Chapter Text
The city of Beijing never truly slept.
It merely changed uniforms.
By day, it wore tailored suits and pressed office shirts, rushing through subway stations with coffee cups in hand. By night, it exchanged them for neon lights, sleepless cafés, late-night food stalls, and the distant wail of sirens weaving through the maze of concrete and glass.
From the sixteenth floor of the Beijing Municipal Criminal Investigation Bureau, the city looked deceptively peaceful.
Inspector Jiang Cheng knew better.
Peace, he had learned years ago, was often nothing more than the silence before another phone call.
"...and that's the last witness statement."
His partner, Liu Jian, tossed a thick folder onto the cluttered desk with an exhausted groan before collapsing into the chair opposite him.
"I swear, if I have to interview one more person who says, 'I don't remember,' after remembering every detail of their neighbour's grocery list, I'm resigning."
Jiang Cheng didn't look up.
He continued reading the report spread before him, his pen tapping rhythmically against the margin.
"Mm."
Liu narrowed his eyes.
"That's all you've got?"
Another tap.
"Mm."
"You know, one day I'll fake my own death just to see if you'll react."
This time Jiang Cheng finally looked up.
"I'll identify the body first."
"...That wasn't even remotely comforting."
A corner of Jiang Cheng's mouth twitched upward.
Barely.
It was enough.
Liu pointed accusingly.
"There! You smiled."
"I exhaled."
"That was a smile."
"It was efficient breathing."
Liu rolled his eyes dramatically.
"You've spent too much time around dead bodies."
"And you've spent too much time talking."
The office erupted in quiet laughter from the remaining detectives still finishing paperwork.
This was normal.
The teasing.
The endless coffee.
The smell of instant noodles at midnight.
The mountains of paperwork that somehow reproduced when nobody was looking.
Jiang Cheng preferred paperwork.
Paperwork made sense.
Criminals, unfortunately, rarely did.
His gaze drifted back toward the investigation board mounted on the wall.
Photographs.
Maps.
Strings connecting locations.
Phone records.
Timelines.
A murder without witnesses.
A suspect with an airtight alibi.
Evidence that insisted on pointing in three different directions.
Something didn't fit.
It wasn't a matter of instinct.
Instinct was unreliable.
Patterns weren't.
Somewhere...
One fact was lying.
He just hadn't found it yet.
"You missed dinner again."
Liu placed a convenience-store sandwich onto the desk.
Jiang Cheng blinked.
"I already ate."
"When?"
"..."
"...Yesterday?"
"You see my concern."
Jiang Cheng accepted the sandwich with a quiet nod.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me."
Liu grabbed his jacket.
"Thank my wife. She keeps packing extra food because she's convinced you'll eventually starve yourself."
"She's overly optimistic."
"She's married to me."
"...Fair point."
Liu laughed.
"There you are."
"What?"
"A personality."
"I've always had one."
"Debatable."
Silence settled comfortably between them.
It wasn't awkward.
After six years working together, neither felt obligated to fill every quiet moment with conversation.
Outside, rain began tapping gently against the windows.
The office lights reflected across the glass, turning the city beyond into blurred streaks of colour.
For a brief moment...
Everything felt still.
Then the emergency line rang.
Every detective in the room straightened instinctively.
Jiang Cheng picked it up.
"Inspector Jiang."
The dispatcher's voice came fast.
"Possible kidnapping in progress."
His expression sharpened instantly.
"Details."
"Female. Twenty-two years old. Taken outside Sanlitun approximately eight minutes ago."
"Vehicle?"
"White Ford Transit van."
"License plate?"
"Possibly cloned."
"Direction?"
"Northbound."
Jiang Cheng was already reaching for his jacket.
"Witnesses?"
"Three."
"Victim conscious?"
"Unknown."
"GPS?"
"Phone signal still active."
He stopped.
"Location."
"Miyun Mountain Road."
The room fell silent.
Mountain roads.
Sparse traffic.
Limited surveillance.
Whoever planned this knew exactly what they were doing.
"Nearest unit?"
"You."
Jiang Cheng didn't hesitate.
"I'm responding."
He was already moving before dispatch acknowledged.
"Liu."
His partner was on his feet immediately.
"I'm driving."
"No."
