Anxiety, Don't Be Anxious

"..."

The hot water in the pot bubbled and rolled nonstop. The slightly puffed-up dumpling wrappers gradually became translucent, faintly revealing a hint of the fresh green of zucchini. Vast white steam swirled above the stove, spreading a mild fragrance and a heat as hard to ignore as the gaze coming from his side.

If this scene were drawn as a manga, Shen Zhengning would only need to turn his head to painlessly acquire two half-cooked, runny sunnyside-up eggs.

"Alright, alright, can you stop standing there like a faucet, Young Master?" Shen Zhengning forced himself to meet Zhuang Mingqi's tearful gaze, thinking to himself that this species of person, who usually couldn't be bothered to look at people straight-on, was also afflicted with severe separation anxiety. It was as absurd as a cobra needing to wear glasses. "Go get two plates. Let's eat properly first. Being down affects digestion."

Zhuang Mingqi was like a flower that had been plucked from its stem; even his strands of hair drooped listlessly. As he took plates, bowls, and chopsticks from the sterilizer cabinet, he put on an immersive performance of a tragic drama: "After we finish eating, does it mean I have to leave you..."

His shockingly brilliant acting earned a perfect ten from the judge—Shen Zhengning was perfectly speechless. "You're just going to Shanghai City for a business trip. Don't make it sound like you're heading north to Siberia to dig for potatoes. Besides, a week isn't that long. It'll pass quickly once you're busy."

"I know." Zhuang Mingqi melancholically carried the steaming hot dumplings. Paired with his misty eyes, his expression was a perfect fit for either "the past flows in your eyes" or "Tears Behind Iron Bars." "But I don't want to... be separated from you... and Silver."

Silver was currently burying its head and munching away on a special, unseasoned version of doggy dumplings. It froze for a moment upon hearing its name, perked up its ears, and raised its head. After waiting for a bit with no follow-up, it realized it was just an afterthought and ruthlessly went back to burying its head in the bowl to eat, leaving only its furry butt facing him.

Ever since the phone call the day before yesterday, where Zhuang Mingqi confirmed he would attend the annual Tavernier jewelry gala in Shanghai City, his separation anxiety had flared up prematurely. He began anxiously packing his bags while anxiously saying his reluctant goodbyes to Shen Zhengning, making a ton of unreasonable demands like, "Keep living here, don't move back," "Call me every night," "Can you send selfies?" "Then pictures of Silver are okay too," "But you have to be in the shot!" His whole demeanor suggested that the moment he stepped out the door, Shen Zhengning would grab Silver with his left hand, the safe with his right, wrap them up in a bundle, and run off with all his worldly possessions.

Shen Zhengning's responses had gone from "Okay," "Fine," and "I'll think about it" at the beginning to "Mmm-hmm-hmm" later on. It wasn't entirely because he'd been mentally numbed by the pest. Through silent and meticulous observation, he discovered that although Zhuang Mingqi was acting like a clingy homebody, a completely different style from his decisive actions when he went to Xingcheng, he had never once said things like "I don't want to go" or "Maybe I should just cancel it."

He was still serious about and passionate about his career. Furthermore, the nature of his industry required him to frequently appear at various shows and exhibitions. There was no way he'd suddenly become unable to go on business trips just because he'd returned to the country. Shen Zhengning concluded that this guy was purely acting up for an audience. Having successfully played the victim, he was now seizing the opportunity to act cute and show his belly.

There was probably also an element of testing the limits of Shen Zhengning's tolerance in this, though it was unclear whether it was Zhuang Mingqi's deliberate planning or just his nature.

Shen Zhengning had told him before to cherish his own feelings. Therefore, he had always maintained an exceptionally tolerant attitude toward all of Zhuang Mingqi's attempts to "take a step forward"—whether they were physical or psychological. In truth, back then, he had only a vague concept of what he was building, acting mostly on intuition. Now, looking at the finished product, it turned out to be a cat's nest—neither grand nor magnificent, with no other use besides being suitable for rolling around in.

