When Shen Zhengning walked into the hot pot restaurant, Yuan Hang was sitting at the table, cracking melon seeds. His eyes were downcast, and he looked a bit sullen.

Actually, Shen Zhengning had arrived a few minutes earlier than the agreed-upon time, but Yuan Hang had a habit of always arriving at least ten minutes early to scout out any meeting place. This admirable quality was rare nowadays and was one of the reasons Shen Zhengning was willing to brave immense pressure to come out for this meeting.

The person and the dog at home were like two sticky mouse traps, clinging firmly to his heels. Actually, the dog was fine; it just circled his legs coquettishly, reluctant to see him go, before he left. The truly difficult one was the person. Zhuang Mingqi had instinctively learned the five-hit combo of "Where are you going? Who are you going with? Man or woman? When will you be back? Will you still love me when you get back?" His posture suggested that if Shen Zhengning dared to say a single "no," he would turn into sea foam on the spot, without even waiting for the next day's dawn.

When Yuan Hang saw him arrive, he forced the sullen wrinkles on his face to smooth out, poured him a glass of lemonade, and smiled at him apologetically. "This was a bit sudden, sorry. Did I mess up your plans? I think I heard someone scoffing in the background."

"You knew, yet you still ask." Shen Zhengning took off his overcoat and draped it over the back of his chair. He recalled the gloomy, precarious atmosphere at home before he left—anyone who didn't know better would have thought he was moving to Mars, never to return to Earth. He couldn't help but let out a long sigh. "The hot pot was already set up, but then you called. Now he's left at home with only the dog to eat with him. You tell me, how could he not scoff? It's a blessing he didn't cry."

Yuan Hang choked on a mouthful of water. "Cough... No, I mean, if it's like that, why didn't you just bring him along? It's not like we don't know each other. It's just a matter of an extra pair of chopsticks. Would I really complain?"

"I'm not worried about you complaining, I'm worried about him complaining about you. His illness hasn't fully cleared up yet. If we sat here eating hot pot and made him watch from the side, believe it or not, he'd turn right around and report you to the Discipline Inspection Commission for abusing a patient." Shen Zhengning said this with the particular tone of patience unique to pet owners. "Besides, because of Ye Tongsheng's case, he has a somewhat favorable impression of you, so he's only showing his dissatisfaction but won't hold a grudge."

However, "not holding a grudge" didn't mean he was safe. Shen Zhengning was half to blame for this. Ever since he'd failed to resist Zhuang Mingqi's pestering and let slip his and Yuan Hang's high school history, Yuan Hang had honorably topped one of Zhuang Mingqi's lists. What kind of list it was remained unknown, but it would definitely trigger the glass-hearted man's alarm, like a cat suddenly seeing a cucumber.

"...I'm truly grateful." Yuan Hang reluctantly accepted his good intentions and asked with genuine concern, "How did he get sick? Is he okay?"

Speaking of which, Shen Zhengning wanted to sigh again—in recent years, there had been very few tricky things in his daily life. Overall, his days had been quite smooth. But ever since meeting the living ancestor that was Zhuang Mingqi, he finally understood what "walking human game of Minesweeper (hell mode)" meant.

The night they came back from the Public Security Bureau, Zhuang Mingqi had been acting completely normal. Although his spirits weren't high, they were at least stable. Who would have known that the aftershocks of the day's emotional turmoil would only be fully released late at night? Zhuang Mingqi suffered from insomnia in the first half of the night and stomach cramps in the second. The sound of his vomiting alerted Shen Zhengning next door, who then rescued the collapsed man from the bathroom.

After a restless night that lasted until dawn, Zhuang Mingqi's stomach pain had finally eased a little when he suddenly started running a fever without any warning. Shen Zhengning immediately ordered an infrared thermometer and easily measured a "good score" of 39 degrees. This number finally made Shen Zhengning make up his mind. He couldn't let this drag on any longer. He immediately went through various contacts to get in touch with a private hospital and requested a doctor and nurse to make a house call.

