After the interviews concluded, they thanked Assistant Manager Yang and left the bar.
The sunlight outside was a bit harsh. Yin Wuwang squinted, standing at the entrance for a moment.
Xie Qingyan walked a few steps ahead, head lowered as he reviewed the notes he'd just taken. Yin Wuwang watched his back—the daylight falling across him, clearly outlining his spine. Lean, but not slight. The kind of frame where every inch of muscle served a purpose.
Yin Wuwang quickened his pace to catch up.
"What do you think?" he asked.
Xie Qingyan closed his notebook. "The employees' accounts are consistent. Chen Wan's public image was very stable—warm, generous, well-liked."
"But his residence doesn't match that image." Yin Wuwang continued the thought. "5.6 million in repayment records, a ten-ping studio, expired bento in the fridge. He was playing a person who didn't exist at that bar."
Xie Qingyan nodded. "He was paying off debt. A very large debt."
"How large?"
"Adding up the total from the statements, the original debt should have been over 6.5 million. With interest, possibly close to ten million." Xie Qingyan's tone was as objective as if solving a math problem. "A thirty-year-old bar manager couldn't possibly owe that much himself."
"You think it's someone else's debt?"
"Not certain. But he was paying it for someone else."
Yin Wuwang thought of that empty room.
"There's something else," he said. "His room."
Xie Qingyan stopped walking and turned to look at him.
"He was paying off someone else's debt, and to protect that person, he cleared the room of every trace that might reveal their identity—photos, letters, even receipts. All gone." Yin Wuwang paused. "For someone to go that far, the person being protected couldn't be just an ordinary relationship."
"Not just protection." Xie Qingyan picked up the thread, voice soft. "It's concealment. He didn't want anyone to know that person existed."
Their eyes met for a second.
"Tomorrow we find Su Xiaoqing." Xie Qingyan said. "Confirm the affair. Then pull the surveillance footage."
Yin Wuwang nodded.
They walked toward the metro station. The setting sun stretched their shadows long, overlapping on the asphalt, swaying forward and back with each step. For a moment, the two silhouettes merged into one—a trick of the light, nothing more.
But Yin Wuwang noticed it anyway.
He suddenly thought of something.
"Fuguang."
"Mm?"
"Back in the bar earlier." He chose his words carefully, keeping his tone casual. "When I put my arm on your shoulder."
Xie Qingyan's pace faltered for a beat, but he didn't stop. His back remained straight, shoulders level—the perfect posture of someone who absolutely was not affected.
"Investigative necessity." Yin Wuwang said, tone perfectly serious. "Can't break the two-year-couple character setting."
Xie Qingyan didn't turn around.
"I know." He said.
A pause. The sound of their footsteps on concrete. A car passing in the distance.
"Next time, give me a heads up."
Yin Wuwang had expected Fuguang to warn him "don't let it happen again." He'd braced himself for a cold refusal, perhaps even a lecture on maintaining appropriate boundaries during investigations.
He hadn't expected "give me a heads up."
Which meant—as long as he gave warning first, touching was allowed?
Yin Wuwang fought to suppress the smile threatening to break across his face. Three thousand years of court intrigue and battlefield strategy, and here he was, heart racing over five words.
His voice came out carrying poorly-hidden delight.
"Okay."
After returning to the apartment, Yin Wuwang sat on the living room sofa, reviewing the day's notes.
5.6 million. Empty room. Fake smile.
A person who'd hollowed himself out to repay debt, yet still had to play a warm and generous character at the bar. Switching between two faces day and night, day after day, year after year.
Mortal lifespans were only a century at most. He'd given at least five years of his, living as a debt-repaying machine.
For whom?
Whose debt was it?
The statements didn't say.
The sound of pages turning came from the adjacent study—Xie Qingyan was organizing today's investigation records.
Yin Wuwang glanced toward the study, remembering how Little Deer Assistant had nearly exploded in his head when he'd put his arm around Fuguang at the bar: "Reminder: Two years together means old married couple, not honeymoon newlyweds! Please control your heart rate and reduce the sweetness level!"
Yin Wuwang smiled silently to himself.
Broken system.
He spread the day's collected materials across the coffee table. Photocopies of bank statements, bar visit notes, employee roster.
The study light was still on.
Yin Wuwang walked to the study door and knocked twice.
"Come in." Xie Qingyan's voice came through the door.
He pushed it open. Xie Qingyan sat at the desk, investigation records spread before him, organizing today's findings.
"The Su Xiaoqing interview is scheduled." Yin Wuwang leaned against the doorframe. "Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock, station conference room."
Xie Qingyan didn't look up. "Lawyer?"
"Will be present. Su Xiaoqing hired one herself."
Xie Qingyan set down his pen and pushed a sheet of paper to the edge of the desk, facing Yin Wuwang. Five questions listed in neat handwriting.
"Tomorrow I'll lead the questioning. You observe."
Yin Wuwang scanned the questions. The first was "Confirm whether the affair actually occurred." The last was "Press for details about the 'woman' Zhang Yunxiang mentioned."
"No problem." He picked up the paper. "This sovereign's specialty."
Xie Qingyan picked up his pen again and continued writing.
"Go rest." He said, his tone as flat as commenting that the sun would rise tomorrow. Not warm, not cold—just matter-of-fact.
Yin Wuwang tucked away the paper and walked out of the study.
Not enough clues yet. But they had a direction.
Chen Wan wasn't who he appeared to be on the surface. Zhang Yunxiang wasn't the real killer. And that "woman with the pleasant voice" was still lurking in the shadows.
Tomorrow, they'd start with Su Xiaoqing.
[End of V2_Chapter 18]
Next: The wife who wasn't cheating, the accusation that was planted, and a woman no one can quite remember.