That aged shout was like a basin of cold water, dousing the taut air between Ye Qingxuan and Zhang Lingxiao.
The door at the end of the corridor was unlit, but the voice alone carried an undeniable weight.
Zhang Lingxiao's hand, which had been gripping Ye Qingxuan's wrist, sprang loose as if shocked by electricity. The arrogance vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by a deferential smile. He bowed and nodded toward the crack in the door. "Chief Constable Hong, please calm down. It was just your nephew being thoughtless. I was merely exchanging a few idle words with a colleague here and disturbing your rest."
The room fell silent for a moment before the aged voice came again. "Let this be the last time."
"Yes, yes." Zhang Lingxiao hurriedly agreed.
With a creak, the door closed again, and silence returned to the corridor.
Zhang Lingxiao turned around, his expression shifting between gloom and fury. He had lost face in front of Chief Constable Hong, and he naturally settled the score on Ye Qingxuan's head. Lowering his voice, he said with undisguised mockery, "See that? The chief constables have all retired for the night. Ye Qingxuan, if you really barge in tonight, tomorrow's question won't be whether you can become a regular constable. It'll be whether you can keep the skin on your back."
He pointed toward the several pitch-black offices in the rear hall, the sneer at the corner of his mouth growing more pronounced. "I told you, if you have something to say, tell me. I'll pass it on for you. I'm doing this for your own good."
Ye Qingxuan glanced at him without saying a word. He had heard it clearly just now—that voice belonged to Chief Constable Hong, whom he had met once during the day. The old constable was steady by nature, and Zhang Lingxiao's words were half true and half false. The truth was that the chief constables really had retired for the night. The lie was that Zhang Lingxiao would never kindly pass anything on for him.
If he revealed the whole matter, then come morning, this heaven-sent achievement would have nothing whatsoever to do with Ye Qingxuan.
Ye Qingxuan said nothing. He cupped his hands toward Zhang Lingxiao, turned around, and left.
Zhang Lingxiao froze, then assumed Ye Qingxuan had realized the difficulty and backed down. A smug look appeared on his face. He was certain Ye Qingxuan would not dare make a fuss, and sooner or later the credit would fall back into his own hands. He sauntered back to the grand armchair and sat down again, waiting for Ye Qingxuan to come to his senses and return to beg him.
Ye Qingxuan's footsteps, however, did not lead toward the main gate of the Fengtian Division. Instead, he turned through the courtyard and headed toward another compound blazing with lights.
That was where the regular constables on night duty rested.
The chief constables could not be disturbed, but an ordinary regular constable should at least be willing to hear him out.
After passing through a lantern-hung passageway, Ye Qingxuan saw a room that was still lit, with several coughs coming from inside. He steadied himself, walked up, and lightly knocked on the door three times.
"Who is it?" a rough voice called from within.
"Constable Tan, it's me, Ye Qingxuan, a temporary constable. I have an important matter to report."
The door opened, and a burly man with a full beard poked his head out. He was bare-chested, a dense mat of black hair covering his chest. He was Tan Zhenglong, a regular constable working the night shift. Looking Ye Qingxuan up and down—his clothes disheveled and his body covered in mud—he frowned. "What happened? Why are you in such a panic?"
Ye Qingxuan panted heavily, looking as though he had not yet recovered from a fright. He cupped his hands and said, "Constable Tan... I... I found traces of Mottled Fish."
Tan Zhenglong's bell-like eyes suddenly lit up. "Where is he?"
"He... he's already dead." Ye Qingxuan's voice trembled slightly. "The body is in the abandoned tile yard beside the mass graveyard west of the city."
Tan Zhenglong's expression changed. He pulled Ye Qingxuan into the room, shut the door, and lowered his voice. "Explain clearly. What happened?"
Ye Qingxuan looked as if he had only just escaped from a nightmare. Leaning against the door, he gasped for breath and stammered out the story he had rehearsed a thousand times in his mind.
"Constable, at the third watch tonight, I was sleeping soundly when I suddenly heard noises coming from the kitchen in my courtyard. My family is poor, so I was afraid thieves had broken in. I... I grabbed a short wood-splitting knife and quietly went out to look."
Tan Zhenglong listened without saying a word. The beginning did sound reasonable enough.
"Just after I reached the courtyard, I saw a dark figure rummaging around in the kitchen. When he saw me, he didn't say a word. He turned and vaulted over the wall to escape. I... I was angry. The only thing of value in my home was half a slab of cured meat, so I chased after him."
At this point, a look of anger and vexation appeared on his face at just the right moment, bringing to life the image of a hot-blooded, impoverished youth whose home had just been robbed.
