The interrogation reached a stalemate. It wasn’t that he was uncooperative; in fact, he was quite cooperative. For instance, when later asked how he had entered the residential complex, he honestly admitted to slipping in through a small path in the greenbelt. But when questioned again about the details of the crime, he remained vague.
“Mo Nai, you didn’t resist when the police arrested you. As long as you confess the details of your crime truthfully now, there’s still a chance for this to be treated as a voluntary confession. If you continue with this passive resistance, the only thing waiting for you is the death penalty. Do you understand?”
However, the gentle approach was also useless.
Mo Nai was still the same, answering with that dazed face, “I’m sorry, officer. It was my first time killing someone. My mind went completely blank. I really can’t remember.”
The interrogation had to be temporarily suspended. They could continue the standoff, but finding a breakthrough in his mental defenses would undoubtedly be more efficient. They came out and joined Huo Ranyin in the conference room to continue their meeting.
The others dispersed in small groups. They could have gone home, as the suspect was caught and the interrogation was a team effort, so there was no need for everyone to stay. But everyone wanted to know the full truth of the matter, so they voluntarily stayed behind to work overtime.
Since it was an intermission, snatching a moment of leisure from their busy schedule was only natural.
So when Huo Ranyin came out of the meeting, he was greeted by a group of people slumped exhaustedly in their chairs. He scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Ji Xun, whose unique posture would have stood out even when slumping.
Where did he go? he wondered silently, grabbing Tan Mingjiu, who was engrossed in his phone. “Where’s Ji Xun? He was just talking to you.”
“Huh?” Tan Mingjiu lifted his face, the dazed look on it identical to Mo Nai’s in the interrogation room. “Captain Huo, what did you say?”
Huo Ranyin glanced at Tan Mingjiu’s phone screen.
Tan Mingjiu coughed, a little embarrassed, and covered the screen showing a gold jewelry shop. He explained, “Captain Huo, I’m not slacking off. It’s all because of that guy Mo Nai inside. His timing for the crime was just too perfect, right on the Spring Festival and Valentine’s Day. It’s forced me to buy my wife’s Valentine’s gift online… If I order today, it’ll be delivered by express courier tomorrow, right into my wife’s hands. Then my family will be at peace for another month or so.”
“Just a gold pendant?” Wen Yangyang, who was passing by, chimed in. “That’s so tacky. Never mind all the different kinds of gemstones, you could at least swap the yellow gold for platinum.”
“Tsk, you’re still young,” Tan Mingjiu said dismissively. “Wait until you’re thirty, married, and have kids. Then you’ll know that platinum, K-gold, and hard gold are all fake. Only yellow gold is real. It’s an investment, something you can’t go wrong with buying, and it can even make you a little extra money.”
“What a stereotype.” Wen Yangyang gave Tan Mingjiu a big eye-roll, then said to Huo Ranyin, “Captain Huo, I just saw Teacher Ji walk towards your office.”
“Thanks.”
He headed towards his office.
Inside the office, the light was on, but there was no one there.
Huo Ranyin initially thought Ji Xun had left, but as he was about to take out his phone to find him, a thought crossed his mind. He took two more steps and glanced behind his desk.
The man was indeed there.
Ji Xun was sitting on the floor, one leg bent, his back against the desk. His right hand rested on his bent knee, twirling a permanent marker so fast it almost looked like a flower.
The moment Huo Ranyin saw Ji Xun hiding in this spot, a sense of vigilance rose in him for no reason. This spot was a blind spot for the security camera. Being out of sight meant one could…
His advancing footsteps faltered, and he took half a step back.
“Yo, back from your work?” Ji Xun didn’t look up. “What was the result of the meeting?”
“We believe there might be something suspicious about the order of the killings that Mo Nai inadvertently emphasized.”
“The ‘killed the woman first, then the man’ line?”
“That was the first piece of information he volunteered. His subconsciousness in recounting this detail suggests it’s very important to him.”
“Hmm… Hu Yuan said the time of death couldn’t be determined from the damaged and burned bodies.”
“Yes. If he did this not out of some perverse psychology but to conceal the times of death, then many of his actions that seemed superfluous become logical. You have to remember, the surveillance footage shows Gao Shuang’s sports car entering the complex at 9 o’clock, later than Zhuo Cangying’s.”
“Ah… then we’re in trouble. If we follow this line of reasoning, Mo Nai might not be the killer. If he were the killer, there would be no need for him to confuse the times of death when he left his fingerprints behind. That’s a tactic usually used to create an alibi. Your case won’t be closed tonight.”
“It’s just speculation, without evidence. We need to get his confession first, or have physical evidence to support it. Because on the other hand, this could be his strategy to get acquitted. He might be deliberately making these moves to make his actions seem inconsistent with a killer’s, creating loopholes for when we transfer the case to the prosecutor’s office. The existence of possibilities would prevent the chain of evidence from being complete, and he couldn’t be convicted.”
