he hadn’t even noticed until now. And while its effect didn’t quite seal the wounds, it seemed to slow the metaphorical blood to a trickle, leaving enough time for the gashes to start to scab over.
“What…?” Zhao Yunlan’s tongue felt cotton-like and clumsy in his mouth. He made to reach up and catch Shen Wei’s wrists, but his hands were strangely heavy and uncooperative.
Shen Wei’s clever fingers continued to move. “Just a massage. You’re very tense.”
Zhao Yunlan hummed. There had been something more, something he had felt and had wanted to say, but it eluded him now, like a fox that had peeked its nose out before slinking back even deeper into its burrow. He expected that it would come to him again later.
Eventually, Shen Wei’s hands came to a gradual stop, lifting away carefully. “Can you stand? We should get you to bed.” Shen Wei’s voice was hushed.
Zhao Yunlan kept his eyes shut and his breathing even.
A hand gave his shoulder a light shake. “Yunlan?” Another shake. “Zhao Yunlan?”
For the briefest moment, Zhao Yunlan thought about feigning a snore. He decided against it, mostly because it would have been too clichéd, even for him. Instead, he turned on his side to nuzzle at Shen Wei’s stomach. “Mmm, baobei…”
There was a soft sigh. Zhao Yunlan felt Shen Wei ease his thigh out gently from beneath Zhao Yunlan’s head. Then, an unexpectedly strong arm curved around his shoulders, another behind his knees, and Zhao Yunlan found himself lifted off the sofa, his body cradled against a firm and warm chest.
Damn. He did not need his missing memories to see that Shen Wei had a good figure, but he hadn’t been expecting this. Who knew that academia had such hidden depths.
Shen Wei’s steps were steady as he carried him through the living room and up the stairs, not even pausing to turn the lights on. Eventually, Zhao Yunlan felt himself being lowered onto a bed – the same bed he had woken up in roughly twenty-four hours ago. (Had it only been twenty-four hours? God.)
There was a pause, as though Shen Wei was studying him. Zhao Yunlan resisted the urge to open his eyes. Then, the foot of the mattress dipped, and Shen Wei’s fingers curved around Zhao Yunlan’s left calf, squeezing and kneading down the length of the muscle to Zhao Yunlan’s ankle, where they hooked into the knitted band of Zhao Yunlan’s sock before tugging the sock off.
Zhao Yunlan wriggled the toes of his left foot.
There was another pause. Zhao Yunlan could feel the way Shen Wei held himself still, even going so far as to hold his breath. Eventually, he must have decided that Zhao Yunlan was still asleep. His hands moved to Zhao Yunlan’s right calf, repeating the same set of motions. With both socks off, the hands moved to the waistband of Zhao Yunlan’s jeans. His fingers ghosted across the flat plane of Zhao Yunlan’s stomach, their caress light and cautious and trembling ever so slightly, like a child who had seen an expensive toy in a shop that he knew he wouldn’t be able to afford but couldn’t help touching.
Zhao Yunlan’s thoughts ground to an abrupt halt as Shen Wei began to undo the buckle on his belt. As Shen Wei popped the button on his jeans and pulled down his fly, he tried frantically to recall if he had put on a semi-respectable pair of boxer-briefs that morning. Then, Shen Wei was wriggling Zhao Yunlan’s jeans past his hips, and Zhao Yunlan found himself grateful that Shen Wei had not turned on the lights in the bedroom after depositing him on the bed, that his growing interest was camouflaged by the dark.
The mattress shifted. There was the shuffle of footsteps. Warm breath gusted across Zhao Yunlan’s jaw, as slender, clever fingers began undoing the first of Zhao Yunlan’s shirt buttons. It tickled.
With a control that surprised even himself, Zhao Yunlan held himself still. He was achingly conscious as Shen Wei moved from the first button to the second button, and on to the third, the sliver of cool air on his chest growing ever so slightly wider and longer as his shirt continued to part beneath nimble hands.
At the fourth button, Shen Wei hesitated, a fingertip stroking the curve of the button in a contemplative manner, his nail just lightly scratching Zhao Yunlan’s torso through the fabric of his shirt, and Zhao Yunlan would swear that his stomach muscles were trembling in an effort to keep from curling away. The moment stretched, until Zhao Yunlan was more than half minded to give up the pretence, when the mattress beneath him shifted again, Shen Wei’s other hand coming to rest on the mattress above his head. Then, as light and fleeting as a dragonfly skimming across a lake, a pair of lips brushed against his.
Zhao Yunlan opened his eyes. “Professor Shen, what are you doing?”
The bedroom was all dark silhouettes and shadows, lit barely by the light of the street lamps where the curtains had not been drawn fully across the window panes, but Zhao Yunlan could make out the individual strands of Shen Wei’s eyelashes. This close, Shen Wei’s eyes seemed impossibly wide. He looked caught.
Zhao Yunlan darted his hand up, trapping Shen Wei’s hand, still frozen above the button, against him. Shen Wei’s palm was warm through the fabric of his shirt. Deliberately, Zhao Yunlan curled his thumb against Shen Wei’s wrist, stroking slow, deliberate circles against the smooth, sensitive skin, and watched with fascination as Shen Wei’s eyelids fluttered half-shut, his eyelashes casting dark crescents against the top of his cheekbones.
