All along the way, Huo Ranyin had imagined many scenarios of how his reunion with Ji Xun would play out. Yet, when he finally stood outside the hotel room door and saw the real Ji Xun standing before him, he realized the man was far more… scruffy than he had anticipated.
“You made it.”
Ji Xun tried to keep his voice sharp, but an unruly exhaustion slipped through the cracks of his words anyway. Realizing this quickly, he didn’t even bother to hide it. He leaned slumped against the doorframe like a machine with rusted joints, looking as if he might topple over at any second. “How long can you stay?”
“Hard to say. Depends on the situation,” Huo Ranyin replied, lacking much sincerity. But being a detective had its advantages; when you wanted to lie, you didn’t even need to work hard to cover your tracks. A simple “regulations say I can’t talk about it” was enough to brush things off. He looked at Ji Xun’s dry, bloodshot eyes. “Haven’t been sleeping well lately?”
“Old habit.”
“Wasn’t it getting better before?”
“Any deep-seated illness always has to act up three or four times before it can be completely cured.”
“It’s because you started investigating your family’s case again, isn’t it?” Huo Ranyin said. He walked into the room, his gaze seemingly casual, yet he very swiftly swept across every corner of the space.
Where would the cameras be? he wondered, before secretly laughing at himself. If this room really had hidden cameras, Ji Xun would have found them the moment he moved in.
That split-second consideration was nothing more than a subconscious anxiety about what he was about to do.
Those who are about to do something bad are always worried about leaving behind evidence.
Huo Ranyin shifted his gaze from the room’s perimeter to the desk. On it sat a laptop with a dark screen, and beside it lay a phone, its screen equally black.
Then, he noticed a freestanding blackboard that clearly didn’t belong to the hotel. Simple clues were scribbled across it, along with a black-and-white photograph that had been torn in half and taped back together.
It was Huo Qiying.
She was different from his mother, Huo Ranyin thought. Searching his memory, his mother was distant, aloof, and even cold; whereas the woman in the photo exuded a fragile sense of being on the verge of tears. Whichever it was, the impression they gave was fixed.
They were women whose depths could be easily fathomed.
Many men and women in this world could be seen through at a single glance.
But Huo Qiying was different.
The crease running right through her face didn’t detract from her beauty in the slightest. In fact, that line made her features less defined, casting an almost mystical veil over her.
Glamorous, elegant, playful, vibrant.
An infinite number of beautiful traits were concentrated in that small photograph, hidden behind a thin veil, occasionally revealing just a hint—enough to shock those in the present across years taller than mountains and deeper than oceans.
Huo Ranyin stared at Huo Qiying for a moment before turning his gaze back to Ji Xun, who was slowly making a cup of instant coffee at the desk. His brow furrowed slightly. “You’re sleep-deprived and still ingesting caffeine? Do you have a death wish?”
“Things have to get done,” Ji Xun said, turning his back to Huo Ranyin and gesturing the size of a fingernail with his hand. “Don’t worry about this minor issue of mine. I’m still young; I can afford to be reckless.”
“The person who handed me wolfberry water before didn’t sound like you,” Huo Ranyin said with a faint, ironic smile.
“That’s called being strict with others and lenient with oneself.”
Ji Xun suddenly spun around and planted a kiss on Huo Ranyin’s lips.
Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, or the gentle touch of morning dew, it was gone in an instant. Yet, the strange, gathering fragrance lingered softly around his lips and teeth for a long time.
A short, beautiful poem written in scent.
Huo Ranyin was entranced for a second, then realized the fragrance wasn’t an illusion. At some point, a half-bloomed red rose, still beaded with mist, had been tucked into the breast pocket of his black leather jacket.
He looked up and met Ji Xun’s smiling face.
“Where did this come from?”
“The flower shop downstairs,” Ji Xun said. “I originally wanted to do something more romantic, but you’re here on official business, and so am I. Stealing a moment from our busy schedules to meet up is justifiable, but if we actually took the opportunity to do something too private, it wouldn’t feel quite right.”
