"I was wrong... I was really wrong..."

"Spare me..."

"I'm begging you..."

"I hate them... I will absolutely, never forgive..."

"!"

A car horn outside shattered the heart-wrenching screams, and Zhuang Mingqi's fingertips, resting on his lap, twitched convulsively as he was abruptly pulled from a chaotic, jumbled dream. The car was already parked on the roadside. A cool breeze carrying a hint of rain wafted in through the half-open front window. Shen Zhengning was looking down, replying to a message on his phone.

"Awake?"

The small stir he made didn't escape Shen Zhengning's ears. The other man turned off his phone screen, turned his head to look at him, a hint of teasing in his smile that made one want to scratch something: "Falling asleep so casually in a stranger's car, where's your vigilance?"

Zhuang Mingqi was still a bit out of it, giving him a bewildered look. Shen Zhengning was struck speechless for two seconds by that dazed upward glance and said resentfully, "I don't know your address. Is it okay to drop you off here?"

Outside was the intersection where they had been running into each other every morning while walking their dogs. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, not enough to get wet even without an umbrella. Although Zhuang Mingqi had slept, he looked even more tired. With his eyes downcast, he said, "Thank you, I'll walk back myself." He pushed open the car door, hesitated for a moment, likely considering etiquette, and then asked, "Would you like to come in for a bit?"

The high degree of social polish in that sentence made Shen Zhengning glance at him sideways, but applying the formula without considering the context exposed the fact that it was purely a polite formality. Shen Zhengning let out a soft laugh, casually took off his black tie and tossed it aside. His tone of refusal had an understated tolerance: "No, thank you. I still have to get back to work."

Unlike Zhuang Mingqi, a human clothes hanger who could turn anything into a fashion statement, he rarely wore formal attire and wasn't used to wearing a tie, always finding it restrictive and awkward. Now, having unbuttoned the top button of his white shirt, he could finally breathe freely, and his attitude became more casual. "I said it from the start, it was just on the way. Don't be so formal. Go on back."

It would have been better if he hadn't said anything. His words reminded Zhuang Mingqi of more things. His hand, pushing the door, paused in mid-air. "And thank you for the little loaf of bread."

"You're welcome." Shen Zhengning enunciated these two words with exceptional clarity, smoothly continuing the conversation. "If you want to repay me, bring your big loaf of bread out for me to play with sometime."

Zhuang Mingqi: "There's no such thing as a 20-kilogram loaf of bread."

Shen Zhengning: "? Why are you suddenly getting so competitive about this?"

The feeling that flashed through his mind at that moment was 'I don't want this to end.'

The car's air freshener was a warm scent of cypress and vetiver, mixed with the sweet, cool smell of rain-soaked leaves blowing in from outside. The light inside the car was perfectly balanced, as stable as the owner of this domain, silently accommodating his inopportune sharpness, yet occasionally poking him with a harmless force, compelling him to temporarily break free from his gloomy haze and fight wits with the air.

He delayed making a move. Shen Zhengning, perhaps sensing he had more to say, patiently prompted, "Hmm?"

Zhuang Mingqi disliked socializing and was as laconic as possible when speaking to people. This feeling of 'unfinished business' made him want to grasp onto something. Not to mention, with his terrible sleep quality, falling asleep in Shen Zhengning's car was as rare as a hen's teeth. Thus, after weighing it over and over in his mind, he took the initiative. "Your contact information. Give it to me." After saying that, he added, like an AI, the polite phrase: "Will you?"

Shen Zhengning: "WeChat?"

Zhuang Mingqi clearly didn't register it, pausing for a moment. "What?"

Shen Zhengning gestured with his phone. "Didn't you want my contact information?"

"Oh, sorry." Realization dawned on him, and he pulled his phone from his pocket. "I forgot you guys are used to using WeChat."

Shen Zhengning again picked up on a word. "'You guys'?"

"That's not what I meant," Zhuang Mingqi said as he clumsily opened WeChat. "I was abroad before, so I haven't used WeChat, Alipay, and similar apps much..."

No wonder he couldn't get a cab at the funeral home. It seemed he hadn't fully adapted to the life system built on various domestic apps. Shen Zhengning added him on WeChat. His profile picture was indeed a fluffy white furball. Looking at the information he sent over: "So that's how you write 'Qi.' I thought it was a different character..."

He thought for a moment and stopped himself from finishing the sentence. Zhuang Mingqi, having finally achieved his goal, didn't notice the brief pause. As he opened the door and got out, he thanked him again. "You have a nice name. Thank you for today."

He stood on the street corner covered with fallen wutong leaves, watching Shen Zhengning drive away before turning to walk home.

