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Chapter Text

The lights weren’t dim, but he liked to keep them so that they were just a shine away from darkness, partially blinding when the eyes took to reading and perfect for escaping with a ridiculous expression. With both men hunched over their respective laptops, it almost appeared as though they were paying attention to their work. Effort was a far from the touch of their fingertips for one was scrolling pictures on pinterest off his phone screen hidden in the pages of a file while the other was watching a stream of his favorite show on a small square he had on the right of his desktop screen. It was when one let out a snort that the small room divided their attention equally and fell on the two of them, the head of the team, just short of being the chief.

            Xue Yang quickly dropped his phone onto his lap, obscuring it, while his partner, Wei Ying, tapped on the open file to the left of his stream, bringing his show into the background. They made eye contact but not for long; the two knew the drill well, and easily played off any doubts of their profession. Besides, they approached everything with just a bit of humor, more so now that it involved the dead. The dead could be so serious. Someone had to lighten up the dark corners of a corpse and bring a smile onto someone else’s face, even if that crudely meant their own. The two men were orphans from the beginning, and didn’t know how to much approach matters without taking their coping mechanisms with them. Opposites did not attract one another in such a setting, for the two shared many qualities to the point of annoyance. To others. They were very engrossed by each others’ company, leaning in for conversation whenever an interlude played out simply to share minute details that no one else would busy themselves with. Wei Ying was five years his senior at twenty eight, while Xue Yang tapped away on his keys with his measly grip on adulthood. The two appeared in like manner, only their attire in clothing would differ. They both donned a ponytail, Wei Ying’s longer than Xue Yang’s.

            Today, Xue Yang wasn’t feeling like a ponytail, rather, he appropriated himself with a man bun resting messily on top of his head. They hadn’t received any new work for at least three weeks, and he had grown bored, showing up at work with sweatpants and a pullover hoodie despite being told that it was inappropriate.

            “That’s what you said about Dude Wei’s hair, but you never asked him to cut it.”

            In which they responded, “I did.”

            “Yeah, well.”

            “Detective, please,” his superior chief said, rubbing his temple. It was barely eight in the morning, and Xue Yang was on his second cup of coffee, disgusting coffee from their N’espresso machine that was most likely stale from overuse. Xue Yang wasn’t really drinking a French vanilla latte for the caffeine, instead, he fueled himself with the sugar while Wei Ying dabbled with cream cups in his drip coffee. The man wasn’t much for sugar, but he sure did add a lot of cream. Xue Yang didn’t complain. He himself drank those breve cups from time to time to burn seconds while he waited for some message to reach him. He had been having trouble finding slumber, which was never a good sign. Wei Ying didn’t seem to bear any hints of receiving anything either. Perhaps the dead were finally appeased and there would no longer be any chaos.

            The phone rang. Of course it rang. It hadn’t rung for three weeks unless it was their superior asking them how business was in which one or the other would respond, “it’s dead,” and then laugh at the joke because it was a terrible one.

            “PAP Paranormal Unit, this is Detective Wei speaking,” Wei Ying responded. Xue Yang hated answering phone calls. They gave him a migraine and made it harder for him to communicate with the spirits. The more technology was around him, the more complicated a task it would be for they fed off of that energy and ignored his. As Wei Ying spoke, Xue Yang returned to looking at his phone through his old files, pictures of food because he was hungry. He needed to decide what to have for lunch. The day was starting to weigh on him, and the weight on his tiny stature didn’t do him good. When Wei Ying hung up, the other was ready to grab his bag and head out for a delicate meal.

            “Hold your horses,” Wei Ying called out.

            “Neigh,” Xue Yang replied. The two of them thought the content to be quite hilarious and found themselves laughing, Wei Ying’s hand on his shoulder while the other buckled over.

            “Will you get on with it?” Jiang Cheng barked from his far corner. He never spoke to them really, just taking to his work as though he had something to prove. Maybe he did. He was Wei Ying’s sworn brother, both boys meeting through the Paranormal unit.

            “How could you not find that funny? He said ‘nay’, like a horse, get it?” Wei Ying asked, laughing again as he released Xue Yang’s shoulder. Jiang Cheng could’ve sworn he saw the older man wipe a tear from his eye. The whole scene was ridiculous. Jiang Cheng was only younger by a few months, and yet he had lost the second highest position to a little rat. The rat went by the name of Xue Yang, and it had made sense considering Jiang Cheng had no ability to communicate. He was however, very good at sleuthing with the keyboard, the tech analyst, if you will. He did the background work, and the other two would be the intimate forces.

            “I got it, and it wasn’t funny,” Jiang Cheng replied, going back to his keyboard as he reread the previous file again. They had been stuck long enough, and if the other two couldn’t do it, Jiang Cheng was almost sure he would be credited if he figured it out without them.

            “Alright, alright. Hit you with a favor?” Wei Ying asked. Jiang Cheng responded with an eyebrow raise, but his lips said nothing. His sworn brother was going to ask regardless of whether he agreed to answer to his wishes or ignore it completely.

            “Tell me about the CSI Unit.”

            “What the fuck for?”

            “Language! You know Xue Yang’s still a fetus.”

            “Yeah, ‘fuck’ is hard to pronounce,” Xue Yang agreed, already putting on earphones to tune everyone out. He was ready for lunch.

            “Looks like we’re skipping lunch. They just found something odd with a body and they called our team in.”

            “Name?” Jiang Cheng asked, ready to type away on his keys.

            “A Detective Lan and his partner Xiao.”

            At this, Jiang Cheng made a face. “I don’t have to look them up. I know who they are.”

            “What can you tell me?”

            “Why the fuck would they want our help for? It’s Detective Xiao Xingchen and Detective Lan Wangji. Everyone knows them. They’re renowned.”

            “Never heard of them.”

            “Are we going now? I’m hungry,” Xue Yang said, swallowing the need to whine. He hated when adults bickered back and forth. It made him feel young and emo.

            “Not yet, Xue Dude. We gotta’ go meet this renowned unit,” Wei Ying said sarcastically.

            “But I’m hungry.”

            “Maybe they’ll give you a candy to eat,” Wei Ying joked, but Xue Yang’s eyes narrowed. He hated when his sweet tooth was made fun of. He refused to let the professional unit see him as a child. Squaring his shoulders, he puffed out his chest to feel like a bigger boy but then hurled himself into the ground as a spirit entered his flesh. He lost consciousness in a few flicks, his breath caught in his throat, a convulsing shake embodying his skin, and then.

            Blackness. 

Chapter Text

Wei Ying wasn’t at all shocked, though the ordeal was mostly abrupt on its own part. Jiang Cheng stood up from his seat and peered over the desk at the boy on the ground before he sighed.

            “This could be less dramatic,” he commented, walking around the desk to see if the boy was alright. Wei Ying was already knelt down beside him, lifting him into his arms and walking towards the sofa where the both of them had seen their share of blackness. Xue Yang more so than himself, for like Jiang Cheng had stated, Wei Ying’s messages weren’t as dramatic. The constant fade of consciousness could not have been good for the health. After a while, both of the men frowned.

            “That’s weird,” the oldest commented.

            “Yeah usually we’d, I don’t know, actually see something happen? He’s just sleeping.”

            “That’s bizarre, Jiang Cheng. The spirits are supposed to speak through him not do, well, do that,” he gestured his hand to the boy in slumber. He approached again, lightly laying his palm over the boy’s forehead to check the temperature. It was slightly warm, but the warm that was casually adorned by anyone, including himself. All of the sudden, Xue Yang’s eyes opened with a flicker, a slight daze that manifested in a consecutive series of faint blinks before he recollected the sight around him.

            “Well?” Jiang Cheng asked, refusing any implication of patience. They’d been through it before, and he would rather not deal with Xue Yang’s obligatory need take to such staggering extremes before he was able to render any information.

            “Wait,” Wei Ying said, helping the boy to sit up while Xue Yang shook the befuddlement from his intellect. It was another moment while Xue Yang’s regular composure returned, his expression returning to its fierce and humorous annoyance at his burdens.

            “All good?” Wei Ying asked, though he actually wanted to question what the boy heard, felt, or saw. Xue Yang looked bored as he rubbed the goose pimples from his flesh, then shook his head. The two men raised an eyebrow, committing to their immediate confusion.

            “I didn’t see anything. What a waste of time,” Xue Yang told them, standing up as his legs wobbled for a quarter of a second that he adjusted.

            “Wait, you didn’t see anything?”

            “Nope.”

            “But it flung you into the ground. It had to have some sort of strength or message if it sent you flying.”

            “Yeah, well,” Xue Yang said, still rubbing his arms. He waited as color took to his vision again. When the possession was a bit traumatic, it would reap him of the ability to filter colors in his line of vision. The world was currently a plaster canvas of greys and whites and darker grey that never collected itself to the point of black. He hated receiving messages that took such a toll on his functions. His hands were still shaking, and for what? He saw no one still, his eyes gathering in his surroundings just in case they decided now was a good time to manifest.

            Nothing.

            He sighed. “I need a smoke to get this, I dunno, edge off,” he told them. Wei Ying nodded and Jiang Cheng had already returned to his seat to finish his work. If it wasn’t relevant to their work, he would have no need for it. Still, it was strange. Never once had Xue Yang’s messages come up in a blank. Wei Ying’s visions were close to ambiguous at times, but they could usually discern what was happening.

            Outside, Xue Yang needed to distance himself from the building’s policy of maintaining a smoke free environment much to Wei Ying’s mirth for the man detested the smell of cigarettes. Still, where Xue Yang did not drink, Wei Ying was close to an alcoholic. They balanced each other out.

            He decided he was going to grab something small to serve as a delicate meal while his responsibilities bothered at his temple. His feet felt like cushions on the floor as his hearing cleared into the audible honks of the city, and the lights were no longer posing an issue for his visual sensitivity. Good, all of his senses and sturdiness was returning to him. He turned by a café, standing by the edge and taking his pleasures to a nicotine stick wrapped in white. He lit the cigarette and inhaled, releasing the smoke from his nostrils and the tunnels of his lips before something rounded the corner and walked directly into him. The collision disarmed his already feeble direction of limbs, and the cigarette slid from his fingers as he tripped over one of his feet, using the wall to catch himself before he was made to be the fool. With this, Xue Yang sighed again, watching the wind bring his cigarette away. He reached out with his foot and ground it into the cement before an accidental fire was imposed.

            “Can’t go to lunch, now I can’t even have a cig’,” he muttered to himself.

            “Oh, pardon me, deepest apologies!” A gentle voice said. Its syllables dripped with concern as Xue Yang muttered again, “Yeah, well.”

            The pedestrian hadn’t seemed to walk away, waiting for Xue Yang to turn around again from what seemed to be his civic duty to eliminate city fires. Xue Yang was prepared to walk past him and screw the entire idea of grabbing something from the café when the pedestrian spoke again.

            “I overheard that you weren’t able to obtain lunch. Would it bother you if I purchased it in your stead? I was just going to enter the café. I’m sure they’ll be very quick.”

            “I’m actually in a slight rush. I have someone to meet and I burned enough time walking down here already.”

            “As do I, but I must admit I succumbed to the need for a coffee before doing so. Please, I cannot leave you knowing I’ve just unsettled your day.”

            Wow, there’s still hope for the world, Xue Yang thought. Aloud, he said, “I’ll survive. Thanks. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

            “Well,” the pedestrian still seemed to be afflicted with what he had done, and obviously contemplated something before he spoke again. “Well, only if you’re sure then.”

            Xue Yang nodded at him and began to walk towards his destination. It wasn’t so far off, but it was quite a walk away. He thought about returning so Wei Ying could offer him the ride he wanted, but the stuffiness of the metro train seemed like a cozy idea for his faint state. As his thoughts contemplated between which direction to take, his legs were already taking him where he needed to go, and he found that another traipse matched his to the left. He turned to find the pedestrian walking beside him, and lifted an eyebrow to himself.

            “Where are you headed?”

            “Public Safety Division.”

            “Odd. Same. I assume you’ve access and you’re not like, in trouble or anything?”

            “Xiao Xingchen,” the pedestrian answered, for the name seemed to answer his suspicions. The name should’ve struck Xue Yang in the fashion that it did many, but Xue Yang simply shook his hand, unaffected by the connotation of his name. All of the sudden, a jolt rushed up the boy’s arm and his breath seemed to be sucked from his very lungs. Energy surged throughout his body, his pores closing, a tight pinch around the holds of his hair, so tight he thought it would simply clip his arm hairs off. Then his skin seemed to flare as if burned, his blood rushing to his head while his ribcage closed in on his organs. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the blood rushed throughout him in a trance run for its life. He crippled over in pain, his hand still holding on toe Xiao Xingchen’s. The worst of it came as a piercing scream echoed in his mind and he felt a severe object closing in on his eyes, dipping between his eyelids and stabbing into the soft exterior. He felt his skin ooze with the flesh of his eyes while they were scooped from between his sockets, torn away from the safety of his skin. The detachment nearly cursed a scream in his own throat, gut curdling pain as his vision blinded and blood covered the skin on his face. He felt it coursing down the curve of his nose and sweep over his lips as he tasted it. It ran down his neck, unable to stop its flow. Everywhere was blood and red and the burn of detached skin.

            In actuality, Xue Yang took in a sharp breath, and released his hold on Xiao Xingchen’s hands. His body was instantly relieved though the burn and ache of the collision still coursed in his veins. He took a step away.

            “Oh my goodness, are you alright?” Xiao Xingchen asked. One moment, the young man seemed okay, and the next, he was as pale as a ghost on impact. The older man reached out to assist him when Xue Yang recoiled.

            “Don’t touch me!” He screamed, his eyes like fire despite its jade green sparkle. He looked on at Xiao Xingchen with venom, and the man did not know why.

 ---

            It had been around twenty minutes and Wei Ying tapped his feet at his desk waiting to see the boy appear at the entrance saying something along the lines of, “Pardon my Chinese French, but are we fucking going or what?” Instead, he saw only his coworkers who weren’t actually his coworkers, approach to their separate divisions, splitting in the hallway like people with destinations.

            “He’ll be fine,” Jiang Cheng said from his laptop. He wished Wei Ying wouldn’t spend so much of his time taking care of other people and neglecting his duty, which right now was the manner of his work. Wei Ying pursed his lips and nodded, but he still grabbed his outer layer and walked out in search of the boy. When he walked far enough, he figured Xue Yang would be exactly where he expected, the café they incessantly frequented together. But when his eyes discerned the other across the street, he was hunched over, obviously in some affliction of pain while his hand grasped a stranger’s. Without waiting, Wei Ying dipped into the streets without looking, panic on the verge of his throat before he could shout out the boy’s name.

            A car was fast approaching when Wei Ying crossed the street so abruptly. Inside, Lan Wangji was carefully driving as he took in his surroundings. He improvised his calculations when a grown man infiltrated the clear streets with his intrusion. Before Wangji could register the obvious suicide attempt, he swerved the vehicle to the left and around the man, his car skidding at the speed he had taken for the street was nearing a highway. He was doing at least 35, rounding his wheel and dodging a poll when another car entered the intersection a little ways up. The sound of rubber meeting the pavement sounded again as he zipped his car directly into a parking lot, avoiding the passing cars as he had just barely missed two collisions with another two vehicles up ahead. Quickly, he exited his vehicle and ran down the street to meet the man who seemed so shocked that he still hadn’t moved from the street.

            “Are you alright?” Wangji asked, concern in his tone, his eyes a little wider than usual. There was a pounding in his heart despite his obvious composure.

            From where Xue Yang was, he looked up just as the swerve sounded, and his eyes locked in on Wei Ying in the street. His stomach instantly rolled free and emptied his intestines to see the man in danger’s way.

            “I’m so sorry. I should’ve looked before crossing,” Wei Ying told the arriving man.

            “J-walking is illegal. You could’ve been horribly harmed,” the man said. His voice was a solid calm, his face stoic.

            “My partner wasn’t feeling well so I rushed. So sorry,” Wei Ying didn’t waste anymore time wasting it on what could’ve been a fender bender and his crushed body. He would’ve found a way to dodge the car. “Xue Yang!” He called out, quickly crossing, taking heed of the coming cars as he neared the boy. Xue Yang looked worse than before he left, his cheeks and lips pale and eyes almost sunken in.

            Behind him, Wangji took note of the name utilized. In front, Xiao Xingchen also registered the name and tightened his lips at their predicament.

            “I’m not working with them,” Xue Yang said, his voice cracking now that he used it again. Wei Ying expressed his confusion on his face as the boy repeated himself. “I’m not doing it. We’re leaving.” With that, Xue Yang began to walk away.

            “Xue Chengmei, I’d hate to cause further trouble for you, but I’ve spoken to your superiors, and you are to cooperate with us,” Xiao Xingchen said. They were already informed about their possible partners and knew them by birth and courtesy names.

            Xue Yang’s eyes narrowed though he had his back to them. “Don’t follow or threaten me.” He began to walk again just as Wangji made his way beside his partner. At Xue Yang’s maneuver, Xiao Xingchen reached out and took hold of his forearm. Fortunately, Xue Yang’s sleeves came just past it and there was no skin contact, but the gesture had sent goose flesh throughout his skin, and he winced, the pain in his eyes still evident. His instincts filled his system again as he pulled free and unhooked his gun from his belt and pointed it at the man.

            “I said don’t touch me!” Xue Yang yelled again, his hands shaking again from the man’s touch. There was so much death that came from such a simple gesture, how Xiao Xingchen walked like a bloody cemetery was besides him.

            “Xue Chengmei, you cannot shoot. I haven’t wronged you,” Xiao Xingchen spoke calmly. He wasn’t understanding what was making the young man so violent.

            “I can. You’re armed.”

            “I’m not going – “

            “Drop the weapon,” Wangji said, his handgun up and pointed, his fingers siding on the hammer. Xue Yang was not surprised, his face mimicked his composure as he ordered very simply, “Back up.” Inside, he could still hear the screams of victims and death, his eyes still stinging from the trauma. His intestines squirmed in his stomach as if to upset his bowels.

            “You’re not going to shoot. You’re an officer,” Wangji said very carefully, his voice just as calm as his partner’s. At his words, Xue Yang shot the floor and pointed the gun at them again.

            “Test me,” he told them.

            Xiao Xingchen’s eyebrows drew upward. His jaw would’ve dropped if it wasn’t such an uncalled-for maneuver. He took a step backwards, Wangji’s handgun peaking over his shoulder into his line of vision.

            Wei Ying was already accustomed to Xue Yang’s outbursts, and knew that the boy probably had a good reason for behaving in the manner he was taking things. They wouldn’t even be in this predicament if this other detective didn’t unsheathe his gun like a sword and point it into an innocent direction. Xue Yang was hardly a threat.

            “I said put the weapon down, Detective,” Wangji said. “You have until the count of 3.”

            “You start counting and I will shoot,” Xue Yang said, but his voice was bored again, and he had belted his pistol again. He approached the crime scene investigators and leaned in close though the maneuver was odd given his shorter stature.

            “The thing about you and us. Detective, being a officer means nothing. We don’t let the law shape us. Don’t you ever compare us,” and with that, he turned and began to walk away again, his legs sturdier now that distance protected him.

            “Well, that whole thing could’ve been avoided,” Wei Ying said as Xue Yang disappeared from view. “Why on earth did you do that?” He questioned Wangji who frowned at his question, putting his hang gun away.

            “He pointed a weapon at my partner. That will not be tolerated,” the man replied.

            “Keep thinking like that and someone will seriously get hurt next time. Don’t be so rigid.” Wei Ying frowned at him in return, then looked over at Xiao Xingchen like he had done something wrong, before he went off in search of his own partners for the logical world could be so misunderstanding.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Xue Yang entered the building actually dressed in his work attire with a tailored white shirt that clung at his thin waist and solid black jeans since distresses weren’t allowed. Neither were the jeans, but they negotiated, and deemed that it was much more appropriate than Xue Yang’s adidas sweat suit. He yawned his entrance in, then proceeded to descend into his swivel chair as though he had already been planted there for an entire shift. Xue Yang and Wei Ying did not do nine to fives (17h00). They did eleven to sevens (19h00), with a two hour lunch break at 14h30. Sometimes, their work required their concentration at home, maybe a bit of isolation, maybe a lot of inner traumatic reveries before they were prepared to return, and by ‘they,’ it was mostly Xue Yang who couldn’t seem to obtain some other form of correspondence with the spirits.

            “You look like you’ve been here since midnight,” Jiang Cheng commented. Behind Xue Yang, Wei Ying entered and planted a grande latte on the boy’s desk and a small sweet bread for some sustenance. Later on in the day, Xue Yang would pay for his lunch, and for dinner they’d chat on the phone over their respective meals in their own abodes as if they sat across from one another. Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes and sipped his own coffee, black.

            “That’s because he barely slept,” Wei Ying commented, sitting in his own cubicle. The swivel chair eased into a little creak under his weight, sliding behind just a bit from the desk.

            “How would you know that?” Jiang Cheng questioned, annoyance already arising in the form of a lifted eyebrow and tightening of his lips. He had meant to speak to Xue Yang, and as usual, Wei Ying had to speak in his place, speaking for him. There would come a time where Wei Ying would finish one of Jiang Cheng’s sentences for him, but that time was not today, nor tomorrow, nor this year.

            “Look at his face and tell me if he slept.” Wei Ying was chewing a mint gum that caused the entire office to smell of it. The chewing and speaking seemed to display some sort of impudence though Wei Ying owed Jiang nothing. The tech analyst still couldn’t help but roll his eyes irritably, opening his same emails and not knowing how to reply to them.

            “Can’t tell,” he muttered back. Why was Wei Ying so close to Xue Yang anyway? Xue Yang had come after Jiang Cheng, and he was impertinent and rude, and young. He shouldn’t have even been offered the job, let alone partner to the lead.

            “I didn’t,” Xue Yang said to no one in particular. He hadn’t slept that night for something had busied at his apartment. It wasn’t necessarily poltergeist, for his house ornaments had not been disturbed, but it was him. It was he that was disturbed. His stomach turned and a migraine had itched at his scalp like blood had rushed there and refused to return to his limbs. Images past by him in a blur when he closed his eyes, like nightmares that haunted his waking life. He opened his eyes and saw a flash of her before she was gone again. The images continued, his body aching as his migraines became worse, but he did not see the girl again. He could only discern that she was wearing a green shirt, the same light jade green that his eyes were. He was unable to discern her facial features, or any other detail except the slab of green and the darkness of her hair in the lighting under the moon. He had decided not to attempt his hands at slumber any longer and simply climbed out to eat cereal without the milk, watching a series on Hulu until the migraine decided to subside, in which it simply didn’t. And here he was now, having had changed from his pajamas and into his work “uniform” to come straight to work without of wink of captured sleep in his eyes.

            “Are they female or male? Or a little bit of both?” Wei Ying asked, peering at him over his laptop screen.

            “Couldn’t tell if they were girl or female,” Xue Yang responded, suppressing another yawn. With the walk to the metro station, his migraine had finally dissolved into a little drum in his head, a steady hold on the cymbal before the loud crackle.

            “Usual,” Jiang Cheng said, typing “dear ___” before he paused, not sure what content to address in his email.

            “Usual doesn’t wear green. The spirit has to have a lot of strength to manifest the color of the attire they died in. Usual is white, you know that.”

            “She was wearing green?”

            “Do you think she was the same girl that possessed you yesterday?” Wei Ying asked, sliding right over Jiang Cheng’s question. Under his chin, his fingers tapped away a response to a new email without looking at the keys.

            “Not sure, because I didn’t get anything from that.” He received a lot of things from it, but nothing coherent. His body had coiled over in pain, and his mind was filled with blackness, though nothing was actually said, no emotional outburst from the spirit, no motive, no clue of anything.

            “Don’t we just love square one?” Wei Ying joked. Xue Yang knew that on the man’s tongue, he had wanted to question what actually happened yesterday that caused Xue Yang to react in the manner that he did, but his respect clogged his throat and kept him silent. Xue Yang admired that, and though it didn’t show on his face, he appreciated the gesture.

            “I’d appreciate square one a little more if we could get to square two,” Xue Yang joked back. Just then their messenger entered informing them that someone has requested entrance. Xue Yang ignored them, then ignored his emails, then laid his head on his arms upon his desk and closed his eyes. Wei Ying nodded at the messenger to allow them in. Within a moment, two familiar faces were seen at the door, and Xue Yang only saw his eyelids, unaffected enough not to open his eyes to guests. Jiang Cheng had instantly stood up to show his respect through a bow. Wei Ying had raised both eyebrows and looked over in Xue Yang’s direction, then sucked his lips in.

            “Please pardon our intrusion. I don’t feel as though we left off on a good footing yesterday. We came to offer cooperation,” Xiao Xingchen said. Beside him, Wangji appeared cold and reticent all at once. His eyes were a natural glare, and when they found Wei Ying, they were less than appropriate, hostility evident.

            Grudge? Wei Ying thought, scratching his head, unsure what to say. Beside him, Xue Yang opened his eyes but didn’t lift his head from his arms. His eyelids draped halfway over his eyes in a laze of irritation.

            “Of course,” Jiang Cheng had said, though he wasn’t quite sure what occurred the previous day. He found himself glaring in Wei Ying’s direction as if his sworn brother had done something wrong. After all, why else would the Lan Wangji look at him in such a manner if he hadn’t done something obnoxious and offensive?

            “Please come in,” he told them. At Jiang Cheng’s words, Wei Ying glanced over again at his partner. Xue Yang sucked in excess oxygen from his nostrils, then offered little of it back. As the crime scene investigators stepped in, he stood up from his desk and went to the back of the room where the cabinets were. The paranormal unit office was not a usual office. It was heavily decorated to appear as a living room would beside the cubicle aspect. There were paintings and lamp posts, a nice indigo carpeting with stone blue marble surfaces over a slate grey desk. There was the ocean blue sofa and peacock colored beanie bags beside it. In the back, there were a series of large spruce cabinets with glass doors that peaked inside.

            Xue Yang went to this cabinet and reached for a glass antique fruit jar, thin and filled with a clear liquid. He popped the lid on two of them and returned to the main portion of the office, then made his way over to the guests. Without waiting, he dumped the contents on both of their heads, straight faced and unphased. Xiao Xingchen blinked the liquid from his eyes, but Wangji had reached out to grab Xue Yang only for the boy to walk away, returning to the back room to reposition the jars.

            “Alright, you can come in now,” Xue Yang told them.

            “Xue Yang!” Jiang Cheng yelled, hi jaw partially dropping as he quickly ran to grab a towel. “I am so sorry about that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” And with the towel, he shot Wei Ying a look that said the following: “control him.”

            Wangji looked furious, his lips tightening just a bit, and his grip rigid as he took the towel to wipe his face. Xiao Xingchen held his partner’s shoulder, keeping him from doing something unnecessary. Wangji turned to walk away, to cool down maybe.

            “If you want to leave, then leave, but you are welcome to come in now,” Xue Yang said.

            “If you felt that lashing out was necessary then I hope that we’ve moved on from that stage and that we can become partners in the future,” Xiao Xingchen said, an unsure smile and furrowed eyebrows.

            “Sure, but you’re gonna’ have to do that every time you come here,” Xue Yang replied, opening his sweet bread and taking a bite. The sweetness hit his tongue like an infection, and he succumbed to it. At his words, Xiao Xingchen appeared to be shocked, his innocent features contoured with the organic motions of his ever expression eyebrows.

            “We are leaving,” Wangji said, taking Xiao Xingchen’s arm and giving a slight yank. Xiao Xingchen gripped the door post and stood his ground, a pleasant smile returning to his face.

            “Would that truly be necessary, Brother Xue?” He asked instead. He could still feel Wangji’s grip tighten, like he would lift him from the floor if it meant they could leave before he murdered someone.

            “It actually would, yes,” Xue Yang replied, taking a sip of his latte to find a hazelnut surprise. He took another sip and smiled, content.

            “Please take a seat, allow me to explain,” Wei Ying said courteously. To Wangji, he kept a cautious eye. If that man was going to put a single hand on his partner, he would react, his superiors be damned. Xiao Xingchen glanced at Wangji and gestured with his head to go sit, please. Wangji took in a sharp breath but his expression did not falter, blank with the fury in his eyes. He went to take a seat on the courtesy seats, his back not touching the rest, perfectly straight. Xiao Xingchen did the same and folded his hands on his lap, the water that Xue Yang had thrown sliding down his neck. He had to admit that he was most uncomfortable. It was autumn and he hoped that the liquid would dry before he took himself beyond the doors again for the chill would catch him.

            “You have two minutes,” Wangji said to whoever it applied to. His posture was as stern as his face, and brought the chill into the room. Xue Yang nearly winced when the aura of it was sensitized, and he brought his sleeves down lower. He was unafraid, and yet incessantly affected. He hated his abilities for that measure, but he needed to add up, and so he took it into calculation. Aloud, he said, “don’t time me.”

            “Counting,” Wangji retorted, his eyes still forward, one leg crossed over the other so that he took up all meters of space. The man was quite large in stature, making it so Xue Yang had to admit that he came roughly to the man’s shoulders. When he turned to Xiao Xingchen, the same was true, as though it was a place to rest his head. God, he was tired today, he could sleep anywhere.

            “It’s purified water that we blessed or order to cleanse the energy that surrounds you,” Wei Ying said, before Xue Yang could mutter something else, or perhaps just go to bed. At his words, Wangji looked up to face him as if to ask if he was serious. Xiao Xingchen furrowed his eyebrows in a manner that asked, “really?”

            A wide smile pasted itself under Wei Ying’s nose as he glanced over to Xue Yang with amusement.

            “They asked to work with us, but they’re skeptics,” he told his partner. At Wei Ying’s words, even Jiang Cheng seemed a bit disgusted, his face a mixture of respect and spitting. In all, the paranormal stared on at the logical world, and behind a roll of their eyes, they laughed.

 ---

            Wangji, almost desperate, was attempting to comprehend the fact that they basically anointed his head with holy water in order to cleanse this “bad energy” he and his partner must’ve been carrying. He could’ve instantly took out his handgun and placed a bullet in the younger one’s head. The older one was annoying, yes, but he seemed a bit more rational, maybe a bit more sound, than the other. He glanced on at the tech analyst, and decided he would only speak to him for his sanity and clear record.

            Sensing this obvious distance, Xiao Xingchen spoke up to lighten the mood. Wangji on the other hand, did not care if the mood was as rigid as he was. He was completely fine with leaving.

            “In the other departments, the Paranormal Unit is pretty widely conversed about. I would proudly say that you’ve quite a reputation,” he said, accepting the tea that Jiang Cheng placed down for him. Wangji eyed his tea but did not drink it. His eyes almost narrowed when his partner took a sip as though it wasn’t poisoned.

            “There’s a difference between renowned and notorious,” Xue Yang responded, laying his head back down at his desk. He wished they’d disappear with their auras, because even the bless water couldn’t rid of all of it. He vaguely had the starting stages of goose flesh throughout his arms and legs, but at the least, he was unable to achieve an involuntary read.

            “I assume we’re notorious?” Wei Ying asked rhetorically. His smile was bright and radiant, but there was a mischief about it that reminded Xiao Xingchen of the younger detective’s attitude. They were different but completely alike.

            “Charlatans,” Wangji said, his eyes still straight ahead so that it saw no one.

            “Lan Zhan,” Xiao Xingchen called, a tone of warning that was lightly glazed with benevolence.

            “I’m sure the professional world thinks us to be charlatans, but your superiors still requested some decency of assistance, didn’t they? Well, you’re like any other client then, what can we help you with?” Wei Ying asked before Xue Yang could swear and walk out.

            “I thank you kindly,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Little Blind? Well, there’s been another string of deaths that follow, and were pronounced just close to peculiar. We would like your take on it.”

            “How peculiar?” Xue Yang asked. Xiao Xingchen appeared relieved, relaxing just a bit at being spoken to from someone who was giving him the cold shoulder. If Xue Yang could freeze his shoulders to scare off all of the logical world’s flowers, he would. He stared at Xiao Xingchen like he was a flower that he required direly to pluck. “Fuck the system,” stung on his tongue but wasn’t said.

            “They exhibit the same trauma that was relayed on the victims of the Little Blind, but the actual disturbance has no physical effects.”

            “For example?”

            “We need to be sure that you’re going to cooperate before any further information can be processed,” came Wangji, finally taking the cup in his hands. Because he was raised better than that.

            “We take on cases that involve us. If you’re sure that our intervention is required, we’ll be glad to accept the alliance,” Wei Ying carefully worded, his smile still patented and marked on the skin of his face. Wangji would’ve thought it to be plastered there and taken off later, but it seemed to simply be an annoying part of the man’s character. He deleted the characters and rewrote them in his head where they were far away. In actually, despite Wangji purposely taking up the amount of space that he did, Wei Wuxian still sat next to him, just shy of an inch from his jutting out knee.

            “Like you were saying?” Xue Yang returned to Xiao Xingchen, his sticky notes open on his desktop. Today’s sticky note was yellow, the stale yellow that true sticky notes came in – that’s how stale his company was. His notes were currently compiled as the following:

• Little Blind sounds like a You problem =/ Us problem
• Victims of victims
• No trauma
• Malicious energy attachments

Xue Yang didn’t need much in order to read the extent of the case. When he faced Wei Ying,

They both gave each other a light nod that acknowledged that they both filtered the same information.

            “Well, the next set of victims, seem to have their eyes affected in the same manner that Little Blind's victims were afflicted, only upon close scrutiny, there is actually no explanation for the mishap of their functions. They bleed from their eyes, but their eyes are completely fine,” Xiao Xingchen said, obviously withholding information that was confidential to the case. Xue Yang rolled his own eyes, attempting not to type something rude on his sticky note. He sent a look to Wei Ying that pleaded for the man to talk in his place before he broke off the entire engagement.

            “Not much is relieved to the public about Little Blind. Could you perhaps give us some insight so we know exactly what about the situation is bizarre to the case? When you say that the eyes were affected, to what extent?” Wei Ying said, impatience on his own tongue. He hated when people were so sore. Lan Wangji and Xiao Xingchen were like a concussion.

            Xiao Xingchen gave a little sigh, while Wangji’s expression tightened even further. The detectives were sure that if he tightened it any more than was already applied, his bones would come through.

            “The eyes are removed,” Xiao Xingchen admitted. “When the victims are found, their eyelids always cover that gruesome element. We haven’t released much to the public, because there will be an uproar if a predator is present who is leaving behind a pattern frequently enough to be deemed emblematically a trademark, and, well, we're avoiding admirer's who may want to replicate that story line.”

            “Wrong move,” Xue Yang started.

“The public'll be less alert of the severity,” Wei Ying continued.

“Homeboy,” Xue Yang ended.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes far enough to make visible the whites, his arms crossed as he stood behind the seat as though he wasn’t a valuable part of the team enough to sit in their inner circle. He humbled himself by standing behind them, intervening only if it was truly necessary. It was usually not necessary.

“We understand that, but it’s safer not to cause an uproar,” Xiao Xingchen said, a little rigid once more. Never once in his life had he finished one of Lan Zhan’s sentences, and although they were close, they weren’t so compatible to the extent of that understanding. They spoke to one another and worked well, and that was enough.

“So, you’re telling me that their eyes are affected in the same manner of someone whose eyes have been removed? How so?” Xue Yang asked, taking his fingers away from the keys. He remembered the sensation he had received from touching Xiao Xingchen’s hand, and it unnerved him deeply, his cheeks paling at the pain of recalling it. He shook the discomfort away, but it clung to his shoulders, kissing his neck ever lightly so that it felt as though someone was incessantly present.

“They bleed out from their eyes and their lungs give out in much the same manner that someone who was poisoned. There’s swelling but no actual affliction of trace of the poison.”

“Oh, so now there’s poison involved? You got your hands full, don’t you?” Xue Yang asked to cover up his mild irritation at withheld information.

“Has there only been one victim with this peculiarity? And you’ve already crossed off any conflicting views like a heart attack maybe?” Wei Ying asked. “Under stress, let’s say, the bleeding of one’s eyes will definitely strike enough stress to render a heart attack. As wicked as the saints as that is.”

“It most certainly was not a heart attack, but that option had definitely been investigated,” Wangji answered. The tea was good, he was now suspicious of it.

“I assume you’ve looked into strangulation and any notion of pills? You’re correct, that certainly is strange. Where are the bodies now?”

“It’s off to the morgue.”

There was a pause as if to register the most impossible scenario. Xue Yang and Wei Ying’s eyes widened, both men standing up in unison. Together they yelled, “don’t move it!”

Before anything else could be said, Xiao Xingchen received another phone call and excused himself by the entrance. He frowned at the content of the conversation, looking back at the two men, his eyebrows furrowed and unsure. It was short and brief phone call and called for their immediate attention. They weren’t sure if it called for the crime scene investigators or the paranormal unit.

There was another body.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying and Xue Yang instantly went to the back cabinets to fill their little wrist gadgets with the blessed liquid. They removed salt capsule necklaces from the shelves and adorned their necks. On their beltline, they sheathed a small ornamented silver dagger. For physical protection, they checked their glocks and then turned in the direction of the Investigators, as if to question, “ready?”

Xiao Xingchen and Wangji caught each others’ glances and read the confusion, but they stood from their seats for their attention was called elsewhere. If the Paranormal unit wanted to tag along, for now, they still had permission for admission beyond the yellow line until their superiors revoked it. Wangji hoped it was soon. Xiao Xingchen hovered, curiosity seeking their approval.

Xue Yang bent down to tie his shoelaces that had come undone, then made his way past the two without a glance. This was obviously not a case for the rationals.

“Be careful,” Jiang Cheng called after them.

“Careful makes my hips big,” Wei Ying joked.

“You too, Uncle.” This was Xue Yang. He climbed into Wei Ying’s passenger seat and took a deep breath, hoping whatever it was wasn’t malicious enough to open up his vulnerabilities. Wei Ying sat behind the wheel, his stomach nervous for reasons unknown. They followed behind the two investigators and their ever grey vehicle. Wei Ying’s car was a wicked red that was obnoxiously noticeable from where Wangji glanced in the rearview mirror. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, because it wasn’t something that he did. It was hardly a car for detectives.

“Focus, Lan Zhan,” Xiao Xingchen said, a slight smile on his lips.

“I’m always focused,” the other commented, hoping that the other two would be stuck behind a red light as they zoomed past the yellow.

“Aren’t you curious? Let’s actually see how they go about this.”

“Mnn.”

“I knew it.”

When they arrived, the officer instantly lifted the yellow line for their entrance. As the red Mercedes skidded to a stop by the scene, the man frowned, even more so when he saw a kid step out of the passenger seat. He stood firmly, blocking the path in when Wei Ying made his way over to the line. The man looked like someone a pimp would sell, skinny at the waist, calves like rocks, an obvious runner. His shoulders were square from lifting, muscles only appearing if he flexed. It was the perfect proportion, but the nonchalant apparition of arrogance was keen on his face, and he brought a kid along. Who the hell were they?

The place was surrounded by officers, lights blaring above mundane vehicles with authority. The lights hurt Xue Yang’s eyes and glinted off of Wei Ying’s. The older stepped up to the officer while the younger scratched at his forearms to ward off the coming cold. He could sense the death nearing. Wei Ying, on the other hand, could not sense outside the depths of his instincts, nor could he perceive the apparitional ghost form. He was a mere psychic, and Xue Yang envied him for it, but he couldn’t stand the ambiguity or their dependence on something that vague.

Before they arrived, an officer yelled over the sirens to the man at the entrance line.

“The PAP sent their phantom unit. Block off significant evidence. Send reporters back, now!” Well, of course. If there was anything that reporters wanted to get their hands on, it was the paranormal unit, their identities, their whereabouts, how they functioned, anything.

‘Block off significant evidence,’ the two thought, meeting each others’ gazes, an amused sort of irritation that challenged the statement. Xue Yang didn’t need any significant evidence or reports; he simply needed to touch the corpse. Wei Ying didn’t need to be near the scene at all in order to get his work done. The officer glanced around in search of old men and their delirious techniques but found himself alarmed when the pimp’s favorite and kid approached him flashing their badges. There was a mark below their image, a purple lotus that alerted authority of what unit they came from. Their leather bound outside of the badge was purple, the color of the section.

The officer narrowed his eyes, almost reluctant to let the two in. The duo looked unreal up close, a pair of grey eyes with a mysterious purple glint, and a serpent’s jade green that seemed to change with the kid’s movements. They were pale yet tan all at once, long hair that reached past their shoulders and draped against their back. The older pulled it over his collarbones and rested the locks on his breast. The younger tucked a thick lock behind his ear, the rest swaying against his back. They were almost identical like brothers, walking in unison, their legs meeting the other in speed and collect. They were like ghosts themselves.

“Let us in, Uncle. You forgot to move out of the way. The reporters are coming,” Xue Yang said. The officer again appeared unsure, but when he met Wei Ying’s expression, goose flesh found its way like little legs down his spine. It was a cold type of stare, the kind where the eyes were silent and the lips were sealed, but placed together, the silence was a rigid sort of temperature.

It reminded him of Lan Wangji.

He instantly lifted the line to allow their admittance just as the reporters were entering from the distance. Another round of officers went to the border of the line to fend them off. Information of the Paranormal Unit’s intervention had already been leaked from some source and they were desperate for the next story, or the first story ever to cover the unit with accuracy.

Xiao Xingchen was ready to make the preliminary survey as the photographer was finishing their photos when Xue Yang entered the scene before the photos could be completed.

“Stop flashing that stuff. You’re going to scare it away,” Xue Yang barked. He was already cross with the CSI intervention, and the weather didn’t assist with the air of death already frosting his arms over. His senses were beginning to pick up details like fractals from a snowflake.

“Excuse me! You cannot be here, sir,” the Photographer called, reaching out to remove him when he approached the vehicle. He placed his palm on the car hood, as crushed as it was for it had collided into a tree trunk. He instantly heard the skidding of the wheels against the cement, the feeling of overwhelming panic in his throat, and then a scream bubbling on his tongue but wasn’t released. He retracted his palm instantly as if stung, frowning at the photographer who had her hand on his elbow.

“Please refrain from fucking touching me, please.” From what he learned, saying please as many times as he could was perfected manners. It was the most he could do to show some form of respect, and he very much had none.

“Y-you!” She called out, stunned at his choice of words. “You cannot be here. You’re contaminating the scene!” To the officers, she shouted, “someone remove of – “

Xue Yang popped a lemon candy into her mouth before she could finish her sentence.

“You talk too much,” he told her as she stared at him baffled, afraid to spit the fruit essence from her mouth in case her saliva met the crime scene.

“Xue Chengmei, remove yourself from the scene at once. The photographs have yet to – “ But Wangji could yet finish his sentence when Wei Ying suddenly glanced to his side, his eyelids lax, the purple of his pupils manifesting just a bit more than the grey.

“Still here. Movement. Left, down pavement, black Buick. Male. T-shirt. Logo, logo? Okay, logo lion. Lion logo,” Wei Ying said, getting glimpses of what was happening. Before anything else could be said, Xue Yang ducked out of the yellow line and sped down the street, his movements blending in with the shadows casted by the trees. He could make out the black Buick just a bit farther off, catching a glimpse of a male in a grey t-shirt and red hoodie. The man darted from behind the car and down the street, slower than the propel of Xue Yang’s legs. He shot into the street, dodging a car as he unhooked his gun and pointed it at Xue Yang, still running backwards as he consumed distance.

“Stay back! I’ll shoot!” The man yelled. At that point, the authorities already adjusted their attention and withdrew their own arms, raising and pointing as screams echoed along the following lines: “Put your weapon down!”

“Stay back!” The man shouted again as the officers stood ground. No one made a move to edge closer but Xue Yang took steps ahead, securing a line of proximity.

“You have until the count of three!” The officer screamed, finding courage to edge closer as Xue Yang was in too close of a shooting range.

“Stand down, Officer!” Xue Yang yelled at them.

“Three!”

“Stand down!” Xue Yang yelled again.

“Two!”

“For the love of –,” Xue Yang ran forward just as the Man shot at him, missing when Xue Yang ducked. He swayed with the shadows, running from the left then the right before he jumped over a parked vehicle and slammed down on the Man. They rolled once on the ground, Xue Yang under him before he pushed him clockwise, crunching his back into the cement. Now on top, Xue Yang wrestled the gun from him with two more shots just over his shoulder as the Man fought for his weapon. Xue Yang managed to detangle it, throwing it to the far left before he sent three punches in the man’s cheekbones. He patted the man’s beltline and side pockets before he quickly unhooked his cuffs, sealing the device around the Man’s wrist and then his own. Without waiting, he stood up, dragging the man behind him with the lock of their cuffs, the pressure cutting into his own wrist. He dragged him up to the group of officers before he pulled the Man up by his collar, unlocked the cuff from his own wrist before he clipped it onto the man’s other, pulling both hands behind his back. Xue Yang then shoved the man with such pressure, that man stumbled forward and fell into the group of officers.

“Will you idiots do your job so I can do mine?” Xue Yang hollered at them. “Waste of fucking time. It’s not him,” for Xue Yang didn’t get a read on him. It was most likely someone just trying to start trouble at a crime scene. With a low growl, he started back over to Wei Ying, running a hand through his hair.

“No?” Wei Ying questioned. In return, Xue Yang shook his head.

“That was incredibly dangerous! Please never do that again. The officers would’ve taken care of it,” Xiao Xingchen told him.

“The officers would’ve shot the dude for no apparent reason.”

“He was armed, Chengmei.”

“So am I! So are you! Don’t just dictate who can hold guns or not. It’s what you do with them that counts. I could’ve handled that without them scaring the shit out of him and making him shoot someone he wasn’t planning to.”

“Inaccurate,” Wangji said.

“Okay, you’re not allow to talk anymore,” Wei Ying told him. If there’s anything he noticed, it was that every time Wangji opened his mouth, it annoyed some sort of intellect because of how inflexible it was. Wangji instantly frowned at him, but only slightly. How unprofessional it was that the paranormal unit held no manners whatsoever. Next to him, Xingchen held his shoulder, stopping him from whatever it was he was about to do. If it meant it would silence their annoyance, he would do it. When he glanced up, Wei Wuxian had bent over and whispered something in the child’s ear. Wangji could barely make out what Xue Yang whispered in the return, but he was able to read the lips. It questioned, “are you sure?” And then the child began to play with his lips in the manner that people do when they’re in deep thought, a finger pressed into the bottom lip moving it side to side. Then Wei Wuxian shook his head. Wangji didn’t grasp it at all, puzzled as he rewound the scene in his head to see what it was that he missed. Wangji never missed details, let alone allow someone else to catch them without him.

Xue Yang had pointed in Wangji’s direction with his lip, and Wei Ying had shook his head. It caused the child to take a moment to think before he shook his own head at the other. He’d leave it for another day. Today wasn’t a day where they’d tackle something so obtuse. Without waiting, Xue Yang walked himself over to the victim again, noticing the crimson that dripped from the eyes and the mouth.

So did the blood from the lips seep on impact of the collision or the stress of having excess blood overflow the eyes and it needed another outlet? He wondered, and taking his fingers, he stuck them directly into the victim’s sockets. The sound that followed was like an oozing penetration that gushed over his fingers like pressing into yolk and the yellow slid over. Before he knew it, Xiao Xingchen had taken a hold of his arm, but the effect of the blessed water had washed away the heavy weight of his aura. Xue Yang received a body full of goose flesh and a shiver. The kid shook him off quickly and retracted his fingers before anything could intensify. He could yet react to the vibration that caused his arms to shake when Wangji took a hold of him ready to yank him into the ground. Wei Ying pressed his hand around Wangji’s wrist before he was able. The two secured eye contact and the tension of the stiff air surrounded them, not before it was diminished by Xue Yang’s little comment: “I didn’t see anything.”

“Chengmei Didi, you cannot do that. You’ve already contaminated the crime scene, and now you are violating the victim. I would like for us to be on good terms but if this is your technique, I’m afraid that we must – “

Xue Yang interrupted Xiao Xingchen, for leaders were never used to be cut off. He questioned, “is the real victim over there? Open it.”

“Absolutely not. Brother Xue, I’ll ask you to remove of yourself,” and Xiao Xingchen was resolute. Unfortunately for him, so was Xue Yang, used to not getting his way and doing what he could to secure it. The kid climbed into the car, struggling a bit over the toppled over victim before he reached the coffin like box in the back. He pried the lid open with a bit of force, seeing that he was quite tall for his age and the ceiling of the vehicle was leveling on his scalp. In his peripheral, he could see Wei Ying quickly edge towards the entrance of the car to block off any intervention from the CSI. They had each other’s back no matter the circumstances, and this circumstance announced that it had no concern with the rationale of logical thinkers. It needed people like him, people like Wei Ying, people who understood like Uncle Jiang. It was cold and the CSI only made it colder, their energies warped in some frost of death that clung to him like hope. He had lost that a while ago, and he hated to make contact with such an entity again. His hope was in his partner, the only person who kept him grounded.

Wangji didn’t wait. He launched himself directly into Wei Wuxian for his interference. He would remove of the man then the child at once and this case would belong strictly to the CSI. They would no longer be needed because they were never needed in the first place. How could their superiors request assistance from such nonsense? And now the crime scene was distraught to such an extent that evidence would be a complication to collect. He had had enough. He launched into Wei Wuxian but the man negated, blocking with his arms as they struggled against the car. A toss to one side, then the other. Wei Wuxian was able to throw his weight around the other and force the investigator into the vehicle, then again, then again. Their strengths were matched. Wangji was finally able to hurl the man into the ground where Wei Wuxian pulled him along. Their impact continued on the ground where they dutifully fought but refused to hit one another, like wrestling but one was angry and the other simply defended. Xiao Xingchen fought over his own intellect of whether he should intervene and end the ordeal for its unprofessionalism to the effect of treason, or remove of Xue Yang for his desecration. The whole thing was illegal. All of it. Maybe going to the PAP was a terrible idea. Before he knew it, Wangji held his gun pressed against Wei Wuxian's forehead while Wei Wuxian pressed his against the back of Xiao Xingchen’s partner’s scalp.

“Not many people are on my level, Lan Zhan. Good for you,” the man snickered, retracting his gun as the other did the same.

“It’s Wangji,” Wangji corrected.

With a sigh of relief, Xingchen pulled his partner to his feet, then helped Wei Wuxian up as well. Inside, Xue Yang had sat before a pale body, blue almost with how much color had faded from the skin. The eyelids were shut and the mouth still seemed pretty swollen for some reason. The flaps of the skin that puffed on the face were profound. He reached forward with a bit of hesitation, taking a deep breath for impact as he lifted the lids with his middle finger ever gently, revealing the red raw skin underneath.

There were no eyes.

He took in a sharp breath at the sight, his stomach turning just a bit before he stuck his index finger inside to achieve some sort of read. There was a moment of something, some sort of sensation, something inside of him, maybe struggling to roll out onto his tongue. Blood? A scream? A phrase? Something?

He got nothing. No scene or sensation that belonged to the scene. Nothing in the words of the victims. Now he was confused. Not once but twice this had occurred, and never before that. Perhaps he was losing his touch. He climbed free of the vehicle with his knees close to his face trying to pull the door free and crawl out. The car felt so jampacked for just one box inside, two victims.

Maybe all of the victims were on his shoulders.

He took a mouthful of oxygen, maybe enough for the corpses as well, when his feet hit the floor again.

“I didn’t see anything,” he repeated.

Xiao Xingchen went tightlipped. His expression was patient but some sort of aggravation had met it, but his professionalism would not allow it to be fully shown. Oh, he was quite upset.

“I didn’t expect you to Brother Xue. Now if you’ve desecrated the victims enough – “

“The only desecration I see is when you swear by your badge that the victims are free when you solve a case. Please, Detective Xing, don’t spit on their name like that. You’re soaked in it. No one is appeased after you make your catch, because you forgot the one important thing. You forgot the fucking victim themselves. Get over yourselves. I’m going home. I have homework,” and with that, Xue Yang wiped his hands on his pants and started in another direction the way he always did when he didn’t want to deal with something. In the light of the sun, something outshined it in his peripheral. It was always there taunting him, and yet he never had the courage to reach it. That light was the brightest thing he had ever seen. Today it looked no different, and its temptation had come closer, like it took a step forward and it welcomed him. He thought of Wei Ying and instantly grabbed a hold of himself, his hope. Turning around, he pointed at Wei Ying, and said to Wangji, “touch him again and you’ll only have one name.”

Wei Ying smiled at Wangji, a little glisten in his grey eyes that told the man, “I win.”

Wangji was not a man made to confront defeat. He glared in return and dared the man to think so.

Chapter Text

The next morning was one foggy haze of Root beer cans and a constant click of his pen knob under his thumb. Xue Yang sat quietly in the back corner of his classroom, jotting down notes but barely. He captured the gist of certain instructional pieces, but mostly depended on his memory. And in any event, he would simply recollect everything he was taught in conversation with Wei dude later on that evening or maybe in the car ride home. Speaking about material made the content easily accessible and understood. He pulled his beanie over his ears and tucked stray hairs into it. The point was to appear as mundane and ordinary as possible, and Xue Yang ad the tendency to stand out like a sore thumb. He pulled up the zipper of his Adidas sweatshirt and sunk his chin into it, breathing out the smell of his toothpaste, a scent too strong for even the sugar particles that clung in the constant waves of root beer that he slid on his tongue and juggled from one cheek to the other. He hadn’t had time to stop by a Starbucks that morning, so he retracted three 8 oz. cans of root beer and stuffed them into his bookbag.

