LUO WENZHOU COULDN’T POSSIBLY keep Tao Ran at the bureau forever. The outcome of their day’s work had already shown clearly that there really wasn’t much overtime for them to do. Waiting by the gate, Fei Du folded his ticket into a little boat. With the AC on, he leaned back comfortably in his seat and played a single English song on repeat, enjoying the pleasant fragrance of his car. The song was playing for the eighth time when Tao Ran finally came out.
Tao Ran wasn’t the particular type. He had slung his old briefcase over one shoulder, his hair in disarray, his shoes now unpolished for several days, and the bandage on his chin accentuating the harried fatigue on his face. He walked up to the SUV and knocked on Fei Du’s window. “You still haven’t moved, Your Majesty?”
Fei Du rolled the window down. The looped melody of “You Raise Me Up” eagerly unfurled and escaped from the opening, fluttering out into the night and dissipating. When Tao Ran heard that, his expression changed. Before he could say anything, though, Fei Du indifferently shut the music off.
“Someone posted a video of you guys stopping a fight. I saw it and got worried about you, so I came.” Fei Du pointed at the bandage on Tao Ran’s chin. “Are you okay?”
Tao Ran chuckled bitterly. Handling ten brawls would be less stressful than getting caught between Luo Wenzhou and Fei Du.
It took only a single glance for Fei Du to discern what Tao Ran wanted to say. “Fine, fine. I’ll avoid your menopausal colleague next time, okay?” He reached out and took Tao Ran’s bag. “Do you want to drive or ride shotgun?”
“Excuse you. My ‘menopausal colleague’ was in the same year as me at school. You’ll be old one day too, you know.” Tao Ran opened the door, let Fei Du out, and then slipped into the driver’s seat. “Why’d you change cars again? Couldn’t wait to squander more of your fortune?”
“You complained that my other cars were too flashy, didn’t you?” Fei Du walked over to the passenger’s side, unconcerned. “So I bought another. This one’s cheap and steady. If you like it, you can have it.”
Tao Ran fastened his seatbelt, not bothering to answer. He assumed this was just bullshit.
“Let me buy you dinner, Tao Ran,” Fei Du said, all smiles.
“I’m full from the sight of you.” Tao Ran pressed a hand to Fei Du’s head. “And who are you calling Tao Ran? Don’t think you can forget your manners with me.”
“I—” Fei Du was about to reply when his tone shifted wildly. “What the hell is this?!”
Officer Tao Ran happened to have plain tastes, and his satchel might well have been produced during the Qing dynasty; it was ancient and poorly maintained. The moody zipper might choose to open by itself at any time. Fei Du hadn’t noticed that when he took the old bag, nor had he checked its orientation, and he accidentally held it with the opening underneath. A folder had slipped out, spilling several crime-scene photos into his lap. The face of the deceased looked particularly pale and ghoulish in the dull light.
Fei Du gasped. If he hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt, he might’ve shot right out of his seat. “Is this a photo of a dead guy? Why does he look so awful?”
“That’s an important file. Don’t touch those—put them back. It’s all the fault of you two idiots. Your fighting gave me such a headache that I forgot that was in the bag. Bringing it out of the bureau is against the rules.”
Neck stiff, Fei Du staunchly refused to look down at the dead man on his lap. “I c-can’t put them back. I’m hematophobic.”
“There’s no blood.” Tao Ran sighed, sounding tired. “You’re not even afraid of our resident bogeyman Luo Wenzhou, who scares ghosts, but you’re afraid of a dead man?”
One hand covering his own eyes, Fei Du blindly shoved the photos and documents back into their folder. He peeked hesitantly: There was indeed no blood. Finally letting out a slight sigh of relief, he hurriedly reorganized the disheveled materials. The Herculean task quieted him for five minutes.
Suddenly, he asked, “Was it a homicide?”
Tao Ran hummed noncommittally, not wanting to go into details. “Maybe. We’re still investigating.”
Quick on the uptake, Fei Du stopped asking. He clipped the tidied documents back together in the folder, then adjusted the broken zipper in the faint light and said absently, “Poor thing.”
“Hm?”
Fei Du didn’t even look up. “Nervous and excited to meet someone, only for that person to think he’s better dead.”