"I followed that shadow, winding through the alleys this way and that, all the way to the abandoned tile yard west of the city. Relying on my youth and quick legs, I climbed over the wall and followed him in."
"But who would have thought that the moment I landed, the thief would pounce out from behind a pile of rotten wood? He was so fast. I was so scared that my legs went soft, and I dropped onto my backside."
Ye Qingxuan patted the mud from his rear, his face full of lingering fear.
"Looking back, I really was lucky to be alive. That pounce of his—perhaps he was too hasty, or perhaps he couldn't see clearly in the dark—missed completely. He slammed headfirst into the broken wall beside him and cried out. He couldn't get up for quite some time."
Tan Zhenglong's brows twitched.
"When I saw that, how could I dare linger? I got up and tried to run. But the man reacted quickly too. Even though he was lying on the ground, he swept out with one foot and struck me squarely in the chest."
At this, Ye Qingxuan abruptly pulled open his collar. A large patch of bluish-purple bruising stood out starkly on his lean chest. It was precisely the result of Mottled Fish's dying counterattack earlier.
"That kick nearly knocked the breath out of me. But I don't know what happened—perhaps I panicked, but a surge of strength suddenly rose from nowhere, and I didn't fall. When he saw that one kick hadn't brought me down, he struggled to his feet and chased me again. But he limped as he ran, as if he had already been injured. After only a few steps, something caught his foot, and he fell heavily once more."
Ye Qingxuan spoke at lightning speed, attributing everything to coincidence and sheer luck.
"I... I was completely blank in the head at the time. I only thought that he was going to kill me. When I looked back and saw him sprawled on the ground, there was a brick beside him... I... I picked it up and smashed it at his head, his neck... I just kept hitting him..."
He gestured with both hands, as if he had returned to that bloody scene, his eyes growing somewhat unfocused.
"...It wasn't until he stopped moving that I came back to myself. When I looked with the light of the moon, that man... that man was actually Mottled Fish from the wanted notice. I panicked, and that was when I ran to report him."
After finishing, Ye Qingxuan was drenched in sweat, his body still trembling faintly. The fear and panic he displayed did not seem false.
Tan Zhenglong fell silent.
He stared at the bruising on Ye Qingxuan's chest, then surveyed him several more times. The story sounded flawless. An enraged youth chasing a thief who was already injured, then, amid a chain of coincidences, killing him in a panic. It was logical and reasonable.
But Tan Zhenglong had served in the Fengtian Division for twenty years. He had met more people and handled more cases than Ye Qingxuan had eaten grains of salt.
There were two points that troubled him.
First, it was too coincidental. Mottled Fish was a second-stage Body Tempering martial artist. Even if he had been seriously injured, how could he have been so helpless as to fall twice in succession?
Second, Ye Qingxuan's injuries were too light. Apart from the bruising on his chest, there were no other obvious wounds on his body. To fight to the death against a skilled second-stage Body Tempering martial artist and pay only this price was practically something one could attribute to divine protection.
Tan Zhenglong extended a thick finger and lightly pressed the bruising on Ye Qingxuan's chest.
Ye Qingxuan sucked in a sharp breath, his body shuddering.
"Is this your only injury?" Tan Zhenglong asked slowly, his voice low.
"Yes... yes, this is the only one," Ye Qingxuan replied.
"Mottled Fish really fell twice?"
"Absolutely! The first time, he hit the wall. The second time, he tripped. I thought he must have already been injured, and that he was in such a hurry to escape that this happened." Ye Qingxuan hurriedly explained, pushing everything onto Mottled Fish's existing injuries.
Tan Zhenglong withdrew his hand. Beneath the lamplight, his tiger-like eyes burned as they fixed on Ye Qingxuan's. He wanted to see what lay hidden in those eyes.
But all he found there was lingering terror, a young man's panic, and a trace of eager anticipation for praise. They were clear as glass, without the slightest flaw.
The credit for this was too great—great enough to send a temporary constable soaring into the heavens in a single step.
It was also great enough to give rise to countless suspicions.
Tan Zhenglong paced around the room twice before finally stopping. As the constable on night duty, he could no longer make the decision himself.
"You wait here. Don't go anywhere." He tossed out those words, then put on his outer garment and strode out of the room, heading straight for the compound where the chief constables rested in the rear hall.
Only Ye Qingxuan remained in the room.
He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. As the tension that had held him taut finally eased, a limp, drained weakness surged through every limb and bone.
He knew that he had wagered correctly on the first step.
The real test would come next. He would have to face those old foxes in the Fengtian Division who had cultivated themselves into spirits. Could his lie remain flawless before them?
Before you continue