He checked the time and exited the classroom before the professor could conclude his sentence, exactly 14h15 meant exactly a quarter after 14h00; he wasn’t going to stay another second. He needed to make his way home, finish his lessons, and most likely spend time reviewing the case and figuring out why his abilities had been failing him as of late. He had barely fixed three hours of sleep under his eyelids before a nightmare tainted his dreams and startled him awake where a flash of a light jade green gathered his vision like flecks of stardust collecting to manifest some sort of image. He could barely discern the image in the darkness, but her face had etched itself like a sworn promise in his scalp, just under the skin, safely tucked in his memory. Then he wobbled to the restroom and vomited in his toilet the way he always did when the energy of the spirit was overwhelming. And still, she had said nothing to him, and he had seen nothing else. It wasn’t the usual.

He dragged his feet down the university hallways to the exit where Wei Ying would usually pick him up, and to his surprise, found absolutely no trace of the red vehicle. In its stead, he saw the lackluster of greys and blacks, and one in particular had driven his attention to a full stop.

Xiao Xingchen.

He narrowed his eyes and neared the vehicle. Were they being spied on?

“Brother Wei asked me to come pick you up in his stead this afternoon,” the man replied innocently when he saw the kid stalk out of the exit doors like a lost rabbit, or an oddly grown vegetable. For some reason, that made sense to him. Perhaps, a farmer had cultivated Xue Yang in the wrong body of vegetation, and now he had to demand the consequences, and bend them to the gravity of his roots. Or he was the rabbit that ate away at all of the vegetation around him, unaccepting or new growth, stranded where he was.

“Absolutely not,” Xue Yang said, but he was already speed dialing on his phone, climbing into the passenger seat with the tenacity of anger. He pulled his body inside, slamming the door and instantly rolling the windows down to free the air as if Xiao Xingchen’s aura was too much to handle in a compact box.

“Wei Dude! Not cool, man. Don’t just ask some random dude to drive me home. I could’ve just taken the train home if you couldn’t pick me up,” he said into the phone. At the word “random,” Xingchen’s smile tightened just a bit, his feet resting on the pedal and driving nowhere considering he hadn’t received any instructions. To Xue Yang’s comments, Wei Ying responded with the following as though he had calculated and expected the outburst, in which he did: “Brother Xiao and I agreed that we need to start acting like partners and to cultivate some form of trust. Hence, this.”

“I’d rather get run over,” Xue Yang complained just as the other laughed in his ear. As another twenty minutes elapsed, Xue Yang went into detail of his lessons and how draining it was for him to climb out of bed in the morning, how he was running on sugar, and how some girl had stared at him for half of one of his lessons, how he held in his pee because he was too lazy to go to the restroom, how he broke all of his lead from his pencil piece by piece because he was bored, how his professor’s voice was nasally and annoying, how heavy his bookbag was, how his university didn’t have enough recycle bins so he threw his empty can into the trash bin.

Xingchen waited patiently, gathering the social life around him as a smile under his nose. The weather was nice beside the chill, the birds gone, flowers a little more wilted than beautiful – everything like a scene from another grave. He wished he didn’t think of death so often, but his occupation became his lifestyle and the grotesque aspect of death had now resurrected as something a bit more than acceptable, and now somehow beautiful. Death could be calming if it was natural. What he had learned from his line of work was that it wasn’t at all natural, it was committed, committed by someone else, their hands, your throat, your blood, their glory. Nothing was yours. Not even your life.

He cleared his thoughts and smiled at how natural conversation came between Chengmei and Wuxian. They eased into it as siblings would’ve, so typical and routine, like no effort was needed. He knew that sometimes if he wished on conversation with Wangji, he needed to initiate it and return it along the lines of work in order to resonate with the other. They just weren’t on friendly terms beyond partners. That had seemed okay, until he stared at something a bit more treasurable before him in the form of a twenty something year old and his best friend, like family.

Oh, Xiao Xingchen thought to himself. He stiffened his smile to assure that it didn’t fade from his face, but his chest ached just a bit, a memory clogged between the indexes of his stored collection, all images the same as he had last seen them, unharmed, perfect. His eyes down casted as a wave of silence washed over him like a scream. It wiped away the serenity of the scene before him, bookbags weighing down backs, arms slung over shoulders, designer sneakers that covered the ankles, sweatshirts with logos, sunglasses on scalps, smiles on faces – everything washed away with a faint memory.

Oh, he repeated. It hurt to remember, didn’t it? He told himself to forget it, and forget it he would. He was okay now. Beside him, after a fresh half hour in their own little familial circle, Xue Yang finally hung up his phone and sulked by sliding down until his chin was almost dipped into his chest. It was then that Xingchen finally diverted his own thoughts by requesting directions in which Xue Yang replied from the cloth of his sweatshirt, half his face hidden in it. It was a quiet drive, Xingchen’s attention on the road, Xue Yang staring out the passenger seat window, mailboxes, joggers, a pregnant woman walking a Pitbull mix with a toddler running three meters ahead of her, turning once in a while. It was during this time that Xingchen felt compelled to speak, asking of trivialities like the events of school, what he was studying, how long had he been studying, despite the fact that Xue Yang rolled his eyes at conversation. The kid replied in short little responses, devoted to simply staring out the window. Then, as if suddenly struck with the events of what had occurred, Xingchen switched the topic to what he actually wanted to know.

“About the incident…” The CSI lead started, pausing before a yellow light to preserve conversation.

“Everyone does things differently,” Xue Yang responded plainly.

“Different is fine as long as no one is afflicted and it’s successful.”

“Yesterday, I couldn’t get a read. It’s probably because you were there with your ice man.”

“It’s a crime scene, I and Lan Zhan, pardon you, need to be there. We simply requested your assistance not your…your interference.”

“You know what? Fuck you. Stop the car, I’m getting out.” Xue Yang sat forward, ready to reach for the handle when Xingchen manually locked the doors and set the control to the driver seat, locking Xue Yang in the vehicle.

“Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle while it is moving,” he plainly said, eyes still on the road for the law required that much. Xue Yang literally felt his jaw drop as he fought for Xiao Xingchen’s attention from the pavement ahead. He demanded to be looked at, all of his disbelief and anger at being caged in and dependent of a stranger’s car. Baffled, he shut himself up and slid back down the seat again until the front board covered everything around him and he merely saw the blue skies. He nearly eased into sleep again when Xiao Xingchen spoke up.

“We would love for you to assist on the case but please don’t be so stubborn. I want nothing more than to get along with you.”

“Then stop saying stupid shit.”

“I’m not saying…nonsense. The true form of nonsense and having you stabbing your fingers into the victim’s eyes and contaminating the crime scene making it difficult for us, and failing to give any helpful insight,” Xiao Xingchen shot back. He drove the next yellow light instead of yelling. It’s like all of the street lights wanted him to take it slow, but in actuality, he wanted to rush everything.

“Because I didn’t see anything!” Xue Yang was much accustomed to people speaking to him as such, but for some reason this further vexed him. The nerve of renowned professionals to spit on his name like he wasn’t one as well.

“And you won’t.”

“What is the point of talking to a freshly painted brick wall? You are so pointless.” Xue Yang hit the back of his head on the seat, staring at the car ceiling. Xiao Xingchen found himself just slightly affected but affected nevertheless by his words. He had never been spoken to in such a manner from another person of his rank.

“Well, speaking to you is like speaking to a stuffed animal. You’ve so many years to yet collect,” Xingchen told him, a ghost of a frown appearing on his brow. He wanted to park the car and argue right there and then but his professionalism caught him by the collar and straightened his tie.

“At least I soothe people then while they see you at the end of the path and wonder why the hell it is they can’t climb over you. Stop the car. We’re here,” Xue Yang said, exasperated with clenched teeth. His driver seemed to contemplate freeing him from the vehicle or continue driving to God knows where. Conflicted, the man eventually unlocked the door and eased into a breath. Xue Yang had opened the door, stepping free and stuck his head back into the confines of the grey box for a last comment.

“And just so you know, Mr. Xiao, this isn’t where I live.” And with that, he slammed the door and began to walk away, his bookbag swaying side to side with each stomp of his feet.

In his car, Xingchen wanted to scoff, disbelief filling the little space he sat in. The nerve. He wished he could un-slam the door, un-argue through the conversation, un-wake up and go back to sleep. At the same time, he also wanted to go and chase after Chengmei, go and defend his side, go and hit the kid. The nerve.

Xue Yang had stomped down an entire block before the anger had left him and filled him with winter frost. His sweatshirt choice had been loose considering he had thought himself to be picked up and dropped off by Wei Ying. He walked another few blocks and found himself shivering, his hands deep in his pockets in search of some warmth. To his absolute luck, he waddled down the street past the gas station when he noticed a familiar Kawasaki motorcycle in ninja model, a lotus purple finish, black handles, and a man he very often called “uncle,” at pump number four.

“Uncle!” He called out, running over, his cheeks red from the cold. He suspected that soon in the week, it would surely snow and he would pale for the season. Jiang Cheng instantly glanced up from his phone screen at the sound of the kid’s voice.

“Xue Yang, what’re you doing here? Where’s Wei Ying?” The older man looked around, not a hint of red anywhere.

Bored, the kid replied, “he was busy. Can you give me a lift to your place? This fucking man won’t stop following me and I don’t want him to know where I live.”

Jiang Cheng took in his surroundings. Surely enough, down the street an ever grey vehicle could be spotted, and his 20/20 vision could even pick out the details of the familiar driver. The tech analyst narrowed his eyes at the head investigator. They sure were behaving oddly, even taking to the extent of following the members of the paranormal unit.

“Yeah, sure, Kiddo. Hop on,” Jiang Cheng told Xue Yang, taking off the pump once the click of the full could be heard. Breathing a sigh of relief, Xue Yang climbed on behind his senior, holding tightly to his waist for the speed they were about to adopt. Jiang Cheng sped off into a narrow street, taking to thin streets, and pedestrian filled roads with care. Xiao Xingchen couldn’t follow them with the thickness of his car. That night, Xue Yang pulled the blanket over his chin and spent the night at Jiang Cheng’s, his eyes glancing out the window like someone was coming after him.

 ----

The next morning was investigation day as any other day, but at the least, Xue Yang didn’t have classes. The boy would sleep in finally and eat something a little more filling than the cheap product of carbs that nourished him for quick occurrence before fleeing from him like the sugar that plummeted. It was Sunday, and Wei Ying would not have to worry on the kid. He had things he had to tend to without the frequent visit from concern. He decided today, he would visit that Detective Lan’s place. Sunday meant that the investigators would not be in the office. On the other note, the paranormal unit was called to work everyday just at odd hours fit to their convenience. The entire team would not be present, but at least one of them had to be. Sunday though, was usually a day the three decided to come together. Early mornings, everyone would be asleep, less people to stalk by in the street, less people in the coffee shops. Despite that, Jiang Cheng was always early no matter what. Xue Yang would most likely appear later when Wei Ying arrived.

Wei Ying called Xiao Xingchen for that Lan Zhan’s place, determined to get along with his new partners. Not a soul despised Wei Ying. He would not have the investigators thinking they could get by with their hipster attitudes and distaste. As far as Wei Ying was concerned, he was a delectable dish. That and he loved to anger people. There was something about Lan Zhan that was so easily vulnerable to him. The man was too easily angered, too easy to crawl under his skin and distraught his rigid exterior. Every fiber in Wei Ying’s body screamed “mischief,” the other said, “you fucking skeptic.” A bit of him was offended, but the man had heard it all before. And in any event, his ranking was still just a bit higher than Lan Zhan’s.

When he arrived at the house, it was an average suburban home, nothing crazy, a front mat that failed to say “WELCOME,” a porch lamp in white, two seats probably for the seating of the owner and his partner, bushes that were perfectly wilted but would spring into beautiful life come the spring season. It was a humble home, a collected space, too perfect. Wei Ying happily brought all of his imperfections to the door and rung the doorbell.

Wangji was not happy to see him.

Before he could protest the idea of having such a man in his home, Wei Ying protected his presence in the name of the case. It was a quick defeat, for Wangji had narrowed his eyes but allowed his admittance. Inside, the owner announced the following set of rules, “touch nothing.” In the living room, Wei Ying ignored how white everything seemed to be, little hints of blue here and there, but the place was stark naked in white. He sat on the pristine sofa seat, back straight and not touching the rests. Wangji instantly noticed the careful act, but he averted his eyes and returned to his work. Though it was his day off, he had still taken much to his work and wanted to solve the case. It was pure silence for the section of ten minutes, Wei Ying sitting across from him, him not sharing any of the files, him keeping to himself, the television set off, the fish tank ever loud when not a voice spoke.

Boredom.

Wei Ying stretched, arms thrown above his head. He stood up, walking away from the frigid owner and his paperwork to wander. The fish tank seemed like such a strange thing in this lifeless place, and then he realized there wasn’t anything actually swimming in the tank. The man took care of sponges and aquarium plants.

“Do not wander or touch anything,” came Lan Zhan’s voice, eyes still on the papers, the little scratching noises sounding off from his pen.

“You haven’t even offered me anything drink, of course I’m going to wander,” Wei Ying responded, peering deep into the tank until his eyes hurt.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“No promises.”

“I would not make a promise with you.”

“Jeez, you are so sour.” With that, Wei Ying began to wander the house. He made his way around the halls until he reached the stairs. There’s nothing more the man enjoyed than to pry into people’s personal belongings. Why, he reached into Jiang Cheng’s wallet every other week to check for a picture of a possible girlfriend the man was hiding. Too bad he was still single after all this time.

Up the treads, there was white carpeting, continued white carpeting upstairs. He tracked himself into the guest rooms finding them neat but to the extent of hospital rooms. Everything was too white and too quiet and too empty like he was far off by a waterfall secluded in a library with open books and closed eyes. After seeking three guest rooms, he eventually reached the master bedroom, creaking the door open and finding at least one family portrait. There was strangely not a single picture of his partner anywhere in the home. Wei Ying knew he himself had tiny pictures of Xue Yang everywhere in his home, in his bedroom, in the living room decorative cabinet, up the wall by the treads, in a guest room that was literally now Xue Yang’s room when he spent the night. They were almost brothers. In return, he knew Xue Yang had a blown up picture of the both of them in the living room, a collage of the three’s adventures in his bedroom with lights and customized book ends that said very proudly, “WHEN IN DOUBT, JIANG CHENG.” They were a family.

Lan Zhan’s room had one portrait, a simple bedframe with white bedsheets, white pillows, and a thick white blanket like it was the only thing that could keep the man warm. Lonely, that’s what it was, and when Wei Ying spotted that detail, he almost removed himself from the vulnerability of the room when he spotted something glistening in the morning light. On an ornamental hand designed to hold jewels and luxury was a diamond ring. Moving side to side, the light still seemed to catch the ring. It must’ve cost a fortune. Edging closer, of course, Wei Ying was going to touch it. He knew wealth when he saw it, seeing that he was paid quite well for his services and enjoyed the luxuries of it. He slid the ring from the ornamental porcelain hand and placed the tiny ring on his palm.

“Whose finger is this small?” He questioned out loud, his thoughts apparently blocked off from any form of intellect as he slid the ring into his little finger, trying for a fit.

It fit.

It really was a beautiful ring. You wouldn’t give it to just anyone. Wei Ying was just about to slide the thing off when a hand caught his wrist from behind.

“What are you doing?” Came the ice man’s voice. Wei Ying turned slightly to catch the wide eyes and the fury that emanated from the man. The man squeezed his wrist so hard that he thought the bone to shatter.

“Calm down, calm down. I’m taking it off. It’s just jewelry, jeez.” Wei Ying waved it off, pulling his hand back but finding that Lan Zhan’s hand was still attached.

“I said don’t touch anything. Take it off now. Then get lost.” His voice was more rigid than normal, his shoulders tense, his grip causing the white to appear around the red of the pressure.

“Get lost? By Buddha, it’s just a ring, why’re you so – “ Wei Ying pulled even harder on the piece of fine jewelry. His pinky moved along with it, inflexible to his wishes. Wangji’s eyes stared hard. With his own hands, he took hold of Wei Ying’s little finger and pulled.

It was stuck.

Calmly, the ice man walked away from him, nearing a drawer and retracted a little pocket blade from within.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’re you doing?” Wei Wuxian questioned, taking a backward step.

“Cutting off your finger.”

“Are you crazy? Look, I’ll just grab some oil and twist it off –“ Before he could finish, his phone rang, a call from Jiang Cheng. The conversation was simple. Xue Yang had come into work with Jiang Cheng that morning and he wasn’t looking well. The kid constantly complained that his lips burned for some reason and he wasn’t eating anything. Wei Ying assured him that he was on his way. To Lan Zhan he said, “Listen, I gotta’ go check on my dudes. I’ll return it tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Wei – “

“You’ll survive. It’s on my finger. Nothing’s going to happen to it.” With this, Wei Wuxian descended the treads and let himself out. He didn’t drive off until Wangji closed the door and locked it.

When he arrived at the office, Wei Ying rushed over to Xue Yang who was laying in his arms at his cubicle. The child looked more ill than usual, a little more pale, cheeks a bit sunken in, eyes tired.

“Don’t know but I threw up this morning,” Xue Yang said before he could ask what was wrong.

“Did you see anything last night?” Wei Ying asked, obvious concern on his face as he felt the child’s forehead. No fever.

“Yeah, but it’s the same. She didn’t do anything. When I asked her what happened, she screamed. She screamed, Wei dude. They don’t ever scream at me. Maybe to other people, maybe in horror films, but they never scream at me. I don’t get it. Am I losing my ability?”

“Don’t say that. You might just be getting sick.”

“Yeah. Of people.”

“Say it like it is, Dude.”

“He followed me for five fucking blocks, Man. He acts like a psychopath or something. Locked me in his car and everything.”

Wei Ying went silent for a moment, his face serious. Cautious, he asked, “do you think so?”

Xue Yang rubbed his arms, unsure. He looked elsewhere and responded, “that’s not what I meant.”

“But I saw him, Xue Yang.”

“We can’t be sure yet.”

“Your visions aren’t always accurate. If you saw him, he might’ve just been there,” Jiang Cheng added.

“Doesn’t that make it worse? Look, if I see him again, he’s a suspect. That’s that,” Wei Ying said, his face solemn.

“I…” Xue Yang didn’t say anything else. He certainly didn’t find Xiao Xingchen’s company appealing but he didn’t think that the man was Little Blind either. What would the motive be? Why be a detective and kill at random? Xiao Xingchen’s touch spoke thousands, but was it the screams oozing off a predator or the screams from a victim?

Chapter Text

          Monday was work day, of course. Xingchen and Wangji were met with another wave of this alleged blessed water on their heads. Wangji seemed a bit more accepting of it, though the glare of irritation never left his eyes. As long as his team lead was willing to be splashed by some punk, he would be as well. The weather had been daunting, chilling them before their entrance. There was nothing the two wanted more than to achieve some sort of warmth upon entering. In its stead, they were met with another shiver. The room temperature blessed liquid only worsened the effect of the chill in their bones, dissolving any other forms of warmth their larger build could carry. Wangji wasn’t the type to shiver enough where it’d allow his teeth to chatter, so he took a seat subconsciously where the extra portable heater was. Xingchen on the other hand, shivered into a mild laugh, trying to ease the situation for the both of them again. He was honestly too patient and kind a man. Before they began to discuss the whereabouts of the bodies, Xingchen placed a 12 oz can of root bear on Xue Yang’s desk top and laid a straw on the top. Xue Yang glanced up from his arms, an eyebrow raised. There’s no way the man could’ve known that that was his favorite drink.

            “This isn’t…sugar free, is it?” He asked, suspicious of the can.

            “Your trash bin was filled with them the last visit. They were all 30 grams of authentic sugar. I wouldn’t do that to you,” Xingchen replied, amusement etched on the calm features of his face. At his words, Xue Yang slightly pouted at the gesture of having someone besides his partners take careful detail of him. He sucked in his upper lip, pushing out the thicker bottom lip, a perfect place to bite if someone decided.  

            “This isn’t actual beer, right?” Xue Yang asked next, sniffing the bottle. “There’s not much to steal, but you’re gonna’ have to do better than one bottle to get me, Bro.” The comment was humorous in a way considering the office was overfilled with many valuable things, besides the prosaic, immaculately attired by artistic detail, the lackluster of ordinary material still belonged to one of the most known – without detail – syndicates. The fact that it was something in the office boasted of its value, something that the paranormal unit touched, something they used, valuable. To the public. Maybe to Xingchen, it meant nothing, but it was beautiful, and that was all.

            He laughed for the ruffian did not think on this, and laughed at the suspicions of the unit. The CSI were in the right, weren’t they? Weren’t they the ones driven by justice? Why the suspicion?

            Xue Yang narrowed his eyes at the laughter.

            “Unless the man at the gas station has something against you, it’s not alcohol,” Xingchen assured him. Xue Yang sat back in his chair. He looked so small compared to everyone else, like if he sunk any further, he’d entirely disappear.

            “Don’t know him ‘cause I don’t drive, and definitely won’t if the CSI fucking got me drunk. Please, decency, I’m a detective,” Xue Yang joked, putting a hand up as if to ask Xingchen to yield. At his words, the older investigator laughed again, and Xue Yang decided ultimately that he liked the sound. They were like church bells when a body was delivered to safety, the heavenly gate where they perished. All through it, a melodious chime would sound filling the chest with oxygen or bringing warmth to the heart as though the soul had returned, reluctant to abandon her body.

            It was beautiful.

            Wei Ying decided to hide his hand in his pocket for he had forgotten to attempt removing the ring last night upon entering his apartment. The more he took his short lived gander at the ring, the more he decided that it was beautifully crafted and worth a fortune. He wanted it dearly, a collector of luxuries, a boaster of jewelry, a rather flamboyant man if he could say so himself. Perhaps he could purchase it from Wangji. Wangji didn’t seem like a man who would wear such a thing anyway, and it was much too small. The iceman was just a little larger than Wei Ying himself. His little finger probably couldn’t even get the ring on. He had to have forgotten it was on Wei Ying’s finger by now, right?

            A quick glance and the man was glaring daggers, which stung like the glaciers of his golden eyes. Wei Ying stared directly into those eyes, and just to startle the foundation of the man, he winked just to see a slight twitch in return. Wangji was even easier to upset than Jiang Cheng, and it amused the man greatly.

            Jiang Cheng on the other hand, watched the two investigators with an eye of caution. This Xiao Xingchen man did follow the baby of the group after all. He juggled air from one cheek to another, his lips pursed. He didn’t know how he felt about them, skeptics, asking for their help, withholding information from them. Audacity. Suspicious. Too cautious. Something about them seemed to imply invitation to the unknown haunt of the real world, where real people, harmed real people, not the desperate touch of a ghoul in misery. They invited their danger.

            “As I’ve stated before, I’ve decided that since we’re partners now, we’re going to split like one until we understand one another’s methods so there won’t be anymore misunderstandings. Detective Wei, I’ll pair you up with Lan Zhan here.” Xingchen said. The paranormal unit didn’t bat an eyelash at the man giving orders, for the orders were exactly what their own leader, exactly what Wei Ying himself would’ve dictated.

            “Lan Zhan, huh? Well, we’re going to get along just fine,” Wei Ying smiled, withdrawing his hands from his pockets and folding his arms.

            “I see that,” Xingchen said. He captured the glint of the familiar ring on the detective’s finger and it brought a smile to his lips.

            “Hold up, I’m gonna’ need a whole other root beer. This is a lot to take in,” Xue Yang said dramatically. At his words, Xiao Xingchen gave another laugh that sent a string of vibrations in his stomach. The ruffian couldn’t decipher the feeling at the time, but he glanced sideways to avoid conflict.

            “Well, not today. You look unwell today,” Xiao Xingchen said before Wei Ying could. Xue Yang even found himself looking in Wei Ying’s direction to protest out of muscle memory, and yet the voice had not matched. It matched his new “partner” and he detested the measure.

            “My tan came off for the winter,” Xue Yang easily retorted. Again, the chimes of easy laughter filled his stomach as he looked up to notice a soft giggle from the investigator. They said those who were easily amused were usually those who were in their depths of misery. Was it a genuine laugh?

            Wangji had structured himself to watch without seeming as though he was. He was looking straight ahead but his periphery took in everything. The man’s periphery vision was keen, analytical, maybe more so than his upright perception. From what he could tell, his partner, or partner on hold, was filled with a mirth that hadn’t affected him in the past. Was it Wangji? Was Wangji just stiff? It didn’t matter. Work was work and it wasn’t entitled or privileged to any cumbersome traits that would affect its rationale. Xingchen was a rational man. What of all this laughter all of the sudden? Still, it had been a while since Wangji had last come to hear it. It was soft and shy almost, like it wasn’t sure how it should manifest, but it was provoked enough to deviate from the cave of Xingchen’s serious and solemn intellect.

            “Have you a whiteboard?” Wangji questioned instead of stating aloud what he actually wished to say, partially because he wasn’t sure what his tongue had to say. There wasn’t a thing he could’ve uttered in that moment except the sting of a name on his tongue, a familiar girl, someone Xiao Xingchen always spoke about. The younger ruffian reminded him of her, the snark sarcasm and childish behavior for someone basically considered an adult. They could’ve been the same person in a different body.

            Wangji’s eyes widened.

            That was ridiculous. Ridiculous. He never thought like that ever.

            “So formal, it’s scary. Yes, I’ve a whiteboard,” Wei Wuxian answered. He stood up to roll out the whiteboard, and without waiting, Wangji moved the board closer to him and began to attach pictures, writing significant information under them. As he faced the victims throughout the years, it occurred to him just how long he had worked on the case and come up blank. Four years. Was it four years in real life? Wangji knew it hadn’t started then. Xingchen knew it hadn’t started then. It started before, much longer, much deeper. Four years ago, Wangji had switched his department, got promoted and became the Detective Xiao Xingchen’s right hand partner. Was it a curse or a blessing? It had been an honor, and Wangji had felt nothing afterwards. Like with this case, he had felt nothing, just a string of absences and he filled them in with air, hoping his lungs would get him by. They were detectives, and yet they failed to solve something of a personal level.

            Hadn’t this gone on long enough? Maybe they did need help. It was a cold case – no one had to know – but it was a cold case, and Wangji was frigid with its frost. He stared again at the photos of the victims, took in a silent deep breath, and turned towards the imbecile detective head.

            “Four years ago, dated the first ever homicide by the killer who became later labeled ‘Little Blind’ for his personal trademark: the removal of the eyes. He weakens the victims with the usage of a lachrymator agent combined with sulfur mustard to affect the respiratory system and visional function. The sulfur mustard distresses to the point of asphyxiation, three times more deadly than chlorine gas,” Wangji explain. As he spoke, he wrote the quick chemical formulas for the poison stated.

            “So, the victim is exposed to phosgene gas, loses consciousness in the process and as the liquid develops in their lungs, Little Blind removes of their eyes perhaps as a souvenir or he is unable to look at them due to guilt? So, he removes their eyes as if he removed his own?” Wei Ying considered, scrutinizing the images separately. He was arched over in Wangji’s personal space to take a look, and the other wanted nothing more than to push the board a little farther off so the man would move. The PAPPU obviously did not know personal boundaries, though it was clear they set their own.

            “Using a blistering agent requires a particular personal hatred though. Before the agent takes in full effect, we’d need to consider 4-6 agonizing hours of lesions before it reaches severity or even fatality. Our Little Blind is either a rather patient man, or he removes of the eyes while the victims are still alive,” Xue Yang added. If the ruffian were honest though, again, the Little Blind case had nothing to do with them. Showing them the actual details would be futile because they had no authorization from their higher ups to intervene. That, and the rational world made it clear that the Paranormal Unit were subject to lunacy, and should not cause discrepancies for the professionals of intellect.

            “Even if that were the case, it’d seem almost odd for someone to hold any personal malice to choose his victims at random. It looks as though there was some sort of pattern until there, the eighth victim, thirty eight year old Tiu Yanmei,” came Wei Ying, pointing at the bloodied man found on an alley floor.

            “You’re absolutely correct. We’ve come to the same conclusion,” Xingchen told him. He inched near the whiteboard, pushing it away lightly to give Wangji some space before he spoke again. “The years in which he struck was two years, one year, and one year. The first victim dated four years ago, twenty three year old Wang Lihua. He seems to strike in increments of three per year before he silences himself and disappears from the radar before he takes another three the following year.”

            “That’s why it seems so random though because why choose 2-1-1? The year is almost over and there’s only been one victim this year. What about the other two?” Xue Yang asked.

            “Okay, maybe it’s not that random. Maybe he’s trying to say something. Look,” Wei Ying pointed again at the first victim. “First off, your handwriting is so neat that I’m cringing. Look at that artistic work.”

            “Focus,” Jiang Cheng demanded, taking notes of the names and jotting them down in his virtual notepad. As he did so, applicants were appearing that matched the traits given and their last whereabouts before their deaths. He pulled them up to the big screen, their descriptions beside them. The PAPPU’s office was designed to have a clear circular board that rounded the geography of the center. It accepted virtual feedback, surrounding everyone with the faces and account of the deceased mentioned. All around them echoed the haunt of death, pale faces on a screen, empty smiles that had been taken, lives that had been reaped, coloration that had faded.

            But the PAPPU were used to that. They always surrounded themselves with death. And, so did the CSI, but to this extent? All exterior ports were covered by digital information, like the spirits of the dead still breathed on their necks. It caused Xingchen to recollect the factor of having holy water thrown unto him, and how it seemed like a protective boundary all of the sudden.

            The lighting of the office dimmed to allow the contrast of the virtual screen around them. Wei Ying slid his chair the middle with his feet, still positioned in the seat. Unfortunately, Wangji also moved along with him, still planted on the same seat. Apparently, the PAPPU were always ready to rearrange everything and perhaps.

            Run.

            Wei Wuxian spoke up again, unaffected by the measure of taking his new partner along with him. If anything, Wei Ying was simply there to imply suggestions, and Wangji was the professional. He would keep it as such, considering it wasn’t even his case.

            “The first victim, four years ago, was Wang Lihua, female, age 23, found in her car with her eyes removed, and poison in her system, correct?” He questioned, meeting Wangji’s eyes for validation.

            “Correct,” the man responded.

            “The second,” he glanced at the whiteboard to revisit the details. “Actually, something looks funny. I’m going to study it and get back to you in a few hours. All agreed?” The last bit, he said to the team, who nodded in return. Xue Yang did not feel like studying a case that had little to do with their own. If anything, the CSI were just trying to get them to do their work. It wasn’t the first time a professional team came for their assistance and reaped the benefits.

            What Wangji and Xingchen thought would last around two hours stretched on past the morning and into the later hours of the night. The moon had shown into the office, and the room was still lit with the deceased. In such a lighting, it must’ve haunted their eyes, and yet the PAPPU seemed unaffected. Something about them was otherworldly, like a geyser ready boil its surroundings, but peacefully silent for years to come. Not once had they met one another’s eyes, fully concentrated on the files, Wei Wuxian offering vending machines in the hall and a restaurant menu every 3 or so hours to their guests. Other than such, they hadn’t moved from their seats. Xue Chengmei and Jiang Cheng only looked up from their work when Wei Wuxian spoke. They glanced down again when he finished speaking, taking to their duties though it wasn’t their own. It belonged to the CSI, and yet no one complained, because Wei Wuxian himself had not. It reminded Wangji about how he hadn’t complained about the baffling effect of soaking themselves in holy water every visit because Xingchen had not.

            When Wangji finally was ready to pronounce his hunger in the form of excusing himself to the hallway, it had been around 22h16 just as Wei Ying slid his chair from his desk and stretched. Then the PAPPU head began speaking where he left off roughly eleven hours ago.

            “The second in the same year, was Zhang Yong, male, age 32, found in the back of a gym by the dumpster. The third, was Xiu Ying, female, age 24, found in her bedroom. Just from this, we can eliminate any process of a particular age range or specific destination of choice. Ms. Wang is the flip side of Mr. Zhang, 23 and 32. Ms. Xiu is one year older than Ms. Wang. Twenty-three, thirty-two, twenty four, meaning ten and one, pattern, F-M-F. But,” Wei Ying pointed at the following year’s victims and began to speak again.

            “After a space gap of two years, Little blind returned two years later in April of 20__, Cheng MeiFeng, male, age 31, was discovered in his garage with the same trade mark that embodies Little Blind’s signature. It alerted the authorities, you guys, that he had returned. His next victim was in July, his youngest victim, Bao Ru, male, age 13, was abducted and discovered in a park around midnight. His last victim was in November of the same year, Hung Jia, female, age 35, found in her office at around 19h10-15. This disrupts the pattern and introduces us to M-M-F.”

            Xue Yang was recording the entire event for last analysis. He had written out little shapes on his tablet to evoke new patterns, shapes and a variety of color to depict the contrast. F-M-F was in black, with black squares, whereas 31-13-35 was in white with circles.

            “This doesn’t necessarily abandon the pattern though. He could’ve been adding onto the original pattern. Thirteen is the flip side of thirty-one. Thirty-five is four years from thirty one, the first victim of the year. So now it’s F-M-F-M-M-F, 10-1-10-4,” the ruffian told his team lead.

            “Yes, but look here. The following year, his first victim happens in January. He took no time in waiting to alert the authorities that he was returning. His first victim was Shing Qiuyue, female, age 32, the same age as the second victim three years ago. She was discovered in a warehouse.  If the pattern was still continuing, the next victim would be 23, the age of the first victim, Wang LiHua. Instead, the next victim was Tiu Yanmei, female, age 38,” Wei Ying pointed out.

            Xue Yang had drawn the ages in blue, but the shape of them remained in white, then he went over them in black to suggest a gender continuity.

            “Yes, but the last victim was Xiang Xiaosi, male, age 36, found in the staff area of a coffee shop. He didn’t work there,” Xue Yang told him, reading off of the whiteboard as well as Jiang Cheng’s notes of their lifestyles. The man had been a common lawyer from a firm that was across town. There was no reason for him to have been in the staff area of a coffee shop. Xue Yang continued, “This may disrupt the 10-1-10-4 with a 6-4, but the last victim was still four years away from the current. The ten year was taken out but 6 and four are ten, the same age difference from Wang Lihua and Zhang Yong, Cheung Meifeng and Bao Ru. Perhaps he’s still following a pattern.”

            “Then why did he attack just Ai Ling, female, age 17, this year? It’s November. He only has another month to strike. And she’s seventeen. So, would the next victim be seventy one? Or would they be 23 and then 24 to fit the year previous? That way it’s 10-1-10-4-6-4-6-7 because the difference between 1 and 4 is 3?” Jiang Cheng asked.

            “That wouldn’t make sense because it’d be 10, 6,10, and then 13. It needs to be six again so it needs to be 4. The next victims would need to be 23 and 21,” Wei Ying told him. Xue Yang frowned at the drawings on his screen.

            “But if it were a pattern at all, then it still needs to follow the F-M-F/M-M-F/F-F-M. In that case, it’d need to be M-F-M. Instead, the first victim of the year was female. He destroyed the pattern again,” the ruffian said.

            “What if his point is to destroy a piece of the pattern each year?” Jiang Cheng suggested.

            “That would make sense with the time gap. 2-1 in the year gap, and then instead of going for the year marker to disrupt, he went for the age gap instead. Technically, Tiu Yangmei should’ve been twenty three. So, he used another one year, following the pattern of 2-1-1-and then blank. That would explain why he only attacked one person so far this year.” Wei Ying said.

            “But that doesn’t make sense as to why he would choose to off one person then. It would make sense with the time of attack being in the other half of the year, but it wouldn’t account if he only took one victim,” Xingchen reminded them. It was interesting to see another light of the situation. He hadn’t considered that there was a 6-4 ratio, nor had he and Wangji discussed the content of a pattern of disruption to pattern.

            “Yeah, but there’s still one month left. He had 6 months to attack this year. If he only attacks the one victim by time December ends, we can discuss the next disruption,” Wei Wuxian told him. Did they not understand that that’s not how an investigation worked? They might’ve been patient, but the family members of the deceased were not. They needed some closure.

            “We don’t have time to wait until he attacks again. Our jobs are to meet him before he’s able to attain another victim,” the iceman told them. He wasn’t sure how the PAPPU functioned, but any base that allowed victims to be obtained as a technique for solution was not appropriate.

            “We won’t be able to figure out who it is if we don’t figure out the pattern. The only way to appoint the pattern is if it’s officialized,” Wei Ying said, his eyes on the screen rather than the other. For some reason, the comment was even more ignorant when he didn’t meet his eyes. At least, Wangji thought, have the decency to look at the person you were speaking to.

            “That is not what we’re going to do,” Xingchen told them straight up. “What if he doesn’t attack another victim this year? The cycle starts over again the following year and we need to figure out what Little Blind is going to disrupt next? What killer pulls apart pieces of his own pattern every year? I’m sure there’s an actual pattern.”

            “And what if it’s the fact that he takes a piece of the pattern out each year? Which we won’t know unless he doesn’t kill someone else this year. If he kills two more people this year, we’re correct. If not, you need to consider what the actual pattern is. This year’s pattern disruption should be the M-F-M marker, not the number of victims.” Xue Yang didn’t need to argue with the man to see why they’d protest. Of course, the CSI wouldn’t want to wait until they found another body, but this was what was current formulated. There would be no forth going until they could be sure of the pattern or if there was one at all.

            “We’ll revisit it. You can’t look at it once and make conclusions,” Xiao Xingchen said, dismissing them. He waved at Jiang Cheng to rid of the images, but the tech analyst looked toward Wei Ying for instructions.

            “I’ll sleep on it,” Wei Ying told the other head, but to himself the situation was much appeased. It wasn’t their case, and definitely wasn’t their say on how the CSI were going to go on about it. He would sleep on it, because somehow the content was connected to their own case.

            “That will be all for today,” Xingchen had said, standing up as he felt the blood finally return to his legs. He had had plenty of coffee and tea from the unit, and direly needed some fresh air and food. It had seemed unwholesome to indulge in takeout as their paired team was working so hard. Still, it fascinated him that they were able to pull a part so much in such a short amount of time.

            “Okay, see you!” Wei Ying said happily, looking up from his screen to wave. Jiang Cheng had nodded his head and Xue Yang had put a hand up as a gesture of farewell. At this, Xingchen raised both eyebrows.

            “Are you not going home? The hour is quite late,” he told them. At these later hours, it was much more dangerous, and the weather was especially unforgiving. He could hear the howls of the wind from the thickness of the walls.

            “Nopes. We haven’t looked at our case yet. Higher ups say that if we want to go home, gotta’ at least dedicate eight hours to the case,” Wei Wuxian said nonchalantly. The room around them began to slowly light up with heed to the adaptation of their eyes. The faces of the deceased disappeared and soon the office became the cozy atmosphere of a living room once more.

            “You’re going to stay for another eight hours? But it’ll be six in the morning,” came the other. He could barely think about returning to his own office in the morning, let alone come back in two hours.

            “I mean, at least we’re alive. Can’t complain,” Wei Ying said before waving again. As soon as Xingchen and Wangji exited into the hallway, they could hear louder conversation, Xue Yang complaining about something along the lines of hunger, Jiang Cheng saying his eyes hurt, Wei Ying saying he needed a “piss.”

            They had not once complained about the ordeal of taking on the CSI case. And now they were tackling two alongside them. Xingchen found himself somehow affected, stopping at the exit door and bowing out of respect. Behind him, Wangji’s eyes were serious, his expression formal, but there was just a hint of something in them that said, “thank you.”

 ----

            That night, Wangji had taken a light meal for the late hours, and had called his brother who held business in Shenzhen. Being roughly an entire day’s drive away from his brother had affected him when he was just a bit younger, but he had grown to deal with the separation. They spoke of trivial things that weren’t that trivial when spoken from their lips. Nothing of complaints. Nothing of density.

            “I know you can’t tell me any specific details concerning your case, but how does it fare? I hope that you aren’t too stressed out. It’s pretty late and you haven’t gone to bed. Does something bother you?” Lan Xichen asked. The man was attired in his pajamas, sitting on the edge of his bed, glancing at the moon and wondering how it was that the same moon hovered in Beijing, giving his little brother the little light it had to offer, something warm, something like family.

            Wangji had yet changed from his uniform attire, sitting in his living room with slippers on as though that acquainted him to the frigid comfort of his home. The television was on, but the volume was low. He had simply wanted something of noise to fill the silence of a desolate house filled with beautiful things. Except one beautiful thing was missing. On someone’s little finger. Not in the box upstairs where his mother had left it.

            “Wangji? You still haven’t answered. It seems as though something is bothering you.” With that, Xichen’s soft expression was etched with a minute flash of pain. He couldn’t hold those expressions for long. He needed to wear the smile in the family. It was just those two now.

            “Apologies, Brother. There is a lot on my mind, but concerning the case, we were involuntarily paired with another unit, and there seems to be disagreements,” Wangji said, because he couldn’t say “we’re working with imbeciles” and “the imbeciles work really hard,” in one go, and it wasn’t something he would say, just something he wanted to.

            “You found someone to argue with, hmm?” Xichen laughed. It was such a treasured thing. Wangji wished he could take the laughter and place it into his little box upstairs to fill the void until that imbecile would return his things. But how could he go about requesting it back without seeming too passionate? He didn’t want to explain himself. He just wanted it back.

            “It is more than simple arguing, Brother. They do not understand protocol or have the decency to spare some respect for the case.”

            “Those are powerful words, Wangji. Remember, every person has a way of showing that they care.”

            “They do not care.”

            “It may seem that way, but they do, and you know they do, or else they wouldn’t be in that line of work, see? Tell me about them.”

            “There isn’t much to say.”

            “There isn’t much to say or you have not much to say?”

            Wangji thought for a moment. It was true. There was plenty to say, but he didn’t know the content by which there was variety. He hadn’t gotten to know the PAPPU, and hadn’t attempted to. He knew the bare minimum about them.

            “Try to get to know them, Wangji.” Xichen knew his brother well. He didn’t need to be present to read the same stale expression on Wangji’s face. As far as his brother was concerned, Wangji was overwhelmingly spirited with emotions. Your eyes just needed to be in tune to catch them. If the eyes failed to see what was in front of it, then they were not open to begin with.

            Xichen stared at the moon and thanked that it watched over his brother and kept the dear boy safe. Now that Wangji was older, it didn’t seem like he could protect him anymore.

            “It’s the PAP’s paranormal unit,” Wangji said. There wasn’t a sigh, but Xichen knew there was one in it. There was a pause until he heard his older brother’s laughter fill his fish tank with life. If Xichen laughed enough, it would bring more color to Wangji’s home, more warmth to his sheets, more life in his tank, something.

            “Well, you’ve certainly got your hands full, don’t you? It’s different, I presume, but Wangji, everyone speaks about the PAPPU. They’re very secretive and pronounced. They will get their job done.”

            Wangji very much thought that their secret was the fact that they made their office into a living room because they spent their lives in there. On the side note, no one had ever seen the PAPPU. Seeing that it was just two almost thirty year old’s and some college student was baffling at most. The secret was how human they were, but how not human they acted. They moved with one another, no one else. Conversed with one another, no one else. Enjoyed only one another, nothing else.

            They were a family.

            Wangji sat quietly wondering if something that displayed that much familial affection could be capable of hurting. The PAPPU were known to the CSI, all branches, for their under the table dealings. They killed when they needed to, and their sect would cover it up. They broke and bent rules, and their sect would cover it up. They would do anything to get the answers, even if it meant that every one would fall. Was that justice? Was that little family run by justice or something else? Something evil?

            He thought of the way they looked at one another and decided the negative. No. The PAPPU was simply two almost thirties, and a college student trying to find themselves.

            Perhaps. Perhaps they were a little magical.

            And the real world was mundane compared to their touch.

            “It’s late, Brother. Please acquire some rest,” Wangji said. After this, he would call Xingchen and ask if he arrived home safely. He would ask him what he had eaten for dinner. He’d tell him to sleep early for his health. He’d be a good partner. Before he could do any of it, he received a text from Wei Wuxian saying the following. It was a tiny thing, but Wangji could feel the curve of a smile on his lips. It never manifested but something else like warmth did.

            [ Hope you got home safely!! Let a Brother know that stuff. Make sure you eat and get some sleep. See you tomorrow! -WY ]

            22:h31

            He went upstairs to change into his sleeping attire, and climbed gently into bed. His covers felt warmer, the cold was gone, and the moon was protecting him.

 ----

            A week later, Xingchen was sitting in his office with his eyebrows drawn down, staring into the files, his math work scribbled neatly beside the content. It just didn’t add up. Where had the PAPPU drawn the numbers from? The more he looked at it, the 10-1-10-4 just didn’t make any sense. The difference of Wang Lihua and Zhang Yong was 9. The difference between Cheung MeiFeng and Bao Ru was even farther; it was 18. Where on earth did the 10-1-10-4 come from?

            “You’re going to get wrinkles frowning that hard,” came Xue Yang’s voice at the door. Xingchen had looked up instantly, surprise on his features. Who had allowed the PAPPU entrance? Their superiors probably. It was a nice surprise, though having the ruffian appear would most likely just end in disagreement. Still, disagreeing helped to figure out the sides of an issue, rather than having both him and Wangji agree on one solid thing. And the solid thing didn’t even offer the answers.

            “Brother Xue, come in. Here, you can take a seat there. Did you want something to drink?” Xingchen asked, closing his browser at the mess of authentic notes on his screen. Xue Yang shook his head. The investigator could tell that the detective was reluctant to take a step closer.

            “I’m not sure how your, excuse me, your abilities work, but if you’ve brought the liquid, you’re free to throw it on me,” he assured him.

            “It’s different if you’re in my office versus me in yours. I can’t just come in here throwing water on your head in your own home,” Xue Yang replied. It was a few days to December, and his coat already held the fractals of snow. The coat was rather large. Xue Yang shrunk in it, his fingers unseen through the opening of the sleeves. Xingchen noticed the usage of “home” rather than workplace. To Xingchen, this office was no home.

            “The heater is on, no worries. Come take a seat. You’re frosted to the bone. I need your assistance with something.”

            “You want my help? My help with what? Are you sure?” As he said it, Xue Yang attempted sitting across from the other. There was no migraine, only natural shivers that came from the cold. Perhaps this distance would do.

            “I was wondering. When Lan Zhan, excuse him, I’ve sent him to your office to track our progress, so he isn’t present accordingly – but, I was wondering where you drew the 10:1 and 10:4 ratio. When I agreed with you, I was assuming that you were looking at it in the light of how Lan Zhan and I had viewed it. The numbers are flipped, 23 and 32, 31 and 13, and the third year, Little Blind abandoned the pattern with a 32 and 38.”

            “Well, the way I was looking at it, and I assume the other two shared my thoughts, was that the same rules apply for a decimal. If you move the decimal point in a number, it increases. Though the numbers are different, you swap it like you’d do a decimal point and it becomes different. So, on the surface it may seem like a meager switch but there’s more math involved than we think. Decimal point increments work in .0 and the default is .01. Move the decimal in the same fashion and it’s 10.”

            “That way it follows the same pattern and winds out being disrupted in the manner that you were speaking about. That’s brilliant.” Xingchen’s eyes almost lit up at the content. Something like information slipped onto his tongue but never revealed itself.

            “It’s not, because it doesn’t give us what you guys want yet,” Xue Yang said awkwardly, his gaze at the ground. Xingchen smiled at this, but said nothing of it.

            “How are you faring with your case? I apologize for last week. Had I known that you were required to stay another 8 hours, I would have arranged time to discuss your case.”

“There was no point. We literally got nothing.”

            That was shocking.

            For the PAPPU to acquire so much detail and information in under a day on the CSI’s case but retract absolutely nought on their own was shocking. For some reason, the man had thought them to have a lead and suspect already.

            “There have been only two victims, twenty-seven year old female, Chen Huiling, and twenty-seven year old male, Ing Fa. Both bear the same wounds as the Little Blind victims to the point you’d imagine that someone was simply trying to reenact the crime scenes, but as you’ve said, when you look at the report, there are no traumatic wounds that should’ve implied the following accounts. We went to visit the bodies and I still retrieved nothing from them. I can’t do anything if I received nothing.”

            “What are you trying to retrieve?” Because Xiao Xingchen really didn’t know. Exactly what was it that the PAPPU actually did? Their analytical work was excellent but what was it that they actually did?

            “A message. Something. A sensation, a thought, a glimpse. Something. I got nothing from them, and the one time that I did, I can’t tell if the person was just a wandering spirit or if they were connected. Even when I touched Ai-Ling’s body in the back of the car that Ing Fa was discovered in, I only retracted the echo of a scream. They never scream at me. I communicate with them. Nothing is communicated if all they’re going to do is scream.”

            Xiao Xingchen furrowed his eyebrows.

            “I know what you’re going to say, but just don’t say it. I’m here to work with you.” Xue Yang said. For once, he didn’t seem annoyed. This was plain and simple. He had been sent, and he would do what was required of him. He would not disappoint Wei Ying.

            “Under orders?” Xingchen dared.

            “Under orders.”

            “Can you work with me if you’re not under orders?”

            “Can you work with me if you’re not under orders?”

            Probably not, Xingchen thought, but also, I want to be able to.

Chapter Text

Wangji had come ready to question where the 10 came from when it suddenly startled into his intellect mid-drive. It came in the form of Wei Ying running across the street when they had first met, only this time he was explaining the decimal. It was a strange experience to have someone in his reveries, for the dead lived there and Wei Ying was ever alive.

            “When your loved one returns this ring, it will be in marriage,” he suddenly remembered his mother saying. It was one of the things she had told him that he actually remembered before she had passed. It brought an almost crease on his eyebrow as he pulled into the parking lot of the PAPPU building, a place not many knew about. On the exterior, it looked like a big home, and no where on the building had it said the name. It was to avoid reporters, and kept them secretive. Wangji entered the building with one thing in mind: marriage be damned politely but give him back his ring. It was all his mother had left him, that and Brother Xichen but he was 22 hours away.

            When he entered, he knocked lightly on the edge of the entrance to give those within a chance to register to his presence. What actually happened was, the tech analyst glanced up from his keyboard and Wei Ying still held his head without looking up.

            “Lan Zhan, so nice to see you, come in,” Wei Wuxian said, lifting his head slowly from the frustrated grip of his hands. His hair was nicely out of place, the kind that appeared intentional on a man that was unintentionally beautiful. Wei Wuxian was a character drawn from a book; his grey eyes held the appeal of a purple lotus, his lips a smile hidden under pink, his hair like a wash of pure black gliding against his back, falling on the nape of his neck where people tended to rest their head. Wangji knew if he ever got that close, it would be to place a blade directly in that area.

            But he had no reason to kill Wei Wuxian, unless the man didn’t return his things. He could see it there, still sparkling on the man’s little finger. He wanted to hook his finger around it and snatch it. It was the place people made promises, the same place he had hooked around his mother’s and promised to bring his partner to her grave to visit. The woman had been very ill and knew her demise was close enough for her brittle fingers to touch.

            When Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian’s finger it was not to make a promise. He had said it before and he’s repeat himself. He had nothing to promise to the man nor would he ever.

            “Did Brother Xiao send you? Have a seat. I sent Xue Dude out to gather some information that may help with out case. I won’t splash you with anything.” Wei Wuxian looked the tired that many looked after missing a night’s rest. Wangji supposed the job called for it sometimes. He was lack of pity, for he had seen similar days, sometimes crossing to two full all-nighters before he acquired something like a solution.

            “I came to retrieve my ring. It is still on your finger,” Wangji told him plain and simple. Unfortunately, he needed to secure just a second of selfishness and take back what little he had left. To his bafflement, Wei Wuxian obviously did not understand what he held in his possession for the man laughed, waving his hand at the other.

            “About that, I wanted to ask you where you got it.”

            “Return it at once.”

            “It’s stuck on my finger. Must be a calling.”

            “It is not a calling. Use soap to remove of it and return it to me.”

            “I was actually thinking that I could buy it off of you,” Wei Ying offered. At his words, Wangji grew ever silent, closing his eyes slowly. He had never seen such audacity a day in his life. When he opened his eyes again, he reminded himself that Xingchen had sent him to focus on the case. He hated that Wei Wuxian incessantly hided behind the name of the case simply to get what he wanted. Wangji would not be controlled.

            Unfortunately, he kind of was. He needed to listen to his unit head. Xingchen had told him to go work with Wei Wuxian, so he needed to. And how exactly was he going to do that when he could barely stand the sight of the man, he didn’t know.

            “I’ll give you time to think about it. Really consider it. I’ll pay you a lot for it.”