Fortunately, he acted decisively, and fortunately, Zhuang Mingqi was delirious with fever. Aside from a small incident when the needle went in, the IV drip process went quite smoothly. By the time the two bags of medicine were finished, Zhuang Mingqi's temperature had mostly returned to a low-grade fever.

After the most dangerous landmines had all gone off, the cold symptoms arrived belatedly. It was a good thing Shen Zhengning had followed Yuan Hang's advice to take a few days off and stay home; otherwise, after this bout of illness, it would be questionable whether Zhuang Mingqi's remaining HP would be higher than his body temperature. Originally, Shen Zhengning had seen that he was recovering well and planned to declare his mission accomplished and move back home on a suitable day. But now, he'd been snared in a chain of incidents, and there was no letting go anytime soon.

He brushed past the days of anxiety and frustration, saying concisely, "It's nothing, just a common flu. His constitution is just too weak, so he needs a few more days to recover."

Yuan Hang tried to find a clue in his calm, unwavering expression. After the waiter served the food and left, he asked in a conspiratorial whisper, "Let me state first, I'm not trying to gossip. I just see that you two are quite close and wanted to ask what your thoughts are... Is this Zhuang Mingqi guy reliable? From what I can gather between the lines, he had some connection with Ye Tongsheng. Are you investigating this case for him?"

"Quite close" was a polite and tactful way of putting it. Shen Zhengning wasn't some naive elementary school student; of course, he was well aware that his current relationship with Zhuang Mingqi had already surpassed the intimacy appropriate for friendship and was probing the edge of a certain subtle boundary.

But could they truly reach it?

In their daily life, Shen Zhengning was very careful to maintain a proper distance. Aside from being a bit inconvenient, he didn't think that "being unable to touch" was such a serious issue. He had even once jokingly threatened Zhuang Mingqi, saying that he didn't need to hit him to get him under control—all he had to do was touch him.

Until the day Zhuang Mingqi had a fever. He was already semi-conscious, but the second the IV needle went in, he woke with a start as if electrocuted and violently threw his hand to break free from the IV tube.

The needle scratched his skin, and a string of scarlet blood spots spread across the duvet. At that moment, no one had time to worry about trauma responses. Shen Zhengning quickly reached out to block him from rolling over to hide, doing his best to soothe him and tell him not to be afraid. However, before the nurse could replace the IV tube, Zhuang Mingqi suddenly began to gasp for breath, like a dying person squeezing out their last bit of strength, and collapsed over the side of the bed, vomiting violently.

His stomach was already empty; he couldn't bring anything up except a little stomach acid, yet he still couldn't control the continuous retching. It was as if he were trying to wring out and empty his internal organs, so brutal that it made one wonder if he had already thrown up all his blood.

Everyone was startled by this sudden turn of events. Seeing that he could barely breathe, the doctor and nurse rushed forward to help him regulate his breathing. Shen Zhengning took half a step back and stood at the foot of the bed. He saw Zhuang Mingqi struggle to open his eyes and, through trembling eyelashes and a misty vision blurred with tears, gaze at him from afar.

Amidst the long, torturous pain and weakness, that single glance was the biggest movement he could manage. And because he had no extra strength for concealment, the pain and loss in his eyes were completely exposed.

Shen Zhengning didn't know what his own expression was at that moment, but he didn't need to guess to know it couldn't have been a pleasant one.

Because it was only at that moment that he had a sudden realization. He, a pragmatic and realistic person who prided himself on being rational, had also been harboring unrealistic expectations, hoping for the kind of romantic plot found only in works of literature—that perhaps he was the special one among millions, the red bean that belonged to Zhuang Mingqi.

But life is not a novel. Miracles didn't happen. A physiological stress response treats everyone equally and does not bend to one's will.