Jiang Cheng caught the keys tossed toward him.
"You coordinate with backup."
"You sure?"
"If I'm right..."
He was already halfway to the elevator.
"...they don't have thirty minutes."
Rain greeted him the moment he stepped outside.
Cold.
Sharp.
Persistent.
His black SUV roared to life beneath him.
Blue lights flashed across wet pavement.
Traffic scattered.
The city blurred into streaks of colour as he accelerated through the nearly empty streets.
His breathing remained steady.
Not because he wasn't nervous.
Because training had taught him nervousness was a luxury reserved for after the job.
The radio crackled again.
"Victim's phone still transmitting."
"Distance?"
"Four kilometres ahead."
"Any other units?"
"Twenty-eight minutes."
Too far.
His jaw tightened.
The city's lights gradually disappeared behind him.
Concrete became forest.
Street lamps became darkness.
Only the headlights carved a narrow tunnel through the mountain road ahead.
Then—
"There."
A white van rounded the bend roughly two hundred metres ahead.
His pulse steadied.
Target acquired.
He pressed the accelerator.
The SUV surged forward.
One hundred eighty metres.
One fifty.
One twenty.
The van swerved recklessly around another corner.
Its rear doors rattled violently.
Then—
A hand.
Pale.
Desperate.
It slammed against the back window.
Alive.
Good.
Jiang Cheng reached for the radio.
"Visual confirmation."
The van accelerated.
So did he.
Rain hammered against the windshield.
The road narrowed.
Guardrails disappeared.
Mountain cliffs loomed on one side.
Nothing but darkness waited beyond the other.
He was almost close enough.
Another fifty metres.
Forty.
Thirty—
Then...
Light.
Not headlights.
Not lightning.
Not the reflection of another vehicle.
Just...
light.
Brilliant.
Blinding.
It swallowed the road ahead without warning.
"What the—"
The steering wheel jerked violently beneath his hands.
The SUV lost traction.
Tyres screamed across soaked asphalt.
The world spun.
Metal folded like paper.
Glass exploded outward in glittering shards.
The guardrail shattered.
Weightlessness.
For one impossible second...
Everything became silent.
His notebook lifted from the passenger seat.
Pages fluttered lazily through the air.
Photographs.
Pens.
His police badge.
All suspended around him like stars.
Funny...
I'm going to have one hell of an insurance claim.
The SUV rolled.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then everything disappeared into darkness.
Silence.
Not hospital silence.
Real silence.
The kind that existed before dawn.
A cool breeze brushed gently across his face.
It smelled...
Fresh.
Lotus flowers.
Clean water.
Morning dew.
Jiang Cheng frowned.
"...Hospitals have gotten weird."
Birds answered.
Birds?
His eyes remained closed.
He listened carefully.
No heart monitor.
No IV drip.
No distant conversations between nurses.
No antiseptic.
Only wind...
Water...
And birds.
"...Either I'm dead..."
His voice sounded strangely younger.
"...or Beijing has undergone a truly bizarre renovation."
A calm voice spoke inside his head.
[Second hypothesis rejected.]
Jiang Cheng's eyes opened instantly.
A carved wooden ceiling greeted him.
Sunlight filtered through paper windows.
Silk curtains stirred lazily in the breeze.
He blinked once.
Twice.
"..."
"...No."
He sat up slowly.
The room was unmistakably ancient.
Beautiful polished wood.
Hand-painted folding screens.
Bronze incense burner.
Everything looked authentic.
Not museum authentic.
Lived-in authentic.
His detective instincts took over automatically.
One door.
One window.
No electrical outlets.
No cameras.
No medical equipment.
Temperature: comfortable.
No artificial lighting.
He swung his legs off the bed.
Bare feet met polished wooden flooring.
Solid.
Real.
"...Interesting."
The calm voice returned.
[Host adaptation speed exceeds expectations.]
Jiang Cheng froze.
"...Who's there?"
[System online.]
He slowly turned in a circle.
Nobody.
"...Hidden speaker?"
[Negative.]
"Hallucination?"
[Negative.]
"Brain damage?"
[Negative.]
"...You're remarkably unhelpful."
[Correction. I am remarkably accurate.]
For the first time in years...
Inspector Jiang Cheng was completely speechless.