            “Stop talking for a moment,” Wangji told him, walking across from his desk to take a seat in Xue Yang’s seat. The gesture caused Wei Ying’s smile to tighten just a bit, but the PAPPU head said nothing.

            “What have you retracted thus far from your study?” Wangji asked. The swivel chair was pulled so high up that Wangji’s thighs hit the bottom of the table. Was that ruffian really so small? Why allow someone so small in a position of power? The tech analyst seemed the better choice if anything.

            “From our case? We have nothing. A full week of staring at this bullshit and we have nothing.” Wei Wuxian was smiling but his smile said little along the lines of mirth. It appeared to be rather annoyed, but the man was apparently so accustomed to hiding it behind a farce of cordiality that Wangji almost didn’t catch it. In that event, Wei Wuxian and Xingchen were alike, forced expressions, hidden emotions. If anyone knew how deeply Xingchen was hurting, that person would’ve been Wangji, and yet Wangji hadn’t carried that weight. It wasn’t his job. He left it untouched.

            “Why haven’t you retracted any information?” Wangji questioned. It was odd. They had gotten so much out of the CSI case and nothing of their own.

            “Because Xue Dude hasn’t really been at his best. He hasn’t received anything from the corpse.”

            “And he won’t.”

            “He’s short of a message, Lan Zhan.”

            “Short of logic.”

            “Okay, stop talking for a moment,” Wei Wuxian actually put a finger before Wangji’s lips. “Look at me, Lan Zhan.”

            “You’re not actually giving me a choice.”

            “My superiors have personally told me to get along well with the CSI department. This means we will behave amiably and understand our differences. I’m prepared to make a deal with you. As long as you are coarse and sour with me, I will keep this ring. I always meet my superiors’ expectations, because I strive to be the very best. You have made this a little complicated, so I unfortunately need to fall to drastic measures. We will get along.”

            Wangji could see it. Wei Wuxian had an unnecessary need to be at the top. Unfortunately, though Wangji was of a lesser rank, he held himself accordingly. He would not stoop to a level of blackmail. Because of this, Wangji would incessantly be on top of Wei Wuxian.

            “Only if you agree though,” Wei Wuxian said, his light hearted smile returning.

            “Excuse me?” Wangji had to ask. Was the man giving him an option?

            “Only if you agree. I’m sure this is something you want too. You want to get along with me.”

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “You don’t have to. People always end out liking me in the end, Lan Zhan. Why, we can even end out best friends. You never know. Agree with me and I’m all yours.”

            This saying greatly confused the stern man. He stared blankly at Wei Ying and thought of calling his brother to ask of how he should reply. Wei Wuxian hadn’t lied. He wanted to get along with the man in the name of the case. He didn’t have to say he agreed, but he knew internally that he did. It was a good excuse. Wangji needed good excuses, something to say when someone asked, an answer that seemed logical for any ill thought actions he would have come the future. Wei Wuxian looked like a walking mistake. Wei Wuxian would be the excuse.

 ---

            December had crept halfway through, eliminating another 2 weeks before the group considered the disturbing. Perhaps Little Blind really wasn’t going to conceive another victim, and their theory was unsettled. Xue Yang had exited his school building, his hood over his head, headphones under them tucked around the curve of his head to tune everything out. Even airpods wouldn’t do it together; he wanted to eliminate all sources of noise and just drown in it. He expected the usual, Xiao Xingchen to be by the parkway ready to drive him to Uncle Jiang’s instead of Wei Ying. It had been like this for the past whatever and he didn’t care to count it anymore. Xiao Xingchen just seemed like an inevitable conversation, but it was no longer as complicated to hold the conversation as it was upon first meeting. When he arrived at the car, he faked his scowl the way he did since Monday, and it was now Saturday. Everyday of last week was filled with genuine scowls, but he was now accustomed to the man’s presence and physical existence. He could think about him without disdain, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pretend like he was still disgusted.

            Xue Yang had to admit that he was thankful in that facet, that he wasn’t walking to the metro while it snowed. Without greetings, Xiao Xingchen smiled at him and began driving after the ruffian had gotten in the vehicle. He did not lock him in this time for he trusted the young man wasn’t going to attempt jumping from the car as it was moving. He was no longer so repulsive in his eyes, or perhaps Xue Yang had learned to numb from it. In that feature, Xiao Xingchen was a bit relieved. He didn’t ask the ruffian how his day had gone, how his lessons were doing, what he learned today, how he felt about the weather – rather, he stayed quiet the way Xue Yang liked. There was an unspoken agreement between them: they were temporary partners and that was all. They liked their space apart, and set their boundaries together. He was just going to drive the ruffian to Jiang Cheng’s household for he still refused to inform him of where he lived, and if Xingchen were honest, he had trouble finding of their whereabouts. Their information had been taken from collection, no where they could find and nothing significant was known in order to find anything useful. He knew nothing of Xue Yang, Wei Wuxian, or Jiang Cheng besides what they looked like, their occupation, and how familial they were with one another.

            “Have you figured anything out yet?” Xingchen attempted. It was the usual conversation they had, and by now, he was no longer highly expectant of what the response would be. That’s what partners were supposed to do, share nothing of the intimate type, simply discuss the case and be on their way. They did not know one another outside of work hours.

            “I haven’t seen anything,” Xue Yang absently responded. Xingchen was almost shocked the ruffian could hear him over his music for how loud it seemed to roar in the confines of the vehicle. But he quickly noticed that one of the headphones was slightly crooked, leaving his ear vulnerable to hear. The ruffian had moved it just in case the investigator decided to speak. This thought pleased Xingchen despite how short lived his responses usually were.

            “But have you figured anything out?”

            “So, my victims are all twenty-seven. There needs to be a reason for it.” Just last week, another victim, twenty seven year old, female, Bai Yu was discovered with the same wounds as the previous two, and again, the severity of the trauma had not met the internal anatomy, dictating any serious wounds that would’ve lead to fatality.

            “Don’t lose sleep on it,” Xingchen told him just as absentmindedly as the other had. He had not meant to but it was something that slipped out easily on his tongue.

            “I’ve been sleeping just fine.” A bit of snark tone, some irritation.

            “You haven’t,” Xingchen said plainly. He didn’t bother to look in the ruffian’s direction. The street seemed more important than him refusing what he needed: rest.

            “What? I’m – “

            “I’m going to get you something to eat. Are you a fan of dumplings?” Partner handbook be damned for just a moment. It still meant they could care for one another and tend to each others’ necessities, right? Or was Xingchen too invested as he usually was? He couldn’t help it. Had she been sleep deprived and frustrated, he would’ve fed her dumplings too.

            He stopped the car all of the sudden, his thoughts flooding over. He had not meant to think about her, and here she was again, haunting his thoughts while he pretended a pretense of composure. Her white eyes reminded Xingchen that he wore white always, to remember her, to remember her gaze, how she saw the world.

            He saw in full color. The nerve of him.

            “Soup dumplings,” Xue Yang randomly said.

            “Excuse me?” Xingchen blinked.

            But Xue Yang’s remark had not been random at all. It was an answer to his question – right, he had asked a question. Another,  – right he was sitting next to Xue Yang. This was present day, not  a decade ago.

            “I’m more of a gyoza person, but let us have some soup dumplings,” Xingchen said, his smile returning though he hadn’t noticed that it had fallen away in a reverie. He turned the heater vent in Xue Yang’s direction when he finally noticed that the ruffian was shivering. No big coat today. He must’ve known Xingchen was going to pick him up. Of course. Xingchen’s car should’ve been warmer. Wei Wuxian’s car was probably incessantly warm when the ruffian entered. How unkind of him to leave his car brittle and cold.

            “Question,” Xue Yang said, looking in his direction with suspicion. He had brought his shoulders close to his ears again as though he was ready to turn his back to Xingchen and coil up to sleep. Whenever Xingchen was sure the ruffian would fall fast asleep, he would make out the rougher breathing in the silence: he looked asleep but he was ever alert. Of course not, he didn’t trust Xingchen enough to sleep around him. He wouldn’t even tell him where he lived.

            “Perhaps an answer,” Xingchen replied, turning left the way he remembered. It wasn’t a good time to rely on his memories for they were feeding him past events that couldn’t be pasted on to the present.

            “Why am I, like, okay?” Xue Yang asked. It had been two weeks without any near seizures in the car, which shouldn’t have been the case. There’s no way Xiao Xingchen had been cleansed of all of that density.

            “I requested that Brother Wei provide me with some of your collections as to anoint myself before picking you up to avoid any reactions,” the other responded. He wanted to look in the ruffian’s direction this time around for his peripheral vision was not that of Wangji’s. He couldn’t make out the direction and the triviality of the streets seemed mundane compared to something he needed to know.

            Xue Yang’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter. Aloud he said, “Why’re you so nice?”

            “You remind me of someone is all. I’m actually quite selfish,” Xingchen told him honestly. Maybe he shouldn’t have projected his feelings onto someone else like that, but they were so alike. The color of Xue Yang’s eyes reminded him of something though he couldn’t quite pick it out. He was sure they were connected, but at the moment he couldn’t recall it the way he usually could.

            “You wish!” Xue Yang called out, punching him in the arm. The gesture seemed a little intimate for someone who utterly disliked him, and the comment for what reason it was, caused Xingchen to laugh again.

            Was Xingchen being selfish or was he just creating relationships again? Was he allowed to let people in? Wangji stood right before that door, and he had made attempts to allow the man in, but the man never noticed the invitation. Partners. That was all. Not friends.

            When Xingchen turned into a restaurant parking lot, they stepped out into the snow. The petals fell from the sky onto his head and clung on. His clothing became a backdrop for the frost, surrounding him in a colorless afternoon.

            Xue Yang had turned to face him, a pale man in a pale city, with a pale sky, but a look of somewhat gloom on his features. He was sure there was something of gloom under that gentle smile. It was more forced than its usual, heavy almost. To Xue Yang, like everything else, Xiao Xingchen looked like a ghost, the solution to the living, just death. But it was a gentle solution for agony, like a cool breeze among the heat, or a cool breeze where the frost haled, the kind that didn’t freeze your skin and cause you to shiver. It was a perfect breeze and it was pale. Sometimes, perhaps it could even be annoying, but it was there and a part of the sky’s call. With its light, it seemed to blur what Xue Yang saw in his own periphery. Two blinding lights, two gentle solutions. One was a shiver. The beginning or the end.

            When Xiao Xingchen entered the building, the light above him seemed to disappear and he was again mundane. They took their seats at a humble little table, Xue Yang staring but not obvious. It rubbed off strangely that the man appeared ordinary all of the sudden. Was it the sky that had caused the effect? When their food appeared, Xue Yang went straight to slurping his soup dumplings. He hadn’t noticed how hungry he seemed and how little he had eaten. Really, he hadn’t eaten that morning or the night before. He couldn’t sleep because the little spirit would appear and terrorize his apartment with its obscurity. It wasn’t that it disturbed his home, but rather its structure. His home was normally cold, but with the little spirit there, it seemed warmer. He knew the reason instantly, the warmth of anger, the voice of fury. She had screamed again, a throat curdling scream that shook his cabinets and rolled a migraine into his scalp. He thought it to be his own thoughts when he noticed that his phone had taken to falling to the ground from the quake. She was there. She was real. She stood on the opposite side of the light, dressed in her green dress.

            When she opened her eyes, they were white.

            “I know you like the soup dumplings, but here, try a gyoza.” Xiao Xingchen’s voice came tearing into his thoughts with a pair of chopsticks raised before him, beef and vegetables stuffed in a fried dumpling.

            Xue Yang shook the girl from his thoughts and responded, “do I have to share a dumpling if I take one of yours?”

            Xiao Xingchen laughed and shook his head. There it was again. The luminosity that reverberated off of him, shining from his face and shoulders, bright against his clothing. It was bright.

            He did not look mundane.

            Xue Yang frowned and looked down quickly, taking the gyoza and taking a bite just to have something to do. His face lit up as if trying to mimic.

            “Hey, this actually slaps. I can taste the fake health,” he muttered. The last thing he needed was to enjoy something else that was terrible for his heart. Now, he wanted at least four more gyoza and could nearly hear Uncle Jiang scolding him and Wei dude saying, “Well, that means you can’t eat kit-kat later.”

            Fuck the kit-kat. He could smell the gyoza.

            He could hear laughter.

            When he looked back up, having had finished his gyoza, Xiao Xingchen said to him, “if you keep making me laugh, I’m going to throw up.”

            “Technically, that would make all that gyoza became a big soup dumping. Just all over the table and I would end out needing to take the bill while someone rushes to the restroom and someone has to apologize to that poor waiter.”

            Xiao Xingchen covered his mouth to hold in a laugh, his shoulders raising just a bit as if to help him retain some sort of composure.

            Xue Yang spoke quickly to keep the cool breeze from emanating, brushing on his cheeks. It would bring red to his cheeks. Xiao Xingchen needed to be mundane.

            “Geez, you laugh at everything,” he said, shaking his head, but under his nose a sneaky smile had manifested, and he couldn’t make it go away. Xingchen didn’t seem to notice for he talked as though no one was being affected.

            “So Lan Zhan and Brother Wei seem to get along well,” he said.

            “Wangji pushed him out the first story window last week. Thanks to that, Wei Dude brought him along with him. If that’s getting along to you, then we’re basically married,” Xue Yang said carelessly.

            Xiao Xingchen smiled. “It’s because Brother Wei refuses to relinquish Lan Zhan’s ring.”

            Ah, they had discussed that last week. Xue Yang recalled the conversation, even recalled trying to convince the other to return it though he didn’t really care where the ring went. If it was going to keep Wei Dude in the house and not the first story window, along with a pissed off iceman, he thought it was best to return it. But it wasn’t the first time he had tried to convince Wei Dude to stop trying to attain jewelry, throwing out money like water for jewels on his fingers, a locket around his neck and bangles on his wrist.

            “That’s a nice ring. ‘Get a new one?” Xue Yang had asked, filing something he couldn’t really recall. Wei Ying had raised his left hand up to glance at the ring and smiled though a little devilish.

            “Ain’t it?”

            “How much did you use this time?”

            “Nothing. It was free.”

            “Dude.”

            “It was! I took it from Lan Zhan.”

            Xue Yang paused. “Dude!”

            “Don’t worry. I’ll just buy it off of him.”

            “He doesn’t look like the type to just, I dunno, let you buy things off him, and that looks really expensive. It might be an original.”

            “But I want it.”

            “Why? Just get a new one.”

            “No, he can get a new one.” Wei Ying said quickly, looking at the ring again. Xue Yang had frowned, but he didn’t argue. If Wangji was going to get another ring, that was fine, but first he needed to want a new ring, which didn’t seem to be the case.

            “Why can’t you just get a new one?” Xue Yang asked. Damn, he had put the file into the wrong folder. He took it out and put it in the right one.

            “Because Lan Zhan can get a new one. I want this one.”

            It didn’t seem to make any sort of sense. Wei Ying was never that unreasonable, and the man loved jewelry or at least thought he did, but he wouldn’t go to the extent of stealing and trying to bribe someone out of their own collections. A few times in the office, he had seen Wei Ying frown and look towards the ring.

            To Xiao Xingchen Xue Yang tried, “the man likes jewelry. We’ll just pay for it and Brother Lan can just get another one.”

            Xiao Xingchen raised both eyebrows. “The ring was given to him by his deceased mother.”

            “Oh, shit…” Xue Yang blew air into his cheeks, unsure of what to say. Yeah, Wangji probably wouldn’t be able to get another ring that his deceased mother gave him. She’s have to die again and give him a new one, and that barbarically made no sense.

            “For his wife,” Xingchen finished, an awkward smile on his face. At this, Xue Yang’s jaw fell, and gyoza attempted to slide back up his throat with the possibility of some soup.

            “I’ll talk to Wei Dude and tell him to return it.”

            “Please.”

            In his head, Xue Yang could only hear, “Lan Zhan can get a new one. I want this one.” When Wei Ying wanted something, he wanted it badly. He always got what he wanted. Suddenly, Xiao Xingchen’s phone rung. When he saw the caller I.D. and a serious expression paved over his gentle features, he looked towards Xue Yang and didn’t need to speak in order for the ruffian to make inference, what had occurred yet again.

            There was another body. Xue Yang felt his stomach drop as he hoped that it was Little Blind’s victim. As bad as it was, it would assist the theory. Little Blind was still attacking people this year. Just one more victim and they’d be able to track him down.

 ---

            Wei Ying kicked a trashcan, sending it across the pavement and into the street. It was raining and the CSI had been dismissed, no longer authorized to take on the body. It did not need to be taken to the coroner. It had been deemed “odd” or “peculiar” or “bizarre,” what ever the public wanted to fucking call it.

            “What the actual fuck, man?” Wei Ying asked no one in particular. The sky was freezing today, and December felt stupid for being so cold. Or at least stupid while he was upset. It was raining and Xue Yang was shivering as usual under his big coat, gloves on, rocking back and forth a bit for warmth. Wei Ying almost wished that he was just as upset so he could gain some heat. With how cold the punk was, the last thing Wei Ying wanted was for him to have to take off his gloves and touch a corpse.

            And the worse part, the fact that he’d probably get nothing from it. What if Xue Yang’s abilities were disappearing?

            Xue Yang didn’t say anything, just taking off his gloves and walking over to the body, sprawled out on the floor by the car section of a supermarket. She had fallen dramatically as if shoved from behind, between two carts. The two took in a deep breath, thinking of the woman simply going to shop for her kids or her things for her and her roommate when she fell down with some spirit attachment. Apparently, it had been caught on camera when she just descended and passed. She had screamed as if assaulted, before her eyes and mouth bled and her system collapsed. They had apparently tried to rule it as a heart attack, but not before bringing in the PAPPU for another strange case.

            Heart attacks didn’t make you bleed from the eyes.

            As Xue Yang edged closer, her eyes, like the other three, had been wide open in terror, blood leaking out and sliding across her nose for she was turned slightly, her ear resting against the cement. He hoped that he could get a read off of her, perhaps help reason with the spirit that doing this was incorrect. What was correct, anyway? The spirit probably thought they had a valid reason for attaching to others. Still, if they were affected in the same manner that Little Blind’s victims were, it had to be Little Blind’s victims attaching to others. Xue Yang couldn’t communicate to them. He could get nothing, not even a slight twitch, let alone tell them to stop and reincarnate.

            “Twenty-seven-year-old female, Liu Ting,” they were told. Her I.D. had been on her person, making it easy to obtain her identity the way their other victims had been as well. Xue Yang knelt before the body, goose flesh rising under his coat due to proximity. He wished that if he was going to receive all of these reactions that he was able to get something from them, and still, that hadn’t been the case. It was the fourth victim now. Whoever heard of fourth was the charm? Perhaps, but maybe not.

            He touched her cheek, cringing at how cold she had turned under the hands of the weather. He hoped that his hands would offer her some warmth. All of the sudden, the rain seemed stupid and careless, like it shouldn’t have just cried from the sky all over everything especially while people were dead. He wished it would stop raining, it was wetting Lie Ting’s hair and getting all over her face. How was she supposed to breath?

            Oh, she couldn’t breathe anymore. Maybe the rain was laughing like “haha” and then “haha” at the fact that Xue Yang was getting absolutely no fucking read again. He took a deep breath and retracted his hand, then used force to stab them into her eyes. He felt all of it again, the disgusting ooze of the eyes that slid all over his fingers, how his nails must’ve torn into her iris.

            There was nothing.

            His goose pimples had disappeared and the weather just felt like a drain on him. The rain hadn’t touched them any longer, Wei Ying hovering from behind, holding an umbrella over them. Why hadn’t the CSI team held an umbrella over Liu Ting? They couldn’t, but they should’ve. She was getting drenched. Her soul was going to be just as angry and attach to someone else. How could they simply care for the physical body and not the warmth that came inside of it?

            “Ghosts don’t exist,” they’d say and fuck them for it. It was the reason more people were dying. And fuck them for being a part of the team, trying to bring the family peace, and not giving a damn about the dead any longer.

            Out of nowhere, something came. It was weak. Small. Puny even, but it was there. And then it got louder and louder and louder until it held the effect of shattering glass, and Xue Yang retracted his fingers quickly, throwing his hands over his ears. Still, it didn’t stop. Screaming, shrieking, throat scratching screeching, enough pain for him to feel the stab of something in his skin. He fell onto his bottom, kicking his feet to get away from the body, his eyes squeezed shut as the sensation of fingers lifted them and stabbed a metal object inside. He could feel his eyes peel free from under his sockets, the gushing sound spilling over, overwhelming his skin until it was sore and puffy around the area injected. Blood would roll from his eyes, down his cheeks like tears, dripping on his clothing and he would scream and scream and scream and then.

            Xue Yang started coughing, not a soft coughing that came from weather intervention but the serious coughing that came with something, some substance, something red, crimson, dark. He hunched over on himself, falling over his balance and rolling into the ground as the coughing intensified, his lungs pushing oxygen out of his ears. His hands pulled over from his ears and caught his fall, tears falling from his eyes from the trauma of the object. It burned to open them, hurt to hear, choked to breathe.

            “X-Xue Yang!” Wei Ying called, dropping the umbrella. Xue Yang only knew because he could feel the rain touching him again, then hands on his shoulders, and then concern. He could hear concern because Wei Ying’s concern came differently than other peoples’. It had no sound, just touch, a touch against his forehead, a pinch on his neck, a slap on his cheek, pumps on his chest, a kiss on his lips.

            Xue Yang was bleeding. Though his eyes burned with the sting, it could still make out the liquid all over the floor. The more he coughed, he saw it splash against the cement, rolling around wildly as it mixed with the rain. Blood was coming from his mouth.

            Wei Ying was hugging him, tightly, saying nothing. Xue Yang found his own hands coming up to curl around his waist and touch his back, gripping tightly. He wanted to wail, but the only thing that sounded from his lips was a splash of red. It dumped on Wei Ying’s body, lining him with red, and for no reason, it looked like it belonged there.

 ---

            Xingchen was not understanding. He sat at his office seat, speaking calmly into his cellphone, but he could imagine that Wei Wuxian was pacing back and forth, maybe stomping almost. He attempted to alleviate the measure by saying, “if he got a reaction, that’s a good thing, right?”

            “No, Detective! Look, are you sure those were all of the victims?” Wei Wuxian’s voice came. There was a little twist to it, not the happy-go-lucky jewelry stealing man, but a serious authoritative voice that demanded answers. He could picture Wei Wuxian staring dead in his eyes with his grey ones, and the purple trying to steal answers from his throat with its glare.

            “Yes,” Xingchen replied quickly, a little too quickly.

            “This is fucking nuts,” came Wei Wuxian. Xiao Xingchen could imagine him being upset, but he didn’t know why, and he didn’t know the extent. In reality, Wei Ying was livid at the effect that the body had on Xue Yang, how it brought the punk to the hospital for the night. Blood. Xue Yang was not allowed to bleed. Wei Ying never wanted to see that ever again.

            Trying to cool his thoughts, he spoke into the phone again, “Jiang Cheng and I will be there in a few hours, Don’t go home.” It was an order. Wei Ying knew they were keeping secrets.

            Surely enough, within three hours, the two appeared at the office. It seemed like an odd thing to see the tech analyst free from his desktop screen, standing before them in his purple eggplant trench coat. His hair had been taken out from its usual neat bun and left to unroll against his back, just as long as Wei Wuxian’s. When his almond eyes looked towards them, it felt as though he was determining himself if it was worth it any longer t work with them. The respect was there, but not as it originally had been.

             Xue Yang was absent. 

            Wei Ying looked at Wangji, just a glimpse of a second, one that couldn’t have meant anything. And yet, in such a short amount of time, Wangji appeared as though something wanted to leak from his lips, something like answers, something like information, something like a secret. Wei Ying blinked and it was gone. Maybe he was seeing things.

            “Just,” Wei Ying sighed, because he didn’t know what he wanted yet. “Just speak.” Someone just speak. He didn’t want to have to think about how people were dying and how useless their team had been and how sick Xue Yang was starting to look every day. Something was obviously wrong. Even Wei Ying hadn’t been having visions, hadn’t seen anything in his sleep. Twenty-seven. Twenty-fucking-seven for what? What did it mean? What could it mean?

            Wangji looked at the man and found that he was still in the same coat, though it was coated in a paint of blood, just light splashes on the back, somewhat on the shoulders and a trickle by the sleeve. It was odd to see someone so flamboyant, someone so preoccupied with his wealth, to remain unchanged from his dirtied attire. Wangji didn’t wait, instantly pulling up the victims up on the big screen for them to see. To Wei Ying’s surprise, the man spoke first, instantly spilling into conversation like a dull sound left to play in the background to sooth your frustrations. He found that as the deep and hollow bellows of Wangji’s voice found its way to him, it wasn’t a dull chime but a reassuring song, something like empathy. It didn’t matter what the man said. It was tranquilizing.

            “We’ll revisit. The first thought to be youngest victim was Wang Lihua. She was known to be extroverted, a roughly estimated 41.7 kg build. Many spoke her to appear as a model would, bleached blonde hair and bright brown eyes,” Wangji said. Xingchen nodded and began to speak after him.

            “With that said, she would be easily overpowered even in a stance where the matter of assault was a female. She was found in her car at the mall parking lot where she worked, only, she was discovered around noon when a shopper noticed that someone appeared to be sleeping in their vehicle but noticed the trickle of blood. Her attack had been roughly before her shift, starting at 11h00. We’re giving a time frame of 9h30-10h15. She was said to appear on sight in the mall campus an hour to two earlier starting two months previous,” he said. As they glanced at her picture compared to the photos of her death, surely enough, Wei Ying noticed that there was but a trickle of blood from her eyes and some slipping from her lips.

            It was too clean.

            Her head was lolled to the side, ear resting against the headrest of the driver seat. She almost looked as though she had gone peacefully.

            “No signs of resistance, just the ethyl sulfide vesicant traces within in the vehicle, specifically Bis(2-chloroethyl) as mentioned before,' Wangji informed them.

            “Ether or sulfide?” Wei Ying questioned. It was odd to see that the man took in information without taking any notes. Beside him, Jiang Wanyin could be seen typing away on a mini tablet, a digital blue light floating above it where he tapped away, soundless.

            “Diethyl sulfide family. It was caught on camera like a fog within the vehicle,” Wangji responded.

            “Where was Little Blind then if the camera had a clear view?” Jiang Wanyin questioned, not looking up from his keys.

            “That’s just the thing, Little Blind usually takes to utilizing a fog like gas that obscures his act, especially the case by which the vesicant was acquainted,” Xingchen replied.

            “That same vesicant could not have been utilized in the car,” Wei Ying pointed out.

            “Why do you say that?” Xiao Xingchen asked, just to see why. He knew the reason, but it was interesting to see someone with opposite training attempt to configure the same results.

            “Mustard sulfate is visible, Brother Xiao. It says right there that Lihua was an hour and a half drive away from the mall. Let’s say, the vesicant was utilized within the vehicle through her drive. It would emit an odor, but also a mustard color. Any intelligent individual would climb from the vehicle. Had it been ether, it’d be less noticeable, but it is a liquid. Of course, the natural choice would be to crack a window if it was vaporized, thus, allowing some of it to escape. At high doses, it would take an hour for her to emit any symptoms. This would not be the case had she opened her windows. It would’ve taken longer,” Wei Ying said. He was sitting at an empty desk and resting his cheek on one hand, his expression solemn, the way Wangji’s always was. He didn’t like for the CSI to test him. He wished they were more forthright instead of going about it as though he were stupid.

            “How do you suppose the vesicant traces were found in the vehicle?” Xingchen asked, still testing the man. Wangji had said nothing. He wanted to see exactly what type of knowledge the paranormal unit lead had.

            “You said so yourself, the mustard sulfate was utilized at the sight of the parking lot to obscure the cameras. With her opening the window to release some of the odor, she must’ve lost consciousness when she arrived from breathing too much of the vesicant in. The mustard sulfate obscured the view but also travelled in through the open window. What traces were found in the vehicle?” Wei Ying asked. Jiang Cheng was a second away from yelling at the CSI for treating the measure as though it were a game. If there was one thing he needed to give Wei Ying, it was the fact that the man was well versed and highly intelligent. He took his thoughts outside of what was normally acceptable.

            “Traces of AsH3 was discovered in the vehicle,” Wangji told them.

            “Great, now we’re getting somewhere,” Wei Ying commented with a sigh. He was playing with his phone and not quite paying attention. The notion seemed odd to Wangji considering he wasn’t using it but just flipping it around in his hands as though he was waiting for something.

            “The amount of arsine used could not have been fatal the entire ride. It needed to cause her to lose consciousness when she arrived at the parking lot. Hemolysis would slowly take effect at a lower ppm. He either emitted the gas midway through the drive or a fatal amount right last minute. She had to not have enough energy to leave the vehicle when she arrived. She had to have been unconscious because even if someone was unstable, she could’ve honked the horn for help. Seeing the trajectory by which the car was parked, Little Blind must’ve been close by. The mustard sulfate doesn’t obscure the entire lot. Being that it was early in the morning, not many people would’ve been present, but any camera would’ve shown a man or a woman sitting in their vehicle and never leaving it,” came Wei Ying.

            “What are you saying?” Xingchen questioned for Wei Ying seemed to have lost him. Xingchen had thought Little Blind to be waiting in another vehicle and waited until the arrival of Wang Lihua before he subjected his assault. The gas would’ve weakened her, yes, but he hadn’t taken into account that she would’ve beeped the honk. And now Wei Wuxian seemed to be implying something completely different. Jiang Wanyin stopped typing and looked in his lead’s direction.

            “Little Blind was inside of Lihua's vehicle the entire time,” he said.

            “What? Why would he be inside of the car?” Xingchen questioned.

            “You’re right about the second vehicle bit, Detective, but not in the regard that he was there the entire time. He was in the trunk, where the poisonous gas was least likely to get onto him. Also, he must’ve been prepared for exposure, and dressed for it. Seeing that Lihua would be one of the first few people to arrive at the mall, she would have a parking spot that was near the front. He just needed to have his vehicle parked close to the front by the entrance where she would most likely park. Fifteen minutes before arrival, he would up the ppm to let’s say, 100, and she would lose consciousness. I doubt she was able to park the car. She made it into the parking lot, but was probably suffering from severe hemolysis and lost consciousness right by the door. Little Blind just needed to ignite the gas from his current vehicle and smoke the entire area, climb out of her trunk, take her eyes, and then return to his vehicle and wait to leave. He wouldn’t leave right away, because it’d be obvious. To avoid getting his car towed from keeping it there overnight, he must’ve dropped it off around 4h00-5h00 in the morning. Not only this, but if he’s caught on camera, it’s too dark to make anything out on him. He’s knocking two birds out with one stone,” Wei Ying explained.

            Xingchen’s eyes widened at the notion. It made complete sense. Had Little Blind arrived and sat within his vehicle waiting, someone was bound to notice. If it was a vehicle that was there overnight, someone would’ve been called to tow. If it arrived around 4-5 in the morning, someone would’ve thought it to be the janitors arriving. Wangji agreed completely. He knew that Little Blind had to be somewhere within the parking lot, but he hadn’t considered that the predator was in the vehicle. He looked at Wei Wuxian as though seeing him in a different light.

            “Next,” Wei Ying said. His face seemed to light up for a second and he tapped on his phone screen once.

            “Wang Lihua was the stark opposite of the third victim, Xiu Ying, who was allegedly “gloomy a person.” Xiu Ying was known for a “pretty face,” but was said to be unapproachable. She had green streaks in her brown hair and was discovered by her parents who came to check up on her when she didn’t call to inform them that she had arrived at the venue. Her eyes were hazel,” Wangji said.

            “Any signs of resistance?” Jiang Cheng asked, typing on his keys again. It didn’t make sense that the man didn’t wear glasses.

            “I doubt she can when mustard sulfate and shit just blows up in her face,” came a small but raspy voice. The CSI looked in Wei Wuxian’s direction and noticed the phone now propped up with a rather sickly looking ruffian on the screen. He was present. Xingchen released an audible sigh of relief. It was strange to not see him there, like a ghost on your shoulder, and tripped you every once in a while for reasons unknown.

            “That’s just the thing though, traces of the gas were found in the living room. She was discovered in her room,” Xingchen said, speaking just a bit louder so he could hear. They couldn’t seem to figure out why she was in her room and the gas outside of it. How had Little Blind gotten in and why ignite the gas from far away?

            “Gimme’ a sec,” Xue Yang said, his eyes moving back and forth visibly on the screen. He must’ve been reading notes. Xingchen looked towards Jiang Cheng and knew where he was sending them to. Even if the three were separated, it’s like they were always together. Wei Wuxian had been waiting for the ruffian to call, hadn’t he?

            “Maybe the two weren’t so different then,” Xue Yang’s voice came again. Xingchen wondered what had made it so raspy that you could barely tell it was him. “Lihua started coming to work earlier for 2 months, why do you think? She was probably seeing someone before her shift started, because she was waitressing, from what I see from the background check. What do waitresses do? Usually doubles. She would have no time to speak to him, maybe her, after her shift. By time her shift ends, usually the mall is closed, meaning the person she seeks to see would have gone home. The restaurants stay open longer than the mall does. Now let’s look at Xiu Ying, the fact that the gas was found in her living room may seem jarring while she was in her bedroom, but it’s really not. She had obviously let Little Blind in, then went back to her room to get ready for the concert. He couldn’t have just broke in her house and thrown a gas bomb that’ll take 5-6 hours to kill someone without expecting them to run. That’s unusual and highly obvious,” Xue Yang said. The fact that he spoke so much while his voice was raspy gave the effect that it hurt.

            “You’re right. He must’ve upped the gas again to ensure she’d die faster so she couldn’t run. Two, given that she was in her room and the gas was in the living room meant that there was some degree of trust, but also something seems off,” came Wei Ying.

            “He doesn’t enter the room,” replied Wangji.

            “Correct, Little Blind doesn’t enter the room until…?” Wei Ying let him conclude because he already knew the finished project, and knew the other knew as well.

            “Was it a house or an apartment?” Xue Yang asked randomly, but it wasn’t so random.

            “Correct again. The eyes were deemed removed after her death from the lack of leukotriene,” Wangji continued.

            “One floor apartment,” Xingchen answered.

            “So he enters after she had passed and takes her eyes,” Wei Ying announced.

            “And he stays in the living room and lets it travel to her room. Had it been a 2 story house, that’d be odd, but it being an apartment makes sense. She didn’t know she was dying in her room while, let’s say, a friend was waiting for her to get ready to go to a concert. Said friend would also be able to garb a gas mask and protection without detection while she was away. No one would see.” This was Xue Yang.

            “What kind of poison was it?” Jiang Cheng questioned. He always looked up to listen and then typed as they talked, without looking at the screens.

            “Carboxyhemoglobin was found bonded in her lung displacing oxygen,” Wangji replied.

            “So CO levels had to have been increased to 150 to 200 ppm,” Wei Wuxian said, nonchalantly. Again, Wangji found himself staring in the man’s direction and wondering where the knowledge was coming from. The man may have looked aloof, but he apparently retained information very well. He wondered if Wei Wuxian matched his area of study as well.

            “So, we’re just saying that Little Blind’s more bat shit crazy than the original thought. The bastard waits until after his victims are dead to gauge out their eyes,” Jiang Cheng said, scrunching up his face in distaste. Wei Ying smiled again. He liked to hear Jiang Cheng’s random comments and analysis questions for purposes of information.

            “Yes, and we only know “maybe she” is actually a “He” when we look at Zhang Yong. We did some digging ourselves, but tell me about Zhang Yong, Lan Zhan,” the paranormal lead said, folding his arms.

            “It’s Wangji. Zhang Yong, age 32, was a very athletic male,” he replied.

            “My mans is a gym buff, right? Record shows he’s in there almost every day,” Wei Ying said. If the CSI wanted to test him, he could throw around a few questions himself.

            Wangji didn’t answer his impudent remark right away. He could’ve rolled his eyes if it wasn’t something he wouldn’t normally do.

            “Correct,” he said. Then, “He was discovered behind the gym around 2h00 in the morning by a gym clerk. He had two cigarettes beside him. One, from its trajectory, had rolled from his hands, the other was placed beside him. He was a brunette and a motivational speaker.”

            “We’ve already given the implication that the wind could’ve collected the cigarette and blown it away but the main feature is the fact that there were two and recently lit. A healthy motivational speaking athlete just doesn’t seem to go behind a gym and smoke 2 cigarette by himself in the middle of the night,” Xiao Xingchen told them.

            “So, a blonde cheerleader, a brunette buff, and a green streaked emo. He just looks like he’s going after anyone,” Jiang Cheng commented.

            “But we also learn something about our Little Blind, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying said.

            “The fact that Little Blind must’ve accepted the cigarette shows how brazen his character is. He did not even go to the extent of discarding the evidence. A skin patch came up from the cigarette but nothing on file matches,” Wangji concluded. Above them, they could see the picture of Zhang Yong spread out on the floor, the cigarettes beside him. One looked to have been deliberately placed beside him, and then brought to his side from where the wind blew. Again, the eyes and lips were bleeding.

            “Not just that, Lan Zhan. Little Blind is a little like me,” Wei Ying said, a sad smile on his lips.

            Wangji physically frowned.

            “I’m not joking. Little Blind is literally an everybody person. You know what all these people gave him?” Wei Ying asked, leaning in just a bit.

            No one answered.

            He cracked a smile.

            “They gave him their trust and he fucking killed them.” The smile was gone, arriving with something sinister, something like fury. Wangji could tell whatever occurred a few hours prior had deeply upset him. Wei Ying sucked in his lips then released them, looking at the ground as if he couldn’t contain what he was feeling in that moment.

            Fuck you, just fuck you, Wei Ying thought. For someone to gain trust, for trust to be gained at all, was such an endeavor. Wei Ying was almost thirty years old now, and worked all his life to gain trust. He finally had Jiang Cheng and Xue Yang, worked all those years to gain just two, two little humans that he could trust. Fuck Little Blind for manipulating people’s trust. Fuck him for playing with their lives. Fuck him for killing them when his game was finished.

            But the game hadn’t finished. December had not ended.

            Wei Ying balled up his fists, feeling small and incapable. He stood up and excused himself for the night. The rain could be heard just beyond the wall, pooling over. He didn’t care if he had to walk in it, soak his pores in the acid just to think.

            Then someone called out, called out a “wait.” When he turned around, Lan Zhan could be seen holding an umbrella out to him.

            He said, “Take an umbrella, Wei Ying.”

Chapter Text

It was but a few hours come the night, Xue Yang having had been sent to slumber for his “patient” state, and with Wei Ying gone, Jiang Cheng had decided to occupy their withdrawn space. There was still much to discuss, and many things that seemed to have been withheld still. Perhaps, Jiang Cheng could provoke some sort of detail from their tongues. They had yet to slip when his cell phone rang, an acquaintance, somewhat considered a friend, had called. Younger brother to a running politician who was running for his second position, having had managed his first. His brother was many things, and “impatient” and “merciless” were just two of them. Still, he had an eye for justice, and many times, did it appear in his orders. Nie Mingjue, the brother everyone spoke about. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the brother that Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying had gotten acquainted with, Huaisang was. Little Brother Huaisang, aloof and shy at times, always somewhere in the streets and sticking his head where it didn’t belong, in someone’s business. But Huaisang was nice company to nurture, very friendly an individual and unapologetically useless, if not running errands for someone else. A drinker he was, though he couldn’t hold his liquor well. Seeing the name flash across the screen didn’t please Jiang Cheng in the slightest, not at this hour.

            “Brother Jiang!” Came Huaisang’s voice. Jiang Cheng could picture him overreacting into the phone, one cup still in his hands. Huaisang was actually not drunk this time.

            “Yes?” Jiang Cheng replied with a sigh. He would let Huaisang do all of the talking. If he asked questions, there was a good chance Huaisang would just reply with the following, “I don’t know,” not once but a few times until it irritated the party he conversed with.

            “Brother Wei is…not himself right now,” Huaisang said, his voice like a plea.

            “He’s drunk, isn’t he?”

            “I told him not to drink too much, I promise! It wasn’t my fault this time,” Huaisang said, and there was a degree of a lie somewhere in there. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault, for Wei Ying had left in a mood which meant he was most likely going to dull it with alcohol. And Huaisang being present either meant Huaisang was already present or was called over where they drank until Wei Ying was drunk. Still, Wei Ying could hold his liquor well, whereas the other could not. To see that the situation seemed switched was a little unsettling at most. Jiang Cheng cleared his throat to keep from unnecessary thoughts, thoughts such as their lead being in harm’s way, because Wei Ying could take care of himself, yes, surely, but not in such an intoxicated state.

            “Fine, I’ll come get him. Can you watch him until I get there?”

            “I’ll do my best!”

            “You don’t have to do anything. Just stay there and watch him,” Jiang Cheng said, because Huaisang had the habit of making mundane things a bit more theatrical. This was not a mission, just a simple favor from one friend to another.

“What bar?” He asked.

“Emperor’s Smile.”

When Jiang Cheng hung up, he had forgotten to say goodbye the way he usually did. He had been so busy all day that he couldn’t even take Jin Ling out for a walk, the husky was sure to bark up a storm the way he usually did. That damned dog never listened to a single thing the man said, and still, Jiang Cheng continued to take care of it. He loved dogs, and loved his a lot, but if he allowed that mutt to know, it would take advantage of him again.

            He’d wake up early and take Jin Ling out for a walk in the morning. Hopefully, when he arrived home, the dog had gone peacefully to sleep.

            “I need to go pick up our idiot chief, please excuse me. He’s bat shit drunk,” Jiang Cheng said to the other two. It suddenly occurred to him that he rode a motorcycle and Wei Ying was sure to fall right on off if his brain wasn’t sending good decisions to those hands. As if registering Jiang Cheng’s predicament, Xiao Xingchen had offered in his stead. This act did not sit well with Wangji, who didn’t wish any inconvenience on his lead, and so, with an inner reluctance, he took up the offer and found himself driving through the rain to the bar. When there was room to think, for no reason, he recalled how upset Wei Ying had been earlier, enough to take him to the bar and intoxicate himself. Just what happened earlier that day when Liu Ting was discovered? From what they had been informed, the body was no longer under the CSI jurisdiction, and had been taken into custody by the PAPPU. What did it take to upset Wei Ying?

He stomped on the break, a red light flashing before him. It didn’t take long until a man shouted at his windshield about how reckless he had been driving. It was the first time Wangji had been called a “dumb fuck.” Wangji was always careful about everything, especially driving. How had he allowed his thoughts to wander and his intellect to cloud?

There were many things the bar was upon his entrance, but none of it was a smile. It didn’t take him long to spot the fool chief surrounded by a body of under dressed women, breasts out and pouring over his forearms where he huddled with his cup. He spoke to them, but Wangji knew the words were just slurs of half flirting and half delirium. He could see Wei Ying laughing about something he wouldn’t remember in the morning, something that most likely wasn’t the least bit interesting. He hadn’t looked at the women, in his own little world, dancing in the colors induced by the alcohol. Besides how obviously vulnerable Wei Wuxian was, the first thing that struck Wangji was how “by himself” he was. If he heard the conversation on the phone correctly, for the room had been quite silent besides the panic of the other line, the man that had called was not present. Wei Ying was alone with strangers, not left with a man that was allegedly a friend.

Wangji approached Wei Ying, his name on his tongue, said ever lightly. The last thing he wanted to do was raise his voice with knowledge that the other had a gun on him. Who knew what the intoxicated mind told the wielder to do with his weapons? Wangji wasn’t the type to raise his voice anyway. His brother had raised him better than that.

“Lan Zhan! Who would’ve thought I’d meet you here? Looks like you’re holding more secrets than I thought. That’s no good. Women don’t like a man with too many secrets, better speak up!” Wei Ying sung, quite loudly, his drink spilling from the angle by which he held the cup. The liquid slipped all over his arms and dripped onto his coat which he still failed to take off. Did these women notice that the man was spattered with blood? Wei Ying had faced his ear in his direction dramatically, cocking his head when Wangji hadn’t answered. He looked dumber than usual.

“You’re not in your right mind,” Wangji told him, because it was the truth, and what he actually wanted to say would never leak onto his tongue.

“Being sour again, huh? Well, I’ve been thrown in the dirt before, you’re gonna’ have to do better! You’re a pretty guy, Lan Zhan. How about a peace treaty? I’ll share these beauties, and you, you know what you do?”

Wangji didn’t secure any room to reply before Wei Ying fell forward, fast asleep. Ignoring the advances of the women and their fake concern, he reached out and took Wei Ying into his arms, carrying the man to his car. The rain fell from above, unforgiving as though it didn’t know Wei Ying was asleep under it. Wangji bent over, trying to at least use his chest to shield the rain from falling onto Wei Ying’s face. He laid him in the back seat, closing the door gently as not to wake the fool.

Then it occurred to Wangji that he didn’t know where Wei Ying lived, and he could call Wanyin and inquire but he didn’t know if Wei Ying had his keys on him, and didn’t wish to further trouble the analyst by having him drive down and give the spare key he knew the man had. Xue Yang probably had a key too. They probably all had each others’ keys, and nothing like personal addresses would be told to Wangji anyway. He would need to take the fool to his own home for the night.

            The drive to Wangji’s house was quiet aside from the soft breathing behind him. Twice, Wei Ying nearly rolled entirely off the seat and onto the ground. He had to park and rearrange the man, then drive again. As his house came into the view, he took in a breath, pulling up the driveway and climbing out to open the door before he could return with the fool. Wei Ying’s eyes did not open as he carried him to the couch, then locked the door. Wei Ying’s eyes did not open even as he brought him into the guest room, removing his bloodied coat and laying him down in the bed. He oddly looked like he belonged there, sound asleep, peaceful. He kept the door open just in case, though he wasn’t sure just in case of what.

            Wangji should’ve been asleep an hour ago. Instead, he took a shower and went to bed with his hair wet. Within a few hours of slumber, he started awake, hearing a voice just down the hall. He dipped his feet into slippers and made his way to the open door, hearing Wei Ying speak in the phone.

            “Yeah, he’s probably sleeping right now. The guy’s not bad. He let me stay here anyway,” Wei Ying was saying. Wangji didn’t need to hear the other side of the phone call to guess that it was most likely Xue Chengmei.

            “The concern wasn’t him, remember?” Xue Yang said. It was quiet enough for Wangji to pick out particles of the other line.

            “You’re the one who said to drop it,” Wei Ying replied. What were they talking about?

            “Have you seen anything else?”

            Wei Ying hesitated. Wangji could hear him shift in the bed, then lower his voice. Did he know that Wangji was close or was he uncomfortable with what he was going to say?

            “Xue Yang, I saw him four times. We’ve had four victims. Think about it,” Wei Ying ultimately said. No, he didn’t know Wangji was there. He wouldn’t say something like such if Wangji was near. He would change the topic. Wangji was a stranger.

            “Sorry, I was too busy bleeding.”

            “That’s not what I meant. Look, it’s late. Get some sleep and be okay, alright? You scared the shit out of me today,” Wei Ying said. Just three hours of sleep and the man was sober again.

            “I’m sorry.” Xue Yang sounded small again. Wei Ying was like an older brother to him.

            “Don’t be. Just promise you’ll be okay,” Wei Ying said, gently. It was a reserved tone, one you would use on family or a loved one. He did not use the voice often.

            “I promise.”

            Wangji walked away. He had never had such a conversation with Xingchen despite how long the two had been acquainted. He might’ve earned his position as Xingchen’s partner six years ago, but they knew one another much longer. Moreso, Wangji had knew Xingchen, and Xingchen had only heard of him. It was easy to turn Wangji down.

            Wangji did not hold grudges. His brother had taught him better than that. Exactly, he would call Xichen to clear his thoughts from – what was it? Was it jealousy? Did Wangji want what Wei Ying and Xue Yang had? Or did he want something else entirely?

            It was two in the morning and he was bothering his brother. When Xichen picked up, his voice was filled with a fatigue that only work could do to you. Wangji wished he could’ve been there to help him.

            “Wangji, you’re up late, again,” Xichen said, but he answered nevertheless. He had never failed to pick up every phone call Wangji gave him, but Wangji also usually called at an appropriate time. Apparently not, since the PAPPU had entered his life anyway.

            “I was wondering what you were doing,” Wangji said. It wasn’t a lie. He had been wondering what his brother had been doing. It just wasn’t a great time to have the thought and act out on it.

            “I was going to call, but I was afraid that you were sleeping, but I waited just in case. I was simply preparing to sleep, as you should as well,” Xichen said. His voice was reassuring and soft the way older brothers spoke to their younger ones.

            “Oh,” Wangji replied.

            “Is there something you wish to say?” Xichen’s voice altered with a bit of amusement. It was the sound that brought red to Wangji’s ears, but in the secrecy of Wangji’s room, he was free to feel just a bit of embarrassment.

            “No,” he replied anyway.

            “If you don’t tell me, who will you tell?”

            “It is cold,” Wangji told him, not to switch the topic, but because his house was chilly again. In the guest room, where the older brother spoke to his didi, there had been warmth. They were unaffected by the hands of time, discussing things they wouldn’t discuss with others. They were a family.

            Wangji wanted Xichen to speak longer, longer as to create some warmth for him too. This older brother could also speak to his didi, create a separate warmth, one that belonged to Wangji and only him. People never gave Wangji anything anymore. His mother couldn’t even give him time; she had died early.

God didn’t give him proximity for Xichen was far away. What else could go wrong for him?

            He was not going to sulk. He was older and capable of taking care of himself.

            “Oh, Wangji…Try to find some warmth. I can’t control the weather, but if I could, I’d make it warmer.”

            “Mn.”

            When Wangji hung up after a goodbye, he walked to his vanity and took the box that had held the ring into his hands. His mother had held that same box and gave it to him. He could feel where she had touched, the whole thing emanating the warmth that had been stolen from her body when she fell into a deep deep sleep, never waking again.

            He climbed back into bed with it in his hands, clutching the box against his chest for his room was chilly.

 ---

            Early in the morning, Wangji had woken despite sleeping in increments. He combed his hair for it had the toxicity of waves which weren’t allowed in his pristine look. He combed them straight, wetting the comb and laying it flat over his scalp until the volume returned as it dried. He began to make breakfast and found that the fool upstairs did not wake until 11h00 in the morning, which was barely a time to wake. By then, Wangji had been awake for six hours, and he was required to heat the other’s food for the third time, estimating wrong when the fool would wake. Wei Ying descended the stairs as though he had spent the last six years in the home, natural, a stretch and a yawn, sitting before the table with a smile on his face. Wangji placed the plate of food before him without saying anything, wondering all the while why the man was so accustomed to his home, why he seemed so pleased. Any normal person would’ve questioned where they were and where they had woken up.

            As if he read his mind, Wei Ying said, “It’s like a hospital. Free breakfast, white walls, white bed.” He had a soft smile on his face, looking down at the food but probably seeing something else, someone else. It took Wangji a moment to register that Xue Yang had spent the night in a hospital room. Of course, Wei Ying wanted to be in one too.

            Were they so close?

            Wangji thought about how dead his mother was and that wasn’t fair.

            “I guess you’re my doctor then. Fix me up, doc, I’m hungover,” Wei Ying joked. He easily dug into the food, a few grimaces and scrunched up faces before he took an unnecessary amount of hot sauce and dumped the contents above his food.

            “Pathetic,” Wangji said, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

            “Oops, did I offend him again?” Wei Ying questioned, pursing his lips and blowing air into his cheeks. Was it the “doc” comment? He wasn’t necessarily teasing Lan Zhan this time. Within five minutes, Lan Zhan returned with brewed tea, pouring it into a cup and sliding it over to Wei Ying.

            Wei Ying exaggeratedly thanked him, taking the tea, despite how hot it was, and poured the contents down his throat. He smiled big enough for the both of them, enough for himself and enough for Wangji. For some reason that felt okay.

            Then he rubbed his arms and said, “Geez, it’s fucking freezing today, isn’t it?”

            Wangji looked across the table where the pathetic fool sat, rubbing his arms, eating his food like it was an everyday endeavor in Wangji’s home. It looked natural.

            “No,” Wangji replied. “It’s quite warm.”

 ---

            Xingchen arrived at the hospital, his hands just shy of clammy. It hadn’t been but a few days since he had last seen the ruffian in person, and something like distance had quickly built between them. Would the ruffian yell upon seeing him? Ignore him the way he usually did? Was the ruffian alright to do anything? What could Xingchen do to make the ruffian comfortable enough for conversation?

            He knocked on the door and peeped his head inside, seeing a small young man, pale about the cheeks, sitting up with his attention glued to the small screen above. He seemed to appear just a bit better, some color on his cheeks though the grayish hue of death had kissed upon them. He looked okay, but terrible all at once. What on earth actually happened?

            Xue Yang glanced in his direction, having had sensed a visitor. Upon sight, he groaned and threw the blanket of his head, coiling back into the bed as if to disappear.

            But he didn’t tell Xingchen to leave.

            After a brief pause, the ruffian quietly asked from beneath his sheets, a muffled sound that asked, “did you bring the stuff?” The root beer.