“So,” Ji Xun reached out, tapping the rose, then tapping Huo Ranyin’s lips, “this is just right.”
“…Yeah.”
For a split second, Huo Ranyin genuinely sank into the bed of flowers Ji Xun had woven for him.
Unfortunately, deceitful thoughts were like sharp blades, effortlessly slicing through the soft petals.
When Ji Xun turned back to grab his coffee cup, Huo Ranyin took it right out of his hand. “Don’t think doing all this will make me forget your dark circles.”
“They’re cute.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Wait—”
“Take a shower before bed,” Huo Ranyin said, sniffing near Ji Xun’s collarbone with a frown.
“Hey!”
Ji Xun protested, but his protests were futile. He was pushed into the bathroom by Huo Ranyin, and soon, the sound of running water echoed from within.
Huo Ranyin poured the entire cup of coffee down the sink. His eyes, however, didn’t watch the drain; they swept lightly across half the room, landing squarely on the mobile phone still sitting on the desk.
“You should know,” Ji Xun said as he emerged from the bathroom, radiating warm steam as he slid under the covers, “taking a shower before bed is actually bad for sleep.”
Was my behavior just now too urgent? Did it arouse Ji Xun’s suspicion?
Huo Ranyin maintained his composure and asked in return, “Can you sleep anyway?”
“Hmm…”
“Hot water helps you relax.”
“True.”
“Lie in bed and get some good rest.”
“It’s rare for you to have the chance to come over. Isn’t it a waste to just watch me sleep?”
“It’s rare for me to have the chance to come over and supervise your health and longevity. Thinking about it that way, the trip wasn’t a waste.”
Ji Xun raised his hands in surrender, obediently closing his eyes, though he didn’t forget to instruct, “Put my phone on the nightstand for me, would you? And since when did you start charging my phone for me?”
“…”
A phone installed with listening software drained battery quickly.
If Ji Xun remembered his previous battery percentage and saw a drastically different number upon turning on his screen, the cover would be blown immediately. Out of necessity, Huo Ranyin had plugged Ji Xun’s phone into a charger.
The question made Huo Ranyin slightly uncomfortable, but he had anticipated it, so his answer sounded entirely casual: “It was convenient. My phone is charging too.”
“Mhm…”
Ji Xun’s gaze shifted over—first to his own phone, then to Huo Ranyin’s face.
At that moment, his stare felt barbed and prickly, sweeping over Huo Ranyin in a way that made his body unconsciously tense up. “What? Got an opinion?”
“What opinion could I have? How considerate,” Ji Xun laughed. “Thanks.”
“…” Huo Ranyin swiped absentmindedly at his phone screen.
Perhaps what was barbed and prickly wasn’t Ji Xun’s gaze, but his own conscience. He stood up, moved Ji Xun’s phone from the distant desk to the nightstand, and didn’t forget to keep the charging cable plugged in.
Whenever a cable is plugged in or unplugged, a phone screen lights up for a second. To prevent Ji Xun, who was lying in bed, from seeing it, Huo Ranyin deliberately placed the phone face down.
During this time, his attention was entirely focused on the device. It wasn’t until he suddenly felt a strand of hair move near his ear that he abruptly realized something was wrong. With lightning speed, he reached out and clamped his hand around Ji Xun’s wrist.
He turned his head abruptly to look at Ji Xun.
There was no smile on Ji Xun’s face.
That familiar, unsmiling face transformed into a sharp knife, plunging straight into Huo Ranyin’s chest.
Was the earpiece hidden in my ear discovered?
The atmosphere froze instantly.
That was until Ji Xun shook his wrist and teased, “What’s wrong? The police inspector hasn’t switched out of work mode yet? You took me for a little thief trying to ambush you?”