Things like crushes and affections all had to take a backseat. The most fundamental problem now was that so-called "Platonic love" is only about transcending the physical to pursue spiritual resonance, not abandoning the physical altogether. Zhuang Mingqi's situation was more like Lady Jin Sheng from Journey to the West, who was abducted by the Demon King Sai Tai Sui—he couldn't be touched at all*. Moreover, this "five-colored celestial garment" was double-sided; it hurt the wearer just as much as it pricked others.

*T/N: Unknown to Demon King Sai Tai Sui before he kidnapped Lady Jin Sheng, a protective shield was cast on Lady Sai Tai Sui by the Immortal Ziyang, causing anyone who touches her to feel like being pricked by thorns.

Passion born from a moment of hot-headedness can sustain you for ten days or half a month on love alone. It might even last for a year or two. But how many years of erosion can a human heart withstand?

After that day, the two of them tacitly avoided mentioning that glance, but Shen Zhengning had to be on his guard: overly intense emotions were no different from morphine for Zhuang Mingqi. It gave him a brief period of peace and tranquility before dragging him completely into the abyss of unrequited longing.

If you're not prepared to bear the consequences and are still banking on the fluke of being able to withdraw at any time, then don't make promises lightly.

Shen Zhengning was silent for a rather long time, so long that Yuan Hang's heart began to rise with anxiety again. Just as he was about to say something to smooth things over, he heard him say coldly, "Our current relationship is in jeopardy just so I could meet you, and it turns out you only asked me here to ask if our relationship is good? If you have this much free time, you'd be better off directing traffic. Stop making things worse for me, okay?"

Yuan Hang: "..."

Yuan Hang: "You're getting flustered."

Shen Zhengning really wasn't in the mood to discuss his own love life with him. He lowered his eyes, took a sip of tea, and tried to quickly change the subject. "Nothing's even started to take shape yet, so it's useless for anyone to get worked up. Do you have actual business to discuss or not? Spit it out."

Yuan Hang narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

He was, after all, someone who had started dating early in high school and was quite experienced with matters of the heart. Although he had only met Zhuang Mingqi once, he could generally tell that he didn't like talking to strangers and was always accustomed to standing a step away to prevent others from getting close. Because his coldness was so obvious, when he took the initiative to approach someone, his intentions were plain to see. Shen Zhengning, on the other hand, was his exact opposite. He was skilled at being subtly and tactfully considerate of others' feelings, maintaining a friendly but not-too-close, not-too-distant relationship with everyone.

Who he was nice to didn't mean anything; things that could be seen through at a glance weren't puzzles. Instead, the things he intentionally or unintentionally avoided talking about, the things that made him ponder over and over without being able to figure them out—those were the truly important issues.

—Of course, it could also be his Achilles' heel, his fatal flaw, the bane of his existence.

But seeing that Shen Zhengning seemed to have had an epiphany yet also not fully grasped it, he was afraid of interfering without cause and ruining a good thing. After all, personal experience doesn't necessarily apply to others' situations. So, he followed Shen Zhengning's lead and changed the topic. "I guess it's business... Actually, I feel like I'm a bit stuck right now, like I've hit a bottleneck."

When it came to someone else's business, Shen Zhengning became as calm and steady as an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor. "Let's hear it."

He was the one who had discovered the key evidence, so he had a clear understanding of the case. Yuan Hang didn't need to bother hiding or explaining anything. He recounted the events of that day and what the two captains had said, then rested his chin on his chopsticks and sighed. "The interrogation results weren't ideal. I don't think my superiors are too happy with me either. They think I was led astray by the witness's testimony. But the problem is, I genuinely believe there's still more to dig into in Ye Tongsheng's case. Gao Qihui, at the very least, wasn't telling the whole truth..."

"My god, you really are something..." Shen Zhengning didn't know what to say to him. "Your superiors told you not to be influenced by people outside the case, and you turn right around and come ask me. Are you afraid you won't piss them off enough?"

