"Next steps." Xie Qingyan turned around, his tone switching back to case mode, analyzing methodically. "First, confirm whether Su Xiaoqing actually had an affair. If not, Zhang Yunxiang's motive was fabricated, confirming the manipulation theory. Second, investigate women who could have had prolonged access to Zhang Yunxiang, especially regular patrons or staff connected to the bar. Third—"
Before he could finish, footsteps sounded outside the door, and then the handle suddenly pressed down.
The door was pushed open.
Captain Lin stood in the doorway, a document in hand, Little Lu trailing behind him.
Yin Wuwang's body reacted faster than his thoughts.
His posture adjusted instantly—the chair positioned too close couldn't be pulled back, so he reversed course. His right hand naturally came to rest on the back of Xie Qingyan's chair, his upper body tilting slightly toward Xie Qingyan. The movement was so smooth it looked like he'd been in this position all along, not something arranged a second ago.
Xie Qingyan's lashes trembled slightly.
But he didn't pull away.
Yin Wuwang's arm, carrying faint body heat, rested against the chair behind him. Though separated by a layer of clothing and the chair back, that presence remained distinct.
He lowered his eyes and pushed the report on the desk toward Yin Wuwang, creating the appearance of "two people discussing the case."
The whole sequence took less than a second.
Captain Lin walked in, swept a glance over their positions, and said nothing. He was used to seeing how this couple behaved in the office; the veteran detective made no comment on young people's relationships.
Little Lu, on the other hand, poked his head from behind, corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter.
Yin Wuwang caught Little Lu's expression from the corner of his eye and mentally rolled his eyes. This kid is going to get silenced by this sovereign sooner or later.
"How's the case going?" Captain Lin tossed the document on the desk, pulled up a chair and sat down, getting straight to business.
"Zhang Yunxiang did assault the deceased, but the deceased wasn't killed by him." Yin Wuwang's tone switched with perfect naturalness—from the relaxed manner of private conversation with Xie Qingyan to the steady conciseness of reporting to a superior. "The actual cause of death was mechanical asphyxiation; the murder weapon was a soft ligature. Zhang Yunxiang's statement contains no description of strangulation, and he wasn't aware his necktie had fallen at the scene."
Captain Lin's expression darkened. "You're saying there was a second person?"
"Yes. And it wasn't spontaneous." Yin Wuwang gave a brief report on the manipulation evidence discovered during interrogation—the six months of suggestion, Zhang Yunxiang's description of "that woman's" characteristics, and the subtle difference between the "hitting" and "killing" portions of his statement.
Captain Lin listened, then leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, saying nothing.
"Captain Lin." Xie Qingyan spoke up. "I need to access the bar's regular customer spending records and employee roster, as well as surveillance footage from the surrounding streets for three days before and after the incident."
"Little Lu." Captain Lin glanced toward the young detective eavesdropping at the door.
Little Lu immediately snapped to attention, nearly hitting the doorframe: "Sir!"
"Get all that to them by noon tomorrow."
"Yes sir!" Little Lu saluted sharply, then turned and dashed off. After two steps he doubled back, winking at Yin Wuwang: "Brother Jiang, Dr. Shen hasn't eaten lunch yet, has he? The cafeteria's about to close, want me to—"
"No need." Yin Wuwang cut him off. "I'm taking him."
Little Lu grinned knowingly and made himself scarce.
Xie Qingyan's gaze shifted from the report to Yin Wuwang—a look that said: Who asked you to make decisions for me?
Yin Wuwang precisely received the message and mentally retorted: This sovereign has been making decisions for Fuguang for three thousand years. Granted, for the first twenty-nine hundred years Fuguang didn't know, but that's beside the point.
Captain Lin stood and paused at the door, looking back at them.
"This case is more complicated than I expected." He spoke with the weight characteristic of veteran detectives. "Be careful in your investigation. Report anything you need immediately."
The door closed.
The office returned to silence.
Yin Wuwang's hand on the chair back still hadn't withdrawn. Neither of them moved, maintaining the pose from before—until Yin Wuwang confirmed the footsteps in the corridor had completely faded, then slowly pulled his hand back.
The movement wasn't quick. In fact, it could be called lingering.
Xie Qingyan turned his head, his gaze falling lightly on him.
"The door is already closed."
"Hm?" Yin Wuwang played dumb.
"Your hand."
"Oh." Yin Wuwang casually spread his hands. "Force of habit. Performance requirements, you know. It's what the character setting calls for."
Xie Qingyan didn't take the bait. He turned back and picked up his pen again.
But Yin Wuwang noticed his fingers tightened on the pen for just an instant. A very subtle movement—impossible to catch without three thousand years of observational habit.
Interesting. Yin Wuwang suppressed the curve threatening his lips and stood up.
"Come on, I'm taking you to eat."
"Not hungry."
"Fuguang." Yin Wuwang lowered his voice to a volume only they could hear. He rarely used this name during case work because it was easy to slip up, but the office was genuinely empty right now. "You stayed up all night reading last night, then spent all morning writing reports. Skipping meals will make you go OOC—Shen Han's character setting is 'professional forensic pathologist who takes care of himself,' not 'workaholic who doesn't eat or sleep.'"
Xie Qingyan's pen tip paused on the paper for one second.
"...You're getting better and better at using OOC as an excuse."
"This sovereign does as he pleases. What's it to you?" The curve at Yin Wuwang's lips finally broke free.
Xie Qingyan didn't argue further. He closed the report, stood, and picked up his jacket.
As they walked out of the forensic office, other colleagues passed in the corridor. Yin Wuwang's hand naturally came to rest against Xie Qingyan's waist, guiding him lightly—the cafeteria was to the left.
Xie Qingyan's steps faltered for a moment.
But he didn't push the hand away.
[End of V2_Chapter 14]
Next: That night in the apartment—and two words that made a three-thousand-year-old demon's heart race.