Chi Qing didn’t have much of an impression of the things he had acted in the past, but that didn’t stop him from feeling embarrassed when he saw his own face appear on the TV. He was so embarrassed that his fingers suddenly tensed up.
For no reason, he found himself distracted, wondering: If this scene were playing at Ji Mingrui’s house, would he still feel uncomfortable or even nervous?
The answer to that question was obvious… he probably wouldn’t.
Not only would he not be nervous, but he would also throw the remote at Ji Mingrui’s head and tell him to turn it off immediately.
But Chi Qing didn’t. He just stared blankly at that face on the screen for a while until Xie Lin walked over, gave a light cough, took the remote from Chi Qing’s hand, and said, with a tone that felt like a cover-up: “I happened to see someone recommending it yesterday… just watching it randomly. I didn’t expect to see you in the cast list.”
Chi Qing: “A friend recommended it?”
Xie Lin replied with an “Mm.”
“Your friend has terrible taste,” Chi Qing said, not holding back at all, even though it was a drama he had acted in. “This show has a 4.5 rating, the script is trash, and the actors aren’t good either. Watching this kind of show is a complete waste of time.”
Xie Lin couldn’t very well say he thought it was quite good.
He wasn’t watching the plot; the plot quality had nothing to do with him as long as the person on screen looked good. According to his usual style, these were the kinds of things he could say casually, but at this moment, he couldn’t get a single word out.
Xie Feng’s worries back then about him dating early or “treading on multiple boats” (cheating) were truly unnecessary.
In the end, Xie Lin bent over, placed the remote on the table, and said, “Come over and eat breakfast.”
Two minutes later, Chi Qing fell into deep thought looking at the decent-looking toast and fried egg in front of him: “You made this?”
Xie Lin: “Actually, I’m pretty good at cooking. My culinary skills are top-notch. If you want to eat anything in the future…”
He was so busy showcasing his strengths that he forgot one very important detail.
“You can cook even with a plaster cast on your wrist,” Chi Qing picked up a slice of toast, “your culinary skills are indeed superb.”
Xie Lin: “…”
In short, Xie Lin, who insisted he was “disabled but determined” and could cook with one hand through sheer willpower, adamantly claimed he couldn’t undo the buttons on his shirt and couldn’t go to the Bureau to attend the forum alone.
On the road, having been forcibly dragged along by Xie Lin, Chi Qing asked with an irritable look: “What exactly is this forum for?”
Xie Lin: “Not sure. No one told me anything before you notified me. Didn’t Officer Ji explain it to you?”
Chi Qing wasn’t wearing gloves. When he was around Xie Lin, he always easily forgot to put them on. Although there were many people at the forum, everyone was likely to be sitting in their own seats, so the chance of accidental contact was very small. He just tucked his hands into his sleeves: “No, he just said a bunch of nonsense.”
After sending the address, Ji Mingrui had also sent several messages:
—I beg you, if you don’t go, I might get my salary docked.
—This forum is really important, and it will definitely be helpful for you two.
…
It wasn’t clear what it was about, but it sounded like a professional lecture. Some famous experts would be coming to give speeches, and they only needed to sit and listen. Chi Qing suspected that he and Xie Lin had just been dragged there by the Bureau to make up the numbers.
The lecture venue was in the office building opposite the Bureau. Unlike the Bureau, this building didn’t handle official business and was often used for social activities. The entire sixth floor was a lecture hall with tiered seating, laid out much like a small academic building from his university days.
The sixth-floor “classroom” was divided into two sides, East and West. They were assigned to the one on the West.
They arrived relatively early, but there were already quite a few people coming and going. There were all kinds of people—men in suits and ties stepping out of the elevator carrying briefcases, and people who looked like manual laborers.
When Chi Qing walked upstairs, there was even a teenager standing beside him, held by his mother, standing there without saying a word.
The sheer range of socioeconomic status among the participants was so great that even as skilled as Chi Qing and Xie Lin were at deduction, they couldn’t figure out the theme of this lecture.
Their seats were in the back corner of the “classroom,” which was relatively hidden.
“A fire safety lecture?” After sitting down, Xie Lin leaned back and guessed toward the temporarily empty podium: “…Probably not. That gentleman with the briefcase has been on a business call this whole time. If it were some trivial lecture, he wouldn’t have bothered coming.”
While Xie Lin was speculating, the teenager they had encountered earlier and his mother sat down in the row in front of them.
The mother was lecturing in a low voice: “Listen carefully later, you hear? Mom believes you are a good kid. You can’t do things that violate social discipline again in the future. The police uncle is giving you a chance because you are young. Mom also hopes you will never go astray again.”
The teenager said quietly: “I know.”
Chi Qing: “…”
Xie Lin: “…”
They probably knew what this lecture was about now.
Soon, a red banner was hung behind the podium. On it was written: Focus on Mental Health, Open the Window of Morality.
The forum lecturer was a psychological expert specially hired by the Bureau. He looked scholarly, with graying temples, his gaze revealing an honest and upright light mixed with kindness. He stepped onto the podium and delivered an opening: “Hello everyone, I am a psychologist specializing in social psychology and criminal psychology. I have worked with the police force for many years. This time, I have been invited by the police to give you all a lecture on mental health.”
Having followed Xie Feng around the police force since middle school, Xie Lin was quite familiar with these roles. Hearing this, he pretty much understood the situation. He leaned toward Chi Qing and explained in a low voice: “I’ve heard of this kind of lecture before. They periodically gather people who have committed minor offenses for education. Of course, the offenses are all very minor—otherwise, they’d be in jail and wouldn’t be here. It could be things like getting into a fight with someone or threatening a neighbor.”
