Chapter Text
If Wei Ying had thought that the rest of the day—or week—would be relatively lowkey now that he’s found Jiang Cheng, he’d been sorely mistaken. From the moment he gets Jiang Cheng to change out of the clothes he’d been wearing so he can drop them off at the police station, and get someone to analyse them for any traces of where he might’ve been, it’s a rollercoaster.
Most of that is because Lan Zhan is working from his uncle’s place, and although there are a huge number of things he’s getting done from there, there are smaller, team leader-y matters that make everything else take double the time to get done.
When Wei Ying walks in, he doesn’t get bombarded so much as flooded with the realisation that nothing he needs to do here will be accomplished unless he takes matters into his own hands. He’s so glad he left Jiang Cheng with Jiang Yanli—that’s one less thing to worry about, now.
He goes up to Nie Zonghui, who’s just about the only other person Wei Ying considers competent in this whole place. It really doesn’t help that, because they’re still classified as a remote location, despite all the urban growth of the last decade, most of the officers who get trained here will leave for bigger cities.
“Long time no see, Officer Nie,” he greets with a smile. “You happen to know where I could find someone from forensics?”
“Wei Wuxian.” Nie Zonghui looks almost surprised to see him there. And then he glances around the room, wincing a little. “I’d try downstairs, though to be honest, everyone’s busy now.”
“When aren’t they,” Wei Ying says, because police officers like others acknowledging that they’re busy. “You probably haven’t heard yet, but we’ve had a major breakthrough in the missing persons case.”
That gets Nie Zonghui’s attention. He listens as Wei Ying gives an extremely brief summary of Jiang Cheng reappearing, and shakes his head a little. “Damn miracle, is what that is. Call and let Huaisang know, would you? I made the mistake of telling him about the situation; he’d be relieved to know Jiang Cheng’s been found.”
Wei Ying nods and smiles, and then tells Nie Zonghui that he should come over for dinner when he’s next free, and then he rushes downstairs before he gets handed casework to do on something he’s only peripherally contracted to work in.
The only person downstairs near the labs is working in admin, and he takes the bag of Jiang Cheng’s things and hands him a receipt. Wei Ying gives him a smile that promises death if he loses any of the items, and then tries to make his escape.
He hates the precinct when Lan Zhan isn’t there. Even Jin Zixuan being here would’ve been mildly tolerable, but he’s barely ever in the office, and if he is, he’s stuck in meetings. Now that Wei Ying stops to think of it, there’s probably a direct correlation there.
“Mr Wei! Mr Wei!”
Wei Ying stops and lets out a heavy exhale. He’d been so close to making it out the door. Pasting a smile on his face, he spins around.
“Yes, uh,” Wei Ying squints, “do I know you?”
The child playing dress-up nods frantically. “I’m Cao Weining,” he says. “I was one of the officers on duty when you came to investigate the location of the—”
Wei Ying snaps his fingers. “Yes, the site Rafael Santiago was found at!” He studies Cao Weining again. “Did you need anything?”
Cao Weining glances around. A woman—girl?—who looks about his age sends him a glower where she’s buried behind three stacks of reports, and he hurriedly looks away. “Actually, Officer Lan mentioned that you were also working with us on the drug bust—”
“Drug bust?” Wei Ying repeats. “Last I checked you had no one to be busting.”
Cao Weining blinks at him. “Mr Wei, have you not heard the news?”
“The news?” Wei Ying is beginning to feel a headache setting in. And all he’d wanted to do here was get Jiang Cheng’s effects tested, maybe see if there were any updates, and now it appeared that even getting out of the precinct will be a challenge.
Cao Weining is nodding empathically, eyes wide and earnest. He reminds Wei Ying of Wen Ning in some ways. “Detective Xiao and Detective Song were on the case. They won’t tell us the exact details just yet—it’ll still need to go to court—but they followed that Xue Yang guy they brought in before, and he led them to a warehouse.”
Wei Ying frowns. “Seems a little convenient,” he says, masking any sharpness of his words with a smile. “They bring anyone else in for it?”
“Another guy the two of them had been after for a while—Su Minshan. He’s not the big fish, but it’s almost impossible for charges to stick to those guys.”
“Su Minshan?” It’s not a name Wei Ying is familiar with, but that’s nothing too strange—his cases rarely delve so deep into the world of drug trafficking.
“He’s got a huge place in Sydney that officers are raiding,” Cao Weining continues.
“Officer Cao,” Wei Ying says, mostly to stop him from going into more depth. Is he even supposed to be telling Wei Ying this? This kid won’t last in this line of work if he continues like this. “I need to get going. If they find anything on the missing people in the warehouse, or at—at this Su guy’s place, then let me know, okay?”
Cao Weining nods. “Of course, Mr Wei!”