            Xingchen released the breath he had been holding in and laughed just as Xue Yang took the blanket from his head.

            “You shouldn’t be moving so much, and yes, I brought it, but I need to ask the doctor if you can have it,” Xingchen replied, leaning against the entrance with his shoulder.

            “Don’t be so sour. I get discharged today,” Xue Yang complained, pursing his lips. After a moment, he seemed to consider, then asked, “why are you here anyway? You have time on your hands.”

            “I actually don’t. I schedule everything I do every day, each day replicating the next, that way, I’m always on time. Today’s visit disturbed my schedule,” Xingchen said, because it was the truth. The man scheduled everything.

            “That is so boring. Why would you do that?”

            “Since we’re partners, I thought you should know,” the investigator smiled.

            Xue Yang rolled his eyes and replied, “how boring you are? Fine, fine, tell me how an average day looks for an elite chief considering I’ve desecrated your schedule for the day.”

            Xingchen had no trouble recalling exactly what it was he did by the order and the hour. He did the same things, timed the same things, nothing ever really changing.

            “Wake at 6h00, quick shower to wake up. Breakfast at 7h00, prepare and leave by 8h00. Work 9h00-17h00, lunch break at 12h00-1h00, drive home. Shower at 18h30, read until 19h30, late dinner preparation then dine with a film, review case files at 21h30, in bed by 22h00.”

            “Every day? Same time?” Xue Yang asked, eyebrow raised, an exaggerated expression on his face.

            “Always.”

            “What about Sunday?” Surely, it would be different for the man did not work on Sundays. He couldn’t be that boring.

            “Wake up at 10h00, quick shower to wake up, preparation to leave for brunch which is at 11h00. Buy groceries at 13h00, return home and handwash car at 14h00, clean garage, mop house, laundry, tend to garden if applicable, and other house necessities until 18h30 where I shower, read until 19h30, late dinner preparation then dine with a film, review case files at 21h30, in bed by 22h00.”

            “No lunch?”

            “Not on brunch Sundays.”

            “You just made me hungry and bored. You still pretty much work all day and do the same fucking things! Why’re you standing at the door? Are you a vampire?” Xue Yang asked. He was quite the over reactive young man. It gave Xingchen the impression that the ruffian needed to constantly be amused. Xue Yang, in actuality, was simply baffled at the thought of being overly organized when he himself was living wreckage.

            Xue Yang’s days were different everyday depending on how he felt. He either woke up on time or overslept, had classes on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, forgot his bookbag on some days so he has to take the metro back home, got to class late because of it, stayed late to get notes if that happened to be the case, got stuck at his locker because the lock is stupid on some days, kicked it at least once, got to work on time or late, most times Wei Ying picks him up, got to work and either napped or ate something for the first time that day at around 16h30, worked for 8 hours only if they have an open case (reason why Wei Ying comes in late in the first place to avoid working an extra 5 hours if he arrived at 11h00). If there wasn’t an active case, he played online games with Jiang Cheng while Wei Ying watched a film, or he scrolled pinterest at food pictures that he’d never cook. On his break, he’d do his homework until Wei Ying forced him to eat, got driven home and finished homework or slept at Wei Ying’s or Jiang Cheng’s, forgot to shower somedays so he woke up at 3h00 to shower, didn’t sleep most nights anyway because he was an insomniac, so he spent his time eating too much dry cereal instead of lying in bed, attempted to study but ended out watching television.

            “I forgot to splash myself with the holy water and you’re apparently going to be very passionate again so – “ Xiao Xingchen paused before Xue Yang could even glare at his remark. He put both hands up and said, “Wait. Wait a moment. Let me rephrase that, please.”

            “I’m not going to bite you, my mouth hurts,” Xue Yang replied, a bored tone. Then it occurred to him that he had said the line before, when he was complaining to Jiang Cheng and the man ended out calling Wei Ying about his mouth pains.

            “I forgot to anoint myself and I’m afraid you’ll have a reaction. Let me fetch it in the car,” Xingchen said. With that, he excused himself and exited. When he returned, his hair was dripping wet, and Xue Yang had the curve of amusement on his lips.

            “Doesn’t it make your day more exciting? What’re you going to do when you get older?” Xue Yang joked, pulling up with the control button.

            “I am older,” Xingchen replied, obviously confused by the joke. There was a furrow on his brow and his comment came slowly, as if he was still trying to understand what part of that was funny. He went to go sit by Xue Yang now that it was deemed safe.

            “What? You can’t be more than 25.”

            “I’m 31, Brother Xue,” still confused.

            “What? You lying!”

            “I’m not. I’ve been in this field since I interned at 19.”

            “Hold up, c’mere. What the fuck do you use on your skin?” Xue Yang asked, the kind of fake irritation that came from friends. Xingchen began to laugh just as Xue Yang reached out and touched his cheek.

            Pause.

            They stared at one another and someone’s eyes dilated.

            Xue Yang didn’t remove his hand right away, just watching as a pellet of water dripped from a single strand of Xingchen’s fringe.

            “Brother Xue?” Xingchen finally asked, a little lost as to what was happening.

            “Twenty-five. Twenty-five, that’s what it is,” Xue Yang said, looking at the ground and nodding to himself, his voice now a blend of awkward. He retracted his hand and dropped it beside him.

            “And still older than you, hmm?” Xingchen said, reaching over and patting Xue Yang’s head. Wei Ying patted Xue Yang’s head pretty often, so he shouldn’t have been offended, but with Xingchen doing it, Xue Yang found that it should’ve been offensive. He tried to think of every offensive thing that was possible but came up blank. Nothing. He had nothing rude to say to the other man, not even a “don’t do that,” manifested on his tongue.

            He felt weak all of the sudden and couldn’t tell if it was the medicine making his legs weak or something else.

 ---

            Wangji was on the phone with Xichen, sure to call him at an appropriate time this time around. He was seated in the tranquility of his living room, back straight and phone against his ear.

            “I am hoping that your house hasn’t been so cold. Perhaps you are thinking too much on the case, or does something else bother you?” Xichen asked. His voice was the calm that came with Wangji, and yet there was obvious concern, the one that was always there in their conversations. Brother Xichen was always concerned about him, and Wangji wished that he could worry about his brother too, but Brother Xichen was capable. Perhaps Wangji was still not capable of taking care of himself, and so he needed someone else’s concern.

            “Nothing bothers me,” Wangji replied.

            “Is it the other unit? Do they hinder your work? I have to say that it shocks me that they have been put on your case, Wangji. I know it must be hard to focus with…that sort of influence.” Xichen didn’t have much to go off of, but he knew that that sort of interaction would strike his younger brother differently. Wangji was a rational man.

            Wangji considered it for a moment before he concluded that “hinder” wasn’t the correct word. In a short amount of time, the PAPPU had quickly disassembled the case and even registered a possible pattern. Wei Ying’s intellect wasn’t just adequate, it was exceptional. He memorized information without revisiting it. He had knowledge of many things people would not possess. The theories and analyses that had come from Wei Ying’s lips wasn’t something that was far from Wangji’s own intellect. The things had crossed his mind, maybe not all pieced together, but there nevertheless. He wondered if he simply didn’t speak them because Xingchen had been present. Should he allow Xingchen to dictate everything – should he take the initiative? Was that allowed? If Wangji looked closely, Xue Yang and Wei Ying analyzed together and collided throughout, discussing different angles before they found a solution in the end. Maybe if that was the case, it was alright for Wangji to think outside of the norm. Maybe he’d be allow to say something that Xingchen wouldn’t find appropriate, things like, “the killer is just like me,” or “he was in the trunk.”

            Anything but the question Wangji always asked, “what do you think?”

            “Don’t let it bother you so much, Wangji. In the end, trust your instincts. I haven’t met anyone who could solve a puzzle if not you. You’ll get it even with their intervention,” Brother Xichen said, because Wangji had not responded.

            “Hinder is not accurate. They are very well written,” Wangji decided to say. He felt defensive all of the sudden, like perhaps a rumor was on his brother’s tongue, the same rumor everyone else heard. But his brother was better than that, he wouldn’t communicate that rumor, he would trust what he did. The rumor followed the following lines of lunacy, of delirious guys that thought ghosts existed and they could find the killer by communicating with the spirit of the dead. Somewhere inside of Wangji, he thought that it could be the truth. It wasn’t delirium. It was the truth.

            “Oh? I’m so relieved to hear that!” Xichen sighed with relief. “I thought them to vex your study with outlandish influence. If there is rationality and reason, you’ll communicate well, I’m sure. I have faith in your, Wangji. You’ll figure it out.”

            “I will,” Wangji replied, wanting nothing more than to tell his brother the details of the case. If anyone had given Wangji his intelligence, it had been his older brother. No one was smarter than Xichen. Maybe Wangji would schedule some time to visit his brother and the family company, ask for some advice without being too obvious.

            The doorbell rang.

            Wangji stood up and made his way to the door, checking the peephole just to see Wei Ying’s face, beautifully lit under the snow. Wangji took in a breath, just a long inhale that displayed his annoyance. He could hear his brother laugh into the phone. It was just like Xichen to know his emotions. Wangji opened the door, Wei Ying before him, overdressed and flamboyant again. His red velvety coat had shoulder blades that gave the man the effect that he was Wangji’s size. He looked happy, much too happy. It occurred to Wangji that that must’ve meant that Xue Yang had been discharged from the hospital.

            “Lan Zhan! Great, let me in before I drop the goodies. No peeking!” Wei Ying stomped his feet to let off the snow, throwing off his shoes with his back to him, trying to hide something that was already hidden under a blanket. Wangji could hear his brother chuckle, probably at the usage of “Lan Zhan.” Xichen didn’t know a single person who called Wangji, “Lan Zhan,” but his team lead.

            “Brother, I will call you back,” Wangji said, before Wei Ying could make him further the fool.

            “Of course, Wangji. Have fun.” This was earnest. His brother truly felt as though he would enjoy his time. Wangji could already feel a twitch on his brow. The last thing he needed his brother to think was that he was making friends. He didn’t need those.

            Wei Ying had sauntered to the living room just as Wangji thought about how much time he was wasting. Why was Wei Ying visiting? Xingchen never visited, so why Wei Ying? What was he doing here?

            Wangji closed the door and turned around just to see a white furry face and long white ears.

            “Taa-daa!” Wei Ying sung. “Okay, so don’t murder me. I wanted to make up for drunk sleeping in your guest room and I thought about getting you some fish, because your tank is empty but then I rethought and maybe you won’t have time to take care of the fishies, changing the water and all that. So, I was walking by and found this little dude in the pet store! Isn’t he adorable?” Wei Ying voice was loud and just as flamboyant as he was with his earrings and sterling silver necklaces.

            “Take him back immediately,” Wangji said, unphased.

            “Oh, don’t be so sour! Look at his face! He’s so quiet, he’s kinda’ like you.” Wei Ying petted the rabbit’s head and began to speak again. “Plus, I can’t take him back, you don’t just return a pet. How would you look?”

            “You take him.”

            “I can’t take him. My work hours aren’t set like yours. It’ll be easy to take care of him. Just make sure he doesn’t overheat, no problem in your house. It’s freezing,” Wei Ying said, still playing with the rabbit’s ears.

            Even Wei Ying thought the house to be cold.

            “Don’t give me that face. Fine, I’ll take him and drop him off at the park, natural habitat.” The Detective seemed to not think anything was wrong with this as he started toward the box again.

            “This is a domestic rabbit.” As Wangji commented, Wei Ying began to place the rabbit back in the box and gather the blanket, throwing it in the air once so it was straight.

            “Give him to me,” Wangji said, because he was obviously being ignored, before the rabbit could be eaten by some big bird or killed by a cat doing its rounds.

            Dropping the blanket instantly, Wei Ying laughed. “Great! I didn’t know if you’d take him so I didn’t buy anything, so guess what we’re doing?”

            For no reason Wangji ended out walking in the city, the flamboyant detective just a meter away, skipping in the snow. Wei Ying had his arms looped and behind his head, marching in a trivial manner as he spoke, swaying just slightly. He was speaking the entire time, never running out of things to say as they made their way to the pet store. By now, Wangji had tuned him out, just listening to the bustling sound of the city, how everyone thought themselves safe, how no one knew there was a killer on the loose. To Wangji, it was like watching the city past by him in a blur, faces and smiles, mother’s scolding their children, a Dog in wonder at the snow, a man who rushed to open the door for a woman, someone shivering to their car – all of them most likely worried at the snow, not a person. Just then, Wei Ying shouted out in surprise. The sound caused Wangji to reach for his beltline, ready to withdraw his hand gun when he made out the actual words.

            “Oi! Huaisang!” Wei Ying shouted, rushing over to a rather small build of a man, a shy face, infantine with an older man’s growth.

            “Brother Wei!” The voice was small as well as it called back, taken by surprise.

            “What’re you doing here?” Wei Ying asked, throwing an arm over the other’s shoulders.

            “What else do people do in the city? Shopping!” Huaisang had a mischievous little stench about his voice that people couldn’t smell right away for it was hidden by the childlike fixtures of his appearance. It escaped into the frosty air, but Wangji had caught it instantly, breathing it in like poisonous gas.

            It flew right over Wei Ying’s head, for the detective continued to speak as thought nothing had happened.

            “If your brother finds out, he’ll kill you, again,” Wei Ying was saying.

            “That’s why you do it in secret,” Huaisang replied, nodding as though it was an appropriate answer. It took Wangji a moment of scrutiny before he noticed what was so familiar about the voice: the fact that it matched perfectly the little whine about the phone the night before. It was the guy that had promised to stay, and yet abandoned Wei Ying who couldn’t recall a single thing he had done at the bar. The man most likely couldn’t even recall the fact that his friend had been there. Apparently, this Huaisang did things in secret.

            “Awesome! Why don’t you come with us?” Wei Ying asked. By now, Wangji had walked enough to stand just half a meter away from him for he had paused to speak.

            Wangji could feel the twitch in his brow. He told himself that it was because Huaisang was a little strange.

            Huaisang could feel eyes on his back. It was the same sensation of having his older brother stare him down when he was obviously doing something wrong. He turned to see a man step closer, close enough where he could brush against his pants. Huaisang shivered, seeing the start of a faint glare about the man’s features. He was close enough where with slight movement, Wei Ying’s elbow had caught him in the chest by accident.

            “Oh! Sorry, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying said, his face just a ray of innocence and laughter all at once. He began to pat Wangji’s chest as if to fix what he had just done. The infliction hadn’t hurt in the slightest, but something had changed in Wangji’s chest. He caught Wei Ying’s hand before it could reach the position of his heart, catching the heart beats. If there was a way to decipher Wangji’s emotions, it was the heartbeat.

            “Oh, right. No touch, right?” Wei Ying said, still oblivious to everything around him. He carelessly took his hand back, thinking it to be an offensive thing, and turned towards Huaisang and asked the following, “Well, how ‘bout it, Huaisang?”

            Wangji glared. He didn’t know what it was that brought his lower lids closer to his eyes, but he glared, nevertheless. His gold eyes pierced Huaisang’s near black ones.

            It took Huaisang just a second to store the image in his memories and match the face with the renowned Lan Wangji. He quickly declined, not wanting to get on the man’s bad side for he had already seemed to attain that by some degree on accident.

            “Actually, I have to grab a few things for Meng Yao’s lab,” Huaisang said, which was the truth. He needed to grab a few supplies for the other for his next experiment. Hopefully this time, it didn’t contaminate the air and cause everyone to evacuate the way it did a while ago.

            Meng Yao? Wangji thought, the same Meng Yao that had gone to school with his own Xichen? Xichen had spoken highly of him. Meng Yao or Jinguang Yao was ill tolerated in the science world for his many experiments and the fact that his mother was a side person, a mere waitress who had passed. His father was a rather useless biologist himself, “a lover of life,” it was deemed, but in reality, it didn’t take much to notice that it was just, “the pleasures of life.” Jinguang-shan was a pointless man in a lab coat. Meng Yao had moved away and was now an “amateur” chemist who had become rather known for few successes. Still, he was at fault for some gas leakings and other public safety concerns that Wangji could barely recall. Meng Yao was a genius, it was said, but he also dealt with experimentation which had room for calamity. A chemist to Xichen’s business man, to Nie Mingjue’s politics. It’s a wonder how all of them had attended college together and went their separate paths, maybe a phone call once in a while. School was a depressing thought to Wangji. In his school years, junior year at that, Wangji had been turned down by Xiao Xingchen himself just to be accepted as his partner six years later, working twice as hard to achieve some sort of acknowledgement. What had made Xingchen turn him down when the man credited him with so much today? He had felt down enough to speak to his brother at the time, and Xichen did as he always did: he invited him to take part in the family business, publishing books. Wangji used to just be a mere substitute teacher in an AP criminology class in a high school classroom with twelve students. How did he end out becoming a detective?

            “Bunnies!” Wei Ying shouted, taking Wangji’s wrist and dragging him almost into the pet shop which apparently had emerged into view, and Huaisang was already gone, and Wei Ying was most likely speaking the entire time and Wangji had been lost in his thoughts again.

            Inside, Wei Ying seemed to overly enjoy himself, taking to every corner of the pet store, down to the very fish. He petted the lizards, allowed a snake to coil around his wrist, touched a cockatiel’s head before it flew everywhere in the cage, held at least three hamsters, poked a tarantula really quickly before retracting his hand, waved at all of the cats in the adoption center in the back, and “woah”ed at every fish tank. It was similar to walking into a toyshop with your three year old, only, there were times where Wei Ying’s maturity would manifest. It happened in cases where there was a larger group of people. He would pull his side bangs a little lower and walk just a bit faster or try to obscure his face by looking closer at the cages so they’d walk by him. After noticing this act the second time, Wangji moved closer to cover Wei Ying with his build. Everyone knew Wangji’s face, and people already had knowledge that the CSI were working with the PAPPU. It wasn’t rocket science for someone to put together an otherworldly looking man walking with Wangji was most likely someone from the paranormal unit.

            Besides that, Wei Ying would run farther off, sparking conversation with every child he saw and strangers who were buying food for their pets or maybe a filter for their fish tank. He simply stayed away from groups. Every instance that he disappeared in the aisles, Wangji found himself just shy of lost. He stood there, waiting for Wei Ying to return. At last, they had arrived at the rabbit cage, Wangji walking directly by and looking through supplies as to what he would need for his newly acquired pet. Wei Ying, on the other hand, went directly for the cage, asking a worker to again take one of the animals out for him to pet. In his peripheral, Wangji could see him reach for a black one which started kicking its feet in every direction just as the detective pulled him out. Wei Ying held him nevertheless, returning to Wangji without saying anything, just a wide smile on his face as he began to assist in choosing what pen they needed, what nutritional needs needed to be met, which grass house looked best, which air purifier would fit best, a lot of hay, bottles, litter boxes, and Wei Ying was pointing at almost everything. The thought of taking care of a pet seemed to please the detective a lot, his hands just constantly petting the black rabbit in his hands as he questioned Wangji the question the man knew too well, “what do you think?”

            Wangji was asked of his opinion.

            And ended out choosing whatever Wei Ying seemed to favor anyway. A part of Wangji knew that though Wei Ying hadn’t bought anything to prepare Wangji, he had certainly given everything thought and a once over, waiting to determine what the man would want when he arrived. Giving him the rabbit wasn’t an impulse thought.

            Wangji remembered Wei Ying’s comment about how cold the house was and thought about how warm a rabbit was, how they thrived in colder climate and still held heat in their little bodies. Wei Ying was offering him warmth.

            The worker who had allowed Wei Ying to hold the rabbit eventually wandered off, seeing the man purchase rabbit goods. Perhaps the man would purchase the black rabbit. When the cart was filled with a rabbit’s paradise, Wangji pushed the cart to the register with Wei Ying beside him. When the things were rung up, both men relinquished their credit cards simultaneously, retracted the cards, looked at one another, and gave their cards again.

            “I guess because the things are yours, you should pay,” Wei Ying joked, though he didn’t take back his card. Wangji reached past him, his arm slightly longer, and placed the card in the clerk’s hands. Wangji payed for all of it, including the black rabbit.

            “Time to go home, Buddy,” Wei Ying said to the rabbit, thinking he’d return him to his cage. The woman at the register handed him a box to place the rabbit in, causing Wei Ying’s brows to furrow. He nearly dodged the box, trying to communicate the misunderstanding when Wangji spoke.

            “We cannot leave Sizhui at home alone.” With that, Wangji pushed the cart past him, attempting to make the man follow without telling him to. Wei Ying stood in place, looking at the clerk with a confused expression, finally submitting to filling out paperwork again that afternoon before he raced into the car.

            The car ride was filled with Wei Ying speaking to a black rabbit who continuously hopped onto the windshield before he placed him back on his lap, laughing. The first two instances had startled Wangji just a bit, causing him to tighten his lips, driving more carefully as not to be called a “dumb fuck.” The next few instances, he had grown accustomed to the noise, the noise that never reached his house. Maybe his house was too quiet.

            Too cold and too quiet.

            Pulling up to the driveway, he unpacked everything into the house with Wei Ying’s one hand help, for the man seemed reluctant to put the misbehaved rabbit down in the living room. Inside, Wangji began to open the boxes and prepare the pen while Wei Ying crawled around the house after the black rabbit. Sizhui sat calmly by the foot of the couch as though he was reading. In the background, the other rabbit still bounced around as if he were exploring the house.

            “Uncle Lan Zhan has 2 bunnies now. So many friends. Be good, okay, Jingyi?” Wei Ying said, catching the black rabbit in his hands. Wangji looked up from the pen instructions towards Wei Ying’s direction. Jingyi bounced free again, running away as if he were ready to take on the world, touching everything he could.

            “Jingyi! No! Come here! No, you’ll get electrocuted over there! Be good,” Wei Ying called out, crawling after him.

            A soft smile appeared on Wangji’s lips as he returned to the instructions. Jingyi was a lot like Wei Ying.

 ---

            No one needed to say it, but they held their breaths, counting the seconds as to whether there’d be a new body. Two days had elapsed, disintegrating with recycled hours, days without death, another day of anxious anticipation. Where everyone else worried at the next victim, Xue Yang was preoccupied with exams. Wei Ying found himself wondering why the punk still went to his classes, having had already acquired the career position that he was aiming to get. It a waste of time. Wei Ying had picked Xue Yang out of a group university students filing out of their school building, having had had a vision of the punk. He had asked Jiang Cheng to speak to him, draw him closer, and Xue Yang had suspected them of kidnapping. But if there was something Xue Yang had seen, it had been the spirits collected around Wei Ying as if he could rise the dead. They were not malicious, just gathering, standing around him as if comfortable. He was similar to leverage. With that, he had told them to remove themselves from their vehicles and speak to him like adults. Xue Yang had been 18, and that was five years ago. They had known each other in such a short amount of time, and yet, like family they were. Xue Yang had been struggling, a part time job at a men’s department store where he pulled doubles just to bring back to this shelter he had come from. His adoptive parents had given him back, because he acted “strangely,” compared to normal kids. He was able to test into an excellent university with the books they had given him to read at the shelter, a volunteer tutor who enjoyed teaching him, his visits to the library – books, everything he needed to know. He tested into the university, working to pay off his tuition. Wei Ying could relate. No one had it easy, but it was complicated for an orphan, everything hurt just a little bit more, disappointed just a bit more, you worked just a little harder, you expected to have less. Maybe that’s why Xue Yang was finishing school, that little detail of needing to achieve more, needing just a little something. Wei Ying had graduated with honors, had gone to the best school in Beijing, had landed a position in the detective force just to leave voluntarily. He didn’t agree. He had visions no one believed in, some little thing about him that made him different. He was a little “too much.”

            Xue Yang was definitely a little “too much.”

            With the money, Wei Ying lived off of it until he had a vision of a small division that was a myth in everyone’s ears, the PAP Paranormal Unit. He walked in and was accepted for an internship before he was appointed an actual position, then slowly became the chief himself. To the normal world, he became what was either a myth himself, or “dangerous.”

            Visions. Wei Ying had actual visions, yes, but he also had personal visions of something greater. He found it here, in his home, this office where someone else had applied, someone looking for a “detail-oriented career” and ended out swearing an oath alongside him.

            Jiang Cheng was the epitome of “too little,” and it was perfect. The man kept to himself, perfecting detail, barked at everything for ruining those important details. He was exact. Wei Ying knew the man would be promising, extending boundaries that were never touched, and all he had to do was click away on his keyboard and ask little questions before he put all of the mathematical complications into simply formulae.

            That was the team. Wei Ying smiled to himself, remembering the small details, how they had met complexities before, but this case was different: it wasn’t theirs. They were asked for professional input though their suggestions were never deemed appropriate.

            What was appropriate about death? Nothing. Why would they be required to be appropriate when it just wasn’t fitting? Farce. The whole system was a farce.

            He could picture Nie Mingjue himself trying to make it not be exactly that. Where Jiang Cheng was exact, Nie Mingjue was the epitome of precision. He was careful but also reckless. Just from the political conversations on television, Wei Ying could tell the man was just “impulse thoughts” and “justice.” It would take a lot to intervene in that thought process, just as it would take a lot to move Jiang Cheng from his rigid seat.

            Jiang Cheng really was fit for leadership.

            Speaking of which, he was already in the office when Wei Ying had entered, the way he usually was, there early in the morning, pulling up documents for scrutiny but coming up with nothing until he finally asked something that changed the fucking world. It was Tuesday, and Xue Yang was no where in sight, probably late again as usual. From yesterday’s phone call, Xue Yang had fallen asleep reading a review that he found disastrously boring.

            “Jiang Cheng!” Wei Ying called out the way he did every morning, a giddiness that only came from genuine adoration.

            “What now?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking up from his keys, his tone already irritated.

            “Nothing,” Wei Ying sang. He was just happy to see him, and happy to see him so concentrated, and happy to see him irritated, because if he wasn’t irritated he probably wasn’t doing anything at all. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, moving a mischievous smile under Wei Ying’s nose. Before Wei Ying could further bother him, because it was early, and he shouldn’t have been so irritated already, Wei Ying looked away, a vision bubbling up into his line of sight. Everything in front of him faded from view, just a vintage edge, a blurry screen, fog bubbling up. He thought it to be the gaseous fluid utilized by Little Blind when he suddenly made out a body, a bare body, all muscles and lax and pale, and it was Lan Zhan. Taking a shower. Wei Ying quickly tried to blink the vision away, but it ran from the shower head to Lan Zhan’s very toes, hot water rolling off his shoulders and down his back and waist. Then everything disappeared and Jiang Cheng was sitting before him again.

            “What? What did you see?” Jiang Cheng asked, frowning with a slight furrow, something only he would do. Wei Ying frowned in return and shook his head.

            “Nothing. I didn’t see anything,” the chief lied, going to sit at his seat. That was bizarre. He hadn’t received visions for the past two weeks, and now Lan Zhan, bare bodied? God, the man was toned. If there’s anything Wei Ying had to face, it was the fact that Lan Zhan was a truly compelling image. It was vivid to look at his features, like snow fractals stretching and falling gently onto your nose. He was a calming scent in the perfume catalogue, the perfect scent. In one word, Lan Zhan was sincerely beautiful, rigid beauty, immovable but Wei Ying would sink his fingers into to add some of his warmth. Wei Ying couldn’t dream of such an appearance, a dream or a reverie, doing nothing and still appear so stunning. There was no bitterness, just pure admiration. Then he thought about how he had just seen the man naked, and sucked his lips in. He began to rearrange the things on his desk as though that would erase the image, bewildered movements and ruining the landscape of how the things were already positioned.

            Xue Yang entered mid-yawn, eyes half open like today’s theme was “0.5” like the pattern that Little Blind was currently utilizing. He had just walked in from the metro, traces of snow on his head. It was a cold winter, and they were being trapped in it. One of Xue Yang’s textbooks were in his hands which meant that finals really were close.

            “Wei Dude,” he said, and then at Jiang Cheng he smiled like a good kid and said, “Uncle.”

            Wei Ying stuck his tongue out at him, and Jiang Cheng nodded in return. Before Xue Yang could take his seat, Xingchen had arrived at the door, having rushed from his car. The snow had not touched him from his quick traipse. Xue Yang went to his desk to place the textbook down on the surface, and turned to see Xingchen remove his coat to be splashed with the liquid. He had felt awkward ever since the hospital. He thought about how Xingchen looked beneath the snow and shrunk in on himself. He steadied his legs, trying to reassure them. Why was he being such a weakling? The ruffian went to the back cabinet and retracted the bottles. When he approached Xingchen, he handed him the bottle instead of doing it himself. Xingchen raised both eyebrows but took the bottle from him. Xue Yang extended one hand to take his coat as not to get it wet just as Xingchen slowly anointed himself, pouring the contents slowly on his scalp, the thin streams rolling down his neck and over his soft features, curing just around his nose before it dripped from his chin. Xue Yang found himself staring, just watching the droplets drip from singular strands from the fringe, how it rolled from his protruding collarbones and ever slightly left a darker but temporary stain on his white button up shirt. Where it touched, the cotton sunk inward, clinging to his skin where goose pimples began to rise, his skin paler than before. The cold of the weather and the heat of the room brought red to Xingchen’s cheeks just as the he finished emptying the contents. Xue Yang blinked, then swallowed, but he didn’t look away.

            Wei Ying raised an eyebrow from his desk, made his way over to Xue Yang’s trance like state, and knocked him in the arm with his elbow. Xue Yang looked at him, just short of dazed, but then rationed out to a confused expression. Wei Ying’s face merely said, “what the fuck?”

            Quickly, he took Xue Yang’s arm and to the CSI team lead, he said, “excuse us for a moment, Brother Xiao.” He walked the punk into the hallway, closing the glass door behind him before he spoke again.

            “What was that?”

            “What was what?” Xue Yang asked in return, obviously injured by his confusion. He hadn’t noticed the state he had been in.

            “I dunno’, you were like, really staring,” Wei Ying said, sucking in one cheek because he didn’t know what to do with that information.

            “No, I wasn’t.”

            “I saw Lan Zhan in my visions,” Wei Ying blabbered out, and with a pause, he took a deep breath and said, “He was taking a shower.”

            “Um…” Xue Yang sucked in his lips and smiled with it awkwardly, waiting for more information. “Okay. And?” He ended out asking when his chief said nothing else.

            “I saw business, Xue Yang.”

            “And I’m the one acting funny? Please revisit,” Xue Yang said with amusement in his smile. His little fang appeared in his smile.

            “It’s not like I want to see people naked,” Wei Ying protested. Just then, Wangji had appeared down the hallway, having had just made out the last bit, “I want to see people naked.” He paused for a moment, then continued walking, telling his square shoulders to ignore the comment. He walked past Wei Ying and the gangster partner towards the door where he ultimately said, “pathetic.”

            “Can’t you say anything else, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying whined, pursing his lips. It was odd to see the man fully dressed now that he had seen him at his most vulnerable.

            “Very pathetic,” Wangji replied, because he couldn’t say something like “dumb fuck.” Who was Wei Ying trying to see naked anyway? It wasn’t his business but it wasn’t appropriate, definitely not in the hallway, definitely not. Definitely not.

            Wangji found himself short of irritated, but he twitched, his back to them. They all filed into the PAPPU living room and took their seats, Xue Yang keeping a distance. Wei Ying discovered that he was just a bit reluctant to sit next to Wangji himself. He went to sit in his desk, rearranging the files under the paperweight, a bare mermaid, just as naked as Wangji had been. He shook his head, turning her the other way.

            “We’ll continue where we left off, Lan Zhan, if you will do us the honors,” he ordered, trying to focus. It took a moment for Jiang Cheng to bring up the files after everyone greeted one another with a simple degree, a hand raise, a chin nod, a solemn nod, a smile. This time around, Wangji had brought his own USB, though the PAPPU could imagine that it was readdressed and rewritten with caution. He handed it to Jiang Cheng to pull up so they could continue.

            “Little Blind returned two years later after disappearing from police radar, and took his next victim, 31 year-old, Cheng MeiFeng who was discovered in his garage after neighbors complained about an odd stench coming from his home. All circuits show proper functions with no disturbances. The garage door to his home had been shut and he was identified by his vehicle, face up as all other victims before mentioned. The same practices had been utilized,” Wangji said, pointing to the picture of MeiFeng when he was alive versus how he was discovered. His eyes were bleeding just a bit, some crimson leaking from his lips.

            “What was he doing?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking at the pictures while he was typing the information. He was already filling in the process questions for them to review later. There was a template of questions he usually went through before they collected enough data. Xue Yang had his recorder on again. Wei Ying was pleased, better focused now, a small smile that said nothing of mischief.

            “He seems to have been repairing his vehicle,” Wangji answered. The hood of the car was open as well as one of the doors.

            “Any evidence of company? Cause for death mimics the before mentioned, you said?” Jiang Cheng asked next. He blinked hard like his eyes were drying out.

            “Exact imitation. Other fingerprints were located, a clearer print this time around. The file matches the skin print collected from the cigarette, but again, no one in the database is a match. This person has yet committed a crime that was documented.”

            Wei Ying spoke next, legs criss-crossed. “But if we’re saying that it follows the same low-high pattern, and the fingerprints show that the unsub was definitely at the scene, that would mean the gas was going even as he was present. Attire mask and garb wouldn’t have been adequate seeing that it would unsettle the victim. It needed to appear natural.”

            “Two friends fixing a car,” Xue Yang commented. Wei Ying nodded and continued speaking.

            “Exactly. He died in February. All the unsub was required to do was make commentary on the weather causing some discomfort, in order to have the victim close the garage door. The unsub would simply start the gas that he most likely had triggered by the cords on the garage door retraction. I’m assuming that the vesicant that’s administered materializes in color at one point or another to exhibit his trademark. Low dosage of a fatal gas, and a higher dosage at a lower severity meaning the mustard sulfur,” Wei Ying explained, zooming in on the yellow residue of the mustard gas.

            “So, he starts with minimal fatal gas exposure for chronic damage and then what?” Xue Yang asked.

            “Yes,” Xiao Xingchen caught on. “If he was present then that would mean –“

            “He was also taking in the gas. Remember, Little Blind is a risk taker. He touches everything at the crime scene without a care in the world. But his prints were never discovered on the body. This means that he wears gloves when he removes the eyes,” Wei Ying said.

            “So, you’re saying the cigarette was a slip up?” Xiao Xingchen questioned.

            “No. The cigarette shows just how brazen he is as stated before by Lan Zhan, wearing the gloves says something else about his character.”

            “It shows resistance,” Wangji answered.

            “Correct. This shows a weaker side of Little Blind, the one that supports the fact that he perhaps removes of the eyes because he can’t stand to look at what he’s done. He also feels a personal connection to them if he utilizes those eyes in resonance to his own,” Wei Ying continued.

            “If that’s the case, it wouldn’t be difficult to conclude that there is a softer side to him that people were acquainted with,” Xingchen commented, nodding. Wei Ying was swinging his swivel chair back and forth – he was one of those people who couldn’t think unless they were moving. He was definitely the stark opposite of Lan Zhan.

            “So, he excused himself by saying he was feeling under the weather, considering he most likely was. He was also taking the gas in. It’s not difficult to assume people see him as someone just shy of “fragile”, we’ll say. Yeah, that’s the word I’ll use,” Wei Ying said. Xiao Xingchen frowned at this.

            “You think Little Blind is fragile?” The team lead asked the paranormal chief.

            “I think Little Blind is sensitive and other people see that – that’s how he gets so close to them. It’s actually a part of his character. It wouldn’t be a chore for him to feign weakness,” Wei Ying told him. He looked up for a moment in thought before he spoke again.

            “So he excused himself, had Meifeng fix the car by himself until he felt sick as well, then Little Blind would turn up the dosage from within the house with an automatic switch, then he’d simultaneously ignite the sulfur mustard so…Meifeng couldn’t find his way out?” Xingchen asked, because it didn’t seem correct. That was a foolish solution.       

            “The mustard sulfate isn’t lethal, Detective. Little Blind uses it for no other purpose then to let us know that it’s him. It’s a trademark for a reason,” Wei Ying explained.

            “But he uses it to hide behind,” Xingchen reminded him.  

            Wei Ying put a finger up to remind him of a small detail. “Then why seclude everyone and still utilize it? That’s a waste of gas product, and could bust him rather than assist. In Lihua’s case, he used it because it was convenient, but he really just excites the mustard gas to alert authority that it’s him.”

            “Then you’re saying that he went inside, locked Meifeng in, killed him with the lethal gas and excited the mustard gas to inform us it’s him? That the blistering agent wasn’t utilized for anything besides mere convenience despite its damaging effects?”

            “Yes, because he had been gone for two years. It’d be easy to pin the kill on someone else, or deemed a random homicide,” Wei Ying pointed out.

            “He wants recognition?”

            “What he wants is to be found.”

            Wangji rethought about the case and the direction that Xingchen had pulled it. It was the opposite of Wei Ying’s. He found himself agreeing with the chief’s yet again.

            “So, he rewired the circuits to the garage and took the remote with him without detection. Meifeng was left unable to escape. He started up the sulfur mustard so Meifeng could choke instead of scream, then upped the lethal gas until he was dead. Then he’d enter, garb and mask on, remove the eyes and leave,” Wangji said. It was true about the mustard gas: it was convenient in the cases, but with the act of seclusion, it wasn’t exactly necessary. Little Blind could’ve easily upped the gas on its lonesome and killed Meifeng instantly.

            “Exactly. Little Blind is clever. He knew how to wire the panel to work when he wanted it to and glitch when he needed it to. When he entered the garage again, all he needed to do was reset it to seem like it hadn’t been damaged, but he left us his fingerprints without a care. He could’ve simply left the controls disturbed, but he repaired them for functions again. Why? To make it simple for those discovering him, perhaps family, that knew the combination for the garage to open the doors. Two, he leaves everything the way that they are found. He doesn’t disturb anything,” Wei Ying added.

            “So Little Blind is a sensitive clever guy who is in everyone’s “crowd” and wants to be found. He’s brazen, and reckless because he knows he won’t be caught,” Jiang Cheng repeated what was documented in his notes for clarity, because he would sure Wei Ying would add something else.

            “That’s just the thing though, Little Blind hasn’t been reckless yet. He calculates everything. He just wants to seem like he’s reckless. If he seems too careful, it might just point out exactly who he is.”

            “What if he’s sensitive but he doesn’t seem sensitive?” Jiang Cheng questioned, typing 90 words in a minute.

            Wei Ying paused again, thinking about the fact that Wangji was the exact way. He was very sensitive a man and seemed so when you spoke to him despite not seeming like it at all.

            “That, my brother, is subjective. Sensitive people slip up. If they don’t seem sensitive, they eventually will,” Wei Ying said, but he looked in Xiao Xingchen’s direction. For some reason, the remark was said in similar fashion to that of a threat, some type of warning. Xingchen caught his gaze and looked away instantly, finding himself securing some peace by looking in Xue Yang’s direction. Like Xue Yang would keep him safe.  

 ---

            Xue Yang didn’t seem to notice the little gesture, but when Xingchen’s eyes found him, he held them for just a moment before returning to his files. He waited for orders on what to do next. Then it occurred to him that Jiang Cheng hadn’t questioned what gas product was used. He didn’t know if he should ask himself, or wait. Jiang Cheng usually asked questions rather than look at the screens. Uncle Jiang seemed to be contemplating something, staring at the pictures though his fingers still tapped the keys from below. Wei Ying waited patiently, uncrossing his right leg, then crossing his left. The only sound that was heard were the keys and the ventilation system in the background, white noise, the sound you heard when you were finally dead. This thought seemed to pass everyone, and still the CSI wondered why no one spoke. Was it their turn to speak again?

            Finally, Jiang Cheng spoke up again.

            “You’ve documented that that hydrogen bromide was utilized. I was just wondering why he didn’t use Br2 which is more of an irritant for lighter exposure. I figured the point was to cause chronic discomfort. As a fire retardant, it also seems a natural element to the odor of the vehicle. The brassy color even matched that of the victim’s vehicle. At a lower rate, a respiratory cartridge wouldn’t necessarily be required.”

            Wei Ying grinned. There it was, a question that would throw the case into an entire different direction. It was a wonder where questions could take you.

            “Bromine has a particularly characteristic odor,” Xingchen reminded him, though he wasn’t really sure what the question was.

            “Everything is a characteristic odor when your head is in a car, and the fumes from the car continue going off every time you turn on the engine and it just doesn’t give,” Jiang Cheng commented.

            Wei Ying attempted to help Xingchen understand. He bit his lower lip, trying to find the right words before he opened his mouth to speak.

            “Br2, though it has a lower NFPA of 3 respectively, HBr lands a significant level 4, any other gases that serve as an irritant would’ve made sense. And yet, just 300 milligrams per deciliter of HBr would produce toxic symptoms leading to fatality. The unsub’s attempt was to elongate it,” Wei Ying said, trying to reword it in his head to see if that made sense.

            “Little Blind doesn’t really seem the type to try to elongate the pain,” Jiang Cheng said, though it came more as a question.

            “You’re right. When I say ‘elongate,’ what I mean is that there is a pace for everything. He has the slow death measure, and the desperate death measure where he raises the pressure of exposure. It all has to balance out with the time that he’s acquired. Lihua in her car, enough time to elongate for a slower death, up it so she loses consciousness at the given time. Zhang Yong, high dosage for immediate death – there wasn’t enough time, Xiu Ying, low dosage because he had time. Meifeng, low to high dosage because he was running out of time, but he still had time in the first place. The point is, he takes his time unless he doesn’t have enough time,” Wei Ying explained.

            “So, you don’t think he wishes for the victim to endure the pain?” Xingchen asked, because Little Blind struck him as the type to elongate the process, not work off convenience.

            “No, you even said that he removes the eyes post-mortom meaning there was no inflammation, didn’t you? Anyone who wanted to elongate the pain would’ve removed the eyes and…”

            Xingchen blinked.

            “Removed the eyes,” Wei Ying finished. He knew he wanted to say something, finish his sentence, that maybe it was the missing piece that they weren’t telling the PAPPU, he just didn’t know what that specific thing was.

            Xue Yang thought about the question again and realized what Jiang Cheng had meant. He looked over at his chief with wide eyes, taking his hands from his chin.

            “You’re asking why he didn’t use a more convenient gas if he was such a convenient guy?” As if the thoughts were finally streaming into Xue Yang’s head, he began to speak faster.

            “Of course! If he was working off of convenience, he would only be able to use what he was able to acquire. The level by which they can be attained would be a complicated process. SCS safety personnel would be informed before the approval of the gas. This means that he would have to demonstrate proper storage and usage before he can be approved for purchase. Two, he’s a risk taker but he isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t blatantly purchase gases unless he had a proper background in their usage. He’d have to be an engineer or some sort of scientist or something, someone who wouldn’t have to explain themselves upon purchase.”

            Wangji’s eyes widened just a bit, though he didn’t say anything.

            “He got what he could get without seeming suspicious,” Jiang Cheng concluded, no longer typing.

            “Meaning he doesn’t have the gas at his disposal. He had to acquire it. Search all logs for purchases of the vesicants significant to the time period starting 3-6 years previous, focus on the 6-12 months before date utilized. He’s trying to avoid suspicion, and he’s been doing it for four years without detection. There has to be some reason he’s constantly being approved. His name should be a recurrence. We’re talking about someone who already had the gases at hand. If he didn’t already have the gas in reach, he wouldn’t have the time to acquire it come the date of homicide. Everything is calculated.” Wei Ying said. He remembered how his own team lead used to speak to him when he worked with the unit. He knew the process of what he was supposed to do. Across from him, Xingchen quickly took his orders and dialed away on his phone, excusing himself from the room.

            Wangji wanted to quickly change the subject to stop his thoughts from dancing. It was a mere coincidence, that was all. He cleared his throat to alleviate the discomfort before he spoke right into the next case.

            “Hung Jia’s case was no mystery. She was a 35-year old with black hair. She was discovered in her office after hours. The gas had been leaked through the vents where she eventually breathed in until she passed. Her eyes were removed without prints,” the iceman said, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

            “Did he leak it throughout the whole building?” Jiang Cheng questioned, returning to his typing.

            “Correct.”

            “Interesting.” Wei Ying commented, though he didn’t add anything else. Then he moved on without another glance, “Tell me about Bao Ru, please.”

            “The youngest victim, Bao Ru, was a 13-year-old brunette discovered at the Tianzi park, a neighborhood park enclosed by gates and a 9-3, wall enclosure. It peeks open with a large gate and a back gate where the doors are located. Bao Ru was discovered in the middle of the park. The vesicant utilized was the most potent among the list and was discovered in liquid form, C₄H₁₀FO₂P.” Wangji had to test it, would Wei Ying know what synthetic poison it was if the names became more complicated?

            “Wow, he was even able to acquire sarin? Okay, let’s think about it. Thirteen is the flipside of thirty-one. Maybe the decimal pattern or maybe not. Obviously, the unsub can use liquid forms if he liquidated sarin, so it’s definitely based on convenience for the previous case. He could’ve easily utilized a liquid if he had it on hand,” Wei Ying said, catching it instantly. It was much simpler to say sarin rather than C₄H₁₀FO₂P. He could’ve glared at Wangji but it seemed different when Wangji did it rather than Xingchen. Wangji seemed curious.

            “Was this the only liquid gas used in all cases?” Jiang Cheng questioned.

            “Correct,” the curious iceman said.

            “Out in the open?” Jiang Cheng asked next.

            “Correct.”

            Tap tap tap, on the keyboard.

            “There was an eye witness in this particular case,” Wangji informed them, watching as both eyebrows were raised on all of his new team mates. The gangster partner even sat up straighter, no longer biting one of his nails.

            “The eye witness was 29-year old Li Wei, who had driven past the park on a rainy day, noticing suspicious behavior from within. He went around again just to be sure, confronted the unsub but lost courage, returning to his car before he drove off.”

            “Balls. He confronted Little Blind?” Wei Ying could almost laugh, but instead, only a smile appeared. Jiang Cheng spoke before his chief could act stupid.

            “Is Li Wei still alive?” He asked.

            “He is,” Wangji responded. “He is in witness protection still. An officer has been appointed to watch over his home.”

            “Any thing else he reported?” Jiang Cheng, blinking hard again. Did the man wear contacts? Wangji tried to look closer without seeming obvious. He was sure he wore contacts. Those were contacts. Maybe the clear ones you couldn’t see. Contacts.  

            “A van was utilized as in the case with LiHua. License plate was not caught, there is no camera footage, and the vehicle is reportedly different than the first suspected vehicle caught on footage. The vehicle had been parked before the gate, by the middle. Li Wei was only able to capture the image of the unsub from the small opening of driving up the road before the surrounding wall of the recreational study covered the view from the rearview mirrors.”

            “Type of van?” Jiang Cheng asked, looking at the picture of the park. It really was an inconvenient park. The surrounding build was a wall, just the small gate opening in the back that were doors, and the bars from the front. The only escape would’ve been the two doors in the back.

            “Thought to be a mechanic’s vehicle.”

            Or to hop the gate.

            “Did he live in the area?” Jiang Cheng questioned.

            “A few blocks down. He took the same route home every day.”

            Wei Ying thoughts followed Jiang Cheng’s exactly, but he contemplated for a bit, how to kill someone in broad daylight and remove their eyes without someone intervening.

            “I,” Xue Yang started to say, but he paused to think again. “I think we should scrap the pattern disruption idea.”

            “What? That’s all we have to go off of,” Uncle Jiang said, frowning at the midget.

            “Yeah, but look, he used a liquid gas. That’s another disruption of the pattern. That wouldn’t fit with the disruption interval. There isn’t even any documented sulfur mustard at the scene. Are we sure this is even his kill? It just really throws me off,” Xue Yang said, feeling discomfort in his stomach. There was just something disturbing about it that seemed intentional. It didn’t sit well with him.

            “Jiang Cheng, run a list of cases that involved eye removal or mutilation,” Wei Ying said instantly. It was a good point. What if this wasn’t Little Blind at all?

            “No need. I’ll give you the cases,” Xingchen said quickly, appearing at the door just in time. Wangji opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

            “Great! Bring the folders tomorrow and we’ll continue discussion. We need to review a few things. Xue Dude’s right, Bao Ru’s case seems really odd. First off, he’s really young to be a victim. All of Little Blind’s victims may be following an odd pattern but they’re certainly older enough to be called mature,” Wei Ying said. This time there seemed to be no detection of anything suspicious, but Wangji watched him with scrutiny. Did he notice?

            Bao Ru was definitely one of Little Blind’s victims, Wangji knew that. He may have used a different approach, but the same trade marks were found, the ones that the public didn’t know. No one could’ve paid enough attention to have replicated the maneuvers. The killer had been Little Blind.

            “I’ll call later, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying called out just as they were packing their things and leaving.

            What? Wangji thought, first were the visits, and now the phone calls. Xingchen never did that. Would he discuss the case over the phone? That would most definitely be inappropriate. Or was he simply going to talk to him the way he did with his brother? Simple small conversation. Peaceful.

            Wangji looked at his team lead and sealed his lips shut. Partners had one another’s backs.

 ---

            They were all sitting in Wei Ying’s apartment complex living room. Jiang Cheng in front of his tablet and blue lit keyboard, Xue Yang half looking at his notes for class and his notes for the case. They relistened to the discussion recording, documenting anything they had missed in their notes before they were open for discussion again.

            “I have a park like that by my apartment. There’s no cameras around those so I can understand nothing being caught on footage. Plus, look at the picture, it’s overcast by time it’s taken. Brother Lan had said it was raining which means it was dark. Combining rainy windshield, distance, and little view from the wall to the van means it was difficult to make out what was actually happening. Hence, Li Wei went back around for a second glance,” Xue Yang said, while his eyes skimmed over his review for the exam next week.

            “Lan Zhan sent me a protected file with Li Wei’s statement. He also sent me the footage that was shown in Lihua’s case at 4h15 as I expected. I reviewed both of them and you tell me what’s funny,” Wei Ying said. After a quick review, the other two frowned.

            “Tall, square shouldered, short black hair, white shirt,” Xue Yang read, dubious. “Dude, that can be literally anyone.”

            “Say it like it is, Xue Dude. Who does that footage sorta’ look like?”

            “It kind of looks like Brother Xiao,” Jiang Cheng said. Xue Yang bit on the inside of one cheek, an annoyed expression on his face.

            “It kinda’ looks like Brother Lan,” the ruffian retorted. At this, Wei Ying’s jaw dropped, punching him in the shoulder.

            “I’m so serious. It looks like both of them. They look like…normal.” Xue Yang said, though the statement wasn’t really true. They looked just as otherworldly as the PAPPU team did. It was strange not to see stains on them.

            “I’m asking you for permission to look into this Xingchen guy, Xue Yang. He’s shady. It seems odd that he was so open to helping earlier too,” Wei Ying said with a sigh.

            “Maybe because it’s his case? Of course, he’d want to help.” Xue Yang could find himself speaking quickly, somehow finding the utmost offence. He felt defensive all of the sudden.

            “Okay, let’s really look at the case,” Wei Ying changed the subject, seeing that logic was being dodged, maybe by the both of them. He never thought that perhaps Lan Zhan could perhaps be a suspect. It never crossed his mind, and everything usually crossed his mind.

            In his annoyance, Xue Yang’s thought processes came faster. He sighed louder as if to make his point for Wei Ying’s jumping to conclusions.

            “It’s not hard to imagine that the unsub waited for the kid to come walking up and asked him something along the lines of “hey, I fucked up, can you open the gate for me from inside? I’ll slip you 35 yuan, please please please.”

            “That’s totally not what happened,” Wei Ying punched him in the arm again, just a bit irritated himself. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at both of them.

            Backspace backspace backspace.

            “I’m so serious. Bao Ru’s 13, quick cash to jump a gate and open it for a mechanic that fucked up and couldn’t get in because he lost the key? I jump the gate on usual days. It’s not a chore. Bao Ru jumped the gate and attempted to open the gate for him, meaning he either did it out of genuine kindness or the unsub already handed him the money to gain his trust. Kid’s 13, he’s not stupid, but he ain’t smart either or he would’ve realized he can’t open the gate either. He was smart enough to take the money first, and avoid the opening of the van. He wouldn’t be worried about being in the park with a barred gate keeping this stranger out. Look here, he died by the fountain. What was used again?” Xue Yang asked, because he was busy remembering terminology for his other class. He closed his textbook to focus.

            “Sarin,” Jiang Cheng said.

            “Okay, why use such a serious fucking poison all of the sudden? Sarin evaporates fast as shit when it touched air and vaporizes. He just needed to wire the chords somehow to have the sarin mix with the liquid and spray that shit when Bao Ru came close by. He’s a knock two birds out with one stone type of guy, remember? He parks in the middle of the gate to cover the view, one, and two, to get Bao Ru to walk through the middle where the fountain was,” Xue Yang explained, his thoughts a little more clear.

            “How the hell would he just connect it to the fountain?” Jiang Cheng barked, ready to yell at him because it seemed outrageous, and he could see that Xue Yang hadn’t exactly been focused. On the side note, it wasn’t hard for Xue Yang to put himself in the shoes of a 13 year old.