The police often held these events. Studies showed that many criminals who eventually committed major crimes had shown signs early on, so they held these activities occasionally to reduce the crime rate.
Even though Xie Lin knew about it, this was his first time sitting in on one of these mental health lectures.
Chi Qing couldn’t really grasp it either: “The idea is fine, but what does this have to do with me?”
Xie Lin thought about it with zero self-awareness and suggested: “I don’t know, maybe they were short on people. The room not being full might look bad on them.”
On the other side, Ji Mingrui, who was sitting in his office organizing transcripts and files, sneezed. He rubbed his nose and glanced at the two thickest files in the stack; every time he had to input the data for Chi Qing and Xie Lin, it took quite a lot of time.
Flipping through them, he was shocked by the two men’s involvement in various cases—in the past few months, they had participated in every major criminal case in Hanyu City with the most bizarre methods.
“I wonder if they went,” Ji Mingrui muttered, “…I hope they listen well.”
At the lecture, the speaker continued fluently: “Next, let’s talk about the six standards of mental health. Among these six standards, interpersonal communication is very important. Only by having normal, friendly interpersonal interactions can one maintain mental health and thus be full of hope for life.”
The lecturer paused for a few seconds, and the audience applauded at the right moment.
Chi Qing and Xie Lin weren’t listening at all.
Their attention, which had been on the eloquent lecturer at the start, had been completely stolen by the person beside them within a few minutes.
Even though the person beside him hadn’t said a word or made a move, Chi Qing’s fingers were tucked inside his sleeves, showing only a tiny bit of his fingertips. Xie Lin just happened to feel that those fingertips were much more interesting than the person droning on and on at the podium.
Chi Qing, using his peripheral vision, wanted to see what Xie Lin was doing now. His gaze swept over the contours of the man’s face… and discovered that he seemed to be looking at him, too.
Chi Qing pulled his hand back, and the last bit of pale color vanished into his sleeve: “What are you looking at?”
Xie Lin smiled: “Looking at whether you’re wearing gloves today. Before, if I asked you to go out without gloves, it was like taking your life.”
It was impossible for Chi Qing to say it was because of him that he wasn’t wearing gloves: “Forgot to take them when I left.”
“It’s fine,” Xie Lin said. “Anyway, being by my side, you wouldn’t use them even if you had them.”
After the lecturer finished the six standards of mental health, the session entered the next phase, starting to appeal: “Social stability requires each of us to work together. Everyone here can become a good youth moving toward goodness!”
Although Xie Lin didn’t show it on his face—and even clapped very obligingly—after he finished clapping, he narrowed his eyes slightly and said, bored: “If I’d known it was this kind of stuff, I wouldn’t have come. Listening to this is not as good as going back and continuing to watch that TV show you acted in.”
“…”
Why was the TV show topic still not over?
But by now, Chi Qing had shaken off the shock of having his dark history exposed and realized something felt off. His screen time in that show was very late; he didn’t appear until around episode 10 or so. And as he said before, the script of this show was rotten to the core; it was impossible for a normal person to survive past three episodes without quitting.
So he looked into Xie Lin’s eyes and said: “A friend recommended such a terrible show to you, and you were able to watch ten-plus episodes? Were you that bored yesterday?”
Xie Lin: “…”
As Chi Qing looked at Xie Lin while speaking, he didn’t notice the person to his left suddenly stand up. That person probably wanted to leave early, but after standing up, they didn’t quite steady themselves. Seeing them about to tip over toward Chi Qing, the person tried to grab onto something to steady themselves, and the closest thing was Chi Qing’s shoulder.
“Careful.”
Xie Lin grabbed Chi Qing’s wrist and pulled him toward his side, sparing him from being touched. As for whether that person could stand steadily or if they would fall, that wasn’t in his consideration.
That person didn’t touch Chi Qing, so they reached for the back of the chair instead.
Chi Qing was being pulled by Xie Lin. In the movement, his index fingertip peeked out from his sleeve and touched Xie Lin’s hand. He didn’t wear gloves when he was by Xie Lin’s side anyway, and he couldn’t “read” Xie Lin, but today seemed different. Ever since he had become very strange, Xie Lin had also become strange.
Xie Lin’s fingertips lightly brushed past Chi Qing’s fingertip—
And Chi Qing heard a voice he had never heard before ringing in his ears. Even though it was distorted, it couldn’t hide the laid-back tone in the man’s voice. He spoke almost like he was flirting:
[I can’t exactly say I couldn’t sleep last night and really wanted to see you.]
[Wanted to see what you were like in the past, see the shows you acted in, the things you did… If that counts as being bored, then I guess I was quite bored.]
Chi Qing was stunned for a long time before he realized this sentence was answering the question he had just asked.
Chi Qing’s fingertips paused in mid-air.
This other voice belonging to Xie Lin was familiar yet strange.
It was a “Xie Lin” he had never heard before.
He suddenly remembered Dr. Wu once chatting with him about Xie Lin, saying that Xie Lin was someone with “access rights”—”If you compare everyone’s heart to something, he… he is like a door. No one can walk through that door.”
Chi Qing didn’t know why he could “read” someone who couldn’t be read.
The voice in his ear was different from all the other distorted voices. He didn’t feel repulsed, and there was no intense sense of unreality or feeling of intrusion; instead, it made it impossible to tell who had accidentally broken into whose world.