Wei Ying gives him another smile that he hopes is bright and blinding, and quickly exits the building.
Jiang Cheng balks at the idea of staying at Jiang Yanli’s house. “I’m fine,” he stresses, a steely look passing over his face. “And all I want to sleep in my own bed.”
Wei Ying hadn’t thought was going to be such an issue. He tries to see it through Jiang Cheng’s eyes, tries to adopt a sympathetic note to his voice like how Jiang Yanli would’ve, but all he can really feel is the panicky flutter in his gut at the thought of letting Jiang Cheng out of his sight. What if he goes and knocks on his door in the morning, only to see the apartment empty once more?
He could’ve argued that the apartment is still a crime scene. But it’s not true and Jiang Cheng knows that. Besides, it’s not like Jiang Cheng’s ever cared about police protocol—which is probably one more reason why the two of them are in this line of business instead.
“What if whoever took you comes back?” Wei Ying says. “You don’t even remember what happened!”
Jiang Cheng scowls. “I know they won’t be coming back for me.”
“How do you know that!” Wei Ying just barely stops himself from throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration. “Look, I get where you’re coming from, I really do. But—” he changes tracks when he sees Jiang Cheng clenching his jaw and crossing his arms, the two pieces of body language that indicate he’s truly digging his heels in, “if you want to stay at your own place, then I’ll stay there with you.”
Jiang Cheng clearly hadn’t been expecting this, which is a surprise, because… actually, now that Wei Ying thinks about it, he’s rarely stayed over at Jiang Cheng’s place. With his own house being so close, it’s always been far more convenient to just make the five minute drive—not to mention the two of them tend to pull all-nighters at the office rather than even their own homes.
Wei Ying’s crosses his arms, and Jiang Cheng finally, to Wei Ying’s relief, nods. He still looks annoyed, but he’s given in, which is something, because otherwise Wei Ying would’ve been camped outside Jiang Cheng’s apartment every night till they found the culprit, which isn’t at all appealing.
This also works out nicely, because his own car is still at Lan Qiren’s house. Jiang Cheng drives in silence, and it’s a little funny to watch him do it, with both hands on the steering wheel from time to time and braking just a little too hard, sometimes using the indicator just a second after he’s already turned. When this happens for the third time and they get honked at, Wei Ying snorts a laugh, and he gets a ferocious scowl in return.
He sets up camp in the guest room, the one where Jin Ling normally stays in. It’s even got a few of A’Ling’s clothes in the closet, a spare toothbrush on the tallboy, and a few storybooks that Wei Ying remembers from when A’Ling was still in primary school. The kids don’t really have sleepovers at Jiang Cheng’s place anymore, but they’d used to, especially in kindergarten or year one, when Jiang Yanli hadn’t had the energy to host multiple screaming children.
He can hear Jiang Cheng bustling around the place, hears the shower running and then immediately being turned off. And then there’s harsh breathing, like Jiang Cheng’s just ran a marathon.
Wei Ying lifts himself up to his elbows. “Jiang Cheng?” he calls. “Is everything… do you need something?”
There’s silence for a moment, and then Jiang Cheng says, “It’s fine. Just colder than I expected.”
He isn’t sure if he should believe him. Maybe this is a clue—whoever (or whatever) had taken Jiang Cheng had left him with an avoidance for water. He has been looking directly at that place that used to be a lake, after all. But this could also just be an isolated case.
Wei Ying should technically do a few more tests, just to check. But the thought of distressing Jiang Cheng further makes his stomach turn.
He’ll start out slow, maybe see how Jiang Cheng deals with washing his hands. It doesn’t escape him that the shower doesn’t turn back on that night.
Wei Ying wakes up just after eight in the morning, disoriented as he stares up at the ceiling. The view from the window is familiar, like a funhouse mirror.
Memory hits him a second later; he curses himself for forgetting where he is, what he’s here for. But surely he would’ve woken if he’d heard anything happen in the middle of the night.
“A’Cheng?” he calls, feet sliding into Jiang Cheng’s guest slippers as he pads out the door, running a hand through his hair and wincing at the tangles. “You want breakfast?”
Silence.
Wei Ying swallows, making his way first to the living room and kitchen area, just to stop himself from feeling like he’s paranoid. And then, finding it empty and hollow, he barely stops himself from racing to Jiang Cheng’s door, twisting the handle instead of knocking.
Empty, again. He checks the bathroom, every other room in the place, and then he calls.
Each second the phone rings feels like that night just last week, trying to get through to Jiang Cheng but the call going to voicemail every time. Wei Ying breathes in calmly, clenching and releasing his fist.
And then, just as he’s about to hang up and call someone else—Jin Zixuan? Lan Zhan? he has no idea—Jiang Cheng picks up.
