“Th... thank you...”

The two words scraped out after a long while, dry as cracked earth in Jie Ye’s throat.

“That officer is the one who found your sister. You can ask her for details.”

The older detective patted his shoulder, pointed at a woman sitting straight-backed nearby, then left the lounge with a sigh like wind slipping through eaves.

Jie Ye lifted his head. The female detective had settled there at some point, composed as a drawn blade. She looked only a few years older than him, but she carried a chill aura that kept strangers at arm’s length.

In her brows and eyes, you could tell she was no ordinary woman.

“Hello. Could you tell me... what happened?”

If a mirror were in front of him, he would’ve seen how ugly that forced smile was, like cracked paint on old wood.

She let out a small sigh, then began to describe what she had seen.

Outside the door, the older detective listened. Hearing the man inside finally speak, his heart eased a fraction, like a taut string loosening.

For an older brother, this had to land like a hammer. He had seen many cases; some families sank under grief for life like stones dropped in a well.

In the dim corridor like a tunnel, he fished out a cigarette, lit it, and drew deep, as if smoke could scour the heaviness from his chest like rain washing dust.

“Officer Bai, the task force is waiting for you. Shall we?”

The reminder came just as the ember found its glow.

“Let’s go.”

He ground the butt into the sand atop the trash can. His gaze lay still as a lake; few knew what storm roiled beneath that surface.

“We found your sister’s body at the off-ramp to the Dome. The scene was...”

The words rose to her tongue, then she swallowed them like a pebble.

Jie Ye heard the hitch. Grief pounded through him like surf, but a thin line of judgment held.

“Don’t worry about me. Say it.”

How much courage does it take for a brother, who lost the only person he had, to say that?

She looked at his bloodshot eyes and paper-pale face, sighed, and went on.

“Her body was dumped in a roadside trash bin. It was blatant, like a banner. But you know what day it is, right?”

“Today... is City Founding Day. The highway to the Dome...”

His face blanched further, voice trembling like a leaf. His nails cut his palms and drew thin lines of red.

“You only get through that entrance under escort by government convoys...”

“And it’s a downpour. The usual parade is canceled...”

What he didn’t voice: as far as he knew, the stretch near the Dome had no cameras for secrecy’s sake, only a manned checkpoint at the entrance.

She nodded, opened a drawer, and handed him a report, her voice low as mist.

“The prints and all identifiable markers were destroyed. It took time to find her and confirm the identity. We’re sorry.”

As an officer, she knew how family claws at time like a drowning hand. Needed or not, she had to show the station’s stance and keep trouble from boiling over.

In Chenghai, this floating city, a case this vicious hadn’t surfaced in years. No one could promise the family wouldn’t seize the storm.

“No need. Without you, I might not have found her at all today...”

Unexpectedly, the thin young man didn’t lash out. He narrowed his eyes and read the report with a steadiness like a palm over fire.

She let out a breath, but the memory of the girl’s ruined body flashed like lightning. She moved to stop him from reading further. Too late.

“Cause of death: exsanguination? Stitch marks on all four limbs? Signs of blunt-force trauma to the skull?”

The farther his eyes fell, the colder his spine grew, like ice creeping up stone. His grip tightened until the paper rippled.

Line after line, he could not picture the tortures his sister met before death. His body trembled like a bowstring. His gaze iced over. The report creased beneath his fingers.

He teetered at the edge of an eruption.

She prepared to reach him first, to stop the spark before it found dry grass.

“Sir, please—”

She rose, circled the desk, ready to steady him. He surprised her. He set the file back on the table, lifted his pale face, and looked at her calmly.

In those bloodshot eyes, she read a flame ready to burst—a vicious fire that could drag this thin young man straight into the Abyss.

“Yes? What is it?”

His voice rasped like sand on stone. It carried no warmth, not enough to invite, not enough to repel.

“Sir... if you don’t mind, please stay at the station tonight. Just for now.”

She didn’t hesitate long. Even if he questioned it, she could say it was for the family’s safety.

He paused, lowered his head, didn’t meet her eyes. After a spell of silence, he nodded. He let her lead.

Only then did she allow her heart to settle, like dust after thunder. For now, if she kept him inside the station, she could keep anger from tipping the board.

Since Chenghai took root as a floating city, murders happened, but not like this. The brass would not take it lightly.

So her one job now was to hold the line on the young man.

“May I have your name?”

Jie Ye’s question cut through her thoughts.

“Lingi. Bai Lingi.”

He nodded at the answer and carved the name deep into his heart like a chisel. From any angle, she was his benefactor. He would repay that debt as long as he had breath.

At that moment, in the conference room.

Officer Bai studied the gathered evidence and the autopsy report. His brow tightened notch by notch, like knots in old wood.

“According to the victim’s family and the classroom, she left at normal dismissal time. The gate camera confirms it.”

A bespectacled officer slid statements from a folder and placed them at Bai’s elbow.

“Cameras near the school show no sign of the crime there. It likely happened on an unmonitored street, about thirty minutes away.”

“School let out at five. She left at five-ten. She’d hit that camera-dead zone at five-forty.”

“From there to the off-ramp to the Dome takes at least thirty minutes. A loop around the Dome is another thirty. We found the body at nine p.m., and there were no return vehicles nearby. That shows...”

“That shows the perp had about two hours to abduct, kill, dismember, even remove the bones, then stitch the body back together and dump it?!”

Officer Bai slapped his palm on the round table. Anger cracked the air like a whip. No one spoke. That insane result had been checked and rechecked.

“...The autopsy tells us this much: it wasn’t a one-man job. The group had someone with serious surgical skill.”

The bespectacled officer laid out the analysis with steady words, though his gut churned like water on a boil.

Bai slid the report back, rose, and took up a marker at the whiteboard by the projector. He wrote in blunt strokes: Doctor. Crew. High-skill.

“Work those leads. Family background. Victim’s circle. Campus ties. Hospitals she visited. I want results in two days. Dismissed.”

Short speech, no fat on it. His team matched that style. No wasted words. They split tasks and moved, like pieces on a board set in motion.

Bai opened the conference room door and stepped out.

“O—Officer Bai, you’re not leading a team yourself?”

A junior hurried up, breath short, arms full of files stacked to his shoulders.

“No need. We’re going to ‘calm’ the family.”

Bai put a cigarette between his lips and didn’t light it. The unlit stick hung there like a promise held back.

Morning, December 6, 2060.

Jie Ye walked out of the station with a calm face, a dented pill box in his hand like a bruised plum.

As if nothing had happened at all.