Chapter 58: A Storm Brews, Filling the Pavilion with Wind

Jiangcheng City Television Station, “Reopening Old Cases” program group, Director’s Office.

The air was thick—practically wringing with the mingled scents of cigarette smoke, sweat, and cheap perfume. A handful of men and women, their faces caked in heavy makeup and dressed in garish costumes, stared unblinking at the man behind the desk.

Chief Director Wang had spent the entire night with this unruly crowd. The bags under his eyes were more cavernous than his pockets, and his complexion was utterly haggard.

“Please, all of you, gods and immortals—dawn’s almost here, it’s past five in the morning. Can’t you just go home and rest?” Wang’s voice was pleading, and he forced a smile onto his face that looked more painful than weeping.

It had all started the previous afternoon. That mysterious madman had hacked into the national live broadcast like a specter, announcing a bloody game.

Three days—one person on the Detective Star leaderboard would die.

Then, before millions of viewers, the tenth-ranked “Fat Cat” suddenly dropped dead without warning.

The leaderboard, once a symbol of honor and intellect, had overnight become a death sentence.

Those “civilian detectives” still alive and listed on the leaderboard couldn’t sit still. They swarmed the station, crowding Wang’s office until there wasn’t room to breathe.

Some, with grim faces and fierce voices, demanded that Wang give them more airtime, a chance to crack cases, climb the rankings, and maybe—just maybe—distance themselves from death.

More simply tore off their masks, shouting to withdraw from the competition altogether.

For a whole night, the war of words was so fierce it threatened to drown the station in spit.

In the end, these embattled “detectives” reached a laughable consensus: the program should abolish the leaderboard and declare the rankings void.

Now, except for the true heavyweights—the top three—every last contestant was present.

“Director Wang!” called out a man in a British plaid suit with a bowtie, projecting a studied air of sophistication. He was “Forrell,” number four on the leaderboard.

“We joined this show to showcase the spirit of civilian detectives, for the sake of honor!” he declared, righteous indignation in every syllable. “But now, the leaderboard is a death list! We didn’t sign up for this kind of risk. This is deadly!”

“Exactly! I’m next!” snapped another man, dressed in a bespoke suit, exhaustion etched into his features, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he impatiently drummed on the desk. He was Zeng Chen, secretary to Dong Zhan, chairman of Xiangdong Group, and ranked eighth on the list.

The aura of corporate elite usually clinging to him was now cloaked in palpable fear, making him look both ridiculous and pitiful.

“My company is a mess, the show was just a hobby. I don’t have time to waste here! Just abolish the leaderboard already!”

Wang could only smile wryly at the assembled crowd. He’d repeated the same lines a hundred times that night—his lips were practically worn raw.

“Just trust me this once! Please, just this once! This time, we’ve invited the top-ranked Mr. Sanada Koichiro, and together with the sudden rising star ‘Zombie Brother,’ you really will be safe!”

“Director Wang!” Forrell’s voice suddenly rose, cutting him off. “Why should our lives depend on others? On some guy from Sakura Country? On a publicity-seeking internet celebrity? Who gave them that right?”

“Then go investigate the clues yourselves!” Wang finally lost his temper after holding it in all night. He slammed his palm on the desk and stood up.

“Even if I deleted the leaderboard right now and erased all your names, what difference would it make? That mysterious person already has your names and the order! The killing will go on, nothing will change! Can’t you see something so obvious?!”

The office fell instantly silent. Wang’s outburst had stunned everyone.

At that moment, Wang’s phone rang, slicing through the stillness. Forrell seemed about to speak again, but Wang, as if grabbing onto a lifeline, motioned for silence and hurriedly answered.

He listened without a word. Everyone could see his expression shifting—from initial relief to growing gravity.

A few seconds later, he hung up, hands trembling as he dialed another number.

“Hello? Lin Bing? Wake up! Right now! Bring your team and equipment and get to the City Detective Division’s Forensics Department!”

A languid voice responded on the line. “What’s the matter, Director Wang?”

Wang drew a deep breath, forcing out five words through clenched teeth.

“Zhang Fu… has returned!”

…

Half an hour later.