“Yeah?” Jiang Cheng says, voice sounding distracted.
“That’s all you have to say?!” Wei Ying says in an accusing tone. “Yeah? Where the fuck are you?”
There’s a pause. “Out for a run,” Jiang Cheng says finally. “You were out, like fully snoring, limbs all over the place. Or would you rather I wake you up every time I go out for a jog?”
“You went out for a run while there’s a serial killer on the loose?” Wei Ying exhales long and loud, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y’know what, never mind. I’ll meet you at the office. We have shit to do.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you there. Don’t freak out if you arrive before me.”
Wei Ying barely bites back a string of curses, hanging up and slumping against the wall. Is he the one overreacting here? Surely not. But maybe he and everyone else have been too overbearing—Jiang Cheng gets weird about people fussing over him even when he’s sick. Maybe Jiang Cheng needs space.
The cupboards and fridge barely have food in them. Wei Ying grabs a banana that’s ready to go off and shoves it into his mouth, considering it enough sustenance until he gets his morning coffee fill.
Jiang Cheng arrives about half an hour later, when Wei Ying is already sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen. Now that they’ve found Jiang Cheng, he’s at a loss for how to proceed.
The best way to go about this is to interrogate Jiang Cheng—he’s already preparing the questions. The results for Jiang Cheng’s clothes will arrive hopefully later today, and he’s already got Wen Ning on that.
By the time Jiang Cheng does arrive, Wei Ying is jittery from the coffee and uneasiness at treating Jiang Cheng like another one of their victims. Jiang Cheng will surely balk at most of this, but—but surely he’ll understand. He’d been nothing but grim determination when they’d heard of Rafael, and then Mishti, and then Martin. And he remembers how both of them had reacted to Mianmian being taken. Jiang Cheng will do it, for them.
Jiang Cheng looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here when he finally steps into the office. He’s wearing what looks like Jin Ling’s clothes—baggy pants that are slung low on his hips, and a tank top.
Wei Ying blinks at him, and forces himself to not comment.
“Great, you’re here!” he says brightly, the caffeine making up for about half the cheer in his voice. “We can get started.”
“Started on what?” Jiang Cheng asks suspiciously.
“Sit.” He’s gotten the space ready, with nothing to do but pace in the office and bite his fingernails. “I’ll grab the curtains.”
“Are you about to do some voodoo shit on me? ‘Cause if you are, then I’m out, man.”
Man, Wei Ying mouths to himself with a snort. Jiang Cheng has been hanging out with Jin Ling and his friends far too much these days. Jin Ling had gone through a dude phase and then turned to bro and now, finally, had hit man and brah. If they aren’t careful, he’s going to become an eshay and Wei Ying will definitely not be able to deal with that.
“Not voodoo,” Wei Ying promises, and applauds himself for his restraint in not bringing up the literal ghost hunt Jiang Cheng had been conducting on his laptop. “Just something to jog your memory. It’ll be okay, and we can stop when you want to.” When he sees Jiang Cheng hesitating, he adds, “Do you trust me?”
Jiang Cheng snorts. “Not on your life.”
Wei Ying smiles. “C’mon, sit.”
Jiang Cheng reluctantly sits on the couch. Wei Ying steps over to him and runs a hand over his eyes, prompting him to close them. He normally doesn’t do this to clients, but he knows Jiang Cheng feels more at ease with physical touch from someone he knows. Someone he trusts. He tilts Jiang Cheng’s head back so it’s resting on the back cushion.
“Okay, A’Cheng,” he says, “I want you to think back to the night you were coming here from your sister’s place. It was dark, and late at night. You put the food she gave you in the fridge.”
Jiang Cheng was nodding. “Yeah, I went to the car,” he says.
Wei Ying frowns. “Why’d you go to the car?”
There’s a pause, and Jiang Cheng says, “It was creepy, that night. Like there was something in the carpark with me. I could feel it. But it wasn’t—” He sucked in a breath. “It was just cold, and wet and damp, and—you wouldn’t want to stay in that, would you? If someone was out there in that coldness, you’d invite them in, so they weren’t cold anymore.”
“Did you invite anyone in?” Wei Ying has no idea where this is going. It definitely hadn’t been raining that night—he’d double checked the weather, just in case it impacted where Jiang Cheng might’ve been or the condition his clothes would’ve been in. If there might’ve been muddy tracks.
Jiang Cheng squints his eyes shut. “No,” he says, through gritted teeth. “I didn’t invite anyone in. I couldn’t—why would I do that?”
“Okay, let’s circle back,” Wei Ying says, heart beating wildly in his chest. “You said you woke up in your car. Do you remember closing your eyes?”