He casually wiped the stove and the countertop clean. After washing his hands, he sat down next to Zhuang Mingqi. Zhuang Mingqi placed the chopsticks by his hand. Having not received the response he wanted, he made another sly, persistent attempt: "What about you?"

"What about me?"

In the current era of a highly developed food service industry, most people their age survived on takeout. Shen Zhengning was a bit of a remote front-runner in this aspect. Not only were his housekeeping skills maxed out, and he was adept at both meat and pastry dishes, but he even followed the traditional custom of "dumplings for departure, noodles for arrival," though Zhuang Mingqi, this clueless returnee, was completely unaware of the meal's significance.

Expressing emotions too directly would instead make the atmosphere awkward, so Zhuang Mingqi deliberately drew out his tone to make the question sound like an affectingly intimate joke: "Will you miss me?"

But his expectation was so real and completely undisguised that even the "biting chopsticks while tilting the head" move, which even modern idol dramas avoid filming, seemed completely natural on him.

Shen Zhengning really wanted to break this sticky, tangled atmosphere and frankly and resolutely tell him "not at all," but lying while facing Zhuang Mingqi's shimmering, watery eyes was too great a test of his acting skills.

"I can distinguish between temporary and daily life." He was like an unmovable stone Bodhisattva, answering in a monotonous, scripture-chanting tone, "Anyway, you're overflowing with emotions. You can just have my share. Feel it for yourself."

Zhuang Mingqi keenly caught a hint of indulgence in his attitude and immediately pressed his advantage, refusing to let go: "Is that something you can just substitute? No way, that's too insincere. I want to hear you say it yourself."

Shen Zhengning scoffed. "So now you're resorting to robbery?"

Zhuang Mingqi said hauntingly, "Say... you... will... miss... me—"

"You'll miss me." Shen Zhengning said, "Got it. No need to emphasize it so many times. Let's eat. I'll take you to the airport in a bit."

Zhuang Mingqi: "..."

A few days later, 6:00 PM.

Shen Zhengning followed the crowd of people leaving work out of the company's main entrance. With a casual glance, he was surprised to see a familiar figure in the reflection of the glass doors. He paused. "Yuan Hang?"

Yuan Hang, dressed in casual clothes, looked as if he'd been struck in the spine by an invisible whip. He jumped forward a small step in surprise and turned back sheepishly. "Yo."

"Good evening." Shen Zhengning walked two steps closer and sized him up. "Are you... recreating the scene? Casing the joint?"

Yuan Hang let out two weak "ha-ha"s, not quite daring to face him. "I guess."

"It's either a yes or a no. What the hell is 'I guess'?" Shen Zhengning said. "I'm not your boss. I won't dock your pay or block your promotion. You don't have to be so shifty."

Yuan Hang scratched his cheek, his gaze drifting. Just as he was about to stammer something out, Shen Zhengning cut him off. "The company entrance isn't the place to talk. Let's walk and talk."

The two then walked across the road together. The roadside was packed with private cars, and the dilapidated, narrow sidewalk was full of potholes. Yuan Hang even stumbled as he walked, and couldn't help but think that if the road conditions were like this, then it would make sense for Gao Qihui to have walked with extra caution on that rainy night.

But this further lessened Gao Qihui's suspicion. Yuan Hang couldn't help but feel a little discouraged, not only because he had invested too much of a sunk cost in this suspect, but also because he had clearly received pointers from Shen Zhengning. He had plunged into the sea to find a needle with great ambition, only to come up with nothing. Now, seeing the master again, he was too embarrassed to say something like, "Teacher, you finished your lecture, but I still don't get it."

Back when he was a poor student, he didn't care when his teachers scolded him, saying, "Not studying hard in school is a waste of your parents' money." But the dignity and responsibility of a police officer were different. He would rather quietly overturn every single paving stone on this road than receive a comment like, "With a brain like yours, don't waste the taxpayers' money by being a cop."

"Have you calculated how long it takes to walk to the river from here?"

"Ah... Huh?" Yuan Hang snapped back to his senses and looked in the direction Shen Zhengning was pointing. Directly in front of the office building was a large patch of wasteland. The side closer to the sidewalk was covered in dry weeds and low shrubs, and a little further in was a wild grove of trees. The leaves had all fallen off in winter, so the density of the woods was easy to see. The gaps between the trees were wide enough for two or three adults to walk through.

