The driver company was in the west side of the city, on the second floor of a mixed-use commercial building along the street. Yin Wuwang parked by the curb and sat in the driver's seat for two seconds after turning off the engine.
The car was very quiet.
Not the normal kind of quiet—engine off, no music, windows closed, of course it was quiet. This was a different kind of quiet. Like a piece of music suddenly missing one voice part; the remaining melody sounded fine, but somehow felt thinner.
The passenger seat's seatbelt was clipped in its holder. The cup holder was empty.
Yin Wuwang opened the door and got out.
The driver company's office was small. A young woman wearing glasses sat at the front desk; after seeing his badge, her attitude became very cooperative.
"Miss Xu Ruolin is a long-term customer of ours." She pulled up records on the computer. "We always assign her Old Zhao as her driver—he's been doing it for almost two years."
"Can you print out the pickup records for the week of the incident?"
"Sure, one moment."
The printer spat out two pages. Yin Wuwang took them and scanned quickly.
The week of the incident—October 12th to 18th—Xu Ruolin had called for a car three times. All during daytime, destinations between her company and residence. No trips to Night Wanderer, no unusual locations.
October 17th—the day of the incident—no car service record.
Yin Wuwang pointed to the blank line for the 17th. "She didn't call for a car that day?"
"No." The receptionist double-checked. "No dispatch on the 17th all day."
"Where does she live?"
"Emerald Lake Gardens, on the south side. We have all pickup addresses on record."
Yin Wuwang noted the address. He knew Emerald Lake Gardens—an upscale community in the south of the city, about forty minutes by car from Night Wanderer Bar.
She hadn't called for a car the night of the incident. She might have driven herself, or she might not have gone out at all. To confirm this, he'd need to check her building's entry-exit records and the driving history of her Mercedes.
He was about to ask for more details when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
A message from Xie Qingyan. Very short, just one line:
"New findings on the ligature marks. Will explain when you're back."
Yin Wuwang stared at that line for a second.
He found himself wanting to ask "What findings?" But Xie Qingyan clearly wasn't going to explain via text, which meant the discovery required photos or physical evidence to explain properly.
He put his phone back in his pocket and continued confirming the remaining details with the receptionist.
After leaving the driver company, Yin Wuwang made two phone calls from the car.
The first to Little Lu, asking him to also pull Emerald Lake Gardens' vehicle entry-exit records for October 17th, as well as the electronic toll records for Xu Ruolin's Mercedes E-Class.
The second to the front desk of Yufeng Asset Management, Xu Ruolin's company, inquiring about her attendance from October 12th to 18th in his capacity as Major Crimes. They said they needed to verify his identity before providing information; Yin Wuwang left the station's callback number.
After the two calls, the car fell quiet again.
He started the engine and pulled onto the main road. The navigation's female voice announced the route, mechanical and even.
Yin Wuwang's fingers tapped the steering wheel twice.
Normally at this point, Xie Qingyan would be sitting beside him flipping through a notebook. Occasionally voicing a deduction, occasionally silent. Whether he spoke or not, there was a presence in the passenger seat—someone he could toss thoughts to at any moment, who would catch them and toss them back.
Now that seat was empty. He had several thoughts circulating in his mind—about why Xu Ruolin's spending frequency had spiked, about what her not calling a car on the night of the incident might mean—but these thoughts could only be digested alone. No one to catch them.
It wasn't that he couldn't think alone. It was that the rhythm was different.
When he pulled into the station parking lot, he glanced unconsciously at the passenger seat.
Empty.
Mm. He knew.
When Yin Wuwang walked into the forensic examiner's office, Xie Qingyan was standing at the desk with three enlarged crime scene photos spread before him. Beside the photos was a page of handwritten notes, the characters denser than usual.
"You said there were new findings on the ligature marks." Yin Wuwang pulled a chair over and sat down next to him.
The chair was very close. No one else was in the office; there was no need for the act. But Yin Wuwang still sat close.
Xie Qingyan didn't seem to notice the distance. He picked up one of the photos—a close-up of the ligature marks on Chen Wan's neck—and pointed with his pen tip to a specific area.