Jiang Cheng snorts. “Of course I remember closing my eyes. But like I said, it was cold and dark and wet. I was freezing. I could finally feel my fingers when I woke up.”
Wei Ying reaches out before he can stop himself, grabbing Jiang Cheng’s hand. Jiang Cheng starts violently, but he doesn’t pull away. He merely looks at Wei Ying’s hands as they encircle his, a small frown on his face.
“What did it smell like?” Wei Ying asks, voice almost a whisper.
Jiang Cheng automatically wrinkles his nose. “Mouldy, like… a bit like rotten eggs.”
Wei Ying nods. “Okay, that’s… that’s good, A’Cheng.” He tries for a smile, but he knows he fails when Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.
“I’m not a child,” he says. “You don’t need to praise me the moment I respond.”
“I’m not,” Wei Ying says. “You couldn’t remember anything yesterday, but you’ve given us so much to go on now. It’ll help—we’ll be able to look for Mianmian better with this information.”
Jiang Cheng pulls his hand out from Wei Ying’s. “I don’t think so,” he murmurs, gaze distant.
Wei Ying frowns at that, and is about to protest when they’re interrupted by the sound of Jiang Cheng’s rumbling stomach. He glances down at it automatically, and so does Jiang Cheng, an almost quizzical expression on his face.
Wei Ying’s smile this time is much more real. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten to eat,” he says. “You took so long to get here, I thought you would’ve grabbed breakfast at some point.”
Jiang Cheng shrugs, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “Forgot,” he says shortly.
“We don’t have any food there,” Wei Ying calls. “We went through all the stuff Yanli Jie gave you!”
“You ate the food the A’Jie made for me?”
“What would you prefer, mouldy food that you’d need to throw out by now? At least it went to use filling up my stomach.” He patted his belly for effect, warmth spreading through him when he received a miffed look in response.
Jin Ling has been following his Jiujiu for about a day now. It’s been about four days since Jiang Cheng has come back, and now that the other adults have started to relax, just a little bit, it feels like Jin Ling has just gotten more and more tense.
He hasn’t told the others why they’re here today, but judging from the looks they keep giving each other, it seems like they suspect.
He watches out of the corner of his eye as Wen Yuan loses the eye battle between the three of them. “Jin Ling,” he begins hesitantly.
Jin Ling doesn’t turn to look at him, too busy peering through the binoculars at Jiang Cheng’s apartment door.
“Jin Ling, isn’t this a bit… y’know,” Wen Yuan tries again, “weird?”
“What he means is,” Jingyi butts in, “what’s the point of all this? Your Dajiu spends some nights here anyway—he doesn’t really need us to keep watch in case the serial killer comes back.”
Zizhen shuffles hesitantly. “Unless there’s something you know that you’re not telling the rest of us?”
Good old Zizhen, Jin Ling thinks absentmindedly. Always trying for the best faith approach. “Jiujiu’s just been acting weird lately,” Jin Ling says, because now that all three of them have spoken, he has to say something.
“Like what?” Wen Yuan is speaking to him in the same tone he used on a hurt bird they found one day, right at the back of their primary school’s oval. He’d picked it up, cradling it close to his chest while Jin Ling had been utterly queasy at the way its wing was bent, the three of them following Wen Yuan like ducklings as he took the bird to the teacher on recess duty.
Jin Ling is about to respond, though he has no idea what’ll come out of his mouth, when there’s movement. He waves his hands in what’s hopefully the right hand gesture to get everyone to shut up and fall into formation, and it miraculously works, because they all quieten up instantly.
Jiang Cheng is walking out of the apartment door. Jin Ling studies him, but there’s nothing particularly unusual about his appearance or gait. He’s wearing a thin jacket, jeans that actually look like they’ve been washed and dried correctly, and his hair is in a neat ponytail. He looks like a normal human being. Jin Ling scrutinises even harder.
“Is he getting in the car—” Jingyi groans.
“Hey, are we gonna have to run after the car? Or are we stealing a car—” Zizhen almost sounds like he’s hoping for the latter.
“Our bikes are still at my place,” Wen Yuan says mournfully.
“It’s okay,” Jin Ling cuts in. “We don’t need to follow him exactly.” Before the others can fully release their exhale of relief, he adds, “I’ve got access to the GPS tracker that Dajiu put on Jiujiu’s phone.”
He ignores the three sets of sighs that he received, setting off after the tracker on the app.
Jingyi jogs up to him a moment later. “That’s the direction of the city centre, isn’t it?”
Jin Ling hums in assent, frowning. “Must be case related, right?”
“Or he needs groceries,” Zizhen suggests.
Jin Ling shakes his head immediately. “Any emergency groceries he would’ve gotten on the way back from the office, or if it’s an emergency emergency, there’s the IGA around the corner.”
It’s lucky that Wen Yuan’s place is on the way; they grab their bikes from the backyard, wheeling them out and crawling so they won’t be seen through the windows. Popo thinks they’re at Zizhen’s house, and Zizhen’s sisters have a joint sleepover going on, so Zizhen had pretended to be escaping to Sizhui’s place—with any luck, his parents will be too overwhelmed with all the chaos to remember to check up on their son.
And hopefully any parents checking up on Jin Ling and Jingyi will be too horrified at the sound of shrieks to press any questions on the Ouyang parents.
Most of Jin Ling’s plans rely heavily on hope and chaos—things that go hand in hand when it comes to concerned parents. Tonight is different from those other cases of sneaking out, though; this isn’t just on a dare or because they wanted to catch the late night release of some movie and got dragged back home halfway through. This is Jiujiu.
And Jiujiu, right now, is heading in through some weirdly dark door.
“This doesn’t look safe,” Wen Yuan says dubiously, as they stare at the entrance. There’s a massive man standing right inside the door, talking to someone out of their line of sight. “Is this a club?”
Zizhen’s eyes are wide. “We have fake IDs though—we can totally get in!”
“But why is Jiujiu in there?” Jingyi says at a whisper, not taking his eyes off the bouncer. “Like—this is not grocery shopping!”
“The case is related to Grave Dust,” Wen Yuan says, “so maybe he’s undercover. So we should not blow it by going in there after him.”
“But last time he was undercover he was all weird when he came to my place,” Jin Ling says, chewing on his lip. “What if he doesn’t have any backup again and he gets kidnapped like he did last time?”
“Try calling your dad,” Jingyi suggests. “Surely he or your dajiu would know if Jiujiu’s undercover.”
Jin Ling hesitates. “How’re we going to explain why we know where he is?”
“They gave you access to the tracker app, right?” Zizhen suggests. “Just say you got worried and wanted to make sure he’s okay!”
“Uh…”
Wen Yuan’s eyes flick to the sky. “Jin Ling!”
“Pretend to have a nightmare!” Jingyi says, in a loud enough voice that the bouncer’s eyes flick towards them. Jingyi squeaks and ducks behind Wen Yuan, who’s about three centimetres taller than him. “And that you couldn’t reach him on his phone.”
Jin Ling wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want them to think I’m a baby!” he says heatedly.
“Wait, wait, you guys,” Zizhen hisses, yanking on Jin Ling and Wen Yuan’s sleeves. “I think someone’s coming out!”
They quickly form a little huddle, trying to make it look as though they’re watching something cool on someone’s phone without paying any attention at all to the door to the club. It’s not even an exciting door, Jin Ling grouses to himself. Clubs in movies always had double doors that were shiny or glossy, or cool enough that they didn’t even open unless you had the right token to get inside, or a password…
“Holy shit, is that your jiujiu?” Jingyi’s head has popped up to stare. Wen Yuan shoves it down again.
“No, that’s some rando,” Jingyi says, peering through a gap between two torsos. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” Jin Ling says, trying to crouch down as well. His view is blocked by a big blob of…
Jin Ling swallows, straightening. Wen Yuan and Zizhen have turned around, and now he and Jingyi are without their torso shields as they’re faced by the big boulder of a bouncer.
“What do you kids want?”
Even his voice is all gravelly. Jin Ling shoves out his chest and tries to look taller than he is, which is difficult, as he’s the third shortest in their quartet. “What’s it to you?” he shoots back, crossing his arms.
The bouncer merely raises his eyebrow, the piercing moving with the muscle, and Jin Ling has a moment of distraction as he wonders whether he’d also look as cool if he got his eyebrow pierced.
And then Wen Yuan opens his mouth. “We thought we saw our uncle go in there,” he says, in his sweetest, most teacher’s pet voice. He’s hunched his shoulders a little bit, and his eyes are wide and pleading. “We just wanted to see if it was actually him or not! He was supposed to come with us to find our older brother so we could all get ice cream together, but it’s been ages since he’s gone in and we can’t get through to his phone.”
Jin Ling resists the urge to kick Wen Yuan’s ankle. He hates playing the weak little kid routine, but annoyingly, it’s their most effective con. He can already see the bouncer’s stern frown melting in the face of Wen Yuan’s puppy eyes.
“You have a photo of him?” he asks gruffly.
Jin Ling shifts the full force of his glare onto his phone screen, pulling up the first photo of Jiang Cheng he can find.
It’s from about three months ago. Jiujiu had come to his school to pick him up, noticing that Jin Ling was upset over something. He hadn’t asked, merely pursing his lips and driving in the opposite direction to the office. Jin Ling had sulked the entire time, right up until he’d glanced up at the sign for the animal shelter.
Fairy had come from a breeder, and apparently had cost a small fortune, and Jin Ling knew Jiang Cheng made fun of his father for it sometimes. But it hadn’t mattered to Jin Ling—Fairy was Fairy, and if she’d been a mixed breed from the RSPCA, he would’ve still loved her just as much.
He’d taken the photo when his jiujiu hadn’t been looking, busy with petting a fluffy stretched belly. Jin Ling still remembers the way Jiang Cheng had glanced up to say something to him, the exact moment Jin Ling had taken the photo, and his relaxed face had instantly morphed into a scowl, though he hadn’t been able to hold onto his frown for long.
He passes his phone with the photo to the bouncer now, who studies it for a moment and then nods once. “Wait here,” he says, and disappears inside.
He leaves the door open.
Jin Ling glances at the rest of them, all four of them operating in perfect sync.
They slip in through the door in a matter of seconds, racing up the stairs in single file. They’d gotten lucky—the door they’d camped outside of was clearly not the main entrance, and there were enough people here that they weren’t noticed instantly.
“Uh, guys?” Jingyi hisses. “Everyone’s got like a wristband.”
“We gotta move fast,” Wen Yuan says, shoving at Jin Ling. “Before they spot us.”
“Jiujiu was wearing super boring clothes,” Zizhen complains. “He’s gonna be so hard to—hey, isn’t that him, at the bar?”
Their heads swivel simultaneously. Zizhen is about to make his way over, when Jin Ling grabs his sleeve. “Wait,” he says. “We’re just here to observe, remember?”
“I don’t remember,” Zizhen mutters. “’Cause you never told us what the plan even is.”
Jin Ling ignores him, though he can’t keep the guilt from rising, just a little.
“C’mon, we’re sticking out even worse by just standing here. That booth’s empty.”
Jingyi is in the lead as they make their way over to the booth. It’s almost entirely covered with empty drinks and cocktails; in a show of ingenious sleuthing, they grab half empty glasses and pretend to be scanning the menu.
“We’re so underdressed,” Jingyi says mournfully, staring at someone on the dance floor in a rainbow feather boa.
“Sor-ry for not realising Jiujiu would be going fucking clubbing,” Jin Ling snaps. He grabs his binoculars out again, using the menu to make it slightly less obvious that he’s spying.
Jiang Cheng has a line of shot glasses in front of him, and is steadily making his way through them. He’s surrounded by a few people, some of them women, but there’s no one here who Jin Ling recognises.
And then one of the women puts her arms around his jiujiu’s neck, sliding between his legs and kisses him, and Jin Ling jolts backwards like he’s been electrocuted.
The others have also noticed what’s happening, because the club is small enough that binoculars aren’t really a necessity. Wen Yuan is outright gaping, while Zizhen has a dreamy look on his face. Jingyi’s covering his eyes with his hands, muttering to himself.
Jin Ling watches in disbelief as this random girl he’s never seen before takes his jiujiu by the hand and drags him to the dance floor, where he promptly loses him amongst the throngs of dancers.
“Your jiujiu’s so cool,” Zizhen says wistfully.
“My jiujiu doesn’t—” Jin Ling begins loudly, but he’s interrupted by someone clearing their throat.
“Oh fuck,” Jingyi says in terror.
Two minutes later, they’re standing on the sidewalk again.
“Well,” Wen Yuan says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Mission successful? We did technically get what we wanted.”
Jin Ling doesn’t respond. He’s looking at the tracker again, but Jiang Cheng is still in the club, movements small and in the same area.
“Jin Ling,” Zizhen says this time. “C’mon, we can’t just hang around out here till he comes out! What if he’s in there clubbing till after midnignt?”
“It’s already past midnight,” Wen Yuan says, voice glum.
Jin Ling sighs. “Yeah, fine,” he says. “Let’s go—to someone’s home. I can’t remember what our cover story was.”
“My place,” Zizhen says. “It’ll be easiest to sneak into, with all the people already there.”
They place Jin Ling somewhere in the middle of the pack as they cycle to Zizhen’s house, which is lucky, because the entire trip is a blur.
It’s not like Jin Ling had thought his jiujiu was celibate, or incapable of partying like any other adult. It’s just that… maybe it’s because Jiujiu has never shown interest in it, or in dating like his other uncles have. All of Jin Ling’s uncles and aunts have gone on dates at various points, have been in relationships where they’ve introduced their partners to him, but Jiujiu never has. Jin Ling had just accepted it as a part of life. But maybe Jiang Cheng had gone out of his way to keep Jin Ling out of his love life, and that thought stings.
Zizhen is right—they don’t have any trouble sneaking into his room. They even take the back door, and get shushed by one of his sister’s friends as they trample through the living room and almost trip over them, the only light coming from the movie being projected onto the wall.
They’ve left their changes of clothes back in Wen Yuan’s bedroom, but the four of them have shared clothes and beds enough that no one really blinks at raiding Zizhen’s closet. If his parents are confused about why he’s in their home, they don’t let on—they don’t even really come to check on Zizhen, which may be because Zizhen isn’t supposed to be home tonight. There are things about his friends’ parents that are so different from his own that it stumps Jin Ling sometimes, but tonight he’s just grateful there are no adults prying into their business.
Jin Ling wakes up every half hour or so—not even intentionally, just from the thoughts not leaving him alone. One time he comes to groggily, and his eyes flick to Zizhen’s clock on the far wall shining its LED digits down on them reading three a.m. He goes to grab his phone, to check where Jiujiu is, and Wen Yuan is there.
“A’Ling,” he whispers. It’s something he only calls Jin Ling when they’re alone. “He’s home now. I’ve been checking your phone too.”
Jin Ling isn’t awake or coherent enough to say anything. He just nods a few times, tries for a smile, and then falls right back asleep.
Wei Ying impatiently bangs on Jiang Cheng’s door with a closed fist, wondering just what it’ll take to wake him up. Six days since Jiang Cheng had been found, and the paranoia is battling with the irritation at Jiang Cheng’s stubbornness.
He’d refused to be ‘babysat’, as he’d called it, after that first night he’d allowed Wei Ying to stay at his apartment. He’d gone to Jiang Yanli’s home for dinner a few nights, most of the time skipping that as well—normally, this would just mean that Jiang Cheng was holed up in the office, but every time Wei Ying had checked the tracker, he’d been in all sorts of places in the city, taking the car on long drives that seemingly went nowhere.
He'd barely even come into the office except when Wei Ying had brought him there himself.
Jiang Yanli—and Wei Ying himself, of course—worries. It’s surely some trauma response, she’d said. If he’d just go and see a psychologist, or had a full body check done…
Now, Wei Ying doesn’t bother with knocking a third time. Screw politeness, honestly. He gets out his key and unlocks the door, forcing an apologetic smile at the neighbour who’d popped her head out the door to frown at him for how loudly he’d been banging on the door.
“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Ying hollers as he steps over the threshold, not bothering to take his shoes off. “It’s almost noon. How’re you still fucking—gah!”
There is a stranger in the house—Wei Ying is absolutely entitled to the high pitched shriek he makes when she appears.
“Who’re you?” he practically yelps. “Jiang Cheng?”
“He’s getting up, Jesus,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “It’s not even a weekday!”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Wei Ying watches as the stranger slips her feet into the heels by the door—how had he not noticed something so sparkly and sharp?—and pointedly ignores him, going around the living room and grabbing a few other objects that clearly don’t belong to Jiang Cheng.
“I’m leaving now,” she says finally, wagging her fingers at him in goodbye.
Wei Ying continues gaping until the door closes behind her, and then he stomps all the way to Jiang Cheng’s bedroom door. He’s just about to yank it open when the voice inside his head—the Jiang Yanli inside his head, really—tells him to stop and think for a moment.
Jiang Cheng’s a grown adult human being. It’s only normal that he has the occasional person over. And just because Wei Ying has never, not once, in the three decades or so of knowing Jiang Cheng, heard or seen any evidence that Jiang Cheng is even remotely interested in dating or sex, doesn’t mean that he isn’t.
Everyone needs outlets, he tells himself sternly. Wei Ying can definitely understand that. Hasn’t he himself found solace in Lan Zhan’s body on countless nights? Jiang Cheng’s a private person; it makes sense that he wouldn’t care to share details, especially not in the way that Wei Ying would with schoolfriends like Huaisang.
“Jiang Cheng!” he calls again. “I’m coming in in three seconds, and if you’re not decent by then, it’s your fault!”
These are warnings Jiang Cheng has said to him countless times, and often he’d be walking in with a jug of water in hand. In the short time they’d lived together, Wei Ying had learned very quickly just how to fling on boxers at the very least and sit upright in bed even if he was still mostly asleep.
There’s no sound of someone scrambling to get dressed on the other side of the door. Wei Ying still counts to three, and takes his time doing it, just in case. And then he opens the door, and lets out the loudest disappointed sigh he can muster.
“Are you kidding?” he says, going over and opening the blinds. “You’ve never slept past like seven, and now it’s almost nine!”
Jiang Cheng frowns at him, hair a knotted mess from where it’d once apparently been tied up in a ponytail. “Who are you, my mother,” he mumbles, burying his head into a pillow and covering it with his arms. “Rack off.”
