By the time his body settled, the sun was a brass gong at noon.

Even after undoing the transformation, his wounds stayed open like red leaves; to hide the thundercloud bruise on his right shoulder, Dongfang Chen wore a black hoodie like night.

They met the wine bar’s owner at a coffee shop, steam curling like morning mist, and he reported yesterday’s findings like stones laid across a stream.

Yesterday evening, he first reached the owner and offered a commission to prove Zaocun’s innocence; the man with a shining bald crown and slight paunch agreed for three thousand yuan, coins like cold rain.

One, the owner didn’t believe Zaocun could kill; two, if she had, the wine bar’s silk banner of reputation would tear in the wind.

“Mr. Dongfang, how’s the intel?” The owner gripped his cup, knuckles white as frost.

“The police are tight-lipped, a locked well; the victim’s name and identity remain sealed like stone. I asked a friend, reached Zaocun, and gathered key intel. My first read says the killer isn’t Zaocun.”

“Really!?” His cup thumped like a small drum as he leaned forward like a reed in wind.

“Yeah. But we have no proof yet. I want to ask: in the wine bar, who handles the freezer, that winter cave?”

“The freezer? Mostly Chulei, since he’s the bartender,” the owner said, eyes darting like minnows. “He held the keys to the cold.”

“In that case, I want to meet the bartender named Chulei. Is that possible?” His words flew like arrows at dusk.

“Uh…” The owner hesitated, sweat beading like summer rain. “To be frank, Chulei resigned. Since last night, he’s gone silent, like a door slammed at midnight.”

“Resigned!?” The word cracked like ice underfoot.

“Yeah. To be honest… with that reaction, I fear he’s the culprit. So when you called, I rushed here like wind over grass.”

He drank his coffee, bitter as ink, and spoke carefully, words tiptoeing like cats. “By your assessment, Chulei shouldn’t be the killer, right?”

“He could be an accomplice. Either way, the culprit knows the victim like a map of veins.”

“Wh-why!?” The question fluttered like a sparrow.

“We fell into a fog. We assumed the cyanide magic liquid, being liquid, must be added with a bottle. It needs a container, yes, but it wasn’t a bottle. It was—ice.”

“Ice!?” His eyes widened like lanterns.

“Inject the cyanide magic liquid into the ice. Poison sleeps in crystal. Even in the freezer’s white cave, it leaves no cyanide trace.”

“You mean the victim died from poisoned ice in cola? Then how did the killer strike true? The bar had a river of drinks using ice! And Zaocun mixed the cola.”

“That’s why Chulei looks suspicious. He had a chance to know which cube was tainted, a single star in a cold sky.”

“How so?”

“Bubbles. A pro bartender never uses ice with trapped breath. Zaocun, a maid, didn’t care. That night, only the victim and I ordered cola in that sea of bottles.”

“Then you might’ve been poisoned too.” Danger brushed him like a cold wing.

“Maybe. But the victim had a habit unlike others; he waited before drinking, like watching moonrise. Ice needs time to melt like slow rain. Even if Zaocun accidentally dropped a bubbly cube into my glass, I wouldn’t be poisoned.”

“So… the culprit can only be Chulei!?” The conclusion clacked like stones.

“No. The killer could exploit that and frame Chulei on purpose. To reach the hidden spring of truth, I need to ask him a few things.”

“I understand. If I reach Chulei, I’ll contact you, Mr. Dongfang!” His promise tied like a knot in cord.

“Thank you for the trouble.” His gratitude bowed like bamboo in wind.

As they spoke, three burly middle-aged men closed in like wolves, boots thudding like drums.

“You’re the wine bar’s owner?” The lead man’s voice cracked like thunder.

“And you are…” The owner shrank like a leaf in rain.

“Police.” The leader flashed his badge, steel glinting like a blade. “We have questions about Chulei.”

Police work was heavy-handed, a gate slammed; Dongfang Chen was shoved aside again, a leaf in a gust.

“Ugh, damn cops, always looking down on people,” he muttered, smoke-like words fading. He didn’t dare argue; right now he was a freelancer, a blade sheathed, not even a PI.

“Forget it. The North Star is finding Chulei.”

“Mr. Dongfang’s looking for the bartender?” As he paced, a man approached, steps soft as a fox on snow.

“Huh? You are…” A familiar face came into view, a slick smile like alley light, golden hair like wheat under sun—the blond from yesterday’s restaurant.

“Surprised I know you, Mr. Dongfang? Haha! I didn’t expect me, Gong Linxun, to be famous!” His laughter rang like bells.

“Uh, I don’t know you. I’m just curious how an Eastern face carries a head of gold.” His shock slid hidden like a blade under a cloak.

“Eh, born this way. Formal intro: I’m Gong Linxun, a freelance journalist. I sell intel.” He flicked his hair, a spark in sunlight.

“That’s rare…” Dongfang Chen studied him, gaze steady as a lake; without the flippant look, he’d be striking, with a foxlike charm.

“Since you know my name, I bet you know what I need.” His need flew like an arrow.

“Of course! I have files on everyone tied to the wine bar case. Like you, Mr. Dongfang—young, you went to the New Land as a traveling merchant. Impressive, waves at your feet.”

“You dug that up too.” His nod was a small wave, respect rising like dawn. Going to the New Land was only a detour, yet the find was sharp as flint.

“The wine bar owner hired me, so I want the case’s news. The price won’t top his fee; if it’s cheap, I’ll buy.” His words balanced like scales.

“Haha, don’t worry. I even know you’re broke, a purse light as paper. And my intel can’t be bought with money.” His smile was a chess piece; on a golden youth, it looked flimsy as straw.

“No money? Then with life? I cherish mine like a lantern in night. Pass.” He shifted to leave, steps swaying like reeds.

“Hey, don’t!” Gong panicked and grabbed his sleeve, fingers like hooks. “Let’s cut to it. I trade intel for intel! I rank intel D, C, B, A, S, and deepest SSS, a well under midnight. Three low ranks buy one higher! The wine bar’s entire file is at most a B to me.”

“Oh? Trading intel for intel? Interesting. Let’s find a place to talk.” The deal felt like clasped hands; a window opened in rain.

He had a piece he couldn’t unload; his smile curved like a crescent, a stone lifted from his heart like a cloud breaking.