"I'd already confirmed the marks were made by a soft ligature, running from front-lower to back-upper, indicating the killer attacked from behind." His pace was unhurried, each sentence like placing a puzzle piece. "Today I re-measured the width distribution of the pressure marks."
He flipped open the notebook, which contained a diagram.
"The deepest point of the ligature impression at the front of the neck is three centimeters wide, but on the right side of the neck it suddenly narrows to one point eight centimeters."
Yin Wuwang studied the diagram. "Same ligature—the width shouldn't change."
"Correct. Unless the ligature itself has structural irregularity." Xie Qingyan marked an arrow on the diagram. "The one-point-eight-centimeter position is right at the edge of the right sternocleidomastoid muscle. If the ligature were an ordinary tie, laid flat it would be uniform width—this narrowing wouldn't occur. But if the tie twisted or folded at this position—"
"The killer switched hands once." Yin Wuwang completed his thought.
Xie Qingyan glanced at him. His gaze held a flicker of unsurprised confirmation—he'd known Yin Wuwang would follow.
"The hand-switch occurred on the right side, meaning the killer's original force point was biased left." Xie Qingyan set down the photo. "Combined with the overall trajectory of the ligature marks from front-lower to back-upper, the killer's right hand exerted more force, while the left hand adjusted once midway."
"Right-handed." Yin Wuwang said.
"More importantly," Xie Qingyan's tone carried an additional layer of steady weight, "she needed to adjust her posture during the strangling. This means her fitness and strength weren't overwhelming. She didn't rely on brute force—she used positioning and body weight advantage."
Yin Wuwang combined this information with previous deductions—the killer was female, smaller build, attacked from behind, leaned backward using body weight to compensate for lack of strength, switched hands once midway.
This profile matched Xu Ruolin's build. Xiao Zhou had said she wore high heels and designer bags—didn't seem like the muscular type.
But at the same time, this profile matched any smaller-framed female.
"On the surface, the crime-of-passion logic holds up." Yin Wuwang leaned back in his chair. "Xu Ruolin has emotional motive, familiarity with the bar environment, and her build matches the killer's characteristics."
"But you have doubts." Xie Qingyan said. Not a question.
Yin Wuwang didn't answer immediately. He thought for a few seconds, then pushed the records from the driver company toward Xie Qingyan.
"She called for a car three times during the week of the incident, all daytime commutes. No car service record on the day of the incident."
Xie Qingyan scanned the records.
"If she went to the bar that night, she either drove herself or took another car." Yin Wuwang said. "It's a forty-minute drive from Emerald Lake Gardens to Night Wanderer. I've already asked Little Lu to pull her car's toll records and the building's entry-exit logs."
"What if her car didn't move that night?"
"That's even more interesting." Yin Wuwang said. "Someone who never drives herself to the bar—on the night of the incident, she neither called her driver nor drove her own car. How did she get there? Or, she didn't go at all."
Xie Qingyan placed the records and photos side by side on the desk.
Two sets of data: one pointing to "she's a suspect," the other pointing to "needs further verification."
No conclusions yet.
"Her alibi is the next step." Xie Qingyan said. "Once Little Lu's vehicle records and cell tower positioning come in, we'll know her whereabouts the night of the incident."
Yin Wuwang nodded.
He noticed the travel mug on Xie Qingyan's desk had its cap unscrewed, faint steam rising from the rim. Not the one from this morning—green tea left since morning would be cold by now.
This was freshly brewed.
Yin Wuwang didn't ask when he'd made it. He just noticed there was an extra public-use mug beside it, half-filled with warm water.
"You poured that for me?" He asked.
Xie Qingyan was putting photos back into the folder, his movements uninterrupted.
"Your mug is in the break room." He said, his tone as flat as reading a weather report. "Passed by on the way back."
Yin Wuwang picked up the mug and took a sip. The temperature was just right—not scalding, not cold.
He didn't say thank you.
He just shifted his chair a little closer to Xie Qingyan, close enough that their elbows nearly touched.
Little Lu's footsteps echoed from the hallway outside, approaching.
Yin Wuwang didn't increase the distance.
Neither did Xie Qingyan.
[End of V2_Chapter 40]
Next: A conversation in the car, an admission that came out sideways, and the realization that some habits have nothing to do with muscle memory.