A black broadcast van pulled up smoothly in front of the Detective Division headquarters. The door swung open and a long, shapely leg clad in black stockings stepped out, followed by Lin Bing—poised atop ten-centimeter heels.

She still wore her impeccably tailored business suit, her makeup flawless, beauty dazzling. But even the thickest foundation couldn’t hide the exhaustion and simmering resentment in her eyes.

She didn’t have to clean up Wang’s mess, but her own mind was a tangled skein.

After returning to the control room yesterday, she’d wanted to check the public’s reaction, only to be shocked by a string of trending searches:

#Ran into Zombie Brother on the street—Zombie Sister-in-law is gorgeous!#
#Zombie Brother shopping with his girlfriend—three thugs accosted them, but he took all three down effortlessly!#
#Zombie Brother’s taste is impeccable—his girlfriend is stunning!#

Below the hashtags were countless high-definition photos. In them, Chen Yu was arm in arm with a girl as pure and sweet as the girl next door; the two were smiling radiantly.

Lin Bing had felt dizzy at the sight.

She couldn’t believe it. She was Lin Bing, star hostess of Jiangcheng TV, idolized by countless men as a goddess. How could she possibly fall for a man she’d thought was just a small fish, only to lose so thoroughly?

She immediately tracked down the program’s in-house paparazzi who monitored the contestants. In a world without surveillance cameras, manpower was the only eye.

When she heard the thunderbolt news from them, she was utterly stunned.

That girl—Li Qing—had been living in Chen Yu’s apartment all along. They’d been cohabiting for days.

Lin Bing couldn’t recall how she left the station. It felt as though her soul had been drained away as she drifted home in a daze, sleepless all night.

Again and again, the faces of that man and that provocative, sweet-faced girl echoed through her mind.

Only at dawn did exhaustion overwhelm her. She’d just closed her eyes when Wang’s urgent call jolted her awake, sending her to the one place she least wanted to be.

Lin Bing drew a long breath, crushed back the turmoil in her heart, and donned her professional smile. With her crew pass in hand, she passed unimpeded into the forensics department.

The corridor was eerily quiet, her own footsteps and the cameraman’s echoing behind her. The sharp clicks of her heels on the tiles sounded like a clock counting down—each step striking the heart with a chill.

At the mortuary door, a young detective stood at attention. Lin Bing approached, flashing a warm smile as she explained her purpose.

Expressionless, the detective nodded and pulled open the heavy security door with a clang.

A blast of cold, disinfectant-laced air hit her full in the face.

Lin Bing shivered involuntarily. Straightening her collar, she forced herself into the morgue.

She stopped short.

Four people were already there.

They turned at the sound of the door.

Yan Zheng, face grave, brow furrowed in a knot. Su Qingzhu, arms folded, her gaze as icy as ever. Chen Yu—the very man who’d haunted Lin Bing’s sleepless night—lounged lazily against a gurney, his trademark roguish grin in place.

And standing practically glued to his side, her beauty pristine, almost unreal in her innocence—his girlfriend.

Li Qing.

Li Qing, far from embarrassed by Lin Bing’s arrival, only tightened her grip on Chen Yu’s arm, her eyes glinting with the triumphant defiance of the victor.

When Chen Yu turned and saw Lin Bing at the door, his brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

Well, well.

That beauty—her look at me today is rather unusual, isn’t it?

A thought flashed through his mind.

Eye of Insight, activate.

[Target: Lin Bing]
[Heart rate: 85 (elevated)]
[Stamina: 42 (fatigued)]
[Favorability: 41 (indifferent)]
[Purity: ?? (insufficient data, unable to analyze)]

What’s with the insufficient data? And only 41 favorability? Chen Yu remembered sending flirty messages with her just days ago! That number… impossible.

And as she saw him standing so intimately with Li Qing, the favorability score was falling before his eyes.

40…
39…

Chen Yu’s smirk only deepened.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

He could almost feel the already frigid morgue grow colder still.

Hiss—

This feeling…

Why does it seem like… a storm is about to break?

No.

Chen Yu looked at Lin Bing’s icy, beautiful face and silently corrected himself.

This wasn’t a storm brewing.

The storm was already at the door.