            “It’s actually not that complicated,” Wei Ying commented, holding his chin. “A typical park installation would be a 1.5HP. There’ll be a timer and a CPU he’d need to bypass. He can either turn the panel off entirely or just switch the breaker, remove the CPU and timer then connect a motion detector. This way, the power source is disconnected. Just pull the cable to connect the new contactor to the pump and reset the whole thing. He just needs to come the night before to set the breaker and then have it go off when Bao Ru triggers the sensor. Just make sure the router’s connected to the control panel so he can control the valve. Simple google search.”

            “Remember how you said that Little Blind works off of a desperate or an at ease situation? He’s out in the open so it’s a desperate situation. He uses the strongest vesicant and kills Bao Ru instantly. Wouldn’t be hard for a 13-year-old to die from a poison. Little Blend bends down to take his eyes and…well his eyes, get’s noticed by Li Wei who he doesn’t even fucking kill which means there has to be a pattern because why didn’t you kill the eyewitness? Because he’s not a part of the pattern, duh,” Xue Yang said, punching Wei Ying in the arm back.

            “Damn it, you’re actually right,” Wei Ying admitted, hating to lose the argument since they were using the case to get under each other’s skin. “So, Bao Ru dies, the witness was most likely anticipated, but he knew his appearance with the mask on and blood would scare the witness off. By time authority arrives, he would be gone. He used sarin for a quick death instead of the slow deaths from all of the following cases. It’s another seclusion death. Even though he does things out in the open, Little Blind is still hesitant about being seen. Why else choose a rainy day and hover behind his car? He has to be public enough to be known.”

            “Fuck, I forgot to walk Jin Ling again,” Jiang Cheng randomly said. The two looked at him and went back to what they were saying. It did not bypass Wei Ying that Xue Yang too had thought that Little Blind took something else as well. They just didn’t know what it was, but there needed to be something else that made the CSI conclude that the removal of the eyes was Little Blind exactly. Maybe the trade mark was a little more extended than they had originally thought. Little Blind wouldn’t need to use sulfur mustard in order to alert authority that it was him, he had anticipated being seen because he was caught on camera before.

            Bao Ru’s case threw off too many things. The lack of mustard gas, the usage of a liquid gas, the age gap being too wide. Everything about it seemed wrong.

            “Did you find anything in the case that Brother Xiao sent?” Wei Ying asked, running a hand through his long hair.

            “Nothing. There was one case of eye removal, but the dude ate them because he thought it would make him young. Another was a woman who stabbed guys in the eyes because she had an irrational fear of men and didn’t want to be seen by them. Nothing else is a match. There’s no other cases that match the case except the patterns left by Little Blind himself,” Jiang Cheng replied, pulling them up on his tablet.

            “Be very honest with me, do you think Brother Xiao handed us all of the files?” Wei Ying asked, very serious all at once.

            “No,” Jiang Cheng didn’t hesitate.

            Xue Yang didn’t answer right away, fidgeting in his seat. He sucked in both of his lips and muttered a “no.” Then with some thought he said, “but Brother Lan was the one that sent them.”

Chapter Text

Given the notion that Xue Yang and Jiang Cheng were already present, Wei Ying gave them a once over as if to check if everything was alright before he excused himself for polite conversation. The two had taken to an Uno pack for a simple game that he was sure would later vex Jiang Cheng, and most likely in a short period of time. With their distraction, Wei Ying filed himself into the kitchen, seating himself by the bench of the natural oak before he dialed Lan Zhan. It didn’t take long to notice how short of responses Wangji was per usual, but still, Wei Ying had wanted to hear his voice, that dull chime that said something along the lines of empathy; If Wangji could feel what they felt, he would most certainly not seek the tomb of betrayal, that casket, Wei Ying felt, would only open to Xiao Xingchen’s hands. He had seen the man often enough in his visions to paint a clear portrait of suspicion. Lan Zhan was free of that, just a meager accessory to the command, lips sealed under orders. There would come a day when Lan Zhan would forfeit the rules that subjected him to monotony, speaking against just one command in order to change the level of accuracy. You see, the matter of homicide was never accurate, just a mess of details that gravitated together to form a measure, and the measure was deciphered in imperial or metric or cubic, or psychological, or behavioral – nothing was solid. Each measure, after all, was created by man, and grounded in their psyche to credit some form of entertaining logic. At a cerebral approach, Wei Ying could be sensible, but relating to theory and notion, intellective methods were not sentient enough to breach the gray matter of intuition and judgement.

            Wangji was erudite in every measure or approach, creating a rigid path on every tread that Wei Ying’s intellect constructed. Wei Ying was able to dodge it, maybe pierce just a bit of it with his personal modus, deeply constructed by the rejection of appropriate “measures.”

            Pathetic.

            That’s what Wei Ying’s measures added up to, precocious nonsense all at once. But a part of him could admit to the notion – there it was again, a theory – the notion that Wangji entertained his own capacity to reason with that of Wei Ying’s precocity.

            In real life, avoiding each one of Wei Ying’s thoughts, Wei Ying’s lips echoed the summary of a television show he had recently got into watching. He recapped what about the show was interesting, what about it was humorous, why Lan Zhan should watch it if his schedule ever was drained by severe boredom. Lan Zhan gave his short responses but responded, nevertheless.

             On Wangji’s side, he wondered at the phone call. There was really no incentive to continue it, just aimless conversation that didn’t exactly add to the discomfort of answering it, but nothing significant manifested on his tongue. Conversation was complicated to come by, and he didn’t have adequate training in prolonging the attitude of one. As Wei Ying spoke, he found himself listening as if to find something, something crucial to the case, something pragmatic, something at the very least, relevant. There was nothing.

            This conversation was meaningless.

            He listened anyway.

            Wei Ying’s voice sounded just a little different on the phone, not capturing all of his expressions and orientation. His mannerisms were obscured by the line, his jokes falling just short of his smile, his language just short of his attraction.

            It was the distance that did it. Ah, Wangji would rather have the conversation face to face, that was all. He was in search of details of the case, and never did it come, and he knew it wouldn’t. He attempted to hide behind that facet, protected by his duties as a detective, never parting from the path for triviality. And yet, this whole conversation had been trivial, and not once did the matter of hanging up cross his logic, hold the line, just listen, respond to let him know you were still there. Because you wouldn’t leave. If only, Wangji could hang up the way he told his hands to remove the phone from his ears, the way he told his finger to tap the red cell button on the screen, the way he told his eyelids to fall over his eyes. He found that he didn’t want to, not in the slightest.

            Wangji could make out the shouts of the tech analyst and a laughing gangster partner in the background. The tech analyst was yelling about having to extend his deck with four more cards after yelling the phrase “UNO!” In the end, he could hear the gangster detective excite an “uno,” and then proceeded to win the game. The domestic scene made its way into Wangji’s mind and reminded him of just how much his childhood had lacked it. He glanced towards Sizhui who was fast asleep, and found that Jingyi was no longer in his cage. He was probably exploring the house again and might even steal a piece of jewelry and put it on his paw and never ever give it back.

            Wangji tried to frown and couldn’t.

            “Are the others there,” he asked instead, though he knew the answer and could vividly see the answer. He could make out the image of Wei Ying smiling just as he answered, “always.”Wangji started to wonder what the man’s house looked like, most likely free from whiteness, filled by color, personality, and warm. But bunny-less considering he left his rabbit here for Wangji to take care of. Secretly, Wangji had wanted that black furball to stay alongside Sizhui, and here it was. He could hear it distressing something farther off, and didn’t busy at it. Jingyi would do what he wanted because Wei Ying would most likely do what he wanted.

            In reality, Wei Ying resided in a luxury apartment high up in the air, a large view of Beijing below him, all lights and pretty things, and he never looked at it. He liked to open the curtains so Xue Yang had a pretty view with his not pretty homework or not so pretty cases. He liked to open the curtains so Jiang Cheng, who rarely visited, had a pretty backdrop, though not harsh enough to ricochet off his laptop screen where he’d complain. Jiang Cheng never said it, but he liked to be up high, far away from everything, gazing at the world like it was a beautiful thing. Covered in all of those lights, the ones that ran across the bridge or covered CEO buildings, the ones made by car headlights and street-lamps, the ones that painted the crime filled city into one of surreal beauty. It was best to look at when the sky was dark, where the most gruesome acts would happen and remain unnoticed. The lights were so pretty. Maybe it would scare other lights away.

            Wangji was taking longer and longer to reply to each thing Wei Ying was saying, because the man’s lips were still running his nonsense. Really, Wei Ying never ran out of things to say. He himself didn’t know what he was talking about anymore, having had let his mind wander again and his words meet nothing that his intellect groaned about. It suddenly occurred to the chief that it was late and of course Lan Zhan would take longer to respond, he was probably tired.

            “Alright, Lan Zhan, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Wei Ying said, a satisfied smile on his face. He had managed to keep the man on the line for 42 minutes of just him talking and a few, “perhaps” or “yes” or “no” or “mn.”

            Wangji had found himself chasing Jingyi around the house. He had left the misbehaved rabbit to do whatever it wanted, and it had managed to jump onto the tv remote, turning the television set on, and somehow continuously turn the volume up with its left paw. The noise had woken Sizhui up, and was most likely stressful for the both of them. Wangji had never had his television up so loud, but he could imagine that Wei Ying watched it that loud casually. To tune out the noise. White noise.

            He turned it off immediately.

            “I’ve been thrown in the dirt before,” Wei Ying had said, something like a confession against his pretty clothing. Wangji picked Jingyi off of the floor because he didn’t belong there, not on the dirt. He belonged in a safe place, where Wangji could see him, right next to Sizhui, sleeping in the same blanket, warm.

            “See you tomorrow, Wei Ying,” Wangji said into the phone, petting the black bunny’s head. He went upstairs to place Jingyi beside Sizhui. The white rabbit was awake, eyes staring out of the cage as if it couldn’t sleep without the other.

            “Why do you wait?” Wangji asked the white rabbit after hanging up. To himself, he asked the same question. He was sure he was waiting for something too.

---

            After the phone call ended, Wei Ying went to pour himself a drink, having had not taken to even a bit of alcohol while entertaining himself on the phone. At that moment, Jiang Cheng had lost twice in a row, swearing all of his profanities at once, while Xue Yang laughed behind the noise. The punk stood up and stretched, informing everyone present that he was “going to take a smoke.” Wei Ying didn’t think on it too much considering the punk often did that, and he was old enough to take smokes without an escort.

            Xue Yang left the elevator and went to stand by the front of the building to light his cigarette. He hadn’t brought a larger coat, almost forgetting that December may not have been as fatal as February, but it was merciless. Like Nie Mingjue. The name invoked fear in many people, but the type of fear that made you vote for him again. Mingjue wasn’t so bad, had a habit of protecting “nature’s landscapes,” and had many political conversations that abolished works done by that Jinguang-Yao. Just recently, maybe in the past year, for Xue Yang couldn’t remember it well, the “Mingjue Act” had been excited to preserve Guangyin Mountain after one of Jinguang-Yao’s many experiments that devasted the landscape, causing it to be quarantined while they treated the area for the contamination. The place was unstable, but fit enough for renovation again.

            Xue Yang liked to think about strange things like that when he took his smoke, little trivial thoughts that would last the cigarette while he dined on nicotine pleasures. Then he suddenly found the apparition of eyes haunting from farther away, his awareness capturing it quickly, for he turned his attention away from naught, taking in his surroundings. His left hand quickly went to his pant-line where he had tucked away his gun, just as he saw her appear. She was vividly wearing a jade green dress, the same shade as his eyes. Her face was slim and pale, her eyes suddenly opening to a sheet of clear and white all at once. When she opened her mouth, blood pooled from her teeth and stained her chin as she let out another scream. Xue Yang dropped his cigarette as the screech reached his ears, attempting to extend his hand to her. He wanted to communicate. It was the first time she had followed him out of his home, the first time she had appeared so openly where he could make out all of her features. Her hair was black, falling just past her shoulders, combed neatly, a thick lock on each side of her head tied into a loop to make her appear even younger. She couldn’t have been more than 18.

            “Wait, please,” Xue Yang called out, his hand almost touching her shoulder. He had spoken to malicious spirits before. Usually, they would still communicate with him despite their differences. They could understand at the level that any living human could.

            The young girl faded, then manifested again. Her face distorted by her frustrations and blood just as she charged directly through him with a blood curdling screech. Xue Yang felt himself physically lift from the cement and slide into the building wall behind him, his gun stabbing him from behind, the wind knocked from his lungs. He let out a breath, attempting to return the oxygens to his heavy organs, just as he fell onto his bottom, the back of his scalp hurting from the impact with brick. He could feel her spirit filling his bones, crawling under his skin, tightening his pores. The saliva in his mouth dried up and his eyes attempted to roll back just as he gained control, pinching his fingers into his palm until his knuckles whitened under pressure. He forced her out, knocking her spirit into the open space before possession could take place. He couldn’t allow her to dive into his bones again. The first time had rendered him unconscious. Now she was furious. He didn’t wish to lose his life.

            Before he could reach out to steady her again, she disappeared from view, gone again completely. Xue Yang cried out, calling her but not sure what to say, his breath caught in his throat, panting rather than breathing. He clutched his chest as he crawled forward, calling her again. The wind had blown his cigarette into darkness, the fire frosted over by the snow surrounding the building. He didn’t wish to scare her away. Answers. He needed answers. If only she would speak to him – why wouldn’t she speak to him?

            Why was there so much blood?

            Who was she?

            “Wait!” Xue Yang called out to the wind, his legs still not strong enough to lift him into a standing position. He released his chest, sucking in as much oxygen as he could before crawling forward in search of her. She had to be somewhere. She travelled so far to see him! She had to be somewhere.

            Left. Right. Up. Behind. He stared at his hands and arms now covered in snow where he had met the frost beneath him, his knees cold where they touched. She wasn’t in the parking lot, not in the lobby, not in the elevator, not in the hallway, not behind the door, not next to Wei Ying, not next to Jiang Cheng. It was freezing.

            He bent down to tie his shoe laces with his numb fingers, patting the snow onto Wei Ying’s living room carpet.

            “You look like a disaster,” Jiang Cheng said from a magazine, eyes glancing just over the pages to eye the other’s entrance. If he remembered correctly, the little asshole had gone out for a smoke, not to make snow angels and catch the flu.

            “Must’ve been some smoke,” Wei Ying said next, walking over to help the punk out of his wet hoodie. Jiang Cheng placed his magazine on the table and went to Xue Yang’s room to fetch another pair of clothing.

            “She followed me here but she still won’t tell me what’s wrong. I saw her clearly this time. She’s not one of Little Blind’s victims so why is she terrorizing me? What can I do?” Xue Yang asked, not expecting an answer as he seated himself between the armchair’s cushions rather than change from his soaked attire. He felt drained all of the sudden, sniffing as though the weather’s frost still affected him within the confines of a heated apartment. His cheeks and nose had lit up in red, and his arms continued to rattle. Wei Ying felt his forehead, already the temperature had risen, and the punk was catching a cold from the impact. He lifted him from the armchair, as Jiang Cheng changed the little asshole into dry pants, bundling him up in another layer of blankets before he laid him down in his room. The room was a cute little corner of strung up lights with their pictures hanging off of them, a large red lovesack in the stead of a bed, cushions everywhere but the “right” place, cabinets that held trophies Xue Yang had gotten from school, walls that boasted Xue Yang’s certificates of honors because the punk didn’t want them in his house. Wei Ying kept them here, in this cozy room where drawers weren’t so much filled with clothing but board games, where wall art was 5000-10,000 piece completed puzzles framed, where books like “Gray’s Anatomy” sat on the shelf with collections of “The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down,” next to aesthetic pieces and some Starwars figurines. The window was lined with Pop! Vinyl figurines of every villain in Disney. And for absolutely no apparent reason, Xue Yang had a large daikon radish pillow next to his carrot pillow and liked to line the floor with blankets rather than carpets. When Wei Ying laid him in the middle of the love sack, he almost wanted to pick up the sneakers laying around on the floor, take the overfilled laundry basket to clean, spray the stain on the lovesack where the punk probably spilled rootbeer, and empty the trash bin of all the kit-kat wrappers.  

            There would be time for it in the morning. He turned to get medicine but Jiang Cheng had beat him to it, already behind him with the little cup, 5ml of disgusting red liquid. Xue Yang made a face as he drank it, but coiled up in his lovesack and fell fast asleep. Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying shook their heads at one another but closed the door behind them, one finishing his magazine, the other washing the dishes before they washed up and fell asleep themselves. Nothing watched the house, just soundless sleep.

            And then a phone call.

            It was barely three hours later when they were asked to appear before a body; the CSI requested their presence for what they were sure would require their attention, meaning it was most likely not Little Blind’s victim but another ghost victim. Wei Ying rolled from his bed and into a button up and black jeans, his feet in combat boots, his coat a blazer. He could barely rub the sleep from his eyes when he looked in Xue Yang’s direction. The punk had manifested from the room like the ghost attempting to possess him, pale about the cheeks and fatigue ridden. His lips had lost tints of its original color, and his hoodie was too big on him as usual. Jiang Cheng had already started up all of his software in case it was required, which it would be. He was still shirtless in his pajama pants, swearing about how central air wasn’t central at all. As the two left the apartment building after Jiang Cheng made Xue Yang put on another coat, Jiang Cheng waited for a phone call with instructions just as Jin Ling hopped onto his back from the floor. He had been on his stomach in the sheets, his glasses resting on his nose. He nearly faceplanted into the keyboard, swearing at the husky.

            “Jin Ling! Down! Do you know what time it is? Go to sleep,” he barked rather than the dog. Jin Ling wagged his tail, hopping off the bed obediently. After a moment, Jiang Cheng could hear the dog ruining something in the living room for being yelled at. The mutt always threw a tantrum when he didn’t get his way.

He was like the son Jiang Cheng would never have, quietly sulking after having had knocked everything off the living room table.

            They looked at one another with a “are you happy now,” expression until Jiang Cheng carried the dog back to his sheets, where they both stared at the screen together.

---

            The PAPPU didn’t bother holding their breath this time around. Something like intuition had informed them beforehand that the homicide wasn’t done by Little Blind’s gloved hands. With quick access, the perimeters had been lined again with authority before the public was aware that the PAPPU had been called to the scene. They crossed the line and made their way over to a victim identified as Ruan You, a 27-year-old, male who was reported to have collapsed screaming after exiting a late-night alcohol shop. Before the body was announced to be taken by the coroner, the case was administered to the paranormal unit under the CSI chief. With mittens and scarves on, everyone attempted to hide their disappointment, even the PAPPU themselves. December was drawing to a close, and still, no sign of another victim, the right victim.

            Wei Ying bounced from one foot to the other, slight irritation about his features. If he recalled the situation correctly, he had kept Lan Zhan up late and now the man was asked to appear before another dead body. He most likely barely secured four hours of sleep. On the other note, Xue Yang still looked like a disaster and obviously kept his coughs in his throat. The punk was already in the stages of a visible fever. Now was not the time to have a traumatic episode with a corpse’s corpse.

            In his airpods, Wei Ying instructed Jiang Cheng to give him background on the victim though he knew it was futile. The only relevant information would have been the age, and perhaps the gender. Every other aspect about the ghost victims were pretty much a random outburst by Little Blind’s victims. As they work to situate what had happened, reporters could already be seen in the distance. Police agents groaned. It didn’t take long for the Paranormal unit to bring along attention with them, and now it was the police force’s responsibility to keep the integrity of their identities intact? Bullshit. There was a dead body and the public’s concern was again distracted by minute details.

            Xingchen could see their reluctance, but he reinforced his orders to secure the perimeters and cover the PAPPU in case anyone attempted to cross the line. Cameras were not permitted until their exit.

            Xue Yang did not feel good. The atmosphere was already hindering his cognition, filling his temple with a migraine he didn’t have before arrival. He dipped his chin under his zippered coat, hoping his earmuffs would block out all the sound that was sure to come when he touched the body. He bent down to tie his shoelaces, approaching the body. Ruan You had fallen on his back in the same fashion that Little Blind’s victims were found, his eyes wide open in terror. It would be easy to bend over and peel his eyes out, even with a spoon. Xue Yang hated hold those sort of thoughts, but they manifested whenever he saw another victim, how easily it would be to take a life, how easy to take a souvenir, the eyes, a piece of clothing, something that belonged to the dead.

            Even under the safety of his coat, how it covered his nose and mouth, fog still slipped through where he breathed. It was colder every day. The aura of Ruan You’s death surrounded Xue Yang, causing his skin to harden from the cold. He took in his perimeters in search of the girl in the green dress. Somehow she had to be linked, and if she wasn’t, he didn’t know what to do. Why bother him if she gave him no leeway to assist her? What did she want?

            Xue Yang touched Ruan You’s cheek, again, receiving nothing. He wished that something as simple as that would give him the reaction needed to confirm the death, receive a new sensation, instead of going for the ports that the kill most likely traumatized. That was unfortunately not going to work in his favor, so he retracted his hands and dipped them again into the sockets. He waited for a reaction.

            It didn’t take long for something terrible to bubble from deep inside of him. In just a moment, Xue Yang pulled his fingers free from the eyes as if he had been stung. His body responded instantly to the touch, convulsing as if he was being affected internally, and blood crawled from his esophagus to the ports of his throats before it splashed onto his tongue and dripped from his mouth in outbursts. Something burned between his lips and Xue Yang released a scream, something he never did with reactions. His mouth felt as though it had exploded, as if it was on fire, something fiery between his teeth and cutting into his taste buds, piercing the cold pores inside, mixing with his saliva and blood.

            Wei Ying grabbed Xue Yang from behind, his eyes wide from the reaction. Xue Yang screamed. The chief attempted to calm him, but his hands and legs began to kick and scratch, his eyes wide open in terror. In his screams, he began to choke on all of the red tainting his teeth and running down his chin. He didn’t blink, eyes wide, mouth open as if a hand had fixated his jaw.

            Xue Yang’s eyes were burning as if someone had taped them open, too much oxygen taking to them. His lungs echoed his scream from within, trying to take in the air that never made its way into his nostrils, blocked from the blood in his lips. He felt dizzy, the image of Wei Ying above him spinning and spinning and spinning. He could only hear his own screams until his body gave away and he lost himself in a dream, falling unconscious in Wei Ying’s arms.

            Wei Ying’s breath caught in his throat, his thoughts dancing four different solutions at once. He looked to Wangji as if requesting help, then at Xingchen like he had done something wrong, before his voice admitted an, “Oh my God. Oh my God, Jiang Cheng.” He didn’t wait for the ambulance, or ask that Xue Yang be taken in the vehicle along with Ruan You. Instead, he had taken to his own car, running beyond the lines where the police attempted to obscure him as he dipped Xue Yang into the backseat and rode away in a rush to the hospital.

            It was 4am, three hours later, that the doctor allowed their visit. Xue Yang was said to be stable and alert again, nothing announced but “stress,” because the medical industry never fashioned terminology beyond that of the physical world. “Fragile state,” the man in the white coat said. Wei Ying couldn’t help but imagine that Little Blind himself wore such a coat, the type of coat that made it possible for gas purchases and fashion medical practices without question. He could’ve resented the doctor just then if the man wasn’t the reason that Xue Yang had color about his features again, big bright green eyes that asked “what happened,” and said, “I’m hungry.”

            Xingchen was standing at the doorway. He could remember feeling crushed, his features now sure what to do when his heart burst for no reason. He could remember the feeling of his heart giving away, how he had been on his knees, how he had clutched his chest to keep the organ inside, when he pleaded to himself to live another day. He had been falling apart. He felt a part of that world ascend once again, the treads just in front of him, telling him to return to his misery. He took Xue Yang’s image into his mind and told him that the ruffian was safe.

            He approached, his feet taking him past Wei Ying and planting himself in the seat beside Xue Yang before the chief could even adopt the chair. His lips moved on their own, asking how Xue Yang felt because he needed to know.

            “Use my name as the definition,” Xue Yang responded, his voice hoarse again. It suddenly struck Xingchen that it was the same sort of hoarse as before. Had this occurred the last time? Was it this bad? Was this usual? Was this…okay?

            “Of what?” He asked instead, wanting to make it better. It had looked painful, maybe as painful as death itself. He didn’t know that that could happen with just a touch. He didn’t know that the PAPPU were necessarily telling him the truth of their senses. Could he have stopped this from happening to Xue Yang? He could’ve, but he didn’t. That’s what disbelief had done. That’s what mistrust had done. He still didn’t trust enough.

            “Shit,” Xue Yang said, then, “God, I need a smoke.”

            Without thinking, Xingchen reached across and took Xue Yang’s hand into his, and gave a slight squeeze. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Xue Yang had not taken his hand back, hadn’t reacted.

            Xue Yang almost grimaced when Xingchen took his palm, laying his own over his knuckles. With the squeeze came naught, and then something of the utmost gentle nature. He could feel the angelic nature of the man, how caring and soft everything was, light hearted where it touched him. He could sense a genuine smile, see glimpses of it, see flashes of authentic happiness and familiar love, and then a pause. And then a dense sort of misery, one that couldn’t be escaped. It was a great wall, a wall no one could climb over.

            “Are you like…okay?” Xue Yang found himself asking, just shy of awkward. He couldn’t relate to a feeling of misery so deep, and he couldn’t imagine Xingchen trapped in so much of it and still relate to a smile.

            “Me? By God, Xue Yang are you okay? I didn’t – oh my God, I didn’t know that was going to happen – I – “

            “It’s fine. It be like that sometimes. You couldn’t’ve known,” Xue Yang said nonchalantly. The hand felt nice over his palm. He just wished it didn’t come with so much misery. Xue Yang looked in his periphery and wondered if he could cast some of that misery away.

            “But you could’ve known, because we told you already,” came Wei Ying. He was standing just a bit closer his arms crossed. He felt heat rush to his cheeks in annoyance again, the kind of upset that came in little increments until it became an explosive. The more he thought about his reason for his bothered emotions, the more of a reason he felt that he had the right to be choked by his anger. He had the right to be angry with this Xingchen man.

            “Wei Ying,” Xue Yang called, because he could see it. He could sense the anger.

            “You could’ve,” Wei Ying ignored his partner, still speaking to the team lead. “Do you see what just happened? Do you see?”

            “I’m okay,” Xue Yang tried again. Wei Ying looked in his direction quickly as if he had said something insulting.

            “Now. Right now you are. What about next time?” The chief asked, raising both eyebrows.

            “Hopefully, there won’t be a next time,” Xingchen said quietly.

            “You don’t get it, Detective. ‘Hopefully’? Hopeful isn’t going to make things better,” Wei Ying retorted, now frowning. Xingchen pinched his lips together and looked in the chief’s direction with a finalized curt expression.

            “He’s stable now,” Xingchen dodged his words. Wei Ying could’ve hit him in that moment, for cutting him off as if he had the right. For continuously withholding information without regard to how that would affect his partners. With trying to utilize their expertise to solve something that seemed just a little more personal. How Xingchen seemed a little too invested in a case and coming up blank. How Xingchen thought he could just cover up this incident like other incidents. How Xingchen thought that being hopeful was going to get them some fucking answers. How Xingchen spoke so cordially when he meant some sort of malice. How Xingchen looked like he cared but he didn’t. How Xingchen had given Lan Wangji direction and instruction to withhold the same information. How Xingchen thought he could get away with everything. Wei Ying could’ve hit him in that moment, so he approached him and did just that. With a second of thought, Wei Ying gritted his teeth and swung the man directed in the cheek before Xue Yang gasped, Wangji moving in from behind, how Xingchen nearly flew from his seat and brought his arms up in defense. Xue Yang was mortified, trying to rise from the hospital bed, as Xingchen straightened up, launching forward as Wangji pulled Wei Ying from behind, arresting his arms. He pulled him closer to the entrance door while Wei Ying attempted to pulled him off. Quickly, Wangji threw him behind his build and put himself in front of his own team lead.

            “Brother Wei, cool it!” Xue Yang yelled, sitting up straight, bewildered, scared eyes. He shook his head in search of things to say, settling with, “go outside for a moment, please.”

            Wei Ying was quick to reply. He responded, “And leave you here so you can see the creep he is? You’ll slip up, Xingchen. I’m fucking watching you.” He pointed in Xingchen direction now that the man was calmer, and Wangji had released his tough hold on him. Without thinking twice, Wei Ying had exited the room, Wangji following because he didn’t know where to go and he needed Wei Ying to understand that doing that was most inappropriate and would not be tolerated again.

            Xiao Xingchen was just short of mortified as soon as the man left. His face stung, a small cut about his bottom lip that caused just a bit of swelling. How the lips swelled when you were alive versus the effect of cutting into flesh when the victim had passed. He had seen it many times.

---

            In the waiting room, Wei Ying sat down, both hands between his legs, settled down in thought. He seemed to have leveled down, eased from most of his anger now that distance had given him room to collect some sort of mannerism. At the vending machine, a slight thunk could be heard as Lan Zhan dipped his hands inside to enclosed around the ginger ale he had paid for. He returned to Wei Ying without making a sound, seating himself right beside him, his hand offering the drink. It was the closest thing he could imagine tasted like alcohol in a vending machine. Both men sat quietly, Wei Ying staring straight ahead and Wangji staring at the floor in front of him. It takes a few minutes before Wei Ying embarked in softer conversation, just a simple, “I just don’t like him.”

            Wangji was a little taken aback by his comment. It didn’t appear as though anyone could be disliked by this man. Wei Ying just seemed like the façade of Little Blind, an everybody sort of person, a man that could easily enter your life and never walk out unless he left a body behind him.

            “Why?” Wangji muttered instead of saying anything nonsensical. It wasn’t like him to have such inappropriate thoughts. Also, because not finding his lead’s company appealing was similar to rejecting his own company. They were one and the same, Wangji and Xingchen.

            “He’s the reason, isn’t he?” Wei Ying asked, glancing left to look into Wangji’s golden eyes. The reason Wangji wasn’t telling him anything, Wei Ying knew.

            “I speak for both of us. We did not know that was going to happen,” Wangji responded, his face stoic, attempting to suppress the near panic that came with the topic.

            “I – we – told you just how our abilities work. You either believe it or you ignore it. I think you chose the latter,” Wei Ying snapped, opening the bottle to listen to the little “sszz” that came from releasing pressure. He wished he could release that same pressure from his current state, too many emotions bottled up, too little punches to free them. “And even you, Lan Zhan, I…I expected better,” he said, not drinking the beverage.

            Wangji parted his lips. The remark wounded him in a way that his frozen expressions could not depict. He deeply wanted to correct the wrongs, but all the iceman managed to say was, “he isn’t the one.”

            “I can’t trust what you say, Lan Zhan. Partners have each other’s backs and you made it pretty damn clear that you have his above all else.”

            Had he? Had Wangji incessantly chosen Xiao Xingchen over all other reason? He had known the man for years, past a decade now, and still hadn’t cultivated enough trust. He felt that he had enough trust in Wei Ying that he hadn’t bestowed to his team lead, and there was no other reason than the fact that Wei Ying was so easily entertaining to the mundane life. Wei Ying could make anyone like him. It was as he said.

            “There is a reason,” Wangji said.

            “There’s also a reason that I’m upset. Is your reason more important?” Wei Ying was growing passionate again, the fixtures of his face distorting into another layer of anger. Perhaps he would lay his hands on Wangji as well.

            “I swore an oath next to him. That is my partner,” Wangji said. It was the truth. He could vouch for Xingchen’s character. He had seen it at its worst and was sure it would result in a body, the same body that could easily be left behind Wei Ying when he walked out of your life.

            Wei Ying pinched his lips together, his fists balled up on his lap. His partner could’ve lost his life. Xue Yang could’ve lost his life, and this is what the credited Lan Wangji could tell him? This was Lan Zhan? This is what he said? Wei Ying sat straight up, forcing Wangji to look directly at his features. The hurt was evident, but so was the fatigue. He was sick of the CSI, the entire team, the entire unit. There was a pause before Wei Ying sighed, shaking his head, gazing at the ceiling. He said, “spare some virtue, Lan Wangji.”

            Wangji blinked. It was the worst possible thing he could’ve ever heard. He wasn’t sure if it was the comment against his virtue or hearing his name. He had to make a choice. He could see just how far removed Wei Ying had brought himself. He’d never gain his trust again if he didn’t reach out. Before it was too late.

            Wangji took in a deep breath.

            “The tongue,” he said, so quiet that Wei Ying could barely hear.

            “What?” Wei Ying returned his gaze to him.

            “He takes the tongue.” Wangji didn’t dare to look in his direction, read the drop of the expression, watch the emotion flash by his grey eyes.

            Wei Ying was speechless. His eyes widened as his lips separated in search of words. Words. Where were they? He needed to say something. When he caught onto something, he found the fury that came with them.

            “You knew?” Wei Ying spat, leaning in closer. “You knew that that was something that Xue Yang would have to endure and you still – you still allowed that to happen?” His voice was rising, too loud for a waiting room in a quaint hospital. Wangji wanted to stop it, hush it, tell it that it’s not what he meant to do.

            “Do you hate me, Wangji? Do you hate us?” Wei Ying asked, his voice like an accusation, pins in Wangji’s chest. He had told him the truth and it only worsened the matter. Brother Xichen never told Wangji how to handle these situations. His brother was not here to make it better. He was losing everything.

            “Wei Ying,” Wangji called out.

            “He could’ve died, Wangji!” Wei Ying punched the armrest so hard that it gave away, the cushioned material falling off from a metal attachment. “He could’ve gone into shock, went paralyzed, I could’ve lost him! Do you know what it’s like to die from blood lost? Of course, not, you’re still fucking alive! You have everything! You’re standing at the top! And, you didn’t want to tell me because – because of your fucking oath? Fuck your oath! Honestly, fuck you people.” Wei Ying stood up like he couldn’t stand to be near him any longer.

            “Wei Ying, I –“ Had not choice.

---

Inside of the hospital room, Xue Yang attempted to make conversation after such a passionate display from his chief. He wished on nothing more than to simply shrink into his sheets and become another white pillow camouflaged in the whites of the hospital.

            “I don’t really know what’s gotten into him. He’s not usually like that, but he’s definitely overprotective so I get it,” Xue Yang said, awkwardly. He found himself in defense of Wei Ying again, always choosing his side for reasons be known.

            “No worries,” Xingchen said, all calm demeanor and pleasant tones.

            “He just punched you in the face. Your whole 25 year old face, man. What If you look 26 tomorrow for it? Are you going to sue?” Xue Yang asked, because his innocence was an infantine thing and he didn’t much know the process about consolation. He said what roughly depicted as reason at the tip of his scalp before his tongue took to spewing nonsense that hadn’t articulated enough details to appropriate inself an adequate response.

            Xingchen smiled anyway. “It’s fine. I just hope he doesn’t mean what he had said. I don’t know what I’ve done to offend him, but…”

            When Xue Yang looked closer, he could see Xingchen’s hands shaking. For no rational reason, for his brain did funny things when it wasn’t comical at all, he reached out of touched one of those hands again, having had it taken from his knuckles earlier. The hand rested easily over Xingchen’s larger palms, and when he felt brave enough, he took the other as well, to steady them under his touch. In just a moment, he felt it radiating again, that pure kindness and gentle misery that descended into agony. As soon as he collected the sensation of the torment, Xue Yang gave a gentle squeeze that he didn’t intend to give. It took him a moment to realize he had instinctively taken the older man’s hands, and now they were in his, and now he resonating with the man’s emotions.

            “You’re brave,” Xingchen randomly said, his voice, again, like a gentle breeze in the stuffiness of the room. “Touching my hands when they are tainted.”

            “Trust me when I tell you that they aren’t tainted,” because Xue Yang could feel when someone was. Xingchen was genuine. He was a capsule of emotions and he was overfilling, and yet when he looked at the older man’s features, the man was smiling a calming smile, as if he was attempting to reassure everyone involved. “Don’t worry, everything will be alright,” is what is promised. Xue Yang believed it.

            “I trust you,” Xingchen told him, no pauses.

            “Why?”

            “Because you have no reason to lie to me.”

            “I’m a really honest person. I’ll tell you like it is,” Xue Yang said, which was a lie because his heart said something that his tongue denied. It thumped wildly in his ribcage, bleeding into his ears.

            Just like her, Xingchen thought, a sad smile under his nose. Aloud he said, “I’m happy you’re alright. I won’t let you get hurt, Xue Yang.” Not this time.

            “I can take care of myself, Xiao-Ge.” Xue Yang pushed his lips a little farther just to sulk, a pout about his cheeks that made him lose years Xingchen couldn’t afford.

            It was in that moment that Xiao Xingchen actually looked at the young man for the person he was, a young 23 year old who looked earnestly at him, bright jade green eyes that dilated, small hands that were easy to hold, pink lips that…

            “We have each other’s backs. I’ll help you when you’re in need and vice versa. Who ever got you thinking that you have to do it by yourself doesn’t…know what a team is. I got your back,” Xue Yang said. When he smiled, a fang appeared. Xingchen hadn’t noticed it before, but the ruffian had fangs. It was something that was unique to him, something that set him apart.

            “Thank you, Xue Yang,” Xingchen said honestly. He curled his hand around Xue Yang and almost squeezed them himself, if it wasn’t for the fact that the ruffian looked past him in that moment. He had seen something, or someone.

            Xue Yang had seen a young girl appear, the same jet black hair, the same little loops with the green ribbons, the same green dress that engrained into his permanent memory. He released Xingchen’s hands quickly, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as the little spirit made off in a run. He wouldn’t lose her this time.

            “Wait!” He called out, just as she flew through the door. He slammed into it, forgetting that he was not of the Aether. He worked with the knob as quickly as he could, darting into the hallway as the little spirit flew through bodies, leaving behind no traces. There were just a few nurses clocked in, attires white or blue, their gazes filling with concern as a patient darted past them. Xue Yang followed the little spirit without looking in their direction, running as fast as he could for the spirit darted. She began to flicker like a light switch, like she was losing energy just as she darted in the direction of the waiting room. She faded there just as Xue Yang entered, running directing into Wei Ying’s chest, unable to stop himself in time.

            She was gone.

            There was only Wei Ying and Wangji.

            By this time, Xingchen had caught up to him, his expression mimicking the concern of the nurses. Xingchen had seen no one, just a bewildered Xue Yang taking to delirium. Before he could reach out to the little ruffian, Wei Ying’s protective hands pulled him even closer.

            To Xingchen, Wei Ying spoke like poison, “stay away from him.”

            “Wei Ying – “ Xue Yang was interrupted.

            “No, Xue Yang. Do you know what I was just told? Of course not, no one tells us anything. He takes their tongues, Xue Yang. Their fucking tongues,” Wei Ying snapped, holding him from the other man’s proximity. He said it quickly as to keep the punk from speaking over him. He needed to see reason before it was too late. The CSI needed to go.

            “W-what?” Xue Yang asked, looking up at his chief.

            “They knew the whole fucking time and Brother Xiao refused to let us know. They don’t give a shit about us,” Wei Ying explained. Even if it hurt the little punk to know, even if they were thrown into the dirt again, he needed to know. No one would ever accept them for who they were. No one accepted them for being different.

            “I-is that true? Is what he’s saying true?” Xue Yang asked the CSI team lead.

            Xingchen bit his bottom lip and looked in Wangji’s direction. Who else could’ve given the information? Xue Yang registered the expression on his face, how he must’ve told Wangji to keep quiet.

            Xue Yang raised both eyebrows. “Wow. Just wow.”

            “Xue Yang – “

            “No, no,” Xue Yang shook his head, point at the stranger. “It’s Brother Xue to you.”

            Xingchen took a step closer.

            “Don’t you fucking come over here, Brother Xiao,” Xue Yang said, his voice raising. His lips trembled with the innocence he had submerged in, telling him that he should’ve known better.

            “You’re dead to me,” Xue Yang said, rigid. He fixed his shoulders, square them, sucked in air to raise his chest. His heart beat sank from within.

            “But you’ll still communicate with the dead,” Xingchen tried, his eyebrows furrowed, his features hurt.

            “Not when they reject me,” Xue Yang snapped. Just as the spirits of the case had rejected him, he would not communicate with those that would not have him. He would walk away.

            “Good night, Detective,” Wei Ying said, curling his arms around Xue Yang to keep him from shaking.

            “I meant what I said, Brother Xue,” Xingchen said.

            “Good night, Detectve,” Xue Yang said, no longer meeting his gaze.

            As Wangji gets up to leave with his team lead, Wei Ying extended an arm to catch his wrist. Their eyes danced over one another but Wei Ying’s had said, “thank you.” Wangji took it and preserved it for the future.

            Back in the hospital room, Jiang Cheng finally arrived after getting Jin Ling to quit whining. He would have to leave quickly, for he had kept the mutt in the car with the window slightly open and the car on because he was afraid the husky would get cold despite his fur. Without waiting, he checked to see if Xue Yang was alright, noticing right away that the little asshole wasn’t in the greatest of moods.

            “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about that,” Wei Ying said from a far off seat, like he had his mind tucked away and had been thinking. He most likely had been. There were too many things that passed the intellect of their chief. It was a wonder that the man was able to keep so much of the content quiet.

            “Sorry about what really? Nothing to be sorry about. He was an asshole,” Xue Yang lied, because had Xingchen been really? He had felt too much kindness and mirth, too much warmth from the man to label him as such. Xingchen was still hurting and he didn’t know why. Why had the little spirit brought Xue Yang to Wei Ying and Wangji? What was she trying to say?

            The light pierced his eyes now that he was vulnerable. He glanced in Wei Ying’s direction to blur it but the feeling hadn’t felt the same. Wei Ying no longer lit up in the same manner. Someone had replaced it and he didn’t know who that was.

            “Try to get some sleep, Kiddo,” Jiang Cheng said, which was adult language for discussing information without him. He was most likely going to ask Wei Ying what on earth had happened.

            “It’s too bright,” Xue Yang complained, because it was. The light was blaring now that he was required to admit that, that he was sad.

            Jiang Cheng went to sit next to him, leaning in closely. He could smell the mint that came from his toothpaste.

            “You ignore it with all of your fucking might, you hear me. I’m here. So is this ass head. We’re both here,” Uncle Jiang reassured him.      

            “You have my back, right?”

            “Always.”

            “You’ll always be here?”

            “Always.”

            Jiang Cheng patted him on the head and Wei Ying had approached to squeeze his shoulder before they took their leave. Xue Yang shifted in his bed, leaning his back towards the light. He stared at the chair that Xingchen had sat in to distract himself.

Chapter Text

What it felt like was isolation. The following two weeks crawled by slowly, but left behind its streaks of blood. In just two weeks, four more bodies were discovered, twenty-seven-year old Yang Renshu, twenty-seven-year-old Ho Xia, twenty-seven-year-old Han Jun, and twenty-seven-year-old Si Lifen. December crept to a close, and the new year was arriving. The significance of Xue Yang’s exams only held weight with the threat of his GPA; he worked hard, but his focus lie beyond the window where he anticipated another body. It was December 30^th, and snowing on Si Lifen’s body. He hadn’t touched a single body since the argument, uncertain of how his own body would react.

            Wei Ying could see the punk approach the corpse, small in his coat, small in a world so big, small next to Wangji who appeared on the scene. Wei Ying could allow his admittance, had found himself bringing the man to every incident. They always missed Xiao Xingchen before their team was called in. The man would exit before their arrival, and the PAPPU would have jurisdiction over the body, but that didn’t mean Wangji couldn’t stay. Wei Ying, for reasons unknown, liked to have his company there. Without the intimidation of Xiao Xingchen’s presence, Wangji secured more space to freely think, and freely think he would, if Wei Ying was present. It was something like authority to haunt someone’s intellect, haunting the inferior and maintaining that pedestal that was only achieved through orders.

            Just then, Wei Ying vision frosted over and he glanced away, the image of Xiao Xingchen appearing yet again. He had his hands extended to a girl in a green dress. She was lying down the way she usually was. When Xiao Xingchen retracted his hands, they returned to him red.

            Wei Ying had only kept Wangji’s company because he knew his superior had ordered the man’s lips shut. But was there something about the girl in the green dress that Wangji knew? Wei Ying was tired of seeing the same vision, how it came up blank, how the girl haunted Xue Yang. Even with Xiao Xingchen out of the picture, he was still present like a spirit, a spirit that told Wangji to hush. A spirit that said, “secure all significant evidence.” Wei Ying breathed deeply as the image of Xiao Xingchen faded. He deeply wished that he was a smoker to release some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders. Or at the very least, secure some form of distraction, slowly infusing nicotine into his lungs the way Xue Yang did. Of all nine victims, he had seen Xiao Xingchen 9 entire times. That had to mean something.

            Instead of demanding answers from Wangji, he approached Xue Yang from behind and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

            “I didn’t touch the other three. Time to man up,” Xue Yang said, but he hardly sounded like a man. His voice came out distant and small, like he was still locating himself and accidentally gravitated towards the dead. Had anyone peered beyond the window, they’d question who placed the kid there. But Xue Yang wasn’t a kid, he was an adult, he had seen the evils of the world already. He was no longer letting it affect him.

            “You’re brave,” came Wangji, because it was something he noticed too. Xue Yang turned quickly, hearing Xingchen instead of the other. His eyes took in his surroundings in a fierce search. He turned away just as fast, trying to avoid the slip when the man was nowhere in sight. It had felt like forever.

            Xingchen had told Xue Yang he was brave too.

            Xue Yang didn’t feel brave. He felt sick to his stomach as he returned his attention to the corpse, slow steps, one foot and then the other, bend and approach, touch.

            “Don’t let it take over, Xue Yang. I’m right here,” Wei Ying assured him, because he could see the reluctance. Xue Yang didn’t turn around.

            “Ok,” he said. He avoided the eyes because of the new information, sliding his hands on the cheek as usual. The cheek would never work considering Little Blind never touched their face, gloves. He slowly moved his fingers to the lips, lifting the upper lip with his middle and index finger like spider legs crawling into a crevice. Hibernation, like a deep sleep. With a deep breath, he dipped his fingers between her lips, drying saliva running over his three fingers. He could feel the sick sensation of running across her tongue, how it was just another dead organ attached to her throat, how heavy everything felt now that you were gone.

            It didn’t reach a minute before Xue Yang heard the scream. He couldn’t tell if it was the scream from the victim or himself as he cried out. Something was crawling into him, suffocating him from the inside. It suffused into his bones and lifted his skin right off of his muscle tendons. Wei Ying reached out and caught his partner before the situation could get out of hand. In his arms, Xue Yang began to swat his arms around viciously, actively covering his face. His body jerked as if being repressed, bruises appearing along his skin, by his neck, on his arms, on his thigh then his legs. One swelled just by his cheek as if pressure had been placed there. Xue Yang’s lungs wanted to burst again, filling with liquid, or pushing oxygen out, he wasn’t sure. He began to choke, letting out as much carbon dioxide as he could, taking in as much oxygen that he could manage. Still, the ports of his lips were sealed though his mouth was open, trying to suck the air in. The scene around him spun again, as a fog appeared for vision, hazy. He was becoming dizzy, losing sight, slowing down.

            Wei Ying quickly straightened his partner, tightening the hold he had on him to keep him from jerking and twitching. Xue Yang’s arms were actively pushing him away, hitting him directly with as much strength as he could manage. Wei Ying dodged what he could because he grabbed one of his swinging arms and bit into the wrist until he drew blood. He needed to snap Xue Yang out of it. Xue Yang needed to realize that whatever he was feeling wasn’t real, not to him. It had occurred already, and he would not be a slave to the past. The chief slid his lips a bit higher, biting him again until he heard a small whimper release from Xue Yang’s lips. Without saying anything, he lifted his partner up, and began to walk away.

            “Please throw salt on her,” Wei Ying called out to Wangji when he was far enough. They would not be able to use the body again. It crossed Wangji’s mind that he himself had come prepared with a small cylinder of salt, ready to assist in any way that he could. When had he become a believer?

            Instead of going to the hospital, considering Xue Yang was now stable, Wei Ying drove to Jiang Cheng’s. The tech analyst looked at Wangji in distaste, a question on his lips that came in a scowl. “Why are you here,” it asked. Wangji had followed because he followed Wei Ying. He didn’t know why he did so, but he followed him. The tech analyst was starting to grow accustomed to the man’s presence being here yet again. He allowed him entrance when his chief nodded, moving into the living room with Xue Yang still in his arms. The punk appeared tired, maybe a bit ruffled up from the bruises and what ever he had come in contact with, but he was well again and exhibited no forms of a fever.

            “Thank you for today,” Wangji said, and meant it. It took a lot out of someone to make the correct choice. It took a lot out of someone to excite the choice if it meant they could lose their life. Justice was a dish so difficult to serve. There were too many ingredients, too many approaches, nothing seemed right but everything seemed adequate.

            “Why thank me? There’s only one day left. I doubt he’ll attack again,” Xue Yang responded, happily taking the warm milk that Jiang Cheng had given him. It was just boiled water over condensed milk, but Xue Yang appreciated the offer, considering it was substantially sweeter than average milk. Xue Yang drank lactaid for fun.

            “What if the bodies just weren’t found?” Jiang Cheng asked, gesturing for Wangji to take a seat now that he was in his home. He went to seat himself as well, sitting across from everyone, Xue Yang coiled in the armchair like a cat with his milk.

            “That cannot be the case,” Wangji replied.

            “Agreed,” came Wei Ying, coming from the kitchen to pop a straw into Xue Yang’s cup before he spilled it everywhere from the trajectory he was drinking it.

            “He’s too public. He makes it so it’s always easy for us to find the body. It’s a game to him. If we cannot locate the bodies, it would frustrate his endeavors. He’s careful about us discovering the bodies.”

            “What about Bao Ru made you identify him as Little Blind’s victim” Jiang Cheng asked instead. Wangji appreciated the fact that the man was so blatant, straight forward, no excuses. It’s because he feared no question that he was suitable to be a leader.

            “Was it the tongue removal along with the eyes? I’ve looked up cases that involve tongue removal and there are matches. The eye removal might’ve just been an act of hostility. What links this case to Little Blind?” Jiang continued. Again, Wangji found himself appreciating the small gesture from the man. He had gone to look up tongue removal, but hadn’t looked up the eye removal cases because Xingchen obviously hadn’t wanted them to. It was very considerate of him, to think on their behalf despite everything that they’ve done as a sect. Even so, Wangji did not want to answer him.

            “The case doesn’t sit well with me either,” Jiang Cheng said, his fingers interlocked on his lap. Wangji could imagine that if the man found himself asking again, he would surely swing in the fashion that Wei Ying had done to his team lead.

            “Answer the question, Detective,” Xue Yang said from his armrest. He was warmer now that the milk was in his belly.

            “Little Blind…”Wangji began but paused. His eyes gravitated towards the ground again before he heard Wei Ying speak.

            “He’s not here, Lan Zhan. Tell us the truth,” the chief said.

            Xiao Xingchen way always there. They just didn’t know. But it wasn’t the man that stopped him, it was Wangji’s self. Wangji’s virtue that told him not to do it.

            He breathed in and began to speak, “Little Blind has 5 particular trademarks, the sulfur mustard, the vesicant, the eye removal, the tongue removal, and,” Wangji pointed at Jiang Cheng.

            “I beg your pardon,” the tech analyst frowned.

            “Contacts.”

            Xue Yang drew his eyebrows down and sat up, his attention now fully focused. He placed the milk on the table. Even Wei Ying had lifted his left eyebrow, the PAPPU staring in connected confusion.

            “Little Blind puts contacts under his victim’s eyelids after he removes their eyes, clear contact lens,” Wangji explained.

            “I’m gonna’ be fucking sick,” Xue Yang commented.

            “So you’re telling me the bastard basically puts in an extra set of eyes once he removes of the real ones?” Wei Ying questioned. He took in a sharp breath, closing his eyes slowly before opening them again.

            “So Bao Ru had his eyes and tongue removes, and contact lens were placed under his lids. A vesicant was used but no mustard gas. It can’t even have been an imitator because he was seen. He was still making sure that we knew it was him,” Xue Yang said, connecting the dots aloud.

            “But the way Nap Ru’s kill reasoned with the others seems off. It’s the contacts that made us identify him with Little Blind. No one could’ve known that information because it was never given to the public,” came a familiar voice. Everyone looked in Wangji’s direction to notice his phone propped up, on speaker. It meant one thing only, Xiao Xingchen had given Wangji permission to tell them the information. Xiao Xingchen was apologizing.

            There was only a voice there. Xue Yang glanced at the screen and wished that it was facetime so he could see the man actually present. He had to admit to himself that the week crawled because Xingchen had walked ahead. There was nothing else to do but try to crawl in the trail he left behind.

            “Thank you,” Xue Yang said, because he meant it. He felt his throat tighten, and his stomach take a dive, but he meant it.

            On Xiao Xingchen’s side, he nearly dropped the phone though he had it gently placed against his ear. He didn’t reply right away, but when he found his words, he repeated what he had heard.

            “Thank you.” For another chance.