“…You suddenly reached into my blind spot. Of course it triggered my instincts,” Huo Ranyin said, releasing his grip. “Did I hurt you?”
“If I were a woman, that concern would be justified,” Ji Xun chuckled. “We’re both men; our physical strength isn’t that different. We haven’t seen each other in just a few days—why are you so tense?”
“We haven’t seen each other in just a few days, yet you’ve become even more of a slacker,” Huo Ranyin retorted.
Between couples, there was no winning arguments like this.
Sure enough, Ji Xun didn’t push it further, merely saying, “I just wanted to fix your hair for you. It’s rare to see you wear your hair down.”
“I’ve come to like wearing it down,” Huo Ranyin said. “It’s just that I have too much official business.”
“Makes me miss the time we spent together at the bar,” Ji Xun sighed deeply.
“Go to sleep,” Huo Ranyin reiterated.
“Will we go to a bar when I wake up?” Ji Xun asked expectantly.
“If neither of us is busy tonight,” Huo Ranyin answered ambiguously.
Ji Xun finally closed his eyes to rest.
Huo Ranyin lightly placed his own phone face down on the desk as well.
He began to calculate exactly how long he could stay by Ji Xun’s side.
Today was fine, and tomorrow he could stay for half a day at most; otherwise, Ji Xun would definitely grow suspicious.
Although leaving Ji Xun wouldn’t prevent him from monitoring his communications, if Ji Xun made contact with Meng Fushan, the tech team would still need time to trace the signal location from the wiretap. When that call took place, it would be best if he were right next to Ji Xun to stall for time…
It would be difficult, but not entirely impossible.
If they didn’t make contact while he was here, he would just have to find a way to convince Ji Xun to return to Ning City with him.
Suddenly, a phone rang.
Huo Ranyin’s heart leaped, his eyes darting toward the nightstand like lightning.
But the phone resting there was completely silent, lying motionless as if dead.
Only then did Huo Ranyin belatedly realize that it wasn’t Ji Xun’s phone that had rung—it was his own.
He glanced down. Bureau Chief Zhou was calling.
Having no desire to personally pop the lid off a volcano, Huo Ranyin simply hit the mute button and pretended nothing was happening.
“Who is it?” Ji Xun asked sleepily.
“Unrecognized number,” Huo Ranyin said. “Probably a spam call.”
“Rampant,” Ji Xun hummed with his eyes closed. “We should run a sting operation later and arrest them all.”
“Stop worrying about everything and just get your sleep.”
That advice fell on deaf ears. Not long after Huo Ranyin muted his phone, a phone rang again. This time, it wasn’t his—it was Ji Xun’s. Huo Ranyin stared at the buzzing phone on the nightstand and didn’t move.
Ji Xun dawdled for a while without opening his eyes, eventually just answering, “Hello?”
There was no second sentence; Ji Xun hung up immediately and said to Huo Ranyin, “Real estate telemarketing.”
Huo Ranyin shrugged to show he understood.
“Mute it.”
“No way, what if there’s an important call?”
That statement turned out to be a classic jinx. For the next two hours, both phones remained quiet, not making a single sound. It wasn’t until close to noon that Ji Xun’s phone rang again.
It was another sales call.
Once is a chance, twice is a coincidence, but by the third time, it felt like crying wolf.
Huo Ranyin realized he was being far too tense, which wasn’t a good sign.
He tried his best to relax, continuing to work remotely.
Under his forced shift in attention, time seemed to slip away. Throughout the afternoon, both his phone and Ji Xun’s rang several times.
The seventh call of the day rang at dinnertime.
Half an hour earlier, Ji Xun had just ordered takeout. He answered casually, saying, “Takeout?”
“Ji Xun.”
The voice that came through Ji Xun’s phone sounded simultaneously inside the hidden surveillance earpiece in Huo Ranyin’s ear.
The hand Huo Ranyin used to hold his own phone abruptly tightened.
Meng Fushan.