Yuan Hang felt wronged too. "I went back and reflected on it for half the night, but I still couldn't figure it out. My wife said, if your teacher tells you not to copy the answer key, do you really not copy it? I thought about it and she's right, so here I am, asking the top student for help."

'Such a bad student, and so self-righteously so,' Shen Zhengning thought. He picked up a piece of shrimp paste, placed it in his bowl to cool, and stared at the bubbling water in the pot for a moment, pondering. Then he said unhurriedly, "I actually think your superiors are right, and your feeling about the case isn't wrong either. The problem is with the interrogation step. You made your move too early."

Yuan Hang blinked his big, vacant eyes, a look of utter cluelessness on his face. "Huh?"

Shen Zhengning asked, "Let me put it this way: in this case, what's the biggest difference between you and me?"

"You're probably not trying to say you're smarter... are you?" Yuan Hang thought hard for a moment, then answered hesitantly, "The biggest difference between us is, uh, I'm a police officer, and you're a witness?"

"Correct." Shen Zhengning put down his chopsticks and propped his chin on his hand. "To be precise, I am a friend of the victim, so I'm allowed to be unreasonable. I can proceed entirely from personal feelings, citing everything from Ye Tongsheng's star sign to his MBTI type, finding all sorts of reasons to prove he wasn't the kind of person who would commit suicide."

"But you're a police officer. You can't close a case based on 'feelings' alone. Your job is to produce irrefutable evidence and nail the killer to the chain of evidence."

"You suspect Gao Qihui is the killer, but do you have evidence that he met with Ye Tongsheng that night? Bluffing for a confession is a last-ditch resort, something you do when all else fails. You only have the WeChat chat history, and he was the one who deleted that record himself. Under these circumstances, couldn't he guess that you had this evidence? By doing that, not only did you fail to bluff a new confession out of him, but you also gave him an opportunity to fabricate stories and clear his own name."

Yuan Hang opened his mouth, a mixture of confusion, regret, and sudden understanding weaving together inside him. He didn't know what to say, so he just pulled out a tissue and wiped his face.

Shen Zhengning glanced at him and added, "Your superiors aren't dismissing your ideas. They're reminding you not to be influenced by the subjective assumptions of me, the victim's friend, and start making wild guesses yourself. In criminal investigation, evidence is king. To solve a case, you have to solidify the evidence. All other things like deductive reasoning are just auxiliary tools—the so-called 'to forge iron, one must first be strong' should mean this."

Yuan Hang murmured, "If you came to our team, our superiors would treat you like their own son."

"I'll politely decline on my dad's behalf." Shen Zhengning picked up his chopsticks again and said casually, "Besides, I can see your superiors think highly of you. Don't be intimidated by 'the kid from next door'. It might sound a bit strange for a friend of the victim to say this, but this case could be your chance to prove yourself."

After speaking, he looked at the hot pot and sighed. "This case involves too many things. It's like a snowball rolling bigger and bigger. People are surfacing one after another, while the victim sinks to the very bottom."

"Wait, let me interrupt," Yuan Hang asked humbly and devoutly, "Master Detective, how did you arrive at the conclusion that 'my superiors think highly of me'?"

Shen Zhengning picked up and put down the piece of shrimp paste, unable to get it into his mouth for the longest time. A small vein finally popped on his temple. His gaze, as cold as tap water in winter, swept chillingly across Yuan Hang's eagerly awaiting face. "Why would a simple information leak case be important enough to have both your captain and deputy captain sit in on the interrogation?"

"Because the new evidence tangled two cases together, and new suspicious points emerged in Ye Tongsheng's case. And although you took the bait every time, tried to steal a chicken only to lose the rice, and didn't get any useful information out of Gao Qihui's mouth, your overall judgment of the general direction wasn't wrong. That's why your superiors are giving you pointers while letting you continue to lead the case. Understand?"