---

            January 5^th, not so much a significant date, not so much a significant day, but it was the day that the two separated teams were required to reevaluate the material, which meant that facing Xingchen again would be a crucial consideration. Xue Yang had taken a gander at his finals scores, passing again with an exceptional 104 that he managed in one class. In a way, he was pleased with the scores, but they didn’t mean anything except that he had received a sufficient letter grade. Wei Ying had achieved 112 at one point, and Xue Yang was still lacking.

            In any event, grades weren’t so significant compared to the sinking feeling in his chest. He had informed his chief that he would rather take the long walk to the CSI building for recollection rather than be driven there. He would elongate the process if it meant that he could adapt to his newly acquired peace of mind. He wasn’t ready to face Xiao Xingchen again after their last quarrel, a rather harsh farewell at that.

            “You’re dead to me,” Xue Yang had said, and he had meant it. But was Xingchen the actual one dying in his perception? No, it had been him, another piece of him dying away, the light getting brighter. And what had Xingchen replied with again?

            “But you’ll still communicate with the dead,” was what he had said, the only thing that ever spoke on his beliefs. Why choose such a moment to believe that Xue Yang could communicate with the dead? Was Xingchen dying so much inside? Or was he using his words to appeal to Xue Yang? What was the answer?

            It was snowing again, and his hands numbed from within the safety of his pockets. His nose was inevitably taking to a red glow, his ears giggling from the heat of his earmuffs. His fingers and toes always went first, but he had come prepared, for his feet anyway. Two pairs of socks and thick boots so he could look like a truck plowing through the snow on the sidewalk by himself, but he’d be warm and that’s what mattered.

            His stomach felt as though it was in his throat the further he walked, his legs purposely slowing down. There was no reason to turn around and return, but his thoughts, many times now, had insisted on trivial pauses.

            “Slow down,” he told himself. “You’re walking so fast. What are you in a rush for?” And yet, in actuality, he was standing still, allowing the petals to grace his black hair and hoodie. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets, sure his fingers would shatter right off from the bone. His throat felt dry, maybe because his stomach was resting inside of it and blocking all ports, or that’s what his rationale was telling him. He needed something to take up the space in his belly, emptiness, like the excitement of speeding on a speed bump. His stomach just never came back down, blocking his throat and burning his eyes, because that made sense too.

            At last, the building appeared, and he felt like an icicle, too cold to wonder at the awkward reunion. Quickly, he showed his badge at the desk and was granted admittance. Getting to the office door was another story, one that he failed to be a character in. He stood before the “XIAO & LAN” imprinted on the glass and took a deep breath. He knocked quickly before he lost his courage, his fingertips red while the rest of his hands painted pale white from the sudden heat of the room.

            No one answered. What do you mean no one answered?

            He clicked the door open and stepped inside, seeing no one at the desks. Just then, he heard the door click shut behind him again, and his hand immediately shot for his hand glock on his pant line, but never withdrew the weapon. Behind him, Xingchen stood with a box in his hands and a shy smile under his nose.

            “Merry Christmas,” the team lead said.

            Xue Yang blinked twice. His stomach slowly drained from the lines of his throat and returned to where his belly rested, filling with all of his organs again. He could breath though he held his breath. His eyes were burning from the cold gales, that’s what he told himself. He didn’t know what else to say, speechless.

            “Open it,” Xingchen insisted, because Xue Yang’s expression said it all, asking, “what do I do?” The ruffian slowly reached out and took the box in his hands, lifting the green lid and peering inside. Under the Christmas themed tissue paper, he saw premium thermal heated gloves in black.

            “Because your hands were cold,” Xingchen said, recalling when he had taken Xue Yang’s hands in the hospital room. Xue Yang stopped his bottom lip from quivering before it became visible, and reached in to try on the gloves. As he did so, a bar of kit-kat fell from within the palm of the gloves. Excited to see the familiar blood orange wrapping, he almost dropped the gloves, catching the bar before it fell.

            “I saw them in your hoodie pocket the last time I drove you home,” Xingchen told him, a pleased smile. He spoke softly like he was afraid the other would break and remember that they were on bad terms.

            “But – but I didn’t get you anything,” Xue Yang said, forgetting it entirely.

            “You didn’t have to, Xue Yang. Just coming in today was good enough. You’ve made me very happy,” Xingchen replied honestly.

            “But – but you got me expensive gloves and my favorite munchie crunch!”

            Xingchen dared to chuckle. “Don’t eat too much of your favorite munchie crunch, Xue Yang. You’ll crash from sugar.”

            “Jeez, you’re like an older brother,” Xue Yang said carelessly, thinking of Wei Ying, but as he said it Xingchen paused. Then out of nowhere, a tear fell.

            Then two. Then three.

            Xue Yang’s eyes widened, and he quickly put the gift aside, reaching out but not quite touching. He said, “H-hey, oh my God, I didn’t mean that, I think.” Because had he really said anything offensive? He tried to collect what he said and deemed it wasn’t necessarily offensive in the slightest.

            “Don’t cry! I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to make you sad. I say stupid things sometimes,” he tried again. What did he say again? He couldn’t even remember what he said.

            Xingchen shook his head, wiping his tears with the back of his palm. He hadn’t meant to shed tears, and it seemed odd now that the stickiness of it had touched his cheeks. He hadn’t cried in years.

            “No, don’t apologize. I just think too much. I’m not sad, I promise.”

            “Well, I’m concerned now,” Xue Yang said, his face distorted with worry.

            “Don’t be. I apologize, I just, I’m not myself right now,” Xingchen said with furrowed eyebrows, his smile attempting to appear, but his nose flared with his sniffing. The tears were ready to come again. As a last resort, Xue Yang tried to console him in the best of his incapability.

            “You wanna’ try on pretty gloves? We can go out for gyoza and you can wear them,” he tried, grimacing at his own words.

            “It’s a date,” Xingchen said, laughing weakly into his tears. It was safe to cry here. With the ruffian there, it almost felt like a home again.

---

            Wei Ying waited for the other two to return, swaying side to side because the swivel chairs belonged to the CSI and he was told by Wangji to take the couch. Though the couch was more comfortable, Wei Ying couldn’t exactly roll it around the way his office couch did. He had texted Xue Yang to make certain that the little punk was alright. In the meantime, Jiang Cheng arrived last, meaning before Xiao Xingchen and Xue Dude, which meant that he had probably been finishing up his documents or was finishing typing up his reports.

            In his seat, Wei Ying was holding Sizhui because the white bunny was calm. Across from him, at the desk, Wangji held Jingyi who seemed much behaved in the man’s arms, though kicking once in a while as if it wanted to touch everything on the desk.

            Jiang Cheng was going to comment on the random furballs, and then comment on how he wasn’t allowed to bring Jin Ling along, but he decided against it. If Wangji wanted to hold a rabbit, by all means. He wasn’t going to take a pet away from anyone. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to bring Jin Ling in considering Wei Ying’s massive fear of dogs. Jiang Cheng almost wanted to be afraid of rabbits just to get back at him for it, but it didn’t make any sense to. He went to take a seat quietly, his folders in his hand, taking off his lavender shawl because of the heat radiating from the room. As they waited, each wondered if the reunion would be an awkward one. Then wondered where Xiao Xingchen went. Then wondered where Xue Yang was at.

            After a while, the two had returned. Their cheeks were not red, nose was not red, meaning they had been inside where it was warm. Wei Ying instantly knew that Xiao Xingchen had driven his Xue Yang around, though he couldn’t imagine how Xue Yang still climbed in his car. The thought itself sent goose flesh up Wei Ying’s arms. He would straighten this out immediately. Though he eyed the two suspiciously, he eased himself into a sigh, calmed by the effects of Sizhui.

            “Okay, I just need an oath from you as a brother,” he said out of nowhere, no greetings, just the basics before any one could continue. Wangji looked in his direction and Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow, but Xingchen politely gave him his attention. He knew there was going to be a substantial question.

            “Wei Ying,” Xue Yang said, fidgeting from beside the other.

            “Nope,” Wei Ying held a hand up to stop him, but not rudely. “I do this because I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. We’ll just get it over with quickly. We are a team and all of us should be on the same page.”

            “Of course,” Xingchen agreed.

            “Brother Xiao, please put your right hand up and swear to me that you aren’t Little Blind,” Wei Ying said nonchalantly.

            “Dude!” Xue Yang shouted, putting a hand up in gesture of asking him what the hell he was doing.

            Xingchen’s breath visibly caught in his throat as his eyes widened. He felt the air knock out of his longs and nearly hunched over from the words. He swallowed hard to calm himself down, straightening himself and taking a deep breath for he needed the oxygen. Steadying himself with the seat next to him, he recomposed himself and slowly raised his right hand.

            “I swear to you, Brother Wei,” he said, his voice pained. “That I, Xiao Xingchen, am not Little Blind.” He didn’t want it to come to this, and he couldn’t imagine what he had done to be labeled as such. It was the last thing he wanted to hear. If he had to swear against it, he would, but he could feel himself breaking apart again. His legs were growing weak from the excursion of just a few words. Quickly, his ears clogged up as if the world disappeared in a bed of white, like cotton filling up his senses.

            Wei Ying let out an audible breath, relieved. An oath meant may things in the world of justice, and it was final. If Xiao Xingchen could raise his hand and swear against be the predator, it meant that he wasn’t the predator, and that was final.

            “Thank goodness,” he whispered to himself.

            But just from the small gesture, Xingchen’s energy had completely dissolved, and he eased himself into the seat to rest. In that moment, everyone had disappeared and Xingchen wanted nothing more than for everything to end. He could feel the agony of his despair creep back into his skin, but his expression remained cordial, his palm resting over the other.

            Wangji noticed but he didn’t say anything. Xingchen’s pain was his own.

            Xingchen thought against everything he had done thus far, and would be more careful in the future. He needed to stay on their good side far from suspicion, especially now that Lan Zhan had made it obvious what side he had chosen. He would keep what little he had left to himself. Wangji had no right to say anything. It was in that moment that a flair of anger rushed into Xingchen, in that moment that Xingchen wished someone would cut Wangji’s tongue off so he wouldn’t say anything else. What was an oath anyway? He could make oaths. Wangji had broken an oath to him too.

            Jiang Cheng glanced at him pursing his lips in thought. He pushed up his glasses. Just then, Xingchen noticed those glasses. It was odd to see him with them on. Xingchen almost wanted to put in contacts for him.

---

            Now that the foundation had been covered, Wei Ying was ready to proceed, though he did wonder why it seemed to tax the team lead. He had given him some space to think, before Xingchen had returned and assured them that it was alright to begin again. They needed to revisit now that it was January. At the very least, Little Blind hadn’t adopted another victim, though if he did, it would’ve validated their suspicions.

            Xue Yang gave Xingchen a few concerned glances, but the man turned in his direction and smiled, allowing him some sense of security. Xue Yang couldn’t believe that Wei Ying had asked the question out loud. Xingchen couldn’t be Little Blind. He just couldn’t. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t.

            “Let’s discuss the next three cases,” Wei Ying said. He knew the question had thrown everyone off, but it needed to be done, and it had been on the PAPPU’s mind. If they weren’t going to ask, he was going to.

            “Shing Qiuyue, age 32, was a female victim discovered in the Hunghui warehouse where she was employed. She was discovered in a package addressed to the company after her confirmed shift had ended. She had failed to clock out, disappearing after a worker went to fetch another lightbulb for the flickering light above their line,” Wangji said. He was relieved to simply get back to work. Emotions were too complicated to pull apart, and the ending result would be realization no one actually needed.

            “That’s an interesting plot,” Wei Ying commented.

            “Focus,” Jiang Cheng said again.

            “I am focused. Hunghui is what? A packaging company, right?”

            “Correct,” Wangji replied.

            “And they received a package addressed to themselves after her shift?”

            “Correct.”

            “Can you describe to us the procedures of the factory so we can better maneuver around how she was killed on her shift and not a single person noticed?” Jiang Cheng asked, pushing his annoying glasses up.

            “Hunghui is a very small packaging company. Its warehouse employs roughly twenty-five to thirty people total. Each line receives a minimum of two people and a maximum of four people. Seniors tend to lines with less people for assistance. The packages come down the line, the first group box them, the second seals and takes them to shipment. The last, shipment, sends them off in the early morning,” Xingchen said, because if he spoke, his thoughts would clear themselves.

            “How long had Shing Qiuyue worked there?” Jiang Cheng questioned.

            “She was going on eleven years,” Wangji responded.

            “Traces found in her lungs?”

            “N2, Cl2, with activated acids and NH3,” Wangji answered.

            Wei Ying chuckled at this once, earning strange glances from everyone around him.

            “I assume something about that is hilarious,” Jiang Cheng commented, frowning at his idiotic chief. Wei Ying nodded, a stupid smile still tainting the curve of his lips.

            “He obviously didn’t have the chlorine gas on hand so he had to make it,” Wei Ying laughed. “Remember when we said he works off of convenience? That means that Cl2 wasn’t readily attainable, so he had to work with household products in order to acquire it instead of purchasing it. It either was denied, or wasn’t going to come on time, or where ever he was getting his product wasn’t yet accessible. Still, by this time, nitrogen was readily available. He mixed chlorine bleach with the ammonia found in other household cleaning products and reacted it with acid to create the gas and set it off inside of the package.”

            “That would make sense, but why stick a ‘TOXIC’ sticker across the box? And how would he be able to excite the gases without sustaining any harm to anyone else which seemed to have been the case?” Xingchen questioned, because he did speak to the worker himself, and already knew the story, but not all of the answers.

            “Lemme’ think,” Wei Ying said, juggling his lips from side to side.

            “It’s the seniority,” Xue Yang commented. Wei Ying snapped his fingers beside him and pointed at his partner’s direction.

            “You’re right. It’s the seniority.”

            “And this is relevant?” Xingchen questioned, not rudely, but just curious.

            “You said the ceiling light was flickering which, of course, would hinder anyone’s work, definitely when it’s a factory, y’know? If it was flickering, who would be sent to assure that the problem was fixed? Not the senior, but the junior,” Xue Yang said. He looked up as if picturing the ceiling light himself before he continued.

            “So, he loosened the fixture wiring, upped the HVAC system probably, which most likely disturbed the entire factory, causing many people in their lines to run off to point out the disturbance to higher ups. Someone is probably sent to check the circuit breaker. Or, he went to the circuit breaker itself, and manipulated the breaker that controlled that area’s lighting. I kinda’ feel like he went with the second one.”

            “Why?” Xingchen again.

            “Because of Hung Jia’s case,” Wei Ying answered for him. Wangji gave a silent nod, something that had been on his mind as well. Xingchen cocked his head to the side, an expression that asked them to explain.

            “You said so before that the unsub disturbed an entire building,” Wei Ying said.

            “Yes, so why wouldn’t he go directly to the circuit breaker rather than just the specific wiring?”

            “Because he doesn’t want to affect anyone not involved,” Xue Yang said. He rethought back at the cases and found himself agreeing to his own comment.

            “When Jia was murdered, you have to take in account that the entire building had been empty. She was the only one left. There weren’t even janitors because she had stayed her extra hours. She had been reported to incessantly stay late to get her work done. Two, in Bao Ru’s case, LiWei, the witness, was never killed. Three, the parking lot that LiHua was in was empty. Four, this case, he went to the extent of sticking a “DANGER: TOXIC CHEMICAL” sticker right on the top of the box,” the ruffian said.  

            “He only wants the people involved to be involved,” Wangji concluded.

            “But why involve these people? What could all of these people could have done? They’re each too different to point out anything that could’ve linked them,” Xingchen frowned. What they said made sense, but the malice did not connect. After the malice also came the consideration. Could Little Blind really give so much consideration, going the extra mile to assure that no one was affected by his acts except for the specific victim? But looking at it now, that did make sense. He had isolated everyone even if they were in the open. Using gaseous products were incredibly unreliable, and could stretch on to affect a wider community of people. He had incessantly worked to seclude and only affect one area unless the area was safe enough itself, as seclusion, like in Hung Jia’s case.

            Just then fireworks sounded off in the background, causing everyone’s hand to grip their hand glocks and Jiang Cheng to close his laptop.

            “What the fuck, Man? The New Year’s over,” Xue Yang commented, hearing his heart race inside of his ribcage. Jiang Cheng reopened his laptop and started to type away at the keys before he responded.

            “It’s the elections. Nie Mingjue won congress chairman after all these years.”

            “But so many people protested him.”

            “But many millennials are in his favor.”

            “Interesting.” Wei Ying crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. Everyone looked in his direction before he said, “Jiang Cheng, can you remind me why they’re against him?” He already knew why, but it was interesting to bring it into light again.

            “He wants China, with an emphasis on Beijing, which is his home city’s, removal from the OPCW, and for us to repeal the CWC implementation for us to prepare for war against foreign policy and intervention.” As Jiang Cheng said it, his face seemed to glove with recognition.

            “Seeing that he himself had signed the act into play, now that he’s congress chairman, it wouldn’t be hard to recruit assistance,” Wei Ying thought out loud. The idea was messy, but it was somehow simultaneously structured.

            “He himself cannot just remove us from the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons,” Wangji said, but he kept it in mind.

            “True. But he can recruit enough support to remove Beijing from the OPCW. Two, he has already successfully convinced out militia and government party to annul the chemical weapons convention. We’ve already had the chemicals on hand,” Wei Ying replied.

            “Are we focused, or are we going to talk about politics? We can return to him at a later date. I really doubt our new chairman killed off these – ,” Jiang Cheng was interrupted.

            “Millennials,” Wei Ying said. “What’s the accepted date ranges for millennials again? 1981-1996, though its ranges may surpass it a bit. What age was our oldest victim again?” Wei Ying asked, a tight lipped smile.

            “Thirty-eight,” Jiang Cheng said.

            “Correct. She was born in 1981,” Wei Ying said, then put up both hands. “Don’t cut my head off. It may just be a coincidence. After all, Bao Ru was from generation Z. But also consider the fact that Bao Ru was a complete throw off in the first place. Everything about his case just seemed wrong and was used so we could basically validate the unsub.”

            “The battle of Changde,” Wangji said, almost so low that no one could hear, yet Wei Ying had caught it. The chief clapped once as if everything made sense.

            “You’re right! How could I forget?” He asked, almost shocked with himself. His movements agitated Sizhui a bit before the flustered bunny climbed back onto his lap and quietly sat there for pets.

            “Forget what?” Jiang Cheng questioned.

            “The battle of Changde.”

            “That was literally almost a century ago.”

            “Yes, but we implemented the CWC after the Japanese abandoned their weapons on our mainland.”

            “So?”

            “So, you remember what they abandoned?”

            “I hate history. No, I don’t remember.”

            “Sulfur mustard. It had been used for chemical warfare, which is what Nie Mingjue is advocating for, as to why so many people had protested him. Many millennials were against this policy, but revisiting it now, there were also many who supported the idea of retracting from the global contract for the nation,” Wangji said. It was an outrageous idea, but it wasn’t impossible.

            “Jiang Cheng, search up the victims’ political party. See if they were all in opposition of Chairman Nie, exclude Bao Ru. I want to revisit this kid later on,” Wei Ying ordered. Jiang Cheng went instantly to tap on his keys, pulling up documents and social standings that could vouch for their practices.

            “Are you hungry, Sizhui?” Wei Ying asked, fully distracted by the rabbit. Wangji was starving, but he wasn’t going to say it.

            Jiang Cheng made circles with his hands in telling Wei Ying to return to their conversation, and to stay focused. He hadn’t looked up from his screen.

            “Okay, so, light is busted, junior offers to inform the head, leaving Qiuyue Jiejie on the line by herself. You said that seniors usually go to assist the shorter lines, right? So, she went to assist her Junior. Now that she was secluded – you said there was nitrogen gas found in her system too. So, let’s see,” Wei Ying said, thinking out loud again. He really didn’t like to look at the victims’ pictures. The sulfur mustard ruined them to the point of dislocating recognition. It almost distanced you from the victim when you couldn’t look into their eyes.

            “She had to have breathed in pure nitrogen,” Xue Yang said, still thinking as well. The more they spoke, the more facts came. “So, she received a package with nitrogen in it,” he said.

            “What the hell made her open it and take a whaff?” Jiang Cheng said, still reading through his documents.

            “A leakage,” Wei Ying answered. “That’s what it is. There was a package that came down the line that made the sound similar to the one your stupid rootbeer makes, only continuously. She checked the box to see what it was and breathed it in. You pass out instantly from breathing in pure nitrogen. She must’ve been at the end of the line and the junior at the front, so they weren’t in view of one another. Let me guess, the camera feed only catches the mustard gas, right? Think again. It wasn’t mustard gas that was used. So, she passes out, he excites the “mustard gas” to blur the view and let us know it’s him, then puts her in a box. Now that she’s unconscious, he puts in a canister of chlorine gas that he had to whip up himself, and she breathes it in until she dies, maybe 300-400 ppm, whatever he concentrate he could make.”

            “He did use sulfur mustard though. It was found in her system and she exhibits traces of tissue and skin trauma from its exposure,” Xingchen retorted.

            “Yes, but guess what? After reviewing the footage, the junior returns to what?”

            “The camera footage then shows the junior returning to seal up the box that was left on the line. She reported thinking that the Senior had gone home before her shift had roughly ended at that time. By then, the lines were turned off and the lights were again functioning. Not wanting to make the trip back to the circuit to turn it back on, she sealed the box and went down the line, a shorter walk to a fellow coworker and asked him to carry the last box for her. Said coworker reported that the box was slightly heavy,” Wangji replied.

            “Exactly that. By then, Quiyue was inside of the box, a canister was most likely not utilized but a mask, connected to one as to avoid leakage. The coworker would bring Quiyue to the shipping facility where she wouldn’t be picked up for delivery until around 4am, a lovely time for Little Blind. All he had to do was come back after the facility closed, take her eyes and tongue, leave contacts, then leave the perimeter in the dark again,” Wei Ying explain, talking with his hands.

            “But why did you say that it wasn’t mustard gas used?” Xingchen asked, frowning at the bit of information. The more Wei Ying said, the least likely things seemed but it also made sense. He wanted to intervene but didn’t have space.

            “Because if the mustard gas was still in the air, the junior and her coworker would be affected. Little Blind only affects those involved. He used the mustard gas in the box, but he used a smoke bomb outside of it, one that exhibited the same colors and would leave no residue that wasn’t already found in the factory,” Wei Ying responded. “Before you ask, it’s because he definitely doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” the chief added.

            “I’m so confused. So, what on earth could his motive be? Why is he going after these people?” Xingchen asked, running a hand through his perfect hair.

            “They were Anti-Nie’s,” Jiang Cheng suddenly said from his laptop. Everyone looked in his direction with wide eyes, except Wei Ying who merely nodded.

            “They were against Chairman Nie’s political party,” the chief said.

            Wangji’s eyes searched the perimeter for something to say. When he opened his mouth to speak, it was to give false information.

---

Wei Ying had gone home and went directly to his wine bottles. He ditched the couch entirely and laid on the floor to think, wishing that he had taken Sizhui along with him. Apparently, from Lan Zhan’s personal research, Zhong Yang was a Nie supporter and was even planning on voting for the man. Could Nie Mingjue have killed his own supporter? That made no sense.

            Two, neither did a motivational speaker taking to support for chemical warfare. It just didn’t add up. He drank until his senses numbed and crawled onto the chaise longue to rest his head on the armrest. Dialing Jiang Cheng, he placed the phone against his ear.

            “If you’re drunk, hang up,” Jiang Cheng said, before the man could respond.

            “I’m not drunk! I have a question,” Wei Ying whined, kicking his feet as if the tech analyst could see him. Jiang Cheng sighed. Wei Ying could imagine the man putting on his glasses and sitting up.

            “Can you tell me about Nie Mingjue? Give me his background?” Wei Ying asked, because Jiang Cheng was best at digging for information. He went beyond google. That, and Jiang Cheng was interested in politics.

            “Jin Ling, get down, you stupid mutt! No! No! Jin Ling!” He could hear Jiang Cheng yelling instead. Hearing the dog bark caused Wei Ying’s flesh to rise, and him to coil up in his seat. When Jiang Cheng stopped yelling, he returned to the phone.

            “That boy forgets who raised him,” Jiang Cheng muttered. “Alright, why don’t you just ask Huaisang?”

            “I forgot they were related, legit-legit,” Wei Ying said, causing Jiang Cheng to sigh rather loudly into his ear.

            “Nie Mingjue got into politics at a really young age. At seventeen, he was already attending rallies and advocating for war intervention. He was arrested once for speaking out against the direction the government was taking with the Japanese. By twenty-one, he rose to inland party support and became an attorney for imperial rights. His father had been ruling as Premier, and died from heart failure. Because Mingjue had the same heart conditions, he was rendered unfit for the coming line. He spent some domestic years tending to that idiot Huaisang who he encouraged to take the line because Huaisang’s heart seems to be free of the condition.”

            “Huaisang said ‘nah,’” Wei Ying said, laughing.

            “Exactly. Within the next decade, Chairman Nie rose in provincial ranks until he became tasked for calamity communications and foreign policy as he served with the Minister of the Commerce. Eventually he was promoted to the secretary party of Guiyang, where he served three terms until popular favor advanced him to congress chairman proceeding Wen Ruohan who was reported deceased after a calamity strike.”

            “”Are you reading off notes?”

            “Off my dissertation last year.”

            “You gotta’ get your head out of politics, Man. Anyways, this completely makes my point,” Wei Ying said with a questioning tone, questioning himself if anyone.

            “What point?” Jiang Cheng asked, fixing the grammar for something he had already turned in. His dissertation no longer mattered, but it was nice to look at his achievements.

            “He was literally placed in response to national exigency. He had the tools for destructive apparatus, being that his task was literally to intervene in foreign policy that assumes association to the operation of chemical warfare which, ding ding ding, he’s advocating for. Don’t forget that he was never able to serve for the party of Beijing which he has desperately been aiming to earn the favor of. All of the sudden Anti-Nie denizens are murdered here in Beijing?” Wei Ying tossed his wine on the floor despite knowing he’d need to clean it up later himself.

            “Zhang Yong was –“

            “There’s no way he could’ve been a Nie supporter, Jiang Cheng.”  

            “But Wangji said – .”

            “I know. But,” Wei Ying sighed. “I went to read his works and watch some of Zhang Yong’s seminars and it just doesn’t seem right. He was advocating for peaceful reflection and natural endorsements. Peaceful and natural is the exact opposite of Nie Mingjue considering the guy is literally trying to implement immediate action for warfare.”

            “And Wen Ruohan wasn’t?”

            “This isn’t about Wen Ruohan. Chairman Wen is dead, Jiang Cheng. Mr. Nie is still alive.”

            “You really think he did it?”

            “It’s either that or he’s being framed. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

            “But Wangji said –“

            “And he was looking at the ground when he did. He’s lying to us.” Wei Ying didn’t want to believe it, but after looking into the incident himself, there was no way that Lan Zhan was telling the truth. He didn’t want to personally investigate the party that Zhang Yong was involved with – Jiang Cheng had already came up with it. And why would Lan Zhan even know the political party that the victim favored? It wouldn’t be a significant asset for the case. There’s no way he was telling the truth. But why choose last minute to alter the facts?

            “But you two looked like you were getting along,” Jiang Cheng said after the two went silent. He ruffled Jin Ling’s ears as the dog laid beside him quietly for once.

            “I’m sure Little Blind got along with his victims too.”

Chapter Text

Wei Ying did not speak much at the table, his eyes wandering to where the ceiling and the wall met. If there’s one that was true, the wall always supported the ceiling and the ceiling silently rested on top, but they always met there, at the corner, met and comprehended an understanding. Wei Ying wondered if that’s what was happening right now. People like the PAPPU would always be the wall supporting higher ups, people like Xiao Xingchen, people like Lan Zhan.

            It had barely been a day before they were back in the office, in the CSI’s office anyway. Jiang Cheng was reading over his notes, having had entered first. Xiao Xingchen had yet arrived which apparently meant that he had left and Xue Yang wasn’t here which meant they most likely grabbed a lunch together. Again.

            Wei Ying was tired. Not the small tired that came from an all-nighter, but the big tired that came from constant endeavors. He hated to see Xue Yang visibly put trust back into someone like a ceiling. If Xue Yang was a wall, he could easily crumble when someone ran into it. Wei Ying had tested it many times.

            He glanced to the side to see Lan Zhan looking in his direction. He thought to wave, but he thought against it, mostly because his hand didn’t want to. His hands were his for the day, doing only what he wanted them to do, and that was to stay quiet, hitting no one. Could he really bring himself to lay his hands on Lan Zhan? Hit him the way he had Xiao Xingchen? Probably not.

            When the two entered again, Wei Ying smiled one of those force smiles where the upper lip almost disappeared. It wasn’t a grimace but an actual attempt. Xue Yang walked over and knuckled the fist he held out, then handed him a take-out box of whatever he ordered for him, then handed Jiang Cheng a hot drink. He sat back down afterwards and took out his notes without needing to be told, realized it was school notes, put them away, then flipped to the correct notes.

            “Let’s continue where we left off,” Wei Ying said, though he really just wanted a drink, and maybe 12 hours of sleep.

            “The next victim was Tiu Yanmei, age 38, discovered in her kitchen where she had been cooking. Strychnine was found in her system,” Lan Zhan said, though Wei Ying was starting to wonder if the man was actually giving correct information or if he was fabricating things. He didn’t wish to think that way, so he quickly discarded the thought and nodded.

            “COD?” Jiang Cheng asked. Next to him, Xue Yang had frowned, bending down to tie his shoe laces. He then went for his recorder, which he had forgotten to turn on.

            “Pulmonary distress and damage to brain tissue,” Wangji said. He said everything as though he had memorized it, like he’d memorize a story. He made up.

            Wei Ying shook his head. Perhaps he really did need sleep. He was thinking too much.

            “I mean…I guess. Did she inhale it? That’d be very unreliable,” Wei Ying said instead.

            “It was consumed.”

            “Okay, so it’s a desperate situation. She probably had a husband coming home or something. He needed to kill her quickly so he changed up his tactic again. I feel like Little Blind just gets more desperate as he goes. And doesn’t it strike you strangely that he continuously uses a different gas or poison? I’m thinking that because he’s all about polymerization and shit like that, there has to be a reason for the variety. He could’ve easily used the gases he had perpetuated before,” Wei Ying considered, and then yawned.

            “Why is variety an issue?” Xingchen asked. This time he had a notebook and was writing down what he heard.

            “Because, he’s based off of convenience. It was be inconvenient for him to constantly attain these poisons.”

            “What if he simply ran out of the previous product?”

            “Why not go about purchasing the same one then? His point was to show that he was able to acquire that variety and is…too something. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s too…”

            “You’re losing me here,” Jiang Cheng said, an eyebrow raised, his fingers no longer typing.

            “Forget I said anything. I’m not thinking straight today,” Wei Ying said, scratching the back of his head. He waved at Lan Zhan to continue and leaned back in his seat.

            “Was her stove still on?” Jiang Cheng questioned.

            “No. He probably turned it off for her so the house wouldn’t burn down. He likes to leave things undisturbed so it wouldn’t affect anyone else,” Wei Ying blindly said. Wangji nodded once in Jiang Cheng’s direction to validate the chief’s response.

            “Sulfur mustard was found in the kitchen. Its effects were seen on the body pre-mortem. About 110mg was ingested.”

            “He most likely used pure strychnine then. I’m still thinking, maybe he was having an episode himself like does he actually know what he’s doing? I feel like he gave it considerable thought but doesn’t actually understand the mechanisms of everything involved. He’s trying to show us that he does.”

            “For validation?” Xingchen asked.

            “Or to point fingers at someone else. Did you ever check for the vesicant purchases? I know it’ll take time. There’s only like a 500,000 people who wanted to be a white collar and what not,” Wei Ying said sarcastically. “Did you ever get a hit for who made all of those purchases or had them already in a laboratory?”

            “We were able to trace it down to about a hundred people in the area. We should be able to locate the specific purchases if they were made or attained by the end of the week,” Xingchen said, because the process had been long and brutal. Questioning every facility was another hindrance, but at least his people had had a hand in assistance.

            “Why do you bring this back up?” Xingchen questioned next.

            “Because he did seem to give it thought, but he also seems like he ran out of gas to use, y’know? Let’s say for instance, an average lab would have hydrogen cyanide on hand, just mix cyanides with acidic compounds. He wouldn’t readily be able to just do that at home, but it could’ve also just been prepared at the lab if he had one. He could’ve induced nitrous fumes too, combine nitrites again with acidic compounds, but he chose strychnine, why? Because HCN, aka prussic acid, polymerizes around heat and she was before a stove. Same dealio with nitrous oxide. It’s incendiary by nature when temperatures rise. He couldn’t risk an explosion in the household. But, like I said, if he can attain so much sulfur mustard, he can easily attain the gases before mentioned. He almost seems desperate to use a variety in order to show us that he has the variety. He gave it thought, but maybe too much thought that he might as well be –.”

            “He’s trying to make it seem like someone else did it,” Xue Yang finished for him. “Good thought, Wei Dude. Now that you look at it, it does seem a little too planned.”

            “Exactly, so tell me about the ninth victim, Xiang Xiaosi,” Wei Ying said, returning to Lan Zhan. He had reviewed the case before coming and it seemed to only validify his point.

            “Xiang Xiaosi was a 36-year-old brunette. His body was discovered at the Mo Café staff area after an evacuation around 12h45 in the afternoon. Before the incident, the café reported having security issues pertaining to footage. Their wires were not functioning well to capture any feed from their security cameras, and someone was called who later wouldn’t make an appearance until around 19h00 with his equipment. After careful consideration for business, the café decided that it would excite no harm by operating under casual conditions,” Wangji said.

            “He used a smoke bomb, right?” This was Wei Ying. Wangji nodded once.

            “How did you know?” Xingchen questioned.

            “I’ll get to it in a second, can you tell me what was used to kill Xiaosi?”

            “Pancuronium bromide,” Xingchen told him.

            “Ah, interesting. That’s an anesthetic, almost, but it causes paralysis eventually leading to asphyxiation. And it would also be required to be injected. Looks like the unsub got into injections, but then again, I may be wrong. Let’s consider. Where was the mustard gas found?”

            “The restroom.”

            “Was there a keypad lock?” Jiang Cheng questioned.

            “Yes, but resetting keypad locks is a simply task, sometimes it just involves deleting the old entry with the pound key. Type the number, delete, hit pound, and retype the number to reset in ordinary café shops. Depending on the system, you may just need to press the key number, type in the new code, and press the key number twice for verification. Seeing that Mo Café changes its code every day, the unsub most likely didn’t want to ask for the code earlier because it may induce suspicion if he had arrived twice and there was an evacuation. He most likely reset the password himself as he pretended to utilize the restroom.”

            “Oh, I get what you mean,” Xue Yang said. He thought for a moment then continued, “was Xiaosi-ge reported to have said anything else? Kinda’ strange for him to be in the staff area.”

            “He was in search of magnets,” Wangji responded.

            Wei Ying nodded once in the manner that Wangji would. Though his partners appeared slightly confused, he spoke again, “You said at the beginning of this case that Xiaosi was a businessmen. What do businessmen sometimes do when they go to coffee shops? They advertise. Luckily for the unsub, he chose a disaster of a time to enter the shop. He rigged the cameras, first off, knowing full well the company would put business over security. He knew that the man coming to repair the issue would take a while to arrive. But, seeing that the method used was injection, and during the period by which there was an evacuation, he was desperate for time. He was most likely going to use a gas. The only times he doesn’t use a gas is if he’s extremely desperate, and two, trying to show his variety. But seeing that if he utilized a gas within the coffee shop, it would affect many people. He would need to seclude Xiaosi, and how? By waiting until the man needed to use the restroom. All he had to do was excite the gas at a severe level for quick death in there, excite the smoke bomb in the café so everyone would be frantic and run out seeing that young people must’ve heard of little blind, if not the older generation. They may not know the details, but Little Blind has definitely made the news at one point. He just had to jam the lock, again, not a chore to do, or he hovered before it holding it down, meaning he had more strength than Xiaosi who was already growing weak from the gas. He goes in while the chaos happens and leaves all trademarks.”

            “Only, that’s not what happened at all, because he was found in the staff area,” Jiang Cheng pointed out.

            “Right! So, that’s where Little Blind’s plan got fucked up. What do business men lack? Patience, of course! They get there, and the unsub thinks he can use the lunch rush to his advantage, but instead, Xiaosi complains that it’s too loud and there are no seats. He decides to just put up his pamphlets for his business but there are no magnets left. He goes to ask a worker who is under distress because they’ve their hands full so they quickly point out that the magnets were in the back. Seeing that everything was already set up in the restroom and Xiaosi legit has to die today. There won’t be a next time with this scenario, y’know? So, Little Blind abandons his gas idea, follows him to the back and stabs him with “Pancuronium bromide” which by the way, you shouldn’t even have unless you’re a doctor so what the fuck, but okay. He stabs him, excites the smoke bomb causing everyone to panic and run out, leaves his trademarks, then runs out the backdoor without being noticed because the cameras don’t work. Two, no one would recall him being there because there were so many people present. He’s killing two birds with one stone, again.” Wei Ying rested his cheek on his hand. It wasn’t complicated to get into Little Blind’s head, but the motive was nowhere, except back to the anti-nie facet. Also, Little Blind gave his scenes substantial thought, but he used such an unreliable source of death that it was almost easy for things to go wrong.

            “He uses the gas because he doesn’t want to put his hands on the victims. He has guilt,” Wei Ying concluded. There was no other reason to use such a distant weapon, no other reasons to wear gloves in what seemed like an intimate case, no reason he would’ve left his fingerprints behind.

            “I know you meant what you said, Lan Zhan. But get me Nie Mingjue’s fingerprints. This is an order,” he said, closing his eyes. He didn’t want it to come to this.

---

            Wei Ying knew it was wrong, but he walked past security and made his way through despite protests from their staff, apparently, barging into someone’s home without a warrant was actually a crime. The PAPPU never adapted such practices, and their superior never enforced it, though at one point he fancied the idea of following regular procedure. The man liked to pretend that he was in opposition to what his team actually did, answering in short sighs when Wei Ying called about how to approach a situation. Today’s phone call came as the following:

            “Boss, I’m gonna’ bust into Chairman Nie’s house.”

            “That is most inappropriate.”

            “To you or the nation?”

            “The nation. What is your reason?”

            “He could be gouging out people’s eyes, snapping off their tongue, and have a contact obsession.”

            There came the sigh, and then a “Detective, please.”

            But Wei Ying was serious, and his boss had not declined per usual, so here he was, barging past security while they puzzled over whether he had authority or not. There was so much significance put into a badge. Wei Ying tossed his around carelessly, because the little thing never mattered. He would never give anyone with a badge anymore authority than he’d give a street vendor. Xue Yang shuffled behind him, accustomed to his outbursts, and seeing that his chief was pretty much stomping his feet. Wei Ying was still not in a good mood.

            “Could you have blamed him?” Xue Yang asked, walking faster before the security gained more courage or received responses from within the mansion.

            “Yes! I can’t believe he declined. What do you mean decline? That was a fucking order, like the whole goddamn CSI is shady as hell. Piss me off,” Wei Ying said, just as the door opened to a greeter.

            “Excuse us,” Wei Ying said, walking by her for she was small in stature.

            “You can’t come in!” She tried, though she lost courage as her words became smaller, maybe as small as her. Wei Ying didn’t wish to startle her, but he was very close to dragging Lan Zhan back and forcing him to do as he had said.

            “We’re already in though,” Xue Yang said, squeezing around her. She protested with a sound, but did nothing else as the two started up the stairs.

            “I don’t understand why they’re acting like I’m a stranger just because I used my badge, like I’m here enough that they know who I am,” Wei Ying said, under his breath. After all, he visited Huaisang more than enough times.

            “I’m not,” Xue Yang commented from behind. Xue Yang didn’t keep friends and certainly didn’t have time for it given that school and work and tv took up mostly everything. Xue Yang liked to watch crime shows. It helped him to think like Wei Ying, helped him to understand the CSI. Though both of them still failed to understand their CSI partners respectively.

            It didn’t take long for chaos to erupt in the household.

            Mingjue appeared down the hallway after receiving information from within of unwanted guests intruding. With his fiery personality, it had brought him directly in their line of sight.

            Nie Mingjue.

            An active suspect.

            A possible killer. A serial killer.

            Little Blind.

            Wei Ying recalled safety protocol as quickly as the large man made his appearance, all shoulders and muscle, a formidable man of power. Pulling out his hand glock, Wei Ying pointed and yelled as authoritatively as he could.

            “Stay back! Put your hands up where I can see them!”

            Mingjue did the absolute opposite, darting right and running down a busy hallway, pushing his maids and a messenger out of the way. Wei Ying followed quickly, Xue Yang directly behind him.

            “PAP! Out the way!” Wei Ying shouted just as a few shrieks sounded off with startled staff. They dodged the civilians and caught Mingjue’s brown hair disappearing in another room. Just as they approach the room, they leaned against the wall, Wei Ying peaking once to a crackle of bullets whizzing past him to the wall opposite. He turned again, giving Xue Yang the signal to stay put.

            Why would Mingjue shoot in their direction unless he was guilty? This could’ve gone civilly.

            “Chairman Nie, we only want to talk. Drop the weapon!” Wei Ying ordered, still leaned against the wall, his gun held up beside his temple.

            “Like hell you do!” Mingjue shouted in return.

            “Nie Mingjue, this is a direct order from the PAP, drop the weapon. You have until the count of three,” Wei Ying said. The PAPPU never had to do this. It was CSI work, police work, professional work. Mingjue was not a ferocious spirit. He was just an angry man. With a gun.

            “Go ahead and count!” Mingjue yelled, just as Wei Ying gave Xue Yang a signal and darted in the room. Brother Nie knew Wei Ying well. This was almost an awkward meeting. He remembered visiting just last week to have dinner with the family. Wei Ying had held up 3 fingers to Xue Yang, telling him to wait three seconds before entering the room.

            Brother Nie wouldn’t shoot me. Killer or not, the chief thought. What happened was exactly that, Mingjue dropping his gun and charging just as Wei Ying darted in his direction. The formidable chairman flipped Wei Ying onto his back, sending him in a furious circle before the air was knocked out of his lungs. It didn’t take long for the stars to dance in Wei Ying’s line of vision and a leg to curl around his neck, threatening to crack his diaphragm or slowly suffocate him. He felt the pressure, but not enough to kill him. It was just like Brother Nie to overpower the other. It was a wonder Huaisang was related to him.

            Three seconds was up.

            “Nie Mingjue you have until the count of three to stand up with your hands above your head,” Xue Yang said, pointing the gun in his direction. Apparently, Mingjue still had another gun on hand, for the man shot in the punk’s direction. Xue Yang ducked and ran behind a table, flipping it and huddling himself.

            “Brother Nie, that is my partner. It is a serious crime to hold up arms against him,” Wei Ying tried. Of course, Mingjue had never seen Xue Yang before. It wouldn’t be much of a chore to shoot at a stranger pointing a gun in your face. Mingjue tightened his leg around Wei Ying’s throat to keep him quiet. He aimed again at the table and shot, not sure where the little runt was piled behind it. He could hear shifting just as the bullet whizzed from his gun. He had missed.

            “Release him or I’ll shoot,” Xue Yang’s voice came from behind the table. Of course, Xue Yang would not miss. Nie Mingjue was out in the open and sitting up. There was no room for him to run while he was actively attempting to asphyxiate someone.

            “Tell your partner to stand down,” Mingjue ordered the chief.

            “Chairman Nie, you have the right to remain silent. Drop the weapon and release the hostage. This is an order,” Xue Yang said. In his chest, his heart threatened to roll out from his ribcage. He pulled his knees closer just in case the organ decided to fall loose. Wei Ying would not want for him to shoot the chairman, so how was he supposed to do this? Bluff? Until what ends?

            “Tell him to stand down or I’ll crack your neck. What right do you two have to come barging into my home and demand things? Who do you think you are Wei Wuxian?” Mingjue asked, but his leg was still carefully positioned where it did no damage to the chief.

            “Is that an active threat? That’s a serious felony against an officer on duty,” Xue Yang said. “You’re putting yourself on thin ice, Chairman Nie.” He raised his weapon, ready to shoot. He wouldn’t aim for somewhere vital, but he needed to get Wei Ying out of the position he was in.

            “HUAISANG!” Mingjue screamed in an annoyed tone. He looked up as he did so, almost rolling his eyes as though kids were scattered and ruining his living room. The man was too old for this. Wei Ying smiled a tight lipped smile as the name was hollered. It would only worsen the predicament if the younger Nie appeared, but he prepared an excuse. He attempted to loosen Brother Nie’s leg but found himself unable to move.

            Huaisang appeared instantly, almost like he was close by and waited. He darted into the room, all startled features, then shocked, then horrified. His shoulders raised to his ears as he pointed a shaky finger in Wei Ying’s direction.

            At his brother’s arrival, Mingjue loosened his grip on Wei Ying enough for the chief to wriggled free and slap cuffs on the man’s wrists. Mingjue didn’t fight it as his brother was present. It would be easy for the runt behind the table to aim in his baby brother’s direction if he reacted.

            “B-brother Wei!” Huaisang said as the click snapped shut around his brother’s wrists. Mingjue looked mildly annoyed but he said nothing, watching as his younger brother did absolutely nothing as usual. What ever the kids did for fun nowadays was besides the chairman.

            “W-where are you taking my brother?” Huaisang asked, attempting to approach and moving back just as Xue Yang pointed his gun in his direction, coming closer.

            “Cool it. Huaisang’s not a part of this. Huaisang, go upstairs. We’ll return him if he’s clear,” Wei Ying said, the first at Xue Yang, then at his friend.

            “This is a national treason, Wei Wuxian. Your people will hear from me,” Mingjue said, completely composed. It almost looked as though he had been through the predicament before, with other nuisances.

            “You can’t arrest him! He didn’t do anything!” Huaisang attempted, though he was still reluctant to come closer. His brother was staring daggers at him as though he had been the one to wrong him, but upon reflection, his older brother was mostly likely questioning his choice in friends.

            “Just a few questions,” came another voice, appearing at the entrance. Xiao Xingchen held up his badge, the staff more than willing to allow him down the hallway in contrast to their admittance of the PAPPU.

            Again, Mingjue appeared to be mildly annoyed, his eyes rolling once at no one in particular. He stood firmly and said, “And I’m supposed to react differently? Detective, please, my brother is present.”

            Wei Ying had always favored Nie Mingjue. Never once had the man looked down on the PAPPU, never once had he looked down on Wei Ying.

            Nie Mingjue was a very sympathetic man despite his lack of understanding. He was sensitive when it came to Huaisang. He was violent where it mattered.

            But he just didn’t look like Little Blind.

            Wei Ying watched as Lan Zhan blatantly surrendered the interrogating seat to Xingchen, standing behind the wall to watch. Xue Yang and Wei Ying stood there as well, arms folded, complex expressions. Mingjue frowned here and there on the other side, raising an eyebrow here and there, his fingers tapping in a motion that controlled his anger issues. He answered to the questions that were asked, declining a provided lawyer. “I’ll represent myself. A guilty man calls for a lawyer.”

            Mingjue was too confident, and so had Wei Ying been, considering Mingjue’s alibis worked out in his favor in the end. This didn’t necessarily mean that he hadn’t hired someone else to do it for him. Or maybe someone had done it in his favor. It was a stranger what politics could introduce to people. As he exited the building, cuffs no longer around his wrists, he dug into his pocket and dialed home to allow his people to arrange a chauffeur and to inform his idiot brother that everything was fine.

            “Wei Wuxian,” Mingjue called out as he hung up. Wei Ying glanced in his direction with a little more than dejection but composed himself with a smile. The man was either going to yell or do nothing at all.

            “That was a dangerous move for you just now. Come over for dinner. There’s things we should discuss,” he told the chief. Wei Ying swallowed, the comment a little too reassuring, too inviting. He humbly declined knowing exactly what it meant. There was a threat of sorts, and Wei Ying wanted no part of it. He would not be frightened away. Mingjue was still an active suspect regardless of an alibi. The CSI could stop there, but Wei Ying would continue to pursue.

            He watched as Mingjue pinched his lips and turned, heading out of the building leaving cold air behind him. Beside him, Xue Yang caught the chill, shivering just a bit and pulling the strings on his hoodie to secure his neck from exposure. He wondered if that could stop poison from entering his skin. Of course not, it would contaminate his clothing, slowly scorch his skin, burn his eyes, sting until it peels away. At least he only felt the chill as the formidable man exited without turning for another glance. There was something like wonder what missing words would spell out.

            Wei Ying sighed, turning around to see Lan Zhan planted by the office door but not close enough to welcome conversation. Wei Ying didn’t want to talk to him right now, his mind telling himself to turn and walk away. Instead, he edged closer and invited him out for dinner. Dinner would be with good company, company he could trust, company that didn’t hold secrets, company that would have his back, company that wasn’t a serial killer. It’s what he told himself and what he continued to tell himself over spicy crab roe and pickled radishes, some spice stuffed duck with a small portion of rice with requested kimchi. He ate without thinking much, trying at conversation that was aimless. What he wanted to asked was, “why?”

            Lan Zhan barely touched him food, maybe that was guilt talking. He picked at it like a child lost in thought, maybe lost in another story he had made up. Who was the alibi anyway? Was it Lan Zhan?

            Was it?

            They didn’t give the PAPPU that information. The PAPPU were not authorized for viewing the confidential forms involved with the case.

            This is bullshit, Wei Ying thought, but aloud he said, “cinnamon tea and lemon water is good for digestion if you’re full.”

            “Not full,” Lan Zhan replied, but ordered lemon water for Wei Ying in case the chief was full.

            Wei Ying smiled at him, drinking the water. It wasn’t poisoned.

            The next morning Xue Yang found himself throwing his bookbag at a group of men that physically lifted him in the air and attempted to drag him inside of a vehicle. He was thin for his age, not a chore for a single man to lift him let alone a group of them. He couldn’t make out faces as the blur of the world protruded around him and a hand clasped over his nose and mouth. Quickly, he pulled his stun gun from his beltline and pressed against the main offence, the man letting out a scream as he dropped Xue Yang. The second man pulled Xue Yang by his ankles to the car, too far for him to reach with his tazer. Swearing, Xue Yang pressed the panic alarm on his necklace, covering his ears as it let out a frantic ringing. The man instantly released his ankles and started for the car. Moving fast, Xue Yang got to his feet with the alarm still going off, running after the man and launching himself against his back. The surrounding part enclosed, making it easier for the punk to weigh whether or not he would utilized his hand glock. He withdrew it from his back pant line and shot at thighs and calves, using the frame and the slide to smash against the man’s temple. He then shot at the back window of the vehicle, scaring the driver off.

            He made his way back to his book bag and headed into class, his heart racing but hands firm. It was somewhat of a difficulty to give his attention to his professor while his thoughts raced about what awaited him on the way out. He called Wei Ying as his first class ended, pacing in the hallway.

            “I was attacked this morning,” he said, not even waiting for the man to reply with the casual “hello?”

            “What? What do you mean?” Wei Ying asked, in the middle of putting his hair in a ponytail.

            “I was attacked this morning. This group of dudes just jumped me and tried to pull me into a fucking car, Man.”

            Wei Ying thought for a moment, looking at his reflection as though it would offer some insight. The it occurred to him what Mingjue had said last night.

            “Stay where you are,” Wei Ying ordered. “That man can have the entire school infiltrated. I’m coming to get you. His men won’t touch me.”

            “Who?”

            “Don’t say anything over the phone. They’re listening.” And with that, Wei Ying hung up the phone and darted towards his vehicle. Xue Yang ran a hand through his hair and reluctantly dragged his feet to his next class wondering who would enter the school and drag him away. People had dragged him away from his adoptive parents too when they said they didn’t want him.

            The nerve of that spirit not warning him that people were coming to attack him! And yet she appeared for absolutely no reason, shouting and running away, running to Wei Ying and Wangji, for what? What did she want?

            His fucking shoe laces were untied so he bent down to tie them, sighing as he descending like a heavy cloud upon an empty seat. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself so he pulled up his hood as usual and let his fringe do the rest, cover his eyes, his hands going to the fake glasses he rested on his nose. At least his hands were warm with the thermal gloves on, his fingers nicely resting between the fabric. He smiled like he had won something small. He looked around, and in that moment, realized that the only visible light was the ceiling light and the sun.

            He brought his hands closed to his lips and kissed the fabric, warmth.

---

            Wei Ying didn’t arrive at the location alone, Jiang Cheng on his motorcycle behind him. Unfortunately for everyone involved, their vehicles brought a lot of attention. In another lane, Xingchen’s car easily dissolved along the distant colors of all other mundane people appliances. When Xue Yang exited the building, he tightened his lips as to who he would hop in with.

            The aggressive protection of Uncle Jiang.

            The authoritative protection of Wei Dude.

            The reassuring protection of Xingchen-ge.