He quickly estimated in his head: "This distance is about half the length of the bridge. Four or five hundred meters?"

Shen Zhengning lifted his long leg and stepped decisively into the wild field. "Start a timer. Let's walk over and see."

Yuan Hang hurried to catch up. "No, hey, wait for me. Why?"

"I'm curious," Shen Zhengning said without turning his head. "Why don't you first tell me why you were casing the area near the underground garage."

The overgrown woods looked sparse at first glance, but walking through them was not as easy as imagined. The two of them trudged through, one foot sinking deeper than the other. He didn't know what magic this desolate environment held, but it inexplicably soothed Yuan Hang's anxiety. He took the initiative to explain Gao Qihui's strange route that night, and at the end, he asked Shen Zhengning with little confidence, "Do you think it's possible for him to have committed the murder and disposed of the body in those ten minutes?"

"That depends on where Gao Qihui and Ye Tongsheng met, near the underground garage or by the river." Shen Zhengning brushed the grass leaves and dust from his sleeves and walked toward the suddenly open area ahead. "We're here."

Yuan Hang looked at the timer on his phone. "4 minutes and 50 seconds. Let's call it five minutes."

Shen Zhengning gazed at the vast, frozen river surface. The weather wasn't good today, gloomy and bleak, like a precursor to snow. As far as the eye could see, everything was a grayish-yellow, withered color, which made one's mood turn somber as well.

"We're taking the shortest route from the underground garage to the riverbank right now, and this is with daylight. On the 25th, the leaves hadn't fallen yet, it was raining, and it was late at night. It would have taken longer to walk over. And with these road conditions, he'd be lucky not to get covered in mud. It's impossible for Gao Qihui to have made a round trip in ten minutes," Shen Zhengning said. "Besides, no matter how unwary Ye Tongsheng was, he wouldn't agree to meet someone by the river late at night."

Many possibilities rose and burst like bubbles. Yuan Hang unconsciously let out a long breath, unable to describe the feeling in his heart. "So the direction was wrong after all."

The soles of their shoes crunched over the dry fallen leaves, making a subtle yet distinct sound. In the cold and desolate silence, Shen Zhengning suddenly spoke up, "Officer, I have a theory."

"What is it?"

"It might be absurd... the kind of absurd that even a third-rate novel wouldn't use."

"We're already here," Yuan Hang forced a smile. "We're idle anyway, so let's hear it."

"From 10:03, when Gao Qihui appeared on the surveillance camera, to 10:43, when Ye Tongsheng's account posted on his Moments, if we look at this forty-minute period as a whole, could it possibly be a relay race?"

Yuan Hang couldn't follow his train of thought for a moment. "Huh? What relay race?"

"The first ten minutes were Gao Qihui's time to shine. After he finished his part, another person took the baton and ran the last thirty minutes," Shen Zhengning stated the hair-raising speculation in a remarkably calm tone. "Perhaps it was a conspiracy, or perhaps a coincidence. A task one person couldn't complete could be achieved by two people cooperating—behind Gao Qihui, there might be another figure we haven't discovered."

The sky gradually darkened. Chilly winds blew along the riverbank. Besides the two of them, the edge of the wild woods was deserted. From this distance, Yuan Hang couldn't see his expression clearly, but he felt his heart lurch and cold sweat instantly broke out across half his back.

He couldn't help but mutter, "What kind of ghost story is this..."

"Can you let me see the surveillance footage from that day?"

Yuan Hang choked, still in a state of confused thought, and couldn't decide whether to agree or refuse. He switched his phone from his left hand to his right and asked hesitantly, "It's so late... What about you-know-who? He won't get mad if I spirit you away, will he?"

Reminded by him, Shen Zhengning looked down, took out his phone, and prepared to send a WeChat message to Zhuang Mingqi. "He's on a business trip."

"Oh," Yuan Hang replied out of habit. "My wife is also on a business trip."

Shen Zhengning: "..."