The final step of "staging" the scene was just complete when the phone in Shen Mian's pocket erupted again, vibrating like a live grenade.
The two characters on the screen caused the panic she had barely suppressed to come flooding back—
[Yoyo].
Her fingers stiffened as if gripping a branding iron. Her eyes shot towards Qin Jiu.
His expression remained unchanged, but his eyes conveyed an unmistakable command: Answer. Do as we discussed.
Shen Mian took a deep breath. With a trembling finger, she swiped to answer and pressed the phone to her ear. She strained to make her voice sound thick with sleep, laced with nasal congestion and a touch of irritation at being disturbed.
"...Yoyo? So early..."
"Mianmian! Are you still asleep? Something terrible has happened!" Lu Yoyo's words were rapid-fire, urgent. The clear sound of sirens and the muffled commands of colleagues in the background instantly shredded the fragile calm on Shen Mian's end of the line. "We got a call—there's been a murder at your hotel! Just a few floors below you! Lock your door right now, don't open it for anyone! We're on our way!"
Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. Instinctively, Shen Mian's eyes lifted again to Qin Jiu.
He stood not far away, silent as a statue, but his gaze was locked onto her, seeming to transmit an invisible force, a control, through the air.
"I... I understand," Shen Mian forced herself to swallow, trying to moisten her painfully dry throat. She infused her voice with a carefully measured hoarseness and vulnerability. "I have a bit of a headache... probably had too much to drink last night. You... be careful."
She had to maintain the facade of being hungover and unwell.
"Don't worry! With my little uncle here, any monster will show its true colors!" Lu Yoyo's tone held a blind, unwavering admiration for Qin Jiu—an admiration that sounded profoundly ironic under the circumstances. Then, as if afraid of being overheard, she lowered her voice, her tone turning serious. "But Mianmian, this is weird... at first glance, the scene seems off. It's too 'clean'... It doesn't feel impulsive, more like..." She paused, searching for the right words. "...like it was meticulously cleaned up. Can't talk now, the elevator's here. We're about to start the scene investigation and personnel checks. We might reach your floor soon, be prepared!"
'Too clean'... 'Meticulously cleaned up'...
Each word was like an ice pick stabbing into Shen Mian's eardrums. Her knuckles turned white from gripping the phone.
Lu Yoyo's intuition was terrifyingly accurate. And the "little uncle" she spoke of, the one who could see through any deception, was the chief architect of this very "meticulous cleanup."
"I... I see," Shen Mian could only repeat the hollow phrase, her mind a blank slate.
The call ended abruptly.
The dial tone echoed in her ear like a prolonged lament.
Slowly, Shen Mian lowered the phone. The strength seemed to drain from her body all at once. Leaning against the cold wall was the only thing keeping her from visibly shaking.
"They... they'll be here soon," she said, looking at Qin Jiu. Her voice was as light as a wisp of smoke on the verge of dissipation, filled with the emptiness that follows resignation. "Yoyo said the scene is too clean. She thinks something's wrong."
Not a flicker of surprise crossed Qin Jiu's face, as if everything was proceeding exactly as anticipated.
"An excellent detective should have that kind of intuition," he stated calmly, even with a hint of acknowledgment for Lu Yoyo's professional competence. "But it will only make her redouble her efforts to find the non-existent 'ghost,' rather than suspect a frightened 'victim.'"
His composure felt utterly cruel at this moment, and yet, utterly effective.
The best friend's call had brought no salvation. Instead, it acted like a final rope, tightening around her neck, binding her irrevocably to Qin Jiu's chariot.
There was no way back now.