            He sort of wished Wangji was present so he could easily hop into his car as not to betray anyone. Choices were complicated to make when you had on a bookbag and spoke to ghosts as a living. He received a text from Wei Dude to go to Xingchen while he secured the building with Jiang Cheng and the PAPPU team. They would be much more discreet than the CSI could dream of, no blaring lights, loud horns, uniforms. Just a gun that would sound off if completely necessary.

            Xue Yang did as he was told as Wei Ying exited his vehicle, sunglasses on, a red velvet blazer and a long short sleeved black cardigan underneath. He didn’t exactly blend in with the mundanes, but he certainly wasn’t in Jiang Cheng’s purple which brought attention wherever the man went. Jiang Cheng was all almond eyes and serious expressions, a beauty in grape and periwinkle because the color somehow flattered him. His trench coat came roughly to his knees, a long white scarf that he kept resting on his neck and along the button line. Their team parked in the lot, exiting and searching the perimeter for any other unwanted parties, dressed in button shirts, hoodies, and nike sneakers.

            “Fit in,” was the PAPPU motto, though the main team preferred everything but. Xue Yang wasn’t as flamboyant. He just liked to be fed and happy, and he could do so in a hoodie and thermal gloves. He leaned into the passenger seat, the feeling of safety returning to his bones. He didn’t shake when he was afraid.

            “Exciting morning?” Xingchen asked, though his eyes were scrutinizing the surrounding for suspicious activity. He hadn’t been to a school building since…

            But this building was different, and she was a lover of cold weather, complaining when it got too hot. She liked candy to Xue Yang’s chocolate. She liked to hear stories in the stead of telling them, but she spoke a lot compared to how Xue Yang kept to himself. Xue Yang put up walls where she had not. And because of that, she wasn’t here anymore.

            There was trust somewhere. She had given someone her trust.

            They were completely different.

            She needed Xingchen to protect her and Xue Yang could protect himself. He turned to look at the ruffian who fixated the vent so that the heat blew directly into his face, then proceeded to look for songs on his iphone.

            Xue Yang liked to ignore his problems where she liked to confront them.

            Her name fell on Xingchen’s lips but he said nothing, breathing in to avoid a sigh. He didn’t see her in him at all. He only thought he did.

            Xue Yang turned in his direction, his eyes staring straight into his, their reflections dancing off of one another. Xingchen took in those jade orbs, that black hair, that pale skin complexion, those hidden fangs, those full lips.

            He swallowed just as Xue Yang raised an eyebrow.

            “Super exiting. It’s not everyday you get to be your own superhero,” Xue Yang replied, reminding the man of his question.

            Xingchen turned to face him as if a spell had pulled him in. Xue Yang had the habit of saying little things that held much more meaning than the ruffian thought. He was too young to make such comments. When would Xingchen be able to play superhero too? For himself? To free himself of all of this?

Sensing that the man was watching him, Xue Yang faced him again with a confused expression. When the team lead didn’t answer, the ruffian chuckled, showing his fang. The little sound fluttered the empty skies and filled it with stars, the ones that danced and sparkled at night, the ones Xingchen liked to look up at. They were beautiful to look at.

Xue Yang was beautiful.

 He sucked in his lips, shaking his head.

            “Are you okay?” Xue Yang asked, and the man nodded in return. The team lead turned the heat down since the car was getting hot.

---

            Nie Mingjue’s men were not at all discreet, faces behind black sunglasses and black clothing, little green ties that reflected where the sun hit it. Not only that measure, but they took to running when Wei Ying called them, his gun raised. He didn’t wait, shooting forward but missing on purpose. This was a school campus, civility was required.

            Then he rushed forward in a chase, running towards their vehicles as they hid their bodies within. As the car hitched, wheels moving nowhere in the speed that it attempted to pick up in the shortest amount of time, Wei Ying launched forward, throwing himself on top of the vehicle just as the car began to move. He held fast to the edge, whisking an emergency window breaker from his breast pocket. With two stabs, he managed to break the top part of the window in order to tuck his fingers inside and hold tight.

            Nie Mingjue was many things, but he certainly had respect for Wei Ying where it counted. He would never allow his men to cause the younger chief any harm. When the car skidded to a stop, Wei Ying held up tightly, his body rolling off the top of the vehicle and sliding onto the windshield but his grip still tight enough not to knock him completely free from the it.

            “Get out of the car with your hands above your head,” Wei Ying ordered, the glass below his fingers beginning to cut into his flesh. The sting was nothing compared to wounds he had to endure in the past.

            The men in the cars flashed their own badges, a security service for the direct congress, of course. Wei Ying couldn’t care any less than he already did.

            “PAP, get out of the car. I will not repeat myself,” Wei Ying shouted, removing his own badge and slamming it against the windshield.

            “MSS, you do not have authority over us,” the man in the passenger seat replied, though his expression seemed to weigh what should be done.

            “The ministry of state is currently being investigated in an active case. Removes yourselves from the vehicle. Either comply or you’re being charged with unlawful transportation of a off duty officer against their will,” Wei Ying said. He would not give them another chance, gun firmly in the other hand. The PAPPU superior had always told him, “if it must be done, do it. Leave no evidence.”

            Where the hell were these people going to take Xue Yang?

            “The Ministry of state has been withdrawn from the investigation, Detective, please. He was released yesterday,” the man in the passenger seat tried again. Wei Ying stopped his eyes from rolling, then with a sharp inhale, he shot the windshield where no one would get hurt.

            “Get out of the car,” he demanded. “I will not count. Get out of the fucking car.”

            The man behind the wheel removed himself instantly, the other did not. The two men in the back stepped out as well.

            “I’ll be patient with you then,” Wei Ying said to the man still in the passenger seat. “For you personally, I will count. Anything after, I cannot guarantee that my people will not have your removed. This is your last chance. One.” He then held up two fingers, then three.

            The man did not step out of the vehicle. Wei Ying blinked slowly, stepping out of the way just as Jiang Cheng shot the man from behind the vehicle, directly in the chest, exposing the lungs to the bullet. It only took a second for the man to slump forward.

            “You,” the driver said, but Wei Ying merely looked at him. The team would suffer consequences by their superiors if they allowed people to constantly resist complying. There was no room for silly misdemeanors that happened too often.

            “Put your hands above your head and lean against the vehicle,” the chief lieutenant said. As they did so, he patted them down and took their guns, handing them to Jiang Cheng who merely stuffed them in his large trench coat pockets. Jiang Cheng was not usually on the scene and shot bullets pretty seldom. He could feel the adrenaline in his lungs and the warm grip of the gun in his hands. If there was anything his superior had taught him, it was, “do it.”

            Do what people think will be impossible for you.

            Their people came to cuff the men and bring them into the station just as Wei Ying started back towards the main lot. By now, students were peaking out of windows and answer to their curiosities. No police lights went off, just men getting dragged away, just the wind blowing around long black hair, a blur of purple, a blur of red, then everyone was gone.

            On their lips, a myth stung their syllables and it said, “the paranormal unit.” They existed in little outbursts of time, descending on the mundane world, secretly doing their work and disappearing with the wind that tossed their hair around. No one dared to capture a picture, simply capturing the moment in their memories. The PAPPU didn’t like to be public. They were a secretive sort, filed in a cabinet, alphabetically between all the mundane surnames. They added a little excitement to professional essays and formal emails, a little spice to pale congee, a little sizz to filtered water. When the mundane world saw it, a smile fell on their lips, and they waited for more, waiting for a day where the PAPPU would become known to the public world.

---

            Brother Nie called Wei Ying that evening attempting his measure of cordiality that Wei Ying easily smirked through. The chief had his legs crossed as usual, a cup of wine in one hand, admiring the ring on his finger, not the other ones, that one, that specific ring on his pinky finger.

            It was something. It wasn’t the sparkle. He sniffed it just in case it was something else, and found that he could only smell his moisturizer. Shifting his hand side to side, he attempted to pinpoint what about it fed his need to acquire it.

            “Return my men to me,” Brother Nie simply said. There was something of annoyance in his tone, one that tried its hardest to obscure what would’ve been a shout had he been speaking to anyone else.

            “Would you have returned Xue Yang to me had I asked?” Wei Ying questioned, attention still fixated on the ring. It was an ordinary beautiful ring, yes, but there was something else.

            “This is treason, Wei Wuxian. You’ve personally eliminated one of my men. Do you know what consequences you’re going to face?”

            “None, unless I let you walk free.”

            “Are you out of your mind? Did you forget that I was freed yesterday from interrogation which you wrongfully instigated.”

            “Looks like a few things were wrongfully instigated by our personal intellect, see? What made you attempt to abduct Xue Yang? I was the one who came after you. Why are you coming for my partner?”

            “I found things, Wei Wuxian. I will not answer to your questions.”

            “A lawyer is provided upon request.”

            “Fuck your lawyer.”

            “Fuck what you found, Brother Nie. What could you have possibly found? What old dirt can you pull free? There’s nothing on us. The PAPPU are not people. We are not trained and treated like people. What could you have found?”

            “Xue Chengmei killed his father, Chang Cian years ago, way before he was invited to be a part of the PAPPU. Is that what you recruit? You recruit killers?”

            Wei Ying was stunned. He bit himself in the tongue on accident, then found himself slamming his wine glass so hard against the oak that the bottom handle shattered, causing the wind to flood into the carpet yet again. The stain from a few days was still present where he had neglected to clean properly.

            “Adoptive father, Chairman Nie. Did you also fail to investigate Chang Cian who had a history of abuse? He adopted the kid and fucking abused him to the point Xue Yang acted out in defense and killed him.”

            “Was it defense?” Mingjue retorted.

            “It was legal provocation and he was dropped from the charges. Who do you think you are? Just because you’re Chairman, you think you can just dig up people’s wounds and open them? Pour salt on them? You think you can find all of our information and bring it to light? Fuck the light, that’s where people die, Chairman Nie! You’re all for justice, all for ownership. Then own up to it!” Wei Ying was physically shaking from rage. He gritted his teeth to the extent of cramping his jaw, his hand bleeding from a shard of the glass.

            “He should’ve been charged. You’re walking around with a killer, and yet you think you have the right to investigate a homicide case? Look at your partners first.”

            Wei Ying could’ve cut Mingjue to pieces in that moment, sever his head and put it on a mantel. He balled up his fists as if ready to swing them despite the distance.

            “You asked if we recruit killers. You want to know the answer? Yes. Yes, Chairman Nie. We do recruit killers. If you can’t pull that fucking trigger, we cannot have you here. If you are weak and reluctant, we cannot have you here. If you hesitate, if you are afraid of blood, if you indisposed, we cannot have you here. I want someone who will not flinch. I want someone who will kill when I say so. I give you the count to three, if you cannot shoot, cannot stab, cannot fight, I cannot have you. But mostly, you know what I recruit? I recruit fucking empathy, Chairman Nie. If you don’t have any, you’re dead to me, just like the spirits I investigate. You’re dead.” With that, Wei Ying hung up, his eyes burning from his anger. He coiled up on his seat and hugged his knees against his chest and wanted something assuring, something small that would take the truth from his words. They were killers. The PAPPU were full of killers.

            But what made them unlawful compared to the CSI? They investigated too. They had a reason to kill too. What made them different?

            Without thinking, Wei Ying dialed Lan Zhan and exhaled into the phone when he heard the other pick up. He placed the back of his wrist over his eyes and said, “please just say something reassuring. Don’t be weird right now, please. Don’t do that anymore.”

            Wangji wasn’t quite sure what to say, but he wanted to say something. Wei Ying was obviously not alright.

            “Jingyi broke the remote control,” is what Wangji managed. His brother didn’t teach him how to console people. He had no idea what he should say to the other man.

            “What? How?” Wei Ying asked, sitting up.

            “He hopped on the volume button until it broke.”

            “You didn’t stop him?”

            “He does as he pleases.”

            “Poor Sizhui.”

            “Sizhui is alright,” because Wangji was alright. The bunnies were just as stressed as the team was, Jingyi doing more than he should, Wei Ying doing more than he should.

            “Thank you,” Wei Ying said in to the phone, a safe smile on his face again. He could picture the domestic bunnies hopping around. He could even introduce them to Jin Ling if he wasn’t afraid of dogs. Jin Ling was a huge furball too, spoiled in his gold collar.

            “Mn.” Wangji replied, but he could breath again. Perhaps he had done this correctly. There were different techniques for everything.

            It was moments like that Wei Ying could’ve easily trusted the other man, not with his life, not yet, but trust nevertheless. Lan Zhan could easily access the situation and ease extremities into trivial stories that spied on tongues. Wei Ying wanted all of his problems to come out of Lan Zhan’s mouth, so they could become smaller, less severe, less painful.

            “Jingyi is tired,” Wangji said, because he knew.

            “He is, Lan Zhan. He is,” Wei Ying replied, a little bit of misery in his tone.

---

            There were a few things that Wei Ying needed to regard that following morning. Xue Yang was definitely not going to school by himself, and they needed to return early to secure the perimeters before he exited. If there’s one thing he knew about Mingjue, it was how determined and stubborn the man was. The next, was the fact that the man had zero tolerance for injustice, and since his stubborn outlook had concluded that Xue Yang had acted out wrongfully before he was recruited for duty, hence determining that it was personal homicide, not protected by law, he would do anything to remove Xue Yang from the system.

            Wei Ying wished he could just shove Jiang Cheng into politics and make him Military chairman so he could take the power from Huaisang’s brother. Jiang Cheng was easily a leader. Unfortunately, given the context of the PAPPU, Jiang Cheng was unsuitable, so unsuitable that he was almost not hired if Wei Ying hadn’t put in a word for the man. Wei Ying liked his company like a brother, like another family member.

            Why wasn’t Huaisang saying anything? He was probably running errands for that Jinguang-Yao again and his crazy experiments. He texted his friend to see how things were, obscuring the main theme of wanted to eradicate his brother and throw his body parts around for putting his partner in danger over an offense done years ago and had been pardoned under the law.

            Isn’t Brother Nie all about law anyway? Just drop it then. What the fuck? He thought, dropping Xue Yang off. It was the first time in forever that they hadn’t spoken much in the car because his thoughts were hindering him. He wished he could humor himself with Jingyi’s destruction in Lan Zhan’s house, but life was so much more serious than a broken remote. Maybe Lan Zhan needed to call and say something about life, make it smaller.

            “You really like those gloves,” Wei Ying randomly commented instead. It was a few days in a row that he saw his partner with them on.

            “Xiao-ge gave them to me.”

            “Oh.” Wei Ying didn’t mean for it to come out rudely. He certainly had nothing against Xingchen anymore, but he was currently irritated and so his words came out as such.

            “Don’t be like that. I made him cry. The least I can do is wear the gloves he bought me.”

            “You what?”

            Xue Yang sighed. “I dunno’. I said something stupid, I guess, and he cried. I didn’t mean to. I certainly don’t remember it being offensive, but sheesh, I can’t even remember what I said.”

            “You made the CSI team lead cry?” Well, that took an odd turn. Wei Ying adjusted his blazer awkwardly in search of words. Then he seemed to settle with, “that’s brutal,” and commenced to laugh causing Xue Yang to hit him in the shoulder.

            “I didn’t mean to!”

            “I know you didn’t but jeez. I’d assume you gotta’ twist off the guy’s arm to make him cry, must’ve been one hell of an insult. Anyway, don’t get killed. Have fun in class,” he said, patting the punk’s back once. Xue Yang rolled his eyes, putting on one earphone and started towards the building, watching his surroundings. Wei Ying didn’t drive off right away, resting in front of the school until someone told him he couldn’t park there. He drove around again just in case, looking for anything out of place before he assured himself and drove off.

---

            Xingchen came to pick up Xue Yang, bringing him along to their building. It was time to discuss their last victim, the only victim of the year previous. If the PAPPU couldn’t help link the last case, it was as close to goodbye as Xingchen could remember. The two teams would have to go their separate ways, and for reasons unknown, that didn’t sit well with him. He smiled when he saw Wei Wuxian inside, seated next to his partner with their rabbits, one calm, the other misbehaved. He liked to see how organized Jiang Wanyin was upon entrance, folded laptop under one arm, folders in hand, an airpod in for calls, pen tucked behind his ear, another purple coat.

            Xue Yang walked in by tripping, stepping on his shoelace and sending pens and two lead pencils out of his bookbag which he failed to close. This only left room for three folders, four notebooks, and a textbook to come sliding out. The ruffian grumbled, tied his shoelaces and commenced to pick everything up. This little calamity brought everyone from their seats and position, over to retrieve what they could, finding an open lead capsule, whiteout, random loose-leaf papers that had slid from folders. Everyone managed to pick something up except for Wei Ying who touched nothing. He merely placed the white rabbit next to him on the sofa, then proceeded to skip everything that he saw and make his way over to Xue Yang.

            “Look at me,” Wei Ying said, bending down.

            “No,” Xue Yang replied.

            “Look at me,” Wei Ying demanded, taking him by the chin and pulling his gaze towards him. Just as he thought, Xue Yang’s cheeks were almost sunken in, his eyes hollow like the jade attempted to disappear. He appeared ashen, the pale that went away with life.

            “You look like hell, Xue Yang. I don’t even need to look at your face to tell. Your things are a jumble in your bag. You didn’t even close your lead capsule.”

            “If I didn’t comment on how tired you look, you shouldn’t comment on me,” Xue Yang retorted, but his lips itched to pout, to go sulk and eat something unhealthy, ignoring everything else.

            “Yeah, no, I’m tired because people piss me off. You’re tired because of something else. What the hell happened?”

            “I purposely saged my house to draw her out and she attacked me out of rage.”

            “How much blood did you lose?”

            “I screamed until the neighbors called the cops. I told them to go away after an ambulance came. I figured, I’ll try to do this like normal people do so I attempted to talk to her again. I knew she’d scream so I waited until she opened her mouth and then I reached inside.”

            “You what?”

            Xue Yang took his hand, standing up and walking him to the hallway after closing the door. His expression was serious when he said it.

            “She doesn’t have a tongue, Wei Ying. They didn’t find all of the bodies. She’s one of Little Blind’s victims, that’s why she won’t leave me alone. She’s the lost victim.”

            “What the hell happened after you touched her? I told you never to touch them”

            “I’m fine. The light scared her away.”

            “That’s not the point. It’s just going to get brighter if you touch them, you know that. Don’t ever touch them.”

            “Focus on her, Wei Ying! This isn’t about me. I’m still alive.”

            “For how long, Xue Yang? How long are you going to be alive?” Wei Ying punched the wall behind him, his voice raised. Xue Yang didn’t answer him right away.

            “Please. Please, just don’t touch them, okay?” Wei Ying whispered. Unexpectedly, he reached over and pulled Xue Yang into an embrace as the punk’s hands reached in return.

            “I do it to save her,” Xue Yang replied, but his eyes began to sting.

            “I do this to save you,” Wei Ying said, his body slowly starting to give. He collapsed right there on Xue Yang, the stress finally affecting his weakened heart. An abnormal rhythm had reached him, not sending enough blood as his lungs pushed for oxygen. Xue Yang didn’t react right away, just holding him up as he slumped, then he knocked twice on the glass door.

            “Uncle Jiang,” he called as a tear fell.

---

            Wei Ying was seldom in the hospital, but he laid there, eyes closed and peaceful. In that moment, the particulars of life didn’t reach his gentle features, just soft edges and untroubled lines. Outside, the others sat, though Wangji peeked through the window from where he stood. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but his tongue froze behind his teeth, no syllables.

            “He had heart surgery years back,” Xue Yang said from where he sat. It was for everyone to hear, but for some reason, Wangji felt as though he was personally being spoken to so he responded.

            “Heart surgery?” He repeated, because he wanted to respond, but didn’t exactly know how someone would respond instead of apologizing, and he had nothing to apologize for.

            “Yeah. It was successful, of course, but his heart is weakened now. I tell him all the time to stop thinking so much, stop stressing over every detail, but you can’t really stop that, y’know? He’ll be okay. This isn’t the first time this happened, but I don’t want him to make a habit out of it.”

            Wangji simply nodded, then peeked inside of the window again.

            “He sure hides it well,” Xingchen said, sensing that his partner wanted to say something.

            “He hides everything well,” Xue Yang replied with a sigh. It was just like Wei Ying to overwork himself into a hospital bed, but Xue Yang couldn’t say he wasn’t exactly the same. The only reasonable PAPPU member would’ve been Jiang Cheng who stood there glaring at the door, ready to shout at his chief when the man woke up.

            The moon had become evident when Wangji noticed movement from within. Xingchen had walked off to grab coffees for the team with Jiang Cheng and Xue Yang had fallen asleep in the chair outside. Wangji made his way over to the door, placing a palm up to let the other know he was entering, but he retracted, standing before the door then walking back to the safety of the hall. He moved out of view, standing across from Xue Yang, his back not quite touching the wall. His heart was having issues today, beating too rapidly for no reason.

            “Go in,” Xue Yang said, his voice so small that the other barely heard him. He looked in his direction seeing that Xue Yang still hadn’t opened his eyes. He didn’t want to argue, so he made his way back to the door, knocking three times before entering.

            “Don’t do this,” Xue Yang whispered after he managed to persuade Wangji to leave. He couldn’t shake her off of him, preparing for another possession. He didn’t want to endure the effects inside of a hospital, so he gritted his teeth to keep from yelling. His eyes were too heavy to open, his body like lead to shift. Then he heard it, a high pitched voice in mid-screams. It had one name on its tongue before it was cut out.

            It shouted Xingchen.

            Not once, but repetitively. Then it was completely gone and Xue Yang managed to gather himself, sitting up straight again and breathing into heavy pants. He pulled his arms around himself to fight off the chill that had picked at his bones before his thoughts began to dance pirouettes into dizziness.

            Was she calling the name of her killer? He shook his head, refusing it. Just then, he looked up to see Xingchen arrive. He had hid in his coat collar all morning so the man wouldn’t notice how tired he looked, his instincts telling him to do it all over again. He feigned health, pulling his face into casual nonchalance, taking the hot chocolate from Uncle Jiang and the pastry from Xingchen.

            It was a perfect time to remember that Xingchen always gazed at Xue Yang’s jade eyes. He looked away instantly to fight off that sudden detail, calming his breathing and then taking a sip of the liquid.

            Xingchen didn’t question where his partner went, an obvious answer lying just beyond the door. He sat down next to Xue Yang, Jiang Cheng choosing to stand the way he usually did. Walking with the man was strange because he didn’t take to conversation easily. Xingchen was used to Wangji’s stoic personality, but viewing it on someone else was an odd thing. Jiang Cheng had been wearing his glasses often these days. The man walked quickly like he was trying to catch up to something, always.

            Inside, Wangji stood before the bed just as Wei Ying’s eyes fluttered opened, and a groan escaping from his lips when he realized he was in a hospital.

            “Damn it, I beat him to it,” the chief said, comparing his predicament to Xue Yang’s. Then he gestured at the chair opposite in telling Wangji to take a seat. Wangji did as he was told, his tongue itching for words again.

            “Are you well?” Wangji managed, sitting rigid straight at the edge of his seat.

            “I am very well, thank you for asking, Lan Zhan. I was just a little tired,” Wei Ying said, already sitting up with that smile of his. If Wangji were honest, he didn’t want that smile to fade ever, hints of it still existed in sleep.

            “More than tired,” Wangji commented, standing up to help him sit up. Wei Ying didn’t need it, but he was thankful for the other’s presence. He sat up and stretched, his throat craving the burn of alcohol already.

            “Drinking is prohibited in the hospital,” Wangji said, instantly reading the expression.

            “Then let’s stop accumulating bills and get a drink,” Wei Ying sang, already pressing the button that summoned the nurse. Wangji didn’t argue. Wei Ying deserved a drink after whatever event that stressed him to the point of losing consciousness. It wasn’t a great time again to drink, but his soul needed it more than his body.

            It didn’t take long before the man was discharged, but it didn’t happen right away either. Some papers and vague conversations with doctors later, a few “auto-graphs” in Wei Ying’s point of view. Wangji remembered that his Uncle Qiren was also a doctor, might’ve also convinced Wei Ying to spend the night at the hospital rather than leave. These doctors did no such thing, already prepared to give the room to someone else. Within an hour and a half, the group found themselves at Emperor’s Smile, drinks in hand, half of them getting ID-ed, the other half not.

            Wangji didn’t touch his drink, but he still ordered it because it seemed like what Wei Ying wanted. The chief chugged a shot before he looked up and saw his “good friend.” Excited, he nearly tripped from his seat as he sung the name, “Huaisang!”

            “B-brother Wei!” Huaisang responded, flustered. He looked around in search of exits and grimaced as his friend came close, then forced a smile.

            “What’re you doing here? How’s that Jinguang-Yao?” Wei Ying asked instead of saying what he truly wanted to say.

            “Jinguang-Yao?” Xingchen asked from the back, standing up from the bar seat, walking over to where the others sat. Wei Ying raised an eyebrow but didn’t interject.

            “Yes…my friend Jinguang-Yao,” Huaisang answered, registering the other’s face at once, the man from the CSI, the one that allowed his brother to be arrested.

            “Is he here today?” Xingchen asked next, unbothered by Huaisang’s complex expressions.

            “He’s right over there,” Huaisang pointed, unsure why he was asking. Xingchen smiled to reassure him which only made things worse. Wei Ying watched as Xingchen thanked his best friend then commenced to walk over to the chemist. Jinguang-Yao was in the middle of speaking to a group of people when the team lead arrived, greeting him cordially. They talked for a bit in casual conversation before Xingchen very discreetly exhibited his badge on his waist. Jinguang-Yao went silent, then he smiled in the same fashion that Xingchen would’ve.

            “Polite conversation is always welcome,” the man told the team lead.

            “Of course, I’m always willing to have polite conversation when one accepts it. If I can just interrupt and speak to you outside, we can continue where we left off,” Xingchen said, still keeping the topic discreet. He knew better than to allow another big name enter scandal, especially when he was already known for his excessive experiments.

            “Pardon me,” Jinguang-Yao said to his company before he bowed in Xingchen’s direction and walked out first, the CSI lead behind him. As they walked past the others, Wei Ying followed them with his eyes, told the bartender to give Huaisang a drink on his card, and made his way out. Huaisang visibly breathed as the man turned away, catching Wangji’s gaze just as he rushed out the back door.

            Wei Ying tapped Xue Yang’s back on his way out, the punk hopping from his seat and following him out. Wangji walked out as well just as Jiang Cheng placed on his other airpod, Xue Yang turning on the recorder and sending him the feed.

            “Jinguang-Yao, so interesting to find you here this afternoon. I was actually in search of you,” Xingchen said. The chemist chuckled politely.

            “I’m always here at anyone’s convenience, Brother Xiao. Always happy to comply. What can I do for you today?” The chemist asked. It was in that second that Wei Ying could make out the cleverness in his tone, how it could easily manipulate.

            “If you could refresh my memory, Jinguang-Yao, you are a chemist, am I correct?” Xingchen asked.

            “That is correct, Detective.”

            “I took the trouble of going through a list of your purchases for the last six years so that I wouldn’t have to inconvenience you by having you recall all of your activities.”

            “Very kind of you,” Jinguang-Yao replied, but it didn’t slip Wei Ying that there was something unpleasant about how he responded.

            “I’m going to show you a list of products that seemed to have been approved for your purchase, and if you can to the best of your ability, locate why those were specific to your work, that would be lovely.”

            “May I ask why I, out of so many of my colleagues are being questioned before we begin? I would be more than willing to answer but I’m slightly confused by this notion.”

            Wangji had his thoughts clogging up his throat. This was the last person he wanted to be involved.

            It suddenly occurred to Wei Ying why the man was being questioned all of the sudden. There must’ve been a match for the chemical purchases. How ironic that it came directly to Jinguang-Yao.

            “I’m sorry to confuse you, but this is the list.”

            “Lovely, well, let us sort this out then. I’ll make haste, I’m sure you’re a busy man and have better things to do. Ah, these. I actually remember exactly what I acquired them for,” Jinguang-Yao said upon receiving the phone from Xingchen. He began to go into full detail why he was required to make the purchases pertaining to the products mandatory to the experiments, how certain laboratories already had some of the products on hand, how a colleague had asked him to make one the purchases, how he didn’t accurate blueprint his work and purchased one thinking that it would yield successful results onto to purchase another the following month.

            “Your memory is impeccable,” Xingchen told the man, so impeccable it was like it had his story memorized in case he was questioned. Too clean.

            “I have been told by many. I thank you. Is there anything else I can help with?” Jinguang-Yao asked, but there was hidden impatience that caused Wei Ying to take in a sharp breath.

            “Does anyone have access to your laboratory?” Wei Ying suddenly asked, unable to keep quiet. Jinguang-Yao seemed to have a slight shock, seeing the man all of the sudden. He had been standing right there, but his identity unknown, and so, was another invisible face.

            “And this is?” Jinguang-Yao questioned the team lead.

            “Wei Wuxian, PAP” Wei Ying responded for himself.

            “Wonderful. What branch?” Jinguang-Yao asked though the news was already public that it was obviously the paranormal branch. Wei Ying wasn’t going to argue with a scientist about something supernatural, so he smiled a tight lipped smile and responded.

            “Minor details, Brother…Yao,” Wei Ying said, unsure what surname the name actually wanted. He hoped that Jinguang-Yao would be understanding especially giving his past. It was easy to be misunderstood.

            “About the access to your laboratory,” Wei Ying began again.

            “Ah, yes, my colleagues and I. No one else has access. You’d need a key card in order to enter. It is strictly prohibited to outside parties.”

            “What about Nie Mingjue?” Wei Ying asked. At the mention of the name, Jinguang-Yao went silent, affected for a fraction of a moment before he politely chuckled again.

            “No. Chairman Nie does not have access.”

            “What about his brother?” This was Wangji. His remark instantly made Wei Ying turn in his direction with a frown. Why was he bringing Huaisang into this?

            “Huaisang? I authorize Huaisang to make purchases under my name. I sign forms for it if you’re personally going to question him. He’s clear.” That question seemed to confuse the chemist but he kept his smile plastered on his face.

            “Yes or no,” Wangji asked.

That’s correct. If Huaisang had access as a friend assistant, his brother could easily access the building through Huaisang’s keycard without him knowing. Huaisang wasn’t the brightest lightbulb in the package. Wei Ying thought it over. Sometimes even confidentiality can be forfeited in the form of intimacy. What was more intimate than friendship?

“Sometimes, if you will,” Jinguang-Yao said. “He doesn’t always have access, but occasionally, I give him my keycard to open ports in the laboratory building to get me the tools I require to do my work. He is more than willing to do so.” As if he just registered that that was against the law, the chemist tried again. “Huaisang also acquired enough credits to work as an assistant. I spoke to his brother about this. We’re pardoning his bad grades with a formal agreement. He does well when it isn’t related to the formality of institutional infrastructure.”

“So yes,” Wei Ying summarized. “So, the rumors are true, you do keep in touch with Brother Nie?” The chief folded his arms unsure if it was because he was fed up with vague answers or the cold.

“Very seldom. Brother Nie – it seems you are acquainted as well – and I do not get on that well. He has his hands quite full now that he’s congress chairman. I don’t see how his intervention has any relevance, if you please.” Jinguang-Yao answered, quickly grasping that the usage of mentioning Chairman Nie in such an intimate manner meant conflict of interest. Wei Ying juggled his lips side to side, realizing what he had just done, allowing a man who used his words to know about him.

“Does sulfur mustard mean anything to you, Brother Yao?” Wei Ying asked to cover it up. The chemist nodded once the way Lan Zhan usually did.

“Chemical warfare. There are no other reasons for it.”

“How about homicide?” Wei Ying asked, smiling.

“What?”

“I asked how about homicide, Brother Yao. Surely, you as a chemist know the particulars of sulfur mustard.”

“Of course, it’s a blistering agent and highly toxic.”

“But not as toxic as the other materials of your usage. You are quite acquainted with toxicity.”

“Detective, please, be frank with me. What is your question?”

“Have you come in contact with sulfur mustard?” Wei Ying asked, all grins again to lighten the mood. Jinguang-Yao didn’t buy it, but his smile was copy and pasted under his nose when he needed it present.

“I have furbished some myself, I will admit to you that much.” There was slight irritation appearing the chemist’s tone that wasn’t present before. It only made Wei Ying grin wider.

“Have you ever allowed Nie Mingjue into your laboratory?” Wei Ying asked, jumping to his direct question. Jinguang-Yao seemed to ponder the question, his expression small before the smile reemerged and he followed with the following: “All other questions can be answered through my lawyer, Detective.”

Wei Ying found himself twitch. This “lawyer” business might’ve worked with direct protocol, maybe with the CSI, but it certainly wasn’t how he was taught to do things with the PAPPU. Beside him, Xingchen touched his forearm as if to ask him to retract kindly.

“We will be keeping in contact then, Brother Jin,” Xingchen said to the chemist, finding that Wei Ying was not moving in the trajectory of his arm. He had not persuaded the chief lieutenant from his position. Jinguang-Yao was just turning to walk away when Wei Ying called out again.

“No,” the chief said, plain and simple. The chemist paused and turned around again, an eyebrow raised.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll tell you how we’re going to do this, Brother Yao. You’re going to answer my questions today. I’m not waiting to hear from a lawyer, I don’t talk to those. Do you understand?”

“Brother Xiao, if you can kindly have your men under order that would be most grateful. It’s best to teach them who is superior,” Jinguang-Yao said to the team lead. Xingchen parted his lips as if to protest to the PAPPU chief when he was interrupted with Wei Ying’s scoff.

“Stand down, Xingchen,” Wei Ying ordered. Then to Jinguang-Yao he said, “a few things you should know about seniority, Brother Yao. First off, I have the final say. You mentioned the superior and the inferior before me? Then let me teach you what superiority and inferiority means.” At this point, he was quoting the PAPPU superior, a ferocious lady he had never met that went by the pen name, Violent Spider.

Through the line, Jiang Cheng could memorize the words himself. It was the speech Violent Spider gave to anyone she recruited. He mouthed the next line along with his sworn brother.

“You are the inferior, I am the superior!” Wei Ying shouted, punching the vehicle beside him that had been his own. Jinguang-Yao took a visible step backward, blinking a few times before he recollected himself.

“You cannot say that, Wei Wuxian. That is unethical,” the chemist reminded him.

“So is furbishing mustard sulfur before we have been revoked from the CWC. So is giving access to unauthorized personnel. Don’t you dare get at me for unethical. I know exactly what I am. I know what ethical is. Why would a living person worry about what happens after they die? I’ll just live freely for as long as possible.”

“Living like that, you’ll find that you won’t.”

“I don’t have to. I know exactly what I’m supposed to do,” Wei Ying told him, and with that, he took off his blazer for it restricted his movements. This caused the chemist to lift both eyebrows, taking a few more steps back.

“Answer my question. I have a lot of respect for you, Jinguang-Yao, but tolerating bullshit is bullshit. You shouldn’t tolerate bullshit either. From one comrade to another, do you or do you not grant access to Nie Mingjue.”

Jinguang-Yao pinched his fingers so deeply into his palms that it drew blood. His jaw shivered for words, his own facts distorted in a disarray of thoughts. He took in a few composed breaths and turned to take in those grey eyes. He could’ve sworn he saw a streak of purple in them.

“No.” He answered adamantly.

Wei Ying lifted his hand but stopped midway, watching Jinguang-Yao flinch but make no moves to move away. He lowered his hand slowly, then suddenly felt someone’s warmth against his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Xingchen but saw Lan Zhan instead, staring straight ahead. Slowly, Lan Zhan moved his pupils until it reached Wei Ying’s, capturing the moment of understanding.

It wasn’t worth it. Everyone was a liar.

Even them.

Chapter Text

Xingchen said nothing of what Wei Ying had uttered the previous night. Stress did many things to people, maybe shape them differently, make them say things they didn’t mean. Only, he was sure Wei Ying had meant every word he said. The team lead started to wonder exactly what it was they taught the PAPPU members, why society was an entirely different branch, one that shivered under the wind’s touch, hostilities plucking the leaves one by one. The PAPPU had roots, but he wasn’t sure where they were planted. Xingchen was a part of an old tree, old bark, old marks, old rules, foundational.

            Where he was unable to speak, he found that Wangji was the one who opened his mouth, unusual. Xingchen didn’t know what was going on with the case anymore, even Wangji was holding secrets. Where Xingchen withheld information, Wangji fabricated new ones to fill in the holes.

            “Who were you quoting?” Wangji asked, because he could tell it wasn’t something the chief would’ve said. It didn’t hold his personality but someone else’s.

            “My superior’s,” Wei Ying easily said, swirling in repetitively circles in the swivel chair. Wangji nodded once the way he always did.

            “She gave us all the same speech,” Jiang Cheng added. He was in the middle of listening to Xue Yang’s recording and typing down everything Jinguang-Yao had said the night before.

            “She sounds like a formidable woman,” Xingchen commented, turning on the smart board and plugging in the USB. He turned in Xue Yang’s direction as if to question why the ruffian was so quiet. Xue Yang had been looking more at the ground all day. He hadn’t even said a single word when the chemist was present.

            “Let’s discuss the last case without me passing out this time,” Wei Ying said, changing the subject. He was sure Violent Spider didn’t like anyone, not even her husband. Wei Ying liked to call the husband to see what it was that he should do, and the man would relay it to his wife, and return to him. Speaking directly to Violent Spider was asking for another speech. She often told Wei Ying he was a trouble maker, and took preference to Jiang Cheng, but her husband was the one that refused to hire the tech analyst. It seemed obvious at that point that Violent Spider was a woman of many things, but she also cherished her husband’s opinions.

            “Seventeen year old Ai Ling was discovered at Jingshang Bei Park, a mini park that is private property to Jingshang High. She was discovered within the gates at the study area of the park where the trees are most present. Sulfur mustard was found about a few meters away from her. Her wounds were different compared to the others considering they were induced pre-mortum as you can tell from the images,” Xingchen explained, displaying her picture across the screen again for them to see. Xue Yang instantly sucked in air at the sight of her.

            It was a mess.

            Her eye sockets were bloodied, her nose and mouth covered in the same red, dripping down and across her cheek into her ears. She had bruises on her neck and arms, some on her legs. She was in active wear, her fitbit still on her wrist and reading heartbeats, or attempting to.

            “What the fuck,” Xue Yang said out loud. At this point in time, because the PAPPU had so much information on the case, Xingchen displayed more images, showing under her soft and raw sockets where the contacts were found, and inside of her mouth where the tongue was no longer visible. Her skin had started its stages of blistering but not enough meaning she hadn’t been exposed to much of the gas.

            “DNA was found under her nails but again, there is no match. She had obviously fought for her life and ended out falling victim to Little Blind anyway,” Xingchen explained.

            Wei Ying balled up his fists and took a deep breath. Simply looking at the pictures caused his leg to constantly tap to keep himself composed.

            “What was found in her system?”

            “Chloroform and –“ Xingchen was interrupted.

            “Kit-kat,” Xue Yang suddenly said causing Uncle Jiang to frown at him the way he usually did to their chief.

            “Focus,” he scolded the youngest partner. Xue Yang blew air into his cheeks before answering.

            “I am focused! He had to have used kit-kat.”

            “What’re you talking about?”

            “Special K, Uncle Jiang. I went to school there for my first year before I transferred. Special K was a huge theme around those parts. He’s all about convenience so he had to use what was in front of him. Plus, he doesn’t like to harm the victim, right? Kit-Kat is used an anesthetic just like the procurium bromide. Only, kit-kat is used by many people as a fun time drug and procurium bromide is used in hospitals and like…the death penalty. He most likely got kit-kat as a purchase in the area, subjected it to liquid and pumped it into her before death to get her to stop fighting.”

            “And because the chloroform didn’t work,” Wei Ying said with a frown in the middle of thinking. He seemed to mull over what he was being told and looking at the image of the park. It didn’t really make sense for Little Blind to get beyond those gates. How did he get inside?

            “Can you tell me what she was doing there? Was she jogging?” Wei Ying asked next, considering her active wear and the fact that a track runway took a circular trail around the park within the gate. Anyone could wear active wear for fun but given that she was on the track was a little strange if she wasn’t running.

            “Yes, Ai Ling was excused for most of her classes as long as she kept her grades up. She spent most of her time practicing for her next track match. She was a runner. Her friends reported that she always returned from track happier than usual. They think that she was seeing someone on the track field,” Xingchen explained.

            “I don’t think so. The unsub is brash but he isn’t stupid either. He had to have built a relationship with her before that. School girls are really secretive when it comes to a things like “meeting their person.” They don’t want to tell their friends anything but that he’s just some guy. Was she reported to speak to anyone outside of school? Reported to exchange conversation with him through any other means?”

            “No, they never exchange emails or numbers. She was always quick to get her school work done so she could go jogging. She was a straight 97-100 percentile student,” Xingchen answered.

            “Okay, so he definitely noticed that she was a runner, and since he tries to get acquainted at the same level of all of his victims, he probably pretended to be a runner too, meaning he is rather athletic. He most likely pretended to be a gym buff like Zhang Yong too, but he never entered the gym or else we’d catch him in open light. Look at the field, the inner part is a private park, but the outside is public property. The block rolls in the same circular fashion as the track. All he had to do was run on the outside of the gate. He probably ran with her when she went jogging and that’s how they got acquainted. That’s also probably how he got inside.”

            “He knew she would keep him a secret,” Wangji said, agreeing to everything the chief had explained.

            “Exactly. He just needed to run everyday until she noticed him. You know school girls. Ai Ling is only seventeen years old. The thought of an older man considering he has to be around 25-40. He’s charismatic and strong, has to be old enough to assume the jobs he’s taking and speaking to the age groups that he aims for.”

            “Why do you assume that’s the age range?” Xingchen questioned, taking note on a notepad.

            “Because he goes to concerts with twenty-four year olds, enchants young girls like Lihua and Ai-Ling, fixes cars with thirty-one year olds, talks business with thirty-six year olds, gains trust from gym buff athletes over smokes, and gets invited to dinner from thirty-eight year olds. He’s most likely 25-40 given what kind of trust has to be formed in order for him to have victimized these people. He looks young for his age, but he can be mature where it counts.”

            “But why on earth did he attack Ai-Ling before she passed? That definitely doesn’t add up,” Xue Yang said, zooming in and out of the picture on his tablet as if it would help. If there’s something he had noticed, it was where her bruises were placed. He had those exact bruises from touching Si Lifen.

            “You know what’s even weirder? He used chloroform. It’s like he didn’t do correct research and though the chloroform would work right away. It’s a known myth that chloroform is used to make other’s lose consciousness if you put it on a wet rag which I assumed is what he did. Only, that never works. Chloroform reacts quickly with oxygen and you’d need to hold it a lot longer than just a few seconds, maybe four-five minutes. Adding too much could’ve killed her only the spot but it’s complicated to dictate how much,” Wei Ying said, frowning even harder since it helped him to think.

            “It’s out of character,” Wangji said for him.

            “Exactly. Like, he gives everything so much thought but this case in particular doesn’t seem to show that he gave it any thought, like he acted out on impulse. I’m gonna’ grab a beer, I’ll be right back.” The alcohol helped the man to think. As he got up, so did Wangji, leaving with him to retrieve it.

            Xue Yang was trying to remember how the school had looked when he was there. It didn’t look much different except for the added blankets and other shit like that by the trees so students could study. He remembered sitting in that exact area between the trees to afford some peace so he could mull over homework. There was a gate right there by the back, just beyond it, parking obscured by the public trees beyond them. He drew out shapes on his tablet to visually think about how the event took place. When he turned, Xingchen was watching him, turning away when Xue Yang glanced in his direction. Xue Yang returned to his tablet with a smile, finding the other wearing the same expression in his periphery.

            When Wei Ying returned, Wangji had orange jasmine tea compared to his whiskey. The two sat beside on another, Wei Ying popping his bottle and taking a swig. He went to peer at the shapes Xue Yang drew, nodding once in a while before the same thoughts seemed to enter his mind as well.

            “He parked his car right there beyond the gate by the trees,” Wei Ying said, pointing. Xue Yang nodded, still drawing his shapes, little fuzz balls for trees.

            “Oh! Remember when I said that the unsub is also sensitive, and people could see that? What if he used that same technique again? So, he runs down the track up to this point,” Wei Ying pointed to just a bit from the gate door. “And feigns some sort of weakness again. Let’s say he pretends to get really dizzy. It was November, getting colder. A lot of people get sick during that time. He pretends to get ill of some kind to draw her to the gate. Of course, being concerned, she opens the gate and goes out to check on him.”

            “Yeah, all he has to do is convince her to walk over to where the mustard gas will be triggered, probably these trees here,” Xue Yang says, pointing to the picture on the big screen where two trees conveniently stood across from one another in an opening.

            “It’s a desperate situation,” Wangji points out.

            “Exactly. So he asks her if there’s somewhere he can lay down and she brings him inside, of course. There’s legit a comfortable study area where he can catch his breath. She most likely brought him over there and went to fetch him some water. Why do I say this? Because he probably went back to his car to retrieve his things considering he definitely wasn’t running with them. Ai Ling comes back with water, probably out of breath. She gives him some water and he says he really needs to lay down. By now, I bet Ai Ling is uncomfortable being in the trees with an older man, so she walks ahead of him in case something happens, she can run to the other side of the gate and get out. She's a smart girl, remember? Ninety-seven to a perfect one hundred percentile student, thought things through. Only, she didn’t anticipate triggering the gas and falling down where the unsub then tried the chloroform and found it wasn’t working. The mustard gas just needed to spray once, but it will still damage him. He’s taking a huge risk again, but he’s also running out of time. They fight because the chloroform isn’t working and she’s most likely screaming. She runs from where the mustard gas went off over to that next patch of trees, but he stabs her with the ketamine. She was making her way over to the exit,” Wei Ying said.

            “Meaning she had gotten away from Little Blind,” Wangji commented.

            “And what does this say about Little Blind who is completely able to over power her? He was reluctant to fight her, because he’s reluctant to harm people. He’s detatched from them once they are dead and wants no part in the actual process of death which is why he chooses such a distant agent to kill them. She gets away because he fails to subdue her. When she gets to the next patch of trees, the ketamine, maybe 150-200 mg’s worth, is strong enough to take immediate effect. She falls down and gets weaker, unable to scream. He has to remove her eyes, tongue, and put in contacts quickly and rush back to his car before anyone who had heard her screams come along. There’s probably a small chance of that happening because it’s a quiet private track for the school. And he most likely thought ahead and took all of the parking so other’s wouldn’t be around the area. There was probably very few people there, and if they were, they were by the front. So, him rushing to kill her seems a bit strange,” Wei Ying said, taking another mouthful of whiskey. Xingchen wanted to tell the man that nothing he said would be counted as adequate if he finished that bottle.

            “I just think it’s weird that he chose a lethal injection for Xiang Xiaosi, and an actual tranquilizer for Ai Ling. She couldn’t have died from that. What she actually ended out dying from was most likely the blood lost and choking from the blood in her mouth. When it clotted in her nose and overfilled her mouth and she was rendered unable to move, she probably suffocated,” Xue Yang pointed out with an older man's frown.

            “You’re correct. She died of suffocation,” Xingchen assured him.

            “So why choose to act so rashly and use an anesthetic instead of something fatal as usual? He didn’t give the chloroform thought, numbed her pain, and left his trade marks while she was still alive,” came Wei Ying, pursing his lips because expressions helped one to find words.

            “It’s like he’s…trying to fix what he’s done. Numb her so she won’t feel the pain when she dies, because he didn’t think about it the first time,” Xue Yang said next, putting his tablet beside him.

            “It’s like a reenactment. But it doesn’t match any of the victims.”

            “Yet,” Xue Yang told his chief, because the lost victim looked pretty young too.

---

            What was an oath anyway? Maybe promises meant more, personal promises, pinky promises. Xue Yang looked at his pinky finger, then looked at his crooked pinky finger that his adoptive father had broken. He didn’t feel the pain any longer, ready to attach strings, ready to attach rings, what ever could make a promise and end his thoughts. Right now they repeated a name, over and over, like it was calling the name of the killer. He stared at his pinky and wondered how it felt to curl it around someone else’s, utter a promise that meant something to the both of them.

            “Does it still hurt?” Xingchen suddenly asked, entering the room, placing a steamed vanilla milk in front of the other, espresso shots on the side. Xue Yang reached for the espresso shots first, and with a chug, poured the contents down his throat and scrunched up his face. He took a small sip of vanilla milk, finding that the top was coated with whip cream. Starbucks. He didn’t like to go into Starbucks where they’d ask for a name, and in a panic, he’d come up with a different name each time. Violent Spider always said to keep your name to yourself, don’t give it to other people.

            “Xue Yang?” Xingchen called, a little bit of concern considering the other hadn’t replied.

            Xue Yang had given this man his name.

            “Xiao-ge, I have a question,” Xue Yang said, because the sting of espresso was on his tongue, making him just a bit more powerful with his words. The silly texture of whip cream coiled around on his taste buds, reminding him that he was soft, easily dissolved when the heated particulars of life pulled him apart. There was no reason for him to trust Xiao Xingchen except for the fact that the man made it evident that he was going to persist and be ever present. He was a liar, a secretive man, and yet he was present. He was overly kind, candy-sweet kind, and Xue Yang continued to eat it up.

            Was it because Xingchen liked his company? Or was it because Xingchen was trying to distract him?

            Little Blind was an everybody type of person, easily likeable, sensitive, and dangerous. Xingchen was all of those things, kind to everyone, easily brought to tears, a man with a gun, a man with many words, but was that personality or motive?

            “I may or may not have an answer, but I promise to try my best,” Xingchen replied.

            “Don’t make promises over small things like that,” Xue Yang said, putting the cup down and turning his body in the other’s direction for his full attention. Xingchen’s smile became a bit flustered but he kept it there nevertheless, giving him the attention he was calling for. They sat so close that the ruffian’s knee touched his own, and he hadn’t pulled it away to give him space.

            “I want to help with this case,” Xue Yang told him, then put a hand up to stop him from speaking before he could finish. “Like, really help with this case. I want to free those people. I want to put this bastard behind bars, Xiao-Ge, but I can’t, I cannot do that unless you tell me everything. Please promise me something.” Xue Yang reached across and took the man’s hands, finding that they were no longer affecting him. He looked at the man’s larger hands and then at his face, how gentle those eyes were when you peered inside. Xue Yang focused on his own reflection so he could ignore the man and find his words.

            “Of course,” Xingchen said, squeezing those hands again. The ruffian's hands were warmer, that’s good.

            “You promised that you are not Little Blind.”

            “I have.”

            “Are you hiding any information from the case from me? Have you told me everything I need to know?” Xue Yang looked deeper into those eyes, unfortunately, no longer seeing himself but the other man. He felt the words in his mouth begin to falter with bias. He didn’t want to ask this, didn’t want to suspect the man.

            “I have,” Xingchen didn’t hesitate. That was a good sign.

            “Do you have any relation to this case? You are involved in no way?” Why do they call your name?

            “I’m not. My only involvement is that I want to solve this case just as much as you do. I want to free all of them, all 18 of them.”

            “You’re sure all bodies were found?”

            “Positive,” and with that Xingchen took a breather and asked, “do you trust me?”

            “I don’t know why, but with my life, Xiao-ge. I trust you with my life,” Xue Yang replied, finding his eyes filling with water but not quite dripping from his eyelids. His throat tingled with a burn but he didn’t sob, just silent with quivering lips. He had found the source. All around him, the light was not present, just the light of Xingchen, bright and cool around his body.

            He kissed this light with his lips and thought about the present, not what comes after.

---

            Jiang Cheng was in the study of his apartment, papers neatly compiled and circling him where he could see. He listened to all recordings at least half a dozen times, writing notes until his fingers hurt, and typing notes until the tip of his fingers hurt.

            “Did you eat yet?” Violent spider asked into his airpods, for he had forgotten that she was on the phone.

            “Yes, Mom.”

            “What’d you have?”

            “Take-out,” Jiang Cheng responded, shifting some notes to read under them. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His mother scowled on the line at his reply.

            “Take-out? It’s always take out. What’s going to happen to your health if you continue that way? Is the case so important that you can’t take care of yourself?”

            “Mom, these are literally the deceased we’re talking about. I’m just trying to help in any way I can. Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang both lost consciousness, the least I can do is – .”

            “Lose consciousness as well?” Violent Spider snapped, causing her son to sigh. He always tried to have these conversations in secret. The last thing he needed his teammates to know was that he was related in a rather intimate manner with their superiors, the reason his father hadn’t wanted Jiang Cheng to be hired in the first place.

            “I just want to contribute. This isn’t a contest to see who is the most tired. Obviously they take the cake. I just want to help. I want to solve this.”

            “And you will, Sweetheart. Despite what that man says, you’ll be the one that solves this case. Wait until I get my hands on their department., witholding information like that – what, do they want to go to prison? I’ll have their hands cut off for treason.”

            “Mom, you’re doing it again. You know they record everything on the line?”

            “Am I supposed to be afraid? If the government has any qualms, they can take it directly to me.”

            “Nie Mingjue – .”

            “Is quite a respectable man, Sweetheart. But if he pulls another stunt and lays another hand on my people, his head will decorate the living room. I don’t care who you are or what unit, department, sect, you came from.”