“Progress just jumped from 99% back to 1%. Captain Huo, that’s too slow.”
“It’s not that slow.”
“Under normal circumstances, it’s really not. But I suggest Captain Huo consider our current reality.”
“What reality?”
“The reality of you and me, our date turning into a case, the case requiring a mountain search, getting drenched in the rain during the search, and then a long-distance drive after getting soaked.” Ji Xun put down the marker and counted on his fingers, his tone half-teasing, half-coquettish. “Oh, right, I missed one thing. It’s not over even after the long drive. We have to stay up all night on Valentine’s Day. Isn’t it miserable?”
“…” A rare hint of guilt arose in Huo Ranyin’s heart.
His gaze shifted slightly, glancing at his desk drawer. The desk had three drawers. Two were locked, leaving only the one on the far left, unlocked, for daily odds and ends.
Right now, in that drawer lay a box of heart-shaped chocolates. With Valentine’s Day approaching, the ordinary chocolates usually seen everywhere were hidden in the corners of the supermarket. Instead, all sorts of gaudy, brightly colored Valentine’s chocolates, mostly in heart-shaped packaging, had taken over the counters.
When Huo Ranyin was paying, he felt a bit strange, thinking that Ji Xun probably wouldn’t accept this box of heart-shaped chocolates. But then he thought again, since they were just to be eaten as candy to soothe the throat at a crime scene, why bother about the packaging?
The timing was just a coincidence.
Huo Ranyin was about to pull open the drawer, but just then, Ji Xun spoke first:
“Captain Huo, this is for you—”
His voice caught Huo Ranyin’s attention. As Huo Ranyin’s gaze shifted to him, he raised his lowered left hand and waved it in front of Huo Ranyin’s face.
A rose, drawn with the permanent marker, bloomed in his palm.
A trace of astonishment appeared on Huo Ranyin’s face. At that moment, Ji Xun grasped Huo Ranyin’s left hand and pressed the still-wet flower onto his palm.
Huo Ranyin’s wrist flinched, but he quickly relaxed his strength, instead intertwining his fingers with Ji Xun’s, letting the other man pull him down to the floor.
This was probably the easiest time Ji Xun ever had pulling Huo Ranyin. Ji Xun let out a low laugh. “So obedient this time. What, afraid of ruining the rose in your hand?”
“Seeing you hiding here and drawing so earnestly, I should show some respect,” Huo Ranyin said. The reason he didn’t struggle was indeed a subconscious consideration for this, but he wouldn’t admit defeat verbally, his response effortlessly smooth. “Lest all your heartfelt efforts go to waste.”
“That won’t happen.” Ji Xun winked at Huo Ranyin. “Even if it gets smudged now, I can continue drawing on you when we get back to your place tonight. With pomegranate juice or dragon fruit juice. We can eat it after I’m done drawing.”
The words were truly a bit too much. A blush rushed to Huo Ranyin’s cheeks. Huo Ranyin opened his mouth.
It was at this exact moment that Ji Xun ate a piece of chocolate and kissed him.
The clock chimed twice, its hour and minute hands both pointing to the number 12.
The 13th had turned a page, giving way to the 14th.
February 14th, Valentine’s Day.
Night had fallen, but there was light. Not the light of a lamp, but the deep blue, velvety light of the night sky. The light, like shattered stars or diamonds, fell through the eyes of the stars, sprinkling down upon Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin’s tightly clasped hands.
Ji Xun kissed Huo Ranyin lightly, like a dragonfly skimming the water’s surface.
In this safe, secluded corner, in this silent, still dark night, he gradually deepened the kiss.
He entered Huo Ranyin’s mouth, passing the heart-shaped chocolate hidden under his tongue between their lips.
And so their kiss began, sweet, then silky, then bitter, then slightly intoxicating.
The chocolate melted into threads of liquid, filling their mouths. The layered changes in taste vaguely resembled the entanglement of their emotions, but whether sweet, bitter, or intoxicating, they could no longer be clearly distinguished from each other.
The long kiss ended at the moment their oxygen was about to run out.
Ji Xun released the hand he had been holding tightly throughout the kiss. He buried his face in Huo Ranyin’s shoulder, nuzzling him like a cat, and let out a long, contented sigh.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“…Happy Valentine’s Day,” Huo Ranyin responded softly.
The tip of his tongue was a little numb and bitter, yet also flooded with sweetness, and there was a tiny itch, as if it had been tickled by the ends of Ji Xun’s hair. But his mouth was closed, so how could hair tickle his tongue? Huo Ranyin wondered, uncertain.