Thanks to the developer's landscaping and streetscape, even a casual glance from Shen Zhengning before he left revealed a scene as beautiful as a magazine cover. The encounters between people are wonderfully unpredictable. Nothing today had gone according to his expectations; it was all improvisation. But looking at the results, it had turned out surprisingly well.

The entrance to the office building's underground garage faced an unopened road. Employees were used to parking their cars in the open space, and next to the road was a large, undeveloped wasteland. Shen Zhengning didn't usually drive to work, and since he was late today, he had to circle around a bit before finding an empty parking spot.

A certain indescribable intuition made him stop and turn back to look at the wild grass and trees shrouded in the rainy mist. Across this wasteland was the left bank of the Xinliu River. The corresponding location was probably only one or two hundred meters from the drainage pipe where Ye Tongsheng's body was found.

But what could this possibly mean? Shen Zhengning questioned himself internally. The police must have searched the left bank as well. Whether Ye Tongsheng jumped from the left bank or the right bank—what difference did it make?

He couldn't immediately figure out the reason for this intuition. He crossed the road and walked into the office building. His phone vibrated in his palm.

Zhuang Mingqi was a person full of contradictions and mysteries, like a tangled ball of yarn to him. While Shen Zhengning's curiosity was piqued, he was also subconsciously restraining it, lest his nature override his humanity and turn him into an unpleasant nuisance. So, he didn't start chatting with Zhuang Mingqi immediately after adding him on WeChat. Instead, the other party sent a photo first—a snow-white Samoyed was digging a hole in the damp fallen leaves, its tail wagging so happily it became a blur.

Having a dog means you have to go out for walks, rain or shine. Zhuang Mingqi didn't say a word, but his grievance was palpable.

Shen Zhengning replied as he clocked in: Very cute.

Zhuang Mingqi replied: You wouldn't say that if you got a handful of mud.

Shen Zhengning couldn't help but smile. That fleeting, stunning smile made everyone in the elevator sneak a few more glances at him in the mirror. When the elevator stopped on the third floor, he walked towards the company's office area. As he passed the public break room, he heard hushed voices from inside: "There are so many people in black suits in the building today. Did a debt collection agency show up?"

"An employee from Juquan committed suicide. Today's the funeral, I think."

"Huh? How old? Why did they commit suicide?"

"I don't know. Maybe the work pressure was too much, or they had mental health issues."

"Gossip, from a buddy of mine. That guy apparently stole company user data. Now that the matter has blown up and they have something on him, he killed himself out of fear of punishment."

"Whoa, that's like something out of a TV drama. So crazy."

Shen Zhengning was suddenly taken aback. The flash of inspiration that had appeared like a spark in the night finally had a tangible beginning. He walked quickly to his desk and, in the brief moment while his computer was starting up, he rapidly sorted out his thoughts.

Ye Tongsheng's cause of death, under the descriptions of two different groups of witnesses, had developed into two different lines of reasoning—one was the suicide due to depression, which the police believed and Ye Tongsheng's family corroborated; the other was the suicide out of fear of punishment after a data leak, for which there was no solid evidence and the main culprit had not been identified, but in the rumors, Ye Tongsheng had already taken the fall.

The logic of the former wasn't perfect. Shen Zhengning had discussed its awkward points with Yuan Hang. That "I'm sorry" social media post made more sense in the context of the latter. But if that were the case, he would have to question Ye Tongsheng's character—although Shen Zhengning didn't fancy himself a champion of justice, he didn't want to waste his brain cells pursuing an answer that might be a thankless effort.

The question was, who could pat their chest and guarantee that Ye Tongsheng was absolutely not someone who would betray his profession and sell out his conscience?

His phone and computer lit up at the same time. Shen Zhengning looked down to unlock his phone, the screen still on his chat with Zhuang Mingqi.

To prove his point, Zhuang Mingqi sent a new photo. The snow-white Samoyed had a bright yellow leaf on its nose. Due to the high humidity, its fur wasn't as fluffy as usual, and its two front paws were covered in mud, yet it still flashed a smile brighter than a sunny day at the camera.

Shen Zhengning suddenly thought of a question he had overlooked: Did Zhuang Mingqi have Ye Tongsheng's WeChat?

Based on his understanding of Ye Tongsheng's past, how would he view Ye Tongsheng's final social media post?

His gaze lingered for a moment on the hand in the photo that was cupping the Samoyed's head. Previously, due to his sleeve and watch, he hadn't noticed Zhuang Mingqi's wrist. At this moment, because of the movement, the loose, soft sweatshirt cuff had slid down a little, revealing the inside of his wrist, which rarely saw the light of day. On the pale skin, where the bones and tendons protruded, lay a faint scar, light at the ends and darker in the middle.

He thought for a moment, then replied: I regret it. I shouldn't have come to work. I should have stayed to play with the dog.