Rack off? Wei Ying doesn’t think he’s ever heard Jiang Cheng say that in his life. He probably misheard him, what with the pillow over his face and all. “You’re fucking lucky I’m not your mother.” Wei Ying shakes his head. “You went out last night?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Rude. All these years of me trying to get you to come clubbing with us and you decide to go alone?” Wei Ying wanders to Jiang Cheng’s closet, grabbing clothes. “We’re invited to your sister’s place for brunch. We gotta get going if we want to pick up the files from the office.”
“Why’re we taking case files to brunch?”
Wei Ying frowns. “To work on the case?”
There’s a sigh from behind him. “Can’t today,” Jiang Cheng says, sitting up and swinging his legs round.
“Why not?” Don’t be confrontational, don’t be pushy, Wei Ying chants to himself.
“Got an appointment.” Jiang Cheng eyes the glass of water on the nightstand, and then downs it.
“Appointment?” Wei Ying feels like a parrot, repeating everything Jiang Cheng says. “What kind of appointment?”
“God, you’re nosy. An appointment at a place. That’s all you need to know.”
Wei Ying clenches his jaw, breathing in deep through his nose and exhaling out. “Fine. Are you going to call your sister and tell her, or did you want me to do that as well, seeing how it looks like I’m the only one of us who’s actually working the case anymore?”
It’s like his words don’t even hit Jiang Cheng. He shrugs. “You can tell her. You’re seeing her anyway. And if it annoys you that much, I’ll be at the office tomorrow all day. Is that okay with you?”
Bristling just slightly at the mocking way he says it, Wei Ying says, “Yes. Perfect.”
He’d never thought he’d have to work to convince Jiang Cheng to come into the office. Usually it’s an effort to get him to leave.
Wei Ying had mostly been making up the brunch. Jiang Yanli’s house is open for them to pop in at most times, though he and Jiang Cheng try not to show up unannounced at meal times, but if there’s one thing Jiang Cheng frets about, it’s forgetting occasions because he lost track of what day it is.
Wei Ying doesn’t even need to bring the case files to Jiang Yanli’s house—not because she isn’t expecting him, but because he’s got his laptop with him in the car, and all their notes were digitised because he’s technically supposed to be at Lan Qiren’s house. He glances at the tracker app on his phone one more time, seeing Jiang Cheng’s location still showing his apartment.
Jiang Yanli is always pleasantly surprised when he appears, and today is no different.
“A’Ling’s asleep,” she tells him when she sees him looking around.
“That’s good,” Wei Ying responds honestly. “Things should return to normal for him as soon as possible.”
Jiang Yanli goes to say something, and then hesitates, giving him a small smile instead and leading him further into the house. “Zixuan’s got his notes spread out all over the kitchen table,” she says with a shake of her head. “He says he’ll move them when A’Ling wakes, but…”
Wei Ying sees what she means: there are stacks of paper all over, arranged haphazardly but probably in a system that makes sense to Jin Zixuan. He’s got his work laptop in front of him, frowning at the screen.
“Yeesh,” Wei Ying comments. “Jie wasn’t kidding.”
Zixuan looks up, like he’s waking from a haze. He blinks a little, and then takes of his glasses.
“Normally you complain about seeing two of me whenever we come over.”
“Normally there are two of you,” Zixuan mutters. He doesn’t say anything more, but Wei Ying slumps into a chair anyway.
“Jie, I know what you said about trauma response and shit, but get this—I went over to his place and there was some girl in his apartment and he’d clearly brought her home last night! He never does that! Not to mention he’s been out every night, and,” he lowers his voice, just in case Jin Ling is awake and listening in, “I think he’s been taking Grave Dust? He was showing some of the symptoms of crashing when I saw him a couple days ago.”
Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan glance at each other. “You went to see him today?” Jiang Yanli says. “He didn’t come here with you?”
Wei Ying shakes his head. “Said he has an ‘appointment’.” He barely refrains from doing quotation marks with his fingers, but his tone gives it away all the same.
“Maybe he’s getting help, seeing someone,” Zixuan offers.
Wei Ying bites back a scathing remark. “He hasn’t left his place—look.” He shows them Jiang Cheng’s location on the tracker.
Just as Jiang Yanli is about to speak, someone else chimes in from the doorway.
“It’s not Jiujiu.”
Wei Ying whirls around, jumping at the sound of Jin Ling’s voice. Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan clearly also hadn’t heard him moving around the house; Zixuan jumps guiltily and starts turning files upside down, and Jiang Yanli places a hand over her chest and shuts her eyes for a moment.
“A’Ling, how long have you been eavesdropping?” she asks sternly.
Jin Ling, to his credit, doesn’t shift nervously like he’d used to when he’d gotten caught doing things he shouldn’t have been doing. “Not long?” he offers. “But I’m right. Whoever he is, he isn’t Jiujiu.”
END OF PART 2