“Shen Wei, what is our relationship?” Gradually, the circles he drew on Shen Wei’s wrist grew wider and wider, his thumb sweeping up higher and higher on the underside of Shen Wei’s arm. He could feel Shen Wei shiver in his grasp.
“See, tonight’s stakeout gave me plenty of time to think, and there are many things that don’t add up,” Zhao Yunlan said, when it became clear that Shen Wei wasn’t going to reply. “That time I collapsed – Daqing couldn’t have brought me home. But Daqing wouldn’t have let just anyone know where I live.”
“Someone helped Daqing bring me home. Someone familiar enough with my habits to even know what sort of pyjamas I prefer. But you were the only person at the scene with us.”
Shen Wei started to pull his arm away. Zhao Yunlan tightened his grip.
“I may not remember moving here, but I have eyes. It is clear that there are two people who live in this house. My clothes only occupy half of the wardrobes in this room. There are gaps in the books on the shelves of the living room. In the bathroom, my towel hangs on the left of the towel rail and not in the centre. Someone tried to hide it, but they only made it more obvious.”
He paused for effect. By now, his eyes had grown used to the dim, and he watched with interest as Shen Wei swallowed visibly.
“They didn’t do a very good job of hiding it either,” he continued. “When I found the kitchen after I woke up, there were two mugs drying beside the sink. Why would I wash two mugs? After Daqing told me the address of this place, it struck me that this place was near Dragon City University. Why would I move to be nearer to the university?”
To Shen Wei’s credit, he didn’t turn his head away, though he still did not meet Zhao Yunlan’s gaze.
“Right now, I can see that you’re familiar with this place. You can find your way around this place better than I do. Even without switching on the lights, you know where everything is. And I can’t help but ask myself, why is that?”
“You’re thinking too much.” Shen Wei’s voice was hoarse.
“You said that in the afternoon too, but I don’t think I am.” Without warning, he tugged Shen Wei’s arm sharply, causing Shen Wei to lose his balance and land heavily on top of Zhao Yunlan’s body. Shen Wei began to struggle. Zhao Yunlan threw his leg over Shen Wei’s hips and flipped them over neatly, pinning Shen Wei beneath him. “Shen Wei, ah, Shen Wei, you can be honest with me. Did we go out? Did we break up? Is that why you moved out?”
“Zhao Yunlan, have you gone crazy?”
“But then, someone who broke up with me wouldn’t do this with me,” Zhao Yunlan said, trapping both of Shen Wei’s wrists above Shen Wei’s head with a hand, and leaning forward to press his lips against Shen Wei’s.
Shen Wei’s body was stiff beneath him, his mouth hard and unyielding, lips pressed firmly shut in a stubborn line. Undeterred, Zhao Yunlan licked experimentally at the seam between Shen Wei’s lips. He stroked his free hand down the side of Shen Wei’s body, palming Shen Wei’s ass as he ground their hips together. He could feel Shen Wei through the layers of fabric between them, the growing hardness proof that he had not miscalculated, even as Shen Wei continued to remain frozen.
Then, just as Zhao Yunlan was thinking about pulling away, Shen Wei moaned, finally granting access. Zhao Yunlan licked in greedily. Shen Wei’s tongue was slick and hot beneath his, and Shen Wei’s mouth tasted slightly astringent, like tea that had been left too long to steep. Shen Wei’s cologne was unlike any fragrance that Zhao Yunlan had smelled before, cold as a snowy mountain or a dark lake, with a hint of acrid sweetness like the smouldering remains of burnt paper offerings. It was intoxicating. Zhao Yunlan committed these details to his memory, and when Shen Wei made a small, hitching noise as Zhao Yunlan kissed his way down to Shen Wei’s neck and sucked hard against Shen Wei’s fluttering pulse, Zhao Yunlan filed that away too.
They were both breathing hard when they finally parted, their chests brushing against each other’s with every rise and fall. Shen Wei’s lips were visibly swollen, even in the dim light, and so wet that they almost seemed to gleam. Zhao Yunlan pressed his thumb against them in fascination, and barely repressed a shiver as the tip of Shen Wei’s tongue flicked against the pad of his thumb.
“Don’t you have a headache?” Shen Wei asked quietly.
Zhao Yunlan grinned. “It’s better just being with you.”
Shen Wei lowered his gaze, his eyelids falling half-mast, and Zhao Yunlan was willing to bet that if he were to touch Shen Wei’s ears right now, he would find them warmer than usual. “Shameless,” Shen Wei breathed.
“I am,” Zhao Yunlan agreed easily. “Would you like me to show you how much more shameless I can be?”
He was not expecting Shen Wei to rear up, flipping them around and pinning Zhao Yunlan onto the bed.
“Professor Shen,” Zhao Yunlan drawled, letting every filthy, naked desire he had seep into his words, “as always, you surprise me.”
“Let me look after you,” Shen Wei murmured. And Zhao Yunlan would have offered Shen Wei a suggestion or two on how he would like to be looked after, but Shen Wei was already pulling his boxer-briefs down, and Shen Wei’s mouth was even hotter as it wrapped around the head of his dick, and oh, this sort of looking after worked just fine too.
For a brief, wild moment, Zhao Yunlan wondered if Shen Wei had ever slept with him before. Shen Wei knew exactly where to lick and suck, and where to stroke and fondle. He knew the rhythm which Zhao Yunlan liked, and he knew the spot on the underside of Zhao Yunlan’s dick, just beneath the head, that made Zhao Yunlan gasp and almost see stars. No one could be that good on the first try, Zhao Yunlan thought.
Or maybe Shen Wei was secretly a god of sex. Zhao Yunlan had seen many a strange thing since joining the Guardian Order, and at this stage, he wouldn’t put it past someone as cagey as Shen Wei was about everything.
But Shen Wei was mouthing his way down Zhao Yunlan’s dick, past his balls and perineum, and fuck, was that Shen Wei’s tongue tracing his hole?
“Baobei, I – ” Zhao Yunlan babbled, just as Shen Wei’s tongue – that clever, talented tongue – probed past the tight ring of muscle, and now Zhao Yunlan was pretty certain that he was seeing stars. I’m usually the one on top, warred at the back of his throat with Tell me we have condoms and lube and Don’t you dare stop, and in the end, Zhao Yunlan settled for a series of wordless, desperate moans as Shen Wei’s tongue began to thrust in and out of Zhao Yunlan’s hole, while Shen Wei’s long, elegant fingers alternated between caressing his balls and pumping his dick. He tangled his fingers into Shen Wei’s hair – such silky hair Shen Wei had – and only remembered to tug on those silken strands in warning as he felt himself grow close.
He couldn’t help the needy, dissatisfied whine as Shen Wei eased away from his hole, moving up to mouth at the tip of Zhao Yunlan’s dick. He lovingly kissed away the pearly liquid that gathered at Zhao Yunlan’s slit, before pulling off with a soft, wet pop, and Zhao Yunlan would have come untouched right there and then from the sound alone, were it not for Shen Wei closing his fingers firmly around the base of Zhao Yunlan’s dick.
“Not yet,” Shen Wei rasped. He no longer sounded like the refined and somewhat reserved university professor he was, but someone, no, something much darker, unfathomable, like a creature that lay in wait for its prey by the side of the mountain road at night, ancient as time itself, biding its time to devour the unwary traveller.
Zhao Yunlan wondered if he would be eaten too. If that was the case… Zhao Yunlan licked his lips in anticipation. “Wish we could turn on the lights right now,” he purred “Wish I could see you, with your cheeks pink and your hair wrecked and your lips all red and slutty.”
Shen Wei growled, the low, guttural sound going straight to Zhao Yunlan’s dick and making it twitch. “I’m not doing a good job if you can still talk so much,” said Shen Wei over the sound of a zipper being undone, and then Zhao Yunlan’s hips were bucking up as Shen Wei’s dick brushed against his, hot and hard and equally wet at the tip.
“Like this,” Shen Wei whispered in a tone that brooked no compromise, as he wrapped his hand around both their members, and Zhao Yunlan was thrusting up again into Shen Wei’s firm grip, because fuck, Shen Wei with every hair in place but with his fly undone, firmly jerking them both off while Zhao Yunlan writhed half-naked beneath him, was going to be Zhao Yunlan’s fantasy fodder for at least a month.
Afterwards, Zhao Yunlan remained on the bed, sprawled languidly on his back, while Shen Wei excused himself to the bathroom. His shameless flirting hadn’t been entirely a lie; his headache did seem to feel a little better after everything they had done, and Zhao Yunlan drifted in and out of sleep contentedly, rousing himself only when Shen Wei returned from the bathroom with his clothes back neatly in place and a warm, damp towel in his hand.
“Not joining me?” Zhao Yunlan did not bother hiding the pout in his voice.
Shen Wei’s voice was as gentle as his hands as he cleaned the mess on Zhao Yunlan’s stomach. “You should get a proper rest.”
“I’ll rest better if you’re with me,” Zhao Yunlan countered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and was rewarded by a huff of laughter.
“Ah Lan, sleep.” Shen Wei sounded soft and fond. Zhao Yunlan’s heart did a funny dip in his chest.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to catch Shen Wei’s wrist just as Shen Wei started to stand. “Between us… what happened?” Even with his incomplete memories, he couldn’t imagine himself ever letting someone like Shen Wei go.
In the darkened room, his silhouette lined by the light seeping past the edges of the bathroom door behind him, Shen Wei stood still as a statue.
“Was it me?” Zhao Yunlan pressed, and winced at the way his voice cracked ever so slightly on the last word. Then again, for reasons he couldn’t explain, sex just now with Shen Wei had been unlike sex with anyone else that he could remember. It had been a long while since anything had made him feel this vulnerable, this exposed, and the very thought of it terrified him, even as he couldn’t help but long for it again, like a moth that craved the warmth of a flame. There was something about Shen Wei that made Zhao Yunlan want to claim him, furiously, desperately, as his alone, and as Shen Wei had come all over him just now, Zhao Yunlan had seen that same voracious hunger reflected back at him in Shen Wei’s eyes.
Zhao Yunlan had a feeling that if he were to ask Shen Wei for Shen Wei’s heart, Shen Wei would carve open his breastbone to pluck his heart out and present it to Zhao Yunlan on a platter, before demanding that Zhao Yunlan do the same for him. And Zhao Yunlan would. Gladly.
In the absence of such gory requests, however, Zhao Yunlan could only wait.
Eventually, Shen Wei began to tug his wrist out of Zhao Yunlan’s hand. Zhao Yunlan tightened his grip.
“Yunlan,” Shen Wei sighed.
Zhao Yunlan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, his phone in his jeans pocket began to ring. It was Lin Jing’s ringtone. Immediately, Shen Wei yanked his arm back, and retreated several steps back.
“You should answer it,” Shen Wei suggested, standing just out of Zhao Yunlan’s immediate reach. “It sounds like it may be important.”
Zhao Yunlan glared at him sourly, with a look he hoped conveyed we’re not done here, before stalking over to where Shen Wei had placed his jeans, folded, on a reading chair. He answered the phone with a snarl. “This had better be good.”
“Chief, we did the UV sweep you asked for, of the scene where Zhao Yao was found.” It was Lin Jing. For once, he sounded serious, almost apprehensive, and Zhao Yunlan stilled.
“I’m sending you the pictures,” Lin Jing continued. “I think you may want to look at them.”
Zhao Yunlan put Lin Jing on speaker and lowered his phone, studying the photographs that loaded on its screen. Lit in the blue glare of a UV sweep, the lower half of the walls of the room were smattered with handprints, small enough to belong to a child.
“Another thing – my contacts in Thailand came through,” Lin Jing was saying. “I’m forwarding the information they sent me.”
More photographs filled the screen of Zhao Yunlan’s phone. He studied them wordlessly. Then, he said, “Lin Jing, we’re paying Liu Hanfeng a visit tomorrow. Tell Lao Chu I want him with us, and to prepare the materials for a ghost-trapping array.”
He waited until Lin Jing replied in the affirmative, before he ended the call, and looked up. “Professor Shen, you too.”
=-=-=
It was clear that Liu Hanfeng had not been expecting them, although he hid it well, surprise smoothing out into a look of composed indifference as he opened his door on the chain.
The thick, cloying scent of incense spilled through the narrow gap between the door and its frame, filling the corridor outside.
“We weren’t sure if you would be in,” Zhao Yunlan lied, as Liu Hanfeng removed the chain from the door and stepped aside to allow Zhao Yunlan and his team to enter. “I hope we aren’t keeping you from your evening’s plans.”
Liu Hanfeng’s smile was polite, but tight. “Not at all, officer. In fact, I was planning on spending the night in.” He did, in fact, look like he was. His hair was dishevelled, his clothing was rumpled, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved since the last time S.I.D. had visited him. Standing this close, Zhao Yunlan could see that Liu Hanfeng’s eyes were bloodshot and, as Liu Hanfeng turned away to lead them into his house, Zhao Yunlan observed that he was favouring his right leg ever so slightly.
“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Zhao Yunlan asked, careful to inject just the right amount of sympathy and sincerity in his voice as he trailed after Liu Hangfeng to the living room.
“I slept well,” Liu Hanfeng answered shortly. He lowered himself slowly into an armchair with an almost-concealed wince, before gesturing for his visitors to take a seat.
Zhao Yunlan took the other armchair that was positioned directly across from Liu Hanfeng. waited until his team had taken seats too, before leaning back into his armchair, making an obvious show of looking around and studying the room. Liu Hanfeng, it seemed, had turned on every light in the house, bathing the house in a warm, yellow glow.
The lights only made the cool temperature of the room seem even colder.
Zhao Yunlan didn’t need to blink to see that the black mist he had observed the day before still lingered. Only, this time, it was as though something had agitated it, its tendrils coiling and unfurling restlessly as they darted about the living room.
“How may I help you, officer?” Liu Hanfeng said, when it became clear that Zhao Yunlan was not going to break the silence.
Zhao Yunlan allowed a slow, toothy smile to stretch across his lips as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Then I’ll get straight to the point.” It was his signal to his team. Wordlessly, Shen Wei reached into his briefcase, and eased out an enlarged, printed photograph of Li Guoqiang’s surgery room. Its colours were lurid beneath the too-bright lights of Liu Hanfeng’s living room, the rusty red of the blood stains almost garish against the dark chestnut wood of the coffee table. “I’m afraid your Doctor Li is dead.”
Liu Hanfeng glanced briefly at the photograph, before looking away. “I have nothing to do with his death, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Zhao Yunlan huffed a laugh. “And here I was expecting you to deny even knowing Li Guoqiang, after our last interview.” He reached over to tap a finger at the trail of bloody handprints on the wall. “Now this, this is where it gets interesting.” He nodded at Shen Wei, who pulled out another photograph, similarly enlarged, this time of the UV sweep of the room where Zhang Yao had been found. “If you look at both photographs, you will notice some similarities between the scenes.”
Liu Hanfeng did not look. “I’m afraid I do not follow you.”
“Then perhaps I’ll speak more plainly,” Zhao Yunlan said, standing up and beginning to pace about the room. “Have you heard about raising a ghost child, or a little ghost? It goes by many names: koman-tong in Thailand, toyol in other parts of South East Asia. A ghost child is created out of a foetus that has been miscarried or aborted. A ghost child can bring its master good luck, and will do its master’s bidding. In return, the master must treat the ghost child like his own, or the ghost child will turn on him.”
Zhao Yunlan stopped in front of the prayer altar. The sticks of incense and candles had more than doubled since their last visit, no doubt the cause of the strong scent of incense that permeated the room and the corridor outside. “I think you know what I’m talking about, Mr Liu. Just as you know that this little statue you had commissioned from an old master in Thailand isn’t just made of wood and gold leaf, but of human bone and corpse oil.”
Zhao Yunlan watched Liu Hanfeng stiffen in his seat. He nodded at Chu Shuzhi and Lin Jing, who, as one, stood up. They moved about the room, switching off the ceiling lights and every lamp they passed.
Liu Hanfeng inhaled audibly. “What are you doing - ?” A hint of desperation had crept into his voice.
They ignored him. There was a rustle, twin clicks, and the darkened room was awash in the eerie, blue and white glow of two UV light scanners.
There were handprints. Handprints small enough to belong to a child, perhaps a toddler. Footprints too, equally small. All over the walls. Even the ceiling.
Liu Hanfeng made a strangled noise.
The ceiling lights flicked back on. Under their renewed glare, Liu Hanfeng’s face was ashen. “Help me,” he stammered. There was no trace of his previous composure.
Zhao Yunlan looked at him coolly.
Liu Hanfeng’s fingers trembled as he rolled up the left leg of his trousers to reveal a large, ugly mottled bruise on his calf. In the centre of the bruise, starkly visible despite the surrounding mass of purple-blacks and greens, were two thin, red crescents. They looked like teeth-marks. “I can’t control it anymore,” Liu Hanfeng pleaded. “I swear I had nothing to do with those deaths. It’s coming after me now. Please.”
“A ghost child is like any other toddler, possessive by nature,” Shen Wei spoke suddenly. Zhao Yunlan glanced at him approvingly.
“Huang Meiyan is pregnant,” Zhao Yunlan said, picking up the conversation where Shen Wei had left off. “You had arranged for her to see Doctor Li. You were going to have Doctor Li abort the foetus, and use the foetus for a new ghost child.”
There was a strained silence. “Please,” Liu Hanfeng repeated. He jumped as Lin Jing patted him on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, that’s what we’re here for,” Lin Jing said. He sounded almost cheerful about it. “And you’re going to help us.”
“I… what?”
“As bait,” Chu Shuzhi finished impassively, the perfect bad cop to Lin Jing’s good cop. Zhao Yunlan watched as Liu Hanfeng grew paler. It gave him a perverse satisfaction. Perhaps he should have Lin Jing and Chu Shuzhi do this routine together more often.
They took almost half an hour for Chu Shuzhi to determine, from the energy flows of the apartment, that the centre of their ghost-trapping array should be positioned where Liu Hanfeng’s bedroom was, and again as long for them to move and stack the furniture against the walls, creating enough space for them to work.
Zhao Yunlan slouched lazily on a corner of Liu Hanfeng’s bed, half-leaning against the headboard. He reached out as Shen Wei passed him by, tugging Shen Wei down beside him and circling his arm around the small of Shen Wei’s back, so that his hand rested just so on Shen Wei’s hip.
Shen Wei sighed. “Chief Zhao.”
“Relax.” Zhao Yunlan could just feel the jut of Shen Wei’s hipbone through the fabric of his trousers. Experimentally, he began to run his thumb along its curve.
“You’re still on the clock,” Shen Wei hissed. He didn’t, however, move away, and Zhao Yunlan allowed himself a slow smirk.
“Aren’t Lao Chu and Lin Jing doing just fine? What’s the point of having paid employees if I can’t depend on them?” He nodded his chin lazily at Lin Jing, who was chanting prayers in a slow circuit around the room, and then at Chu Shuzhi, who was affixing paper talismans around the door of the room.
“Technically, it’s not you who pays our salaries, but the Ministry of Public Security,” Lin Jing paused mid-chant to point out.
Chu Shuzhi didn’t say anything, but the talisman in his hand was stuck onto the doorframe with a smidge more force than was strictly necessary.
Experimentally, Zhao Yunlan swept his thumb up in a wider arc, skimming past the waistband of Shen Wei’s trousers and against the firm warmth of Shen Wei’s side.
“Zhao Yunlan!”
Shen Wei’s glare, beautiful in its furious embarrassment, was worth the sharp smack on the back of his hand, Zhao Yunlan decided. He did not hide his unrepentant grin as he slung his arm across Shen Wei’s shoulders and cuddled him close. “Come here, baobei.”
“How’s your headache?” Shen Wei asked quietly.
“Still there,” Zhao Yunlan answered honestly. It wasn’t as bad as the day before, easy enough to ignore if he didn’t think too deeply about it, but still a dull, throbbing presence like a splinter digging in the heel and making a person wince with every other step. “But it’ll be better if you give me a kiss.”
“You’re shameless,” Shen Wei sighed, with no sign that a kiss was forthcoming.
“Are you sure this will work?” Liu Hanfeng interjected. He had been silent ever since they had moved to his bedroom, helping them move the furniture when asked, but otherwise staring wordlessly at the ghost child’s totem.Zhao Yunlan had taken it from its altar in the living room. It was now placed in the centre of the bedroom, where Chu Shuzhi had drawn a capture circle on the floor around it with cinnbar chalk. Liu Hanfeng sat on the floor to its left, surrounded by a similar circle, albeit one that would allow any supernatural being to sense a tentalising glimmer of the aura of the circle’s subject, but never actually touch him. Liu Hanfeng was now looking at the chalked lines of the circle doubtfully.
“Did offering more incense to the ghost child work?” Zhao Yunlan replied, not bothering to mask the disdain behind his words. Everyone in S.I.D. was familiar with people like Liu Hanfeng, the sort who used supernatural means to seize more than what fate had entitled them to, even at the expense of others as necessary, but were themselves unwilling to pay the price, spinelessly begging others to bail them out after enjoying the benefits. Just because it was the job of S.I.D. to save these people didn’t mean that Zhao Yunlan, or the rest of his team, had to like them.
Besides, Liu Hanfeng had interrupted what Zhao Yunlan was going to say to Shen Wei next.
Over at the door, Chu Shuzhi pasted the final talisman, and turned around to look at Liu Hanfeng meaningfully. Liu Hanfeng ducked his head, swallowing visibly.
On the other side of the room, Lin Jing reached the end of his circuit, his feet coming to a standstill and voice lapsing into the silence.
The sudden quiet was startling.
In a far corner of his mind, Zhao Yunlan felt a strange anticipation bloom.
“It’s midnight,” he heard Shen Wei say, as though from a distance.
Clack.
Above their heads, the sound of a small, round, hard object hitting the floor, rang sharp and clear.
Clack.
Click-click-click-click-clack.
“Marbles,” Shen Wei observed. Glass marbles, many of them, as though someone in the apartment above was playing with them, rolling them across the floor and knocking them against each other.
“Aren’t we on the highest floor?” said Lin Jing unnecessarily.
Click. Click-clack.
More marbles, not overhead this time, but in the corridor outside Liu Hanfeng’s bedroom door.
Click-click-click-click-clack.
They sat in a tense silence as the sound of rolling and clacking marbles continued around them, occasionally in the ceiling, occasionally within Liu Hanfeng’s apartment; sometimes softer, as though whoever it was playing with these marbles was playing with them a couple of rooms away; sometimes loud enough to almost be in the same room as them.
Then, just as abruptly as the sound had started, it stopped.
Liu Hanfeng exhaled noisily.
Suddenly, there was a childish giggle, and a light patter of footsteps, like small feet running down the corridor outside.
Zhao Yunlan took Shen Wei’s hand in his, squeezing it gently in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. From the corner of his eye, he spied Chu Shuzhi giving Lin Jing a tiny nod, their stances ready.
Knock-knock.
It started from the furthest end of the corridor from the bedroom, as though someone was knocking on the front door from inside the apartment.
Knock-knock. Knock-knock.
Whoever was knocking didn’t use much force. The knocks sounded polite, curious, as though the one knocking was testing to see whether anyone was in.
Knock-knock.
On every door, and on every wall between, approaching the bedroom at the end of the corridor, slowly but steadily
“The study,” Liu Hanfeng would remark as the knocking grew closer and closer, louder and louder. “The bathroom.” His eyes were glazed, and he sounded as though in a daze. Zhao Yunlan wondered if Liu Hanfeng was even aware that he was speaking.
“It’s playing hide and seek,” Shen Wei remarked.
Knock-knock.
“It’s outside,” Liu Hanfeng groaned. He was rocking back and forth in his seat, in the middle of the protective circle.
Knock-knock. Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
As though sensing something different about the bedroom, the knocking on the bedroom door grew more persistent, the spaces between each knock shorter, every knock louder by the second.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
Click.
The door knob began to turn without any visible hand on it.
“I locked it,” Lin Jing whispered.
They watched as the door knob turned, and turned again, and again, and yet again. Each aborted turn seemingly more frantic than the last
Then, without warning, the press-button lock on the door knob popped out.
Liu Hanfeng gave a strangled yell as the bedroom door creaked open… and stayed there, ever so slightly ajar.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Zhao Yunlan snapped impatiently, reaching with his foot to kick Liu Hanfeng in the shoulder. Chu Shuzhi had already moved towards the door, and was peering cautiously behind it. He turned around and shook his head. There was nothing in the corridor.
Warily, Zhao Yunlan drew his gun, and moved carefully to join Chu Shuzhi by the door. “It’s still in the apartment,” he said tersely. “We’ll split up – ”
Found you!
They sensed, rather than heard, the sing-song giggle. Suddenly, the window across the room burst open, in the direct line of the bed, of Liu Hanfeng in the protective circle just ahead, and in between the bed and the circle –
“Shen Wei!” Zhao Yunlan yelled.
Shen Wei had frozen in his seat on the edge of the bed, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he stared at the open window and the billowing curtains.
The ghost child was a small, greenish figure, like the colour of heavily tarnished bronze. It moved fast, too fast for Zhao Yunlan to get a proper look at its features, ducking under Chu Shuzhi’s puppet strings as easily as it evaded the talismans that Lin Jing threw at it.
Zhao Yunlan dived in front of Shen Wei. The same, niggling feeling he had felt that night in Li Guoqiang’s clinic was back, only this time, it was darker, wilder, like the earth yawning open to reveal a fiery valley, like a mountain peak forcing its way up violently through mantle and rocky crust. Agony crashed into Zhao Yunlan’s skull and, unthinkingly, Zhao Yunlan wrapped his consciousness around that pain and flung it in front of them.
There was a ringing noise as the figure of the ghost child collided with the golden wall that Zhao Yunlan had somehow put up.
Then, silence.
Zhao Yunlan blinked.
The bedroom had disappeared, and with it, its occupants. The world around him was dark and warm, and he could hear the echo of a steady, rhythmic lub-dub, lub-dub, as though a heart was beating in the distance.
Vaguely, he wondered if this was how all humans felt as clay in Nüwa’s palm, before Nüwa shaped them into living beings. The thought came unbidden in his mind, and Zhao Yunlan blinked again, disconcerted.
There was a quiet gurgle behind him. When he turned, he saw a baby sitting on the ground. It was a chubby baby, pink as most babies were and with fleshy folds on its limbs. When it noticed Zhao Yunlan looking at it, it gurgled again, and waved its arms, as though asking to be carried.
Zhao Yunlan found himself bending his knees and picking the baby up. The baby gave a giggle, and began gnawing toothlessly on the collar of Zhao Yunlan’s jacket.
Hesitantly, Zhao Yunlan patted the baby’s back. The baby beamed gummily at him, its eyes large and earnest, and suddenly Zhao Yunlan understood.
He gave the baby’s back a final pat before setting it down. Around him, his surroundings started to crumble. The baby began to scowl, its plump body shrinking into itself to reveal a wizened, contorted figure, and its skin took on a green pallor.
With a sweep of his foot, Zhao Yunlan broke the protective circle around Liu Hanfeng. Another wall kept Chu Shuzhi and Lin Jing from interfering. And, all this while, Shen Wei stared at him unblinkingly.
Go on, Zhao Yunlan thought at the ghost child.
He waited until Liu Hanfeng stopped screaming, waited until he again sensed, rather than heard, a cheerful giggle. He held on just long enough for the totem made from the ghost child’s remains, still in the centre of Chu Shuzhi’s trapping circle, to tip over suddenly on its own.
Then, exhaustion took him, and he let his knees buckle. As his vision grew black, Zhao Yunlan found himself glad that they had chosen Liu Hanfeng’s bedroom as the centre of their array. Collapsing onto the bed was, he reflected ruefully, a lot more comfortable than collapsing on the floor.
=-=-=
Unexpectedly, Zhao Yunlan woke in a bed that was his, in a bedroom that was his.
This, in itself, wasn’t a new experience, although after recent events, its familiarity was worrying.
He was even wearing his usual pyjamas.
At once, he turned to his bedside table. Someone – Shen Wei, no doubt – had set Zhao Yunlan’s mobile phone there, just like Zhao Yunlan always did before he went to bed. Shen Wei had even remembered to plug the phone in to charge while Zhao Yunlan was out cold, and Zhao Yunlan found himself smiling fondly as he unlocked his phone’s screen. His smile broadened as he checked the date, and he set his phone down, reassured.
Next, Zhao Yunlan set his phone down, began to probe his memories. They were all there: the business with the Mountain-River Awl in the mountains, the incident with the Merit Brush at the hospital, and, well. Zhao Yunlan frowned. It seemed like he would need to have a conversation with Shen Wei later.
His powers as Lord Kunlun were back where they had been, unsealed once more, and his headache was, for the first time in days, blessedly gone. Satisfied, Zhao Yunlan withdrew himself from his mind.
It was Sunday, and so, after attending to more earthly needs in the bathroom – where Shen Wei’s towel was hanging on the rail again, and Shen Wei’s toothbrush and cup were next to Zhao Yunlan’s just as they should be – Zhao Yunlan headed downstairs in his pyjamas.
There were noises as he approached the ground floor. Homely noises, like the clang of pot lids on their respective pots and the sound of running water from a tap. Zhao Yunlan followed the noises to the kitchen, where he found Shen Wei with his back to him, busy at the sink. Daqing was curled up on the corner of the dining counter nearby, crunching away contentedly at a piece of fried fish.
“You know, I thought we’d been over this before” Zhao Yunlan announced.
“It’s almost noon, so I thought I’d make us an early lunch,” Shen Wei said, as though Zhao Yunlan had not spoken. He did not turn around.
“In fact, I remember expressing my displeasure, the last time you tried to take my memories,” Zhao Yunlan continued, sauntering over to the sink.
As Zhao Yunlan came to stand beside Shen Wei, Shen Wei turned his head briefly in acknowledgment, darting a quick glance at Zhao Yunlan and offering a weak smile, before returning his attention to the electric kettle that he was filling at the sink. “I did not take your memories this time.”
“No, you just let me forget, and chose not to tell me anything.” The kettle was almost full. Unbidden, Zhao Yunlan reached over, and turned the tap off. “You even pretended that we didn’t have a relationship.”
Shen Wei stiffened.
“I think you owe me an explanation,” Zhao Yunlan remarked into the silence that followed, as it became clearer with each passing second that Shen Wei was, in fact, not going to offer one. “Or at least give me an excuse. Put in some effort, make it a credible one.”
Shen Wei shifted his weight awkwardly. Still holding the electric kettle, he turned fully to face Zhao Yunlan. His eyes were wide and guileless behind his glasses, and the line of his mouth wobbled.
“Oh, don’t give me that. It doesn’t work as well as you think on me,” Zhao Yunlan retorted, lying through his teeth. Then, he sighed, and pinched his nose bridge. “Let me guess. You were worried that my using of my powers as Kunlun would be too much for my body to handle, and so, you decided that it would be better if I forgot that I had these powers. You even decided that it would be better if I forgot our relationship, and moved out, so that I wouldn’t be reminded of how my powers had been awakened.”
Shen Wei’s mouth opened and shut wordlessly.
“Unfortunately for you, that’s not your decision to make,” Zhao Yunlan finished crisply. He reached over, tapping the lid of the electric kettle shut with a smart click. Then, he took the kettle from Shen Wei’s grasp, holding it in his hands. Seconds later, even though the kettle was not plugged in, the water in it began to bubble and steam.
“I’m sorry,” Shen Wei finally said, softly.
“What’s that?”
“I’m sorry,” Shen Wei repeated. He suddenly had a rather hangdog look about him.
“Are you going to keep apologising non-stop every time you see me, like you did the last time?” Zhao Yunlan asked archly. Shen Wei’s expression grew mournful, and Zhao Yunlan grudgingly swallowed back the lines he had scripted, of a betrayed lover and an outraged husband, in the journey between their bedroom and the kitchen. Instead, he sighed, “I will make an exception this time, but if you do it again…”
He allowed his words to trail off in a meaningful silence, as he moved towards the dining counter, where he placed the kettle with the now-hot water. “Move, you fat cat” he said to Daqing, nudging him out of the way with his elbow and ignoring the baleful glare he received in return. “And you,” he added, turning his head to glance at Shen Wei, who was following a step behind him like a second shadow, “Did you say you cooked? Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
“It’s really not a big thing, you know,” Zhao Yunlan added, reaching around Shen Wei, who was plating up their food, to grab their usual teapot and the brick of pu’er leaves they kept in a tin on the kitchen counter. He brought these back to the dining counter, where he portioned out the tea leaves into the teapot, and poured the hot water from the kettle over the leaves. “It was my first time unconsciously using my powers after I awakened. My physical body was not used to it, so it caught me by surprise. There’s no reason for it to happen again.”
Rinse the leaves, pour away the water, and re-fill the tea pot. Until Shen Wei had come into his life, he had never prepared his tea the proper way like this. In fact, he wasn’t even someone who would make tea at home to drink with his meals, but now, he couldn’t imagine doing without it. Shen Wei had become a part of his life, and the idea of Shen Wei trying to erase what they had, of Shen Wei seemingly content to let him forget, still left a sour taste in his mouth.
He glanced at the dishes Shen Wei had placed on the dining counter. They were all his favourite dishes.
Alright. That sour taste just got a little sweeter.
“What happened after I passed out?” he asked, to hide the way his lips wanted to curve into a broad smile
“Liu Hanfeng died. Heart attack, not a mark on him,” Shen Wei reported, his words as neat as the chopsticks he placed beside their bowls of rice. “We brought the ghost child’s body back to the office. It appears to be an empty shell. We couldn’t find any sign of the ghost child’s spirit.”
Zhao Yunlan nodded, satisfied. “It’s just some empty bones now. Cremate it, and ask Lin Jing to say some prayers for it. That should be the end of the matter.”
Shen Wei levelled him a steady look, and Zhao Yunlan shrugged. “The ghost child was made from Huang Meiyan’s previous aborted child. Doctor Li did that abortion too. Huang Meiyan wants to keep her latest child, but Liu Hanfeng wanted to make a new ghost child, so he sent his current one to make Huang Meiyan miscarry. Unfortunately for our Mr Liu, the ghost child recognised his mother and decided to protect her.”
Shen Wei’s brow rose. Zhao Yunlan laughed, spreading his hands. “The ghost child told me that he wanted to be reborn as his mother’s child. I decided to help him.”
He stepped over, wrapping his arms around Shen Wei in a loose embrace. “Go on, you can ask me. I can see the question on your face.”
Shen Wei tilted his head.
“Why did I let the ghost child go…” Zhao Yunlan prompted.
The corners of Shen Wei’s mouth twitched. “Why did you let the ghost child go?” he repeated obediently.
“Because he was earnest and guileless, and only wanted to do right by the person who mattered the most to him. Much like a little ghost king I met, so many years ago.” Carefully, he leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss on Shen Wei’s forehead. “Baobei, I’m home.”
Shen Wei ducked his head, the delicate, curved shell of his ears a pleasing pink. “Welcome home.”