The police station was quiet, save for the hum of the ceiling fan.
Jing Yongwei sat behind his desk, flipping open a file. The name on the cover stared back at him in bold black letters: Xi Jiayi.
"Go on," he said evenly, eyes on the page.
Officer Huan Guolin shifted, papers in hand. "Xi Jiayi. High schooler. Records say she grew up in the countryside—no parents, no close family."
Jing Yongwei's pen scratched against the paper, then stilled. His eyes flickered, a brief flash of something unreadable, gone before anyone could catch it.
"Continue."
"She's currently staying at the Qin family mansion."Officer Huan paused, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves might be listening. "Officially registered as a distant relative."
At that, Jing Yongwei's pen stopped mid-note. A flicker of recognition—barely there—crossed his features. But just as quickly, it vanished. He flipped to the next page with practiced indifference.
The pen moved again, slow and deliberate. "Mm."
Jing Yongwei flipped to the next section. "Jun Meiyu."
"Twenty-four. Profession—high school teacher," Officer Huan said. "She should've been a lecturer by now. Her credentials are solid, better than most. But… every application she's sent in has been rejected. Strangely, the jobs go to people less qualified."
From the side, Officer Cheng Wanru let out a sharp laugh. "Sounds like someone's pulling strings."
Officer Huan gave a small shrug. "Could be. She's been quiet about it." He continued, "Her boyfriend is Gu Jianhong."
That drew Cheng Wanru's full attention. "The Gu family's second son?"
"The same."
"And isn't he—"
"—rumored to be engaged," Huan finished. "To Feng Xinyue. Feng family's daughter. Nothing official yet, but the talk's strong enough."
Cheng Wanru clicked her tongue. "So the teacher's in the middle of that mess too. Figures."
The room stilled. The whir of the fan filled the pause.
"Think Feng Xinyue could've sent those thugs?" Cheng Wanru asked suddenly, eyes narrowing.
Jing Yongwei closed the file slowly, his movements deliberate. His eyes lifted, steady as steel. "Speculation won't hold in court."
Her mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Any link between the accident and either family?" Jing Yongwei asked.
Officer Huan shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing concrete. The thugs we caught… they've given statements, but all claim it was a personal grudge. They refuse to elaborate."
"Bought silence," Cheng Wanru said under her breath.
Jing Yongwei didn't comment.
He sat back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. Then, in a tone that brooked no argument, he said, "Assign one man to each. Xi Jiayi and Jun Meiyu. Quiet observation only. If there's a lead, I want to know before anyone else does."
"Yes, sir." Huan Guolin and Cheng Wanru spoke in unison.
"Go."
Jing Yongwei dismissed them with a nod. The two officers exchanged a glance before stepping out, the door clicking shut behind them.
The office fell silent once more. Only the hum of the fluorescent light and the faint rustle of paper remained.
Jing Yongwei leaned forward, the file of Xi Jiayi still lying open before him. His hand hovered above the name on the cover, fingers brushing the edge of the letters as though testing their weight.
His gaze deepened, shadows pooling in his eyes.
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Then, slowly, his hand lowered, pressing lightly against the paper—firm, cold, unreadable.
The hum of the light above droned on, filling the silence.