            “How is Dad?” Jiang Cheng asked, desperate to change the direction of the conversation. At this, his mother scowled again as if he had insulted her. In her perception, he most likely did. Violent Spider treated Jiang Cheng as if he was still fifteen-sixteen. Thirteen years later and nothing changed.

            “Does my conversation bore you so much that you bring up that man? Call him yourself and ask him how he’s doing. I will not put words in his mouth less it give him another headache he’ll complain about and who hears it but me?”

            “Mom, that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know if you were both well.”

            “What you should be worried about is you, You Stupid Boy! Eat and get rest and stop worrying about other people. If you have no energy, that Wei Wuxian will solve the case before you do. God, I had one kid, but I need to raise three. Why is it that none of you can take care of yourselves?”

            “Okay, Mom, I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng sweatdropped. He wanted to discuss the case with her over dinner but that didn’t happen considering he got home late from the office. She was probably in a bad mood because he promised, and the promise suddenly became a white lie. He could picture his father wishing he invited Wei Wuxian and then exhaling when the both of them didn’t arrive. Wei Ying couldn’t come anyway, or else he’d find out. It wasn’t right for family to be involved in any way.

            Violent sighed on the other line then replied, “Call your sister and see how she’s doing for me. Okay, Sweetheart?”

            “I will, Mom. Thanks. I’ll call you soon, bye.” And with that, he smiled lightly to himself, stroking Jin Ling’s head because the husky always behaved when he heard Jiang Cheng’s mother on the line. He wished to see his sister, so he pulled facetime open on his laptop, pushing his files out of the way, the only facet of life that could make him disorganized. It was pretty late, but he was sure his sister would be awake, and his mother would have his head as decoration in the living room if he failed to do what she had asked.

            Jiang Yanli took but a moment to pick up, her hair down and wet from the shower. She had on a lotus pin that pulled her fringe from her elegant eyes and gentle face. She smiled with teeth when she saw her brother appear on the line and waved.

            “Cheng-di, how are you? Are you still awake at this time?”

            “I’m doing great, Jie-jie,” he replied. The sight of his sister made his stomach curl with loneliness. He wished he could spend time with his family like when they were younger. His sister lived on the countryside with her husband who wasn’t home as often as he could’ve, given that Zixuan was often doing business in the city.

            “You look tired,” Yanli told him, wanting nothing more than to stroke his face.

            “I am, but I’m fine. How are you? What’s new? Is Brother Jin there or is he down here?”

            “He was actually down in Shanghai yesterday to answer to a protest against his brother again, but he’s here now. Laogong! Come say hi to Cheng-di,” Yanli called. In a moment, Zixuan appeared as though he hadn’t slept in a few days, but his complexion was still lovely, and his eyes were ever alert.

            “I know, I look terrible,” Zixuan said before his brother in law could answer to it.

            “No, no, you actually look good. If anyone looks like hell, it’s me, which says a lot considering I sleep every night. How were the protests?” Jiang Cheng asked. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Zixuan's face. 

            “Yao-di is just doing things again and with the elections coming to an end, the Nie support party decided to take things into their own hands and start another violent protest. I had to personally apologize to Brother Nie, and silence the crowd in Yao-di's name because he was cooped up in his lab doing God knows what. I wish everyone would leave him alone. They only pay attention to his mistakes, but he’s usually very successful.”

            “He does have a lot of supporters too. There are more supporters than there are antis, so I don’t think you have to worry much. The Nie supporters will warm up to it in a month or two when the elections aren’t so ingrained in their heads,” and with that, something seemed to click in Jiang Cheng’s head. As if afraid someone might take his thought, he pulled the curtains shut so that the moonlight was required to fight his curtains to reach him.

            “You see Jinguang-Yao from time to time, right?” Jiang Cheng asked his brother in law.

            “I always try to visit when I stop by in the city, so pretty often.”

            “Do you know if Nie Mingjue has access to his lab?”

            “Yeah, Yao-di likes to show us his successes. I got called along with Brother Nie at one point, travelled all the way down there to see what he did.”

            Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. “Brother Nie was there?”

            “Yes,” Zixuan answered, drying his wife’s hair as she listened, holding up the phone for both of them.

            “If anybody comes to the house, just tell them you don’t know anything," Jiang Cheng said, suddenly quite pale in the night.

            “That’s great, because I actually don’t. Is everything okay?”

            “Yeah, um, yeah. I’ll call soon, get some rest. You too, Jie-jie, bye!” He waited until the two said their goodbyes before he texted his two partners the information. Then he patted Jin Ling’s head, looking out the window through a peak between the curtains.

            “Wake up, Jin Ling. I need you to sniff em’ out, if they come.”

---

            The next morning, the team was outside of the congress building, excusing themselves through the crowd that usually protested outside. Xue Yang managed to dodge a board that screamed “NO NIES,” as if Huaisang would ever want to enter the world of politics. The crowd danced around Wangji’s stoic expression, making room for him to walk through, Xingchen in front of him. Wei Ying and Xue Yang were ordered by Violent Spider to wear germ masks. Despite that, they made their way in front of the crowd, a police light off between their arms.

            As the crowd chanted, the PAPPU shot from a signal gun into the sky. Once the signal reached the sky, a large purple lotus stretched across the clouds, an image everyone recognized. Xingchen and Wangji turned on their police lights, holding it above their heads as Wei Ying spoke loudly into a megaphone.

            “Nie Mingjue, you are ordered by the PAP to withdraw from the building at once. You are under arrest for unlawful assault, and endangerment of innocent civilians. You have two minutes, or a team will be sent in.”

            The attack last night did it. Mingjue’s men had managed to hurt Jin Ling, and Jiang Cheng had been at the vet all morning. He managed to fight them off himself, taking two men to their faces with his knuckles and throwing another out his kitchen window. He sounded off his house alarm to wake the neighbors, then used his fire extinguishers to keep them at a distance. He was more concerned about his dog which ran directly at the men, biting at chests and pant legs until someone shot the poor husky in the leg. The last thing Jiang Cheng remembered was a wail and a whimper, before he lost control, killing at least one man with a kitchen knife and wounding another in the shoulder with his gun. In all, Mingjue had sent five men against one man and his pet dog over one vague phone call. Unacceptable.

            The worst part was the fact that Mingjue could acquire everyone’s files. Despite there being no information on the PAPPU members, he was still able to discover their whereabouts, down to addresses. There was no reason for him to act out in concern if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

            It took forty minutes to storm the building and retrieve Nie Mingjue who walked out with his hands behind his back. He was required to be taken into questioning again for the murder of 9 victims under the pseudonym of “Little Blind,” which he blatantly denied the accusations of.

            Mingjue was a man of many things, and he was brutally honest when it came to questions. He represented himself again, having answers for every assault charge. His MSS team were sent in the name of protection for the Nie Party against suspicious activity that was triggered by his name and other key words. They were sent out in the form of defense and acted out as so. In the process, his men had wrongfully been injured which in turn had caused them to act out severely.

            The final blow was that Mingjue complied to a DNA test for Little Blind and came out negative. His fingerprints were different, his DNA had no match, he was a free man. But not necessarily.

            “A man that’s completely uninvolved doesn’t send a group of people to assault a man and his dog over a conversation he had with his sister. That’s just bizarre. And don’t ‘it was in the name of defense’ me, because Yanli-jie definitely didn’t do anything wrong. Are they okay, by the way?” Wei Ying asked into the phone, outside of the questioning room. He hadn’t gone in, afraid that he would attack the man and get flipped again. He was no match for the man. 

            “They’re okay. Fortunately, no one was sent to their house. I’m sure xuan-ge can fight them off but still, I don’t want her to stress about it,” Jiang Cheng said into the phone, still waiting for information on how Jin Ling was.

            “Yeah, it’s better not to tell her. Okay, I’ll call back later. Don’t want his people recording shit and coming back for us,” and with that, they said their goodbyes and hung up. He faced Xue Yang who was watching the scene in front of him intently. Now that Nie Mingjue was in the room by himself, he just looked like an angry politician like all other angry politicians.

            “He still could’ve hired someone to do it for him. We just need to figure out who,” the chief said, patting the punk on the head. After a bit of staring straight ahead, Xue Yang took in a sharp breath and walked into the room though no one told him to.

            “They let kids into the force now, don’t they?” Mingjue asked Xue Yang as he approached. He was correct about keeping his cordiality, not bringing up the incident from years ago.

            “They let tattoos into politics now, don’t they?” Xue Yang asked in return, seeing just a slip of a tattoo peak from under Mingjue’s long sleeve. The Chairman chuckled at his remark, then raised an eyebrow when the punk midget didn’t take a seat.

            “What? Are you going to interrogate me too? Gonna’ throw a chair on my head, turn the camera the other way? I flung your chief, Kid, I’ll fling you too,” Mingjue said honestly, unbothered as he leaned back with his arms crossed, his chair on two legs instead of four.

            “May I see your hands? You’ve finger tattoos too. That’s cool. I always wanted a tattoo but I’m not a fan of needles unless I’m stabbing someone with it,” Xue Yang joked. He approached, leaning over the man’s shoulder from the back and staring at the symbol. It was the head of a beast on his index finger.

            “Did it hurt? Can I touch it?” Xue Yang asked, because he simply wanted to take the man’s hand without being strange about it. The chairman shrugged, holding up his finger.

            “Try to break my finger and I’ll crack your neck,” he warned the brat.

            “I just wanted to touch the tattoo. Just tell me you got trust issues, dude,” Xue Yang said, reaching across and touching his fingertips against the art piece. He slid his rather small hand over Mingjue's where the chairman noticed the crooked pinky.

            Abusive father, Mingjue thought.

            Xue Yang did not get a read on him except for the burst of random anger here and there. He retracted his hand, a bit conflicted.

            “Why’re you so angry?” He suddenly asked the man, creating distance again.

            “You just did your thing, didn’t you? Wei Ying tells me about you guys all the time. It’s fascinating, really, but don’t do that without permission, less you want someone to crack you at the neck.” Mingjue said. He sounded softer when he spoke about them, a believer of anything. Xue Yang smiled at him where the fangs didn’t show, then commenced to walk to the door.

            “If you want to question anybody, question Meng Yao. I’ve pardoned the brat enough and look where that got me. You’re looking for a killer of nine people. I’ve killed much more than that with a single word. I advocated for war, Kid. I didn’t kill just a mesely nine, done far worse.”

            “I thought you and Meng Yao weren’t on good terms. Of course, you’d send us his way,” Xue Yang said, reaching for the door knob.

            “I send you his way because it’s obvious Little Blind is using chemical agents in order to get his business done. Has it occurred to you that because we’re not on good terms that he could perhaps be framing me?”

            “Do you honestly believe that?”

            “I know a snake when I see one. Meng Yao is personal. He’s ruining the city because he’s that personal and he’s covering it up in the name of science. Bullshit. He’s just trying to fix the problems of his life. He should’ve just gone to his Dad instead of ruining the city.”

            Xue Yang felt a pang of anger all of the sudden. Life didn’t always head in the direction that you wanted it to. He certainly wanted his own adoptive father’s approval too, and that got him a broken pinky finger and slaps in the face. People made promises they couldn’t keep. It was just like someone like Nie Mingjue to think that the minute particulars of familial affection could spare some for the likes of them.

            “Hold your tongue before someone cuts it off, Chairman,” Xue Yang found himself saying. He opened the door and walked out just to see Wei Ying before him, most likely ready to intervene if he attempted to get violent. Xue Yang got violent from a distance, never up close. He’d never be able to take Nie Mingjue on at such a proximity. He would grab a chair, grab a gun, use chemical gases. That worked too.

            Being congress chairman and brother of an idiot must’ve flared a lot of hatred in Mingjue, but also being ridiculed for his illness. He had plenty to be upset about, but nothing would point in the way of murder. He had plenty of antis, and never acted out against them, just walking past them and trying to appease them through his talks on television, in conferences. He wanted the people to be happy, but with what he was doing too.

            They had been in war longer than Mingjue had been in office. He simply told them to continue it, instead of retract, instead of bringing families back together. Maybe, Mingjue knew he was a murderer in that effect, maybe he had guilt for that, and that’s why he couldn’t look at his possible victims. But why stop at nine? Would there be more victims?

            “Where are you?” Xue Yang whispered to the air, in search of her, the missing victim. He knew she wouldn’t appear, but he wanted her to know that he was searching, and that he wanted to help her, and that she didn’t need to be afraid or angry. She didn’t need to hurt him in order to communicate.

            “Yeah, as much as I want someone to cut out his tongue, he wouldn’t be able to speak if we did that,” Wei Ying said nonchalantly, now that they were outside, planted by the vending machine that got stuck once in a while. The comment was a joke, shouldn’t have meant a thing, but Xue Yang released a little inaudible gasp.

            “What is it?” The chief asked, hand on his blessed water locket instead of his gun.

            “Why didn’t I think of that? I’m so stupid!” Xue Yang ran his fingers through his hair then along his face in frustration.

            “You’re not stupid. What is it?”

            “Her tongue was cut out, Wei Dude. That’s why she’s not communicating with me. She can’t speak. I didn’t think of that like an idiot. I need to find another way to talk to her.”

            “Unfortunately, embarrassing as it is, I didn’t think of it either. So, she’s so stuck in her death that she still has the same wounds? Most spirits don’t. It must’ve been crazy violent. I just figured that they’re spirits free from the body’s physical wounds.”

            “No, no, if it’s traumatic enough, they’ll still harbor the same wounds from the murder. But the thing is, I don’t see any of Little Blind’s victims except for her, and I’m guessing that she’s a victim too? I’m just wondering where she is. Why isn’t she in the file? Did they fail to find her?”

            “Not with how Little Blind places bodies. They wouldn’t have failed to find someone he deliberately meant for us to find. She’s either not his victim or he’s just not letting us know,” Wei Ying said, folding his arms.

            “They’re,” Xue Yang corrected. “This isn’t just Xingchen by himself. This is Wangji too. Uncle Jiang already said that they were all Anti-Nie campaigners, then out of nowhere your partner goes and gives us some bullshit about Zhang Yang. You mean to tell me the CSI went and looked into their political party? Nonsense.”

            “I’m not going to argue with you about Lan Zhan.”

            “So, you’re going to pardon him?”

            “Like you obviously did with Brother Xiao, yes. Now we’re even.”

            “And because of it we got nowhere!” Xue Yang raised his voice, lifting from his seat just a bit, then slamming himself back in the cushions with his knees to his chest. Wei Ying sighed and went to sit next to him. The two seldom fought and it wasn’t something he wanted to get into the habit of doing. He placed a hand on the punk’s head and patted it gently until Xue Yang leaned his head in the chief’s shoulder.

            “I trust Lan Zhan, and I know he has some strange reason that’s making him hold his own tongue. He told me himself that he made an oath to Brother Xiao, and therefore, cannot speak. You know how oaths work in the judicial system. He’s bound by brotherhood not to speak, Xue Yang. If I can just break that little tie, squeeze my little body between them and get him to tell me what’s up, we’ll be okay.”

            “What if you can’t break him?” Xue Yang asked, his voice small.

            “It’ll be the same as you being unable to break Brother Xiao.”

            “I don’t need to break or fix him. He trusts me and I trust him. I didn’t need to make an official oath with him, I asked him to promise.”

            “Oh, Xue Yang, promises are so fragile.”

            “You say that now but you’re holding a promise right now,” Xue Yang said, because he could feel the intense energy in the ring now that it was touching his head. He sensed it all at once like an insecure gasp fallen from his lips, another pair reaching to meet him in a kiss. He felt arms wrap around him gently, run in his hair, softly grip his scalp. He felt a tongue deliver its way between his lips, dodging his teeth and sliding onto his own. He could feel another heartbeat against his chest, how his reverberated in tune with it.

            He pulled himself free with a sharp breath, sucking in oxygen for he had held his breath. Then he whacked Wei Ying’s hand away, the one with the promise, the one with that ring.

            Wei Ying looked wounded for a second until he realized that Xue Yang most likely sensed something. He moved away from him and looked at his hands as if something tainted now touched them.

            “Why…why don’t you give that ring back to him?” Xue Yang asked, flustered. His cheeks painted themselves red from shame. Wei Ying frowned and smiled at the same time at the bizarre timing of the question. He looked in the direction of his ring and sighed as if in a reverie, softly on a cloud, like he was wisped away in a kiss.

            “If I tell you, you’re going to be mad.”

            Xue Yang rolled his eyes. “Why aren’t you handing it back?”

            “Because I made a promise with Lan Zhan,” and with that, he chuckled.

            You’ve no idea what’s on your finger, you idiot, Xue Yang thought, but he couldn’t help but laugh at the ironic hypocrisy of his chief. He wasn’t mad in the slightest. Humans were messy when they were alive, and as long as the two of them, the three of them, could stay together, they could remain disorganized, but together nevertheless.

---

            Wangji was on the phone with his brother as usual, Xichen asking about Xiao Xingchen because he was worried about the both of them. If there’s anything his older brother knew, it was that the two seldom had cold cases and it would keep them awake, very disruptive for their strict schedules. When Xichen came to visit once in a blue moon, the three would reconnect together. Xichen had known Xingchen even before Wangji had heard of the man. He was also the one who had introduced Wangji to his team lead in the first place. Wangji was just in the middle of answering when his doorbell rung and he knew exactly who it was, but didn’t know why the chief was visiting again.

            “Lan Zhan! Open up! It’s freezing out here!” Wei Ying shouted, laughing as he was doing so. Wangji knew he was wearing a thin blazer again for aesthetic reasons, and went to greet him with a solemn expression at the door. His brother chuckled softly into the phone again.

            “Oh, you actually answered quickly this time! May I squeeze by you?” Wei Ying asked, his voice excited as usual. Wangji dodged, not allowing the man to make contact with his body on the way in.

            “Who’re you on the phone with?” Wei Ying asked, oblivious to his intrusive behavior as usual. The chief shook the snow off his shoes and left them at the door, his socks strangely plain compared to rest of his attire. “You don’t strike me as the phone talking type considering I call all the time and you barely talk. Whoever’s talking to you must be very patient!” Wei Ying laughed at his own joke and went to sit on the couch.

            “My brother,” Wangji replied. Wei Ying was correct, his brother was very patient. He wished the man was a bit more impatient so Wangji could grow up faster, make his brother less concerned about him all the time.

            “Brother? Good for you! I’m an only child except for Xue Yang and Jiang Cheng. We’re not really related though. Blood?”

            “Blood.”

            “How exciting! Is he like you?” Wei Ying feigned a horrified face and then laughed again, pointing at the seat next to him in telling the owner of the house to have a seat.

            “Ask him yourself,” Wangji said, putting his brother on speaker.

            The gesture felt almost as though Wei Ying was meeting Wangji’s parents for the first time. Wei Ying smoothed out his hair despite it being a phone call, and leaned in to speak.

            “Master Lan, how are you?” He asked, inching his lips forward like a duck. Wangji wanted to shake his head at the innocent gesture but it might’ve made the chief lieutenant stop. On the line, his brother laughed.

            “Just Brother Lan is fine. Lan Xichen.”

            “Wei Wuxian,” Wei Ying smiled. Xichen’s voice was just as soft as his brother’s. “So, tell me, Brother Lan, what brings about this phone call? Are you in the city?”

            “In Shenzhen, actually. I run a publishing company for our parents.”

            “I knew it! Even I’ve heard of Gusu Lan publishing. Lan Zhan, how’d you end out being a Detective? You let down Gege!” Wei Ying playfully hit his partner in the shoulder, causing the man to become even more rigid.

            “No, no,” Xichen laughed. “Wangji had always wanted to be a Detective. He’s always looked up to Brother Xiao. I’ve tried convincing him to join the publishing team with me but he’s heart is elsewhere,” Xichen said, wondering exactly where his brother’s heart was.

            “That’s right! Righteous Lan Wangji, answering to distress wherever it may be!” Wei Ying shouted, a little more theatrically than Wangji liked. The chief was a loud man, loud and overexcited where ever he went. But it was nice to see him in a good mood again, instead of the former.

            “You’ll never believe he used to be a teacher,” Xichen said, and Wangji wanted to quickly hang up the phone before his brother got into his personal life, telling others about his younger days. Xichen loved to talk about his brother, flamboyant story telling about how fantastic he was.

            Wei Ying gasped. “You would’ve hated if I was in your class. All of my teachers hated me. I love learning, I do, but I hate being taught. You can learn anything just from reading. What do I need a teacher for? No offence, Laoshi,” the chief said, grinning mischievously at Wangji. Wangji refused to be provoked. He straightened his shoulder and kept his heart far away from the other man.

            “Yes, he used to teach AP criminology at reputable high schools, trying to gain more knowledge about the scene before he entered it himself. It’s actually where he met Brother Xiao, who already had a reputation at the time, being one of the youngest ever detectives of the field. Poor Wangji tried to build a relationship with Brother Xiao and got declined. He had always wanted to work with him,” Xichen laughed softly again, remembering old times.

            “Brother Xiao rejected you? Damn, that’s brutal,” Wei Ying said, eyes wide.

            “Six years later, Wangji became his partner. Wangji worked very hard for it, and Xingchen values his company now, I’m sure,” Xichen said.

            “I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s righteous, he’s well read, he’s talented, he’s beautiful, he can drive – did I tell you I ran into the street once and Lan Zhan literally skidded across the entire road , dodging like 3 cars, directly into a parking spot? Those are skills! Women love a man who can drive!”

            Xichen seemed to find what Wei Ying said hilarious, and so he laughed again, taking a moment to collect himself. It was the last personality he thought would ever be in contact with his very rigid brother, but it was, it was lovely.

            The rest of the conversation was just Brother Xichen and Wei Ying talking as if they’d known each other and saw one another every Saturday, like his brother wasn’t 22 hours away from him. Still, the house didn’t feel cold.

            Wei Ying for the life of him couldn’t sit still while talking, rocking side to side, using his hands with his words, throwing them in the air for emphasis, jumping to his feet whenever he remembered something, sitting and bouncing on the cushion. Wangji sat completely still beside him and still rocked from the impact. After a bit, the man went to fetch the chief some tea and biscuits, sitting beside him again because he was sure he would go nowhere.

            The entire time, Wei Ying had a habit of keeping Wangji involved, asking him of his opinions, if he agreed or disagreed, to remind him of certain things, to see if something was as funny as he had thought or as weird as he thought. Even when he went to the kitchen, Wei Ying would call out loudly with a “RIGHT, LAN ZHAN?”

            Every time Wangji heard it, regardless of what the material was because he hadn’t quite heard it, his thoughts went to the following, Right, Wei Ying.

            Always.

---

            Jiang Cheng was frustrated as usual, his blanket over his head because his bed was right by the vent and he had the habit of leaving the air conditioner on to assure that his room was freezing. It helped him to sleep faster, and helped the sheets feel warmer when you climbed into them. He had the lights on dim out of habit, his notes sitting before him.

            “So, I guess we’re scraping the pattern disruption idea,” he said aloud, because his house was quiet, and if living people didn’t speak, the undead would. Maybe within the walls, that’s where spirits lived, peaking out once in a while, waiting for him to sound just as dead as them. He refused. For as long as he was alive, he would work hard. He dialed through his mother’s private line in order to call Wei Ying. The private line was only utilized for those within the unit. His back was hurting from being hunched over for so long in the rigid cold, his muscles sore for he had forgotten to stretch. When Wei Ying picked up Jiang Cheng said the following, “I can call back if you’re on the phone with Wangji.”

            “I put him on hold, what’s up?” Wei Ying said, quick to interject before the man did so, especially seeing that they were on a private line.

            “I was just wondering about the number patterns. Look, this may take a while. I’ll just call back.” Jiang Cheng didn’t want to be a nuisance to his chief’s new friend. He was just about to hang up when Wei Ying spoke up again.

            “Jiang Cheng, if it takes a while, Wangji is the most patient person I’ve ever met. He’ll wait or he’ll hang up and go to bed. I’ll see him again tomorrow.”

            “You’ll see me tomorrow too.”

            “Of course, but you’re calling on behalf of eighteen dead people, plus the possible one Xue Yang see’s. Lan Zhan and I are literally talking about rabbit hats.”

            “Eighteen is an odd number, even worse if it’s nineteen,” Jiang Cheng suddenly thought.

            “You’re telling me. I keep thinking they missed someone but that’s impossible. The next victims are coming. He wouldn’t leave it at nineteen. That doesn’t make sense.”

            “I was looking at the numbers again, remember when we brought up the 10-1-10-4-6-4 and then we got stuck? If you look, it’s a 9 and then a 6 if you subtract, then a 10 if you add. Let’s say we did say it was a 6-4, meaning the victims should start at 17, being Ai-Ling, and then 23 for a 6 difference and 21 for a 4 difference, it’ll add up to 10 again like we want because he’s going with the 10 difference in the first two victims, but 6-4 already add up to 10 so why would he do it twice? Wouldn’t he try to make it equal 6 or 9?”

            The line was silent for a moment while Wei Ying thought. He took out a piece of paper and jotted down in his quick writing the numbers as to reexamine them.

            “Before you say anything dirty, please focus,” Jiang Cheng said, already irritated before the man could make his sexual jokes.

            “I wasn’t going to say anything dirty,” Wei Ying retorted, but amusement was already under his nose in the form of a smile. “It’s because if you flip either number, they’ll become the other.”

            “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.” Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue, annoyed with himself. 

            “So how would you make the next numbers add up to ten, nine or six?” Wei Ying questioned, considering the other option was 6:7.

            “What if we combined both of the options? Six to four equals 10, six to seven equals thirteen. Thirteen minus ten equals three, add the two that comes from 6-4 and you get 5, add the one that comes from the 6:7 and you get six. It works both ways, if you look at the ages too. If the victims were 17, 23, 24 (possibly 21), the math still adds to six. Six difference for 23 and 17, 7 for 24 and 17, 6 + 7 =14 then you add the 4 difference of 21 and 17 and you get 17. Seven minus one is six. They work if you combine them no matter which method you use.”

            There was silence on the other line again before Wei Ying said, “Jiang Cheng, you’re a genius!”

            “Not really. I stared at this for days until I realized that. I didn’t even notice 9 was the flip side of 6.”

            “But you still got it! Okay, so the point wasn’t to equal ten, it was to equal 9 or 6.”

            “But why? Why would the numbers have relevance? Does he have sexual urges he can’t play out on? That wouldn’t make any sense unless he touched the corpses intimately or had someone else act out on it for him. None of the victims show signs of sexual assault.”

            “Okay, so we’re scratching the F-M-F pattern, we’re scratching the disruption pattern, we’re scratching the 9-6-10-7. It’s the 9-6-10-13 meaning it’s 10:1, 10:4, 6:4, 6:7 combined with 6:4. Even looking at it now, it makes sense because 13 + 4 = 17 and Ailing was 17. She was the one victim that year, so he added the math up to equal to her age. We just need to figure out what the 9 or the six means. They’re one or the other. Because the six is prevalent, I’m going to say it’s the six he’s going for, not the nine. The nine is meant to be a six,” Wei Ying said, scratching the back of his head.

            “I’ll share the rest tomorrow after I figure it out. There’s so much math in each of these cases, it pisses me off,” Jiang Cheng groaned, rubbing his temples. He straightened his back, hearing a slight crack just to remind him he was near thirty and too old to be doing elementary level math that didn’t even make sense. All of the numbers were connected somehow.

            “Don’t overwork yourself. I’ll go over it again before bed and we’ll get it together,” Wei Ying said with a smile. When they hung up, Jiang Cheng decided that he wanted to get it himself, in order to make his chief proud, make his mother proud, make his father not regret hiring him due to conflict of interest. Jiang Cheng could show everyone he wasn’t a conflict.

            He was positive that Wei Ying would get it before he did if the man glanced over at it. They were the same age and yet Jiang Cheng was blocks away from his intellect. It was irritating, no longer getting second place, but getting third. Xue Yang usually beat him to it as well.

            That was okay, he guessed, as long as they were his “family” members, he could suffer being behind them. It occurred to him that he didn’t dislike Xue Yang in the slightest. When he returned to his notes, he found Jin Ling fast asleep on the floor by his feet.

            “Listen here, you dumb dog. Unless you want me to rest my feet on your back, move,” he said. Jin Ling lifted one ear to tell him he heard and didn’t care. Jiang Cheng sighed and tucked his legs criss-cross on his bed. The last thing he’d do is step on his dog son.

            “Don’t look so down, Jin Ling. Those are war scars,” Jiang Cheng told his dog, referring to his hind leg where he was shot. War scars mattered too, even if they weren’t visible. Jiang Cheng carried many war scars that the eye couldn’t see. People looked in his almond eyes and didn’t notice he covered his emotions with the contacts, a protective layer on the outside that helped him see clearer, unbiased. He sat there in his glasses, safely tucked behind another shield, like no one could see the rawness underneath.

            Jin Ling put a paw on his foot.

---

            Wei Ying had fallen asleep forgetting to check over the work, but he had scribbled some of the math in front of him before he dozed off to alcohol. Looking at it now, it made some sort of hazy sense, but it also meant nothing. He remembered Lan Zhan’s voice more than he remembered where the numbers came from. One step into the office and seeing Xue Yang was the oddest thing of the morning, but the punk was present, hunched over, making some diagram for class. The chief wished he would quit his classes already. Xue Yang had gotten through elementary and middle school with just a tutor and books. What was stopping him from doing it now? He was smart for his age, at least compared to the average person.

            Not many people were at Wei Ying’s level, and Xue Yang came pretty close. Wangji was there though. Wangji was on that level, but he only kept one foot on it, retracting once in a while when his ideas became loud. Wei Ying wanted the man to shout and say what he meant, but instead, they, meaning mostly Wei Ying, spoke about rabbit hats all night.

            Jiang Cheng walked in last, the oddest thing Wei Ying had ever witnessed. The man was never “late” through his entire employment. Even today, he was on time, not late, but not early the way he usually was. He had his folders and laptop in his arms like usual, his coat pristine, his collar perfect, but little black bags hovering underneath his eyes. He wore contacts again this morning.

            Wei Ying had scrambled out in vintage skinny red jeans and a long black button up with a teddy black sweater that he tucked his arms in from the front. Xue Yang was easily just in pajamas.

            “Uncle Jiang called last night and came up with some things,” Xue Yang said, without looking up. His handwriting was immaculate, writing in straight lines despite the blank page. He color coated everything, using pencil first and then going over with gel ink. He was always careful with detail. If only he gave more thought to how he presented himself, Wei Ying wouldn’t want to ruffle his hair all the time.

            They took their seats while Wei Ying muddled over his weird math on the paper. If he could get himself to focus, maybe he could get it. His senses had been stuffy as of late. The only visions he received now were images of Xiao Xingchen and the corpse. When he looked closer, he could make out the green dress, but he didn’t want to tell Xue Yang. The dress was the same shade as Xue Yang’s eyes.

            His ears and throat felt clogged all the time, like visions weren’t making their way to him. Never had a spirit affected his senses in such a strong demeanor. He drank more water to clear up the sensation in his throat. In his ears, he could hear running water like Lan Zhan was taking another shower and he wasn’t allowed to see it this time.

            He physically threw his forehead into the edge of the table, not lightly, but gentle enough not to bruise. Just then, Xingchen and Wangji walked in. He didn’t lift his head, just sitting there as blush found its way to his cheeks.

            “Concerned,” Xue Yang said, still looking at his homework. When he saw Xingchen in his periphery, he got up, circled the man once to see if he’d still need the blessed water, and found that he didn’t. The spirit that attached to Xingchen most likely let go.

            And of course, because now she had her hold on Xue Yang. Xue Yang didn’t worry over Wangji too much. They always kept their distance from one another. His aura was dark on its own. Or cold. There was a difference that Xue Yang hadn’t learned to differentiate yet.

            Wei Ying finally sat up, slapping both of his cheeks with his palms gently. Then he exhaled and looked at everyone present with his grin as usual.

            “So, our genius tech analyst found out some things last night while I accidentally got drunk,” he said aloud, turning on the screen. Jiang Cheng shifted awkwardly at the compliment but rolled his eyes at the accident remark. He wished his sworn brother would stop drinking so much. It took just around five minutes to reexplain what he had said last night to the others. Then, he took out a chart that he had drawn in different colored markers. In the corners, they could make out where Jin Ling had gotten marker on his paw and decided to draw a picture because his dad was.

            “So, our agenda was to make it equal 9 or 6,” Jiang Cheng started. “But as I was doing the math, something weird started to manifest. At first I thought they were just random numbers and maybe I was doing the math wrong and needed a different method, but I thought about it more and thought that it may mean something,” Jiang Cheng said, pinning the paper up on the board. Everyone moved in to get a closer look while Xue Yang began his recorder again.

            “So if we look at our first victims, Wang Lihua and Zhang Yong are 23 and 32. If you add, 2 + 3 and 3 + 2 = 10. You take 3 – 2 in the number and it equals 1. Take 1 from 10 and you get 9, which means 6. You look at the second, 31 and 13. It’s 4 on both side which comes to 8. 3-1 = 2. You add the 2 to 8 and you get ten. The difference between 21 and 13 is 18. You subtract ten from eighteen and what do you get? You get eight. That’s two away from six. That's also 2 years later that he had first struck. You go to the next two victims and it’s 32 and 38. 3-1 equals 1, but 8-3 equals 5. The last victim, and I look at the last victim because there was only one victim the next year so I count Xiang Xiaosi, who is 36. Take 3 from six and you get 3. You add the 1 to five and you get the six, subtract the 3 from the 3:6 difference and you get 3. This was also the third year that he had struck from the first case with Wang Lihua. The last case was just Ai-Ling. I combined the two 6:4 and 6:7 because there wouldn’t be another pattern considering he only killed one person, so he used both patterns to make up for the lost of two victims. The victims then should be 17, 23, 24, or 21. Looking at the 6 difference of 23 and 17 and the 7 difference of 24, you add and get 13, add the 4 difference in 21 and you get 17. Subtract 1 from seven and you get six, starting again where we began at 9 flipped, which is 6. This means that the cycle starts over. He’s going to kill in these increments again,” Jiang Cheng said, pointing at the screen with a ruler. On his tablet, Xue Yang was rewriting everything in saw and snapped a picture for study.

            “The only question now, is why 6? Why did he start off with 6?” Wei Ying asked, taking in the numbers. He had started a set of numbers himself, but they certainly didn’t look like Jiang Cheng’s. They were quite different, but he still yielded the numbers of the victims in the end. He decided he would store it away for study at a later date if it came to it.

            “That’s incredible,” Xingchen managed, quite awestruck at the numbers that appeared before him. It was all reverse math and borrowed from one another. He wouldn’t have thought to look so far into them as single digits.

Wangji almost frowned at the numbers. His math had been different, but Jiang Cheng’s seemed to make sense too. Perhaps Wangji had been wrong. He hadn’t finished his numbers either.

Xue Yang hadn’t been thinking about the case at all. He had been doing his homework and allowing the little spirit to terrorize his home when he ignored her. His thoughts followed the pattern of the promise he had made with Xingchen, his heart asking him if he was making the right decision. He looked in the man’s direction and held the image before Xingchen turned to face him. They stared at one another as if studying for clues about one another, that is until Xingchen smiled. The only one scrutinizing was Xue Yang, who looked away instantly again. As of late, he had the awful habit of staring at the team lead and saying nothing, just swallowing his image the way he swallowed root beer, too often.

There was no reason he should’ve trusted that man and his smile.

Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, he began to look deeper at the numbers. Just then, he saw Wei Ying duck all of the sudden, holding his arms over his head. The movement caused Xue Yang to dive into the ground, for Jiang Cheng to jump before the desk, for Wangji to point his gun and for Xingchen to place a protective arm before Wangji. 

Nothing was happening.

Slowly, everyone stood back up except for Wangji, who simply lowered his gun. The man had already been standing. Wei Ying looked back up with bewildered eyes and then laughed nervously.

“Sorry, I heard bullets go off,” he said. He hated having audible visions with no pictures to accompany them. He heard at least five shots go off in a row, that was one for each of them in the room. He examined everyone from afar to make certain that they were all okay before he sighed, his hands behind his head, leaning back until he sat on two hind legs the way Mingjue did.

“Well, that’s not good either. Did you see anything?” Xue Yang asked, picking up his tablet from the floor. The screen had shifted to the side. He turned it upward as the numbers and data collected itself again and demanded a password in order to be seen. He typed in a longer than necessary password of 13 digits before he sat in his seat again, his heart throbbing in his chest.

“Nope, nothing. Just heard the shots. There was five of them, so everyone be careful,” Wei Ying said. The thoughts of bullets were always haunting, but it was the fastest way to go. He hoped that if he ever was killed, that he was taken out by a bullet.

“Concerned,” Xue Yang repeated himself from earlier.

“So, if we’re saying the cycle is starting over, does that meant that the next victim will be 23 and then 21 or 24? Either or, we should be looking out for a 23 year old,” Xingchen said. “If we’re starting over, it’s 23. If we’re doing the math as a 6:4 or 6:7, the math still indicates a 6 year difference from Ai-Ling, so the first victim would still need to be 23.” The team lead wrote it in a notepad on his phone to remember and to call his own superiors later. They were finally getting somewhere with this case.

“Ayee,” Xue Yang said out of nowhere, causing everyone to look in his direction. He looked up with a nervous smile and pointed at himself. “I’m twenty-three,” he said.

Chapter Text

Xue Yang had undressed and gone to take a shower. He had finished speaking on the phone with Wei Ying who was telling him the story about Lan Wangji being a teacher and having big dreams and making those dreams and being those dreams. Xue Yang had big dreams, but was he making those dreams? Was he living those dreams?

            He decided that he was. There was nothing more to want, but there was so much more to want. He turned on the water as hot as he could make it, standing beneath it as the liquid poured like lava against his back. He shivered into the heat, his hair laying against his skin like a black waterfall on a pale landscape. He could sense the cold beneath the hot layers, when it was close to boiling and you became numb.

            So what if he was the age of the next victim? That didn’t necessarily mean he was the next victim. He felt perfectly exposed now that he was bare, standing beneath water in under the fog of the heat. Poison could easily be missed in the smoke, mixing together until he eventually fell against the tub and had his eyes ripped from his and his tongue torn out. But his eyes were green, the brown and blacks of everyone else’s. They were stark green. Maybe Little Blind would find that distasteful.

            Little Blind obviously didn’t know that Xue Yang would beat the shit out of him if he laid a single hand on him. He calmed his nerves and thought about getting rejected. The esteemed Lan Wangji had been rejected as a disciple, and here he was, partner to the best. But was Xingchen really the best? No one matched Wei Ying. Wei Ying was the best.

            Xue Yang had not been rejected, but he could imagine how humiliating it’d be if he wanted to be Wei Ying’s assistant and gotten declined. He would hold grudges for years to come. And still, Wangji didn’t seem like he had that sort of hatred. He was such a simple man. Anger was so pointless for him to have.

            The CSI team sure was bizarre.

            Xue Yang screamed when he looked up and saw the little spirit standing before him. He jumped from his tub and quickly grabbed for a robe to cover his bare body. Dead or not, he was still a naked man to her. The last thing he wanted to do was flash the dead. He had almost forgotten that running water gave spirits more energy, and he had been in the shower longer than usual today.

            The little spirit darted towards the stairs and through the ceiling with Xue Yang right behind her. He left the water running in his rush, jumping three treads at once just to catch sight of her flying through the front door. He stabbed his feet into the closest shoes he could find, his hair dripping wet, and flung the door open, slamming it behind him in his run. She flew like dust in the wind, visible at certain points, invisible the next, moving swiftly so that human feet could not match the pace. Still, Xue Yang managed to keep her in view, the icicles of winter picking at the droplets of water on his skin, pinching his pores so tightly that he thought his hair would fall off. He felt none of it as his heart pumped blood throughout his body, the same rush his feet were taking him in. Dodging a coming car, he rounded corners in what felt like an endless run. The wind picked up in his ears, fierce howls as he plowed through it. His feet, in sandals, had taken to swallowing snow to the extent of numbing, and still he hadn’t felt it. With a body arching forward, his legs disappearing behind him, he could feel a stumble coming on.

            He couldn’t fall now. He couldn’t lose her. Not when she had all of her energy. Not when he felt like time was running out, every second, another count, another tick, another tock, another body. Possibly his.

            What if she’s running me straight to my death? He suddenly thought as snow pellets fell against his cheeks and his ears had turned red from the cold. He sucked in the panic, watching her move faster and faster and faster. He reached his hand out as if to slow her down, call her back.

            “Wait! Wait, please!” He called out, a blur of darkness against the mundane world in his black robes. His hair became frigid like shards, stabbing into his skin, prickling his face and neck, slicing his collarbone. He wondered if the cold would kill him, and still she ran on.

            Where were they going? How far would they run? He crossed neighborhoods, vulnerable in the harsh weather, vulnerable without weapons. He wasn’t ready to face the killer. He hadn’t clothing, weakened by the snow, his lungs causing him to breath in outbursts, his arms and shoulder shaking. The snow became to pick up above him, blurring the smudge of an image in front of him. He swore under his breath, stopping abruptly while he attempted to locate where she had gone. Sliding in the snow, he fell down on one knee and circled the area with his eyes, quickly, frantic. Not left, or right, or up. He swore under his breath repetitively, circling the same areas again. Maybe he had missed her.

            Over there. He could still see her. Rubbing his eyes, forcing the snow from his face, he stood up, his skin turning white from the light of the sky, the whiteness that came from freezing. He didn’t know what neighborhood he was in, where the hell he was at, what corners he had turned. If he lost her now, he would need to find refuge in a gas station and hope for heat. His feet wanted to shatter right off from the ankles, his fingers from his knuckles, his ears from the sides of his head. He would be a lost art piece, ancient and beautiful in the snow, broken and tarnished from the years.

            He was out in the open if Little Blind wanted his next victim. He could barely breath, the cold air entrapped in his lungs like blisters to his organs. At last he saw her approach a humble home like a lightning bolt, flying through the door as if it were the last moment on earth, the last breath of life, the last second in time.

            This is it. Xue Yang could feel the urgency. If he didn’t put an end to this, the next victim would appear very soon. The next victim was already chosen. He stumbled up the steps, attempting to slow his steps, make his knees stronger, because his legs were giving out on him. Fog dispersed from between his paling lips with every breath. He hunched over to catch that breath, breathe in as many of them as possible, before he straightened and knocked angrily against the door. He needed to catch her – God, he needed to help her. She was running. She was always running. Running from what? From who? If she could just stop, if she could just speak, if she could just let him help her. He needed to catch her.

            Xingchen opened the door like an innocent pair of eyes taken from your sockets.

            Xue Yang paused.

            Xue Yang stopped knocking.

            Xue Yang stood completely still.

            “Xue Yang? Are you alright? Why are you dressed so…thin?” Xingchen asked with that same innocent tone, like a frantic spirit hadn’t rushed past him to something, to show Xue Yang something.

            Move. Move! Xue Yang told his legs. Like years had him pinned where he was, he pushed past Xingchen and stomped into the house.

            “Xue Yang, how did you find my house?” Xingchen asked, more than willing to let the ruffian in. Maybe the PAPPU finally got curious enough to look up the CSI team whereabouts.

            Xue Yang ignored him, finding the Little Spirit walking slowly up the stairs. She was moving so casually now, like she was living another day in the house. Her hand was on the railing, the blithe of her walk like an insult on everything Xue Yang just endured. Xue Yang started up the stairs, his eyes wide and unblinking. He didn’t want to miss a moment. He would distort the facts if he missed a second, use excuses for what he knew was coming.

“Xue Yang,” Xingchen called from behind him, for the ruffian had just barged into his home and started up his stairs. There were intimate things in a house that not everyone was welcome to. Even him. He began up the stairs behind him as if he was ready to pull him back down, convince him to be good and just sit in the living room to warm up. The ruffian was covered in snow and obviously frigid from the cold. His attire spoke of urgency. But why was he here?

There was nothing here of urgency but – .

Xingchen’s eyes widened but it was already too late.

Xue Yang had walked into a pallid room, constructed by reassuring walls, abstract arts and a delicate but charming ceiling light. The carpet was warm where his feet touched it, but his legs took him slowly. The Little Spirit had disappeared behind a set of white doors, the closet. He reached one hand forward, finding that his arms were shaking, his entire frame shaking. He didn’t want to see it. What ever it was, he didn’t want to see it. His teeth still chattered from the cold, and now took in his new fear, clattering loudly while he bit into his lips to quiet them. His fingers curled around the knob of the closet, and with all the energy left in his body, he yanked, watching as the door slid open to allow the insouciance of daily work attire.

And then.

All the way at the end, behind white and grey button ups, behind a rack of ties, squeezed between mundane clothing and the protection of the wall was something of stark contrast. Xue Yang’s shaking fingertips reached out, pulling the first rack forward for a better view.

A green dress.

The same color as his eyes.

The same dress that the Little Spirit wore, kept here, like a souvenir. Like a fucking souvenir.

Above Xue Yang, the world spun into a full circle before he could collect himself, snatching up the dress just as Xingchen appeared behind him.

“Xue Yang,” the team lead called out. Xue Yang held the dress up, his hands firm, his jaw rigid.

“What is this?” The ruffian demanded.

“Xue Yang, I can explain that,” Xingchen said, unsure what had brought him to this specific closet, that specific dress. Xue Yang couldn’t have possibly known anything about that dress. He shouldn’t have looked so angry, so broken, so betrayed.

“Why do you have this?” Xue Yang asked, the same tone, authoritative. He took on that tone when distance had manifested, and Xingchen couldn’t imagine what about that dress could’ve made them distant acquaintances all of the sudden.

“What is this? Huh? What the fuck is this, Detective?” Xue Yang asked, stomping forward. Xingchen took steps backward until he was in the hallway again, his back against the balcony railing.

“Xue Yang, calm down. Let me explain,” Xingchen reasoned, but the ruffian shook his head.

“I asked you if there was anything you were keeping from me, Detective. And you promised! You fucking promised! Then what is this? What is this dress doing in your closet, like some, like some fucking souvenir? Do you get off on that? Take something from your victims? Where are you storing the eyes? The tongues? What do you do with them? You’re sick!”

“Xue Yang, stop. You’re not thinking straight,” Xingchen tried, putting his hands up to calm him. The team lead could not do this right now. He needed to appear in court again for Ai-Ling’s case, needed to speak directly to her family again. He had to go now. There was no time for him to reason with the ruffian.

“Shut up! Why should I wait until I think straight so you can strew all that up again? I can’t think when I’m with you! I can’t even see straight! Fuck you, fuck you for doing that to people. You just play with them until you choose to end it. You even put out a nice little pattern to run us in circles while you feign innocence. You’re not innocent! You’re a cheat, a bastard, a fake!”

“Xue Yang, please. Please just calm down. I cannot do this right now. I have to appear in court – “

“Fuck you! You don’t deserve to appear in court. Do you know what happens to people like you, Detective? You get found out. You go straight to fucking hell. You think you can get away with this? Continue your mock story? What are you trying to prove?”

“Xue Yang! Xue Yang, stop! I don’t want to do this, but my job is on the line. I need to go.”

“That’s all you care about? Don’t you see? Don’t you see, XIngchen, don’t you see what you’ve done?” Xue Yang could feel tears filling his eyes, could feel his emotions emerge. He wanted to wail for what the man had done to him, feed off of his feelings. He was just like the rest of them. He was like Lihua, was like Meifeng, was like Xiaosi, was like Liu Yang, had put his trust into someone who was going to fucking kill him. Xue Yang put a hand against his heart as if the other man could see what was happening to him.

God, his heart was breaking.

“Listen to me, Xue Yang. You’re not listening to me!” Xingchen raised his voice for the first time since Xue Yang had met him, like the violent man he was. “I said, I can explain! But you need to calm down.” Xingchen took Xue Yang by his wrists but the ruffian began to protest, resist. He hadn’t done that in the past. They had cultivated trust, they had that now. What was this? Why was Xue Yang being so difficult? Why was Xue Yang saying things that made no sense?

“Get off of me! Don’t touch me!” Xue Yang yanked at his hands but he was feeble compared to the other, feeble where his heart was breaking, feeble where his legs gave out and the tears began to drip from his lashes. “When my people hear about this, you’re dead! You won’t even get a trial, Detective. You’re going to be killed!”

Xingchen sucked his teeth and started to yank on the ruffian. He was so noisy right now. He wasn’t listening. Didn’t he know Xingchen’s job was on the line?

Stop talking, stop talking! The team lead thought. Without thinking, he started to yank Xue Yang down the hallway to the back room. He needed to keep the ruffian quiet before this went to the public. He needed him to shut up. Needed someone to snap his tongue off, at least for just a few hours. He needed to appear in court or his badge was on the line. He needed this job.

“Let me go! Where are you taking me?” Xue Yang shouted, his backward kicks not working as he was yanked forward. Xingchen was at least a head taller than him, his grip more stable, strong against his agitated attempts to break free.

Xingchen threw Xue Yang into the ground and unlocked the door from the outside. The ruffian scrambled to his feet just as the team lead grabbed him by the wrist and pushed him inside.

“Just calm down,” Xingchen told him, slamming the door shut before the ruffian could charge forward. He heard Xue Yang thump against the large doors, his fists pounding against it until he let out a discomposed shout.

“Let me out! You can’t keep me in here!” He screamed, thumping against the door and finding that there wasn’t a knob from the inside. What sort of person had rooms as such unless they were sociopaths? He pounded against the large doors but they wouldn’t give, not under his small body.

“I’ll explain when I get back, Xue Yang. I promise,” Xingchen said, his forehead against the door. He needed to keep his job no matter what.

“Fuck your promise, you sick bastard! You don’t get to make those with me. I want nothing to do with you! You think just because you’re renowned that people won’t find out about you? The PAPPU will find me, alive or dead, they’ll find me and then they’ll find you. Your job is the least of your worries, you scum.”

“This is why you have to stay in there,” Xingchen plainly told him. He listened to the stressed screams and the loud kicks before he unlocked the front door and left Xue Yang there. The room was sound proof anyway. No one would hear him no matter what he shouted.

“Don’t do this!” Xue Yang screamed until his throat hurt, until his voice was hoarse and his cheeks were streaked with tears. The pounding of his fists began to lighten until it barely made a sound and he laid on the floor, curled up.

It was so bright.

---

It was two hours or so when Xue Yang woke up with a headache. The previous misery that had grown in his bosom was quickly displaced. He just needed some time to think straight. This is why he wasn’t allowed to have emotions. He threw them everywhere when they came out. He stood up quickly, tapping his limbs back to life for they had numbed. His body was warmer in the heat, the numb of his feet already gone. He wondered how long he had been asleep, but stood on his sure feet and placed his ear against the door to listen for movement.

The entire house was quiet except for the vents. Then it occurred to Xue Yang that there was a trail that was above his head. If he couldn’t get out through the front door, he could get out from the trail. He rubbed at his cheeks for they were sticky from where he had cried. It seemed so stupid now. His tears weren’t going to feed what he was feeling now. He could’ve sliced Xingchen’s neck in that moment and watched him bleed to death and then regret it afterward.

But he’d already be dead.

Xue Yang balled up his fists, pushing the armchair to the middle of the room and then climbed on top. He stood on the backrest, reaching forward and pushing at the ceiling boards. When he found that they didn’t give way, he inhaled and punched as hard as he could, a few times until his knuckles bled and pieces fell through. He continued that maneuver, climbing down and pushing the armchair forward a bit, climbed back on top and broke another hole in the ceiling before he grabbed at the pieces. Using all of his arm strength, he hoisted his body up, thankful how skinny he was that the following board didn’t give under him. Pulling himself in, he tucked his chin into his neck and slipped inside. He crawled across dirt on his elbows, the trail so thin that he could barely squeeze through. After a bit of crawling, he could see light ahead, coming from a vent. He pulled himself forward, the walls around him suffocating him with the dust of neglect. He reached the vent and found that it peaked out to Xingchen’s room. A few thumps of his elbows, a few grunts later, he was able to push the tiny vent through. He would not fit through the small opening. Taking in a breath of fresh air from the rectangular space, he prepared himself for descent. Punching and elbowing as hard as he could, the ceiling eventually gave away, the opening becoming jagged and crumbling to the floor, taking him along with it. He threw his arms forward, protecting his jaw and neck on impact.

His breath was knocked right through his back, forced out of his lungs as he grunted again. It was a slow maneuver to get back up, but when he did, he was quick on his feet again. He needed weapons. He couldn’t kill Xingchen with his hands. He needed distance.

Flipping the room upside down, he pushed at the wall, checked between the mattresses, the top side and under draw openings, tugged at the carpet to see if it came up, dug through the clothing in the closet, yanked at the light switch, pushed the cabinets, checked in all of the drawers, tugged at the curtains to see if it triggered something. At last, he climbed on the bed and pulled at the ceiling light. It looked too fragile, like it would sway if you touched it. As he pulled, the lights came lower, and lower, and lower, until it exposed an upright auto arm rifle. Perfect. He could shoot until he shot the man’s damn heart out for wearing his own out. He grabbed the rifle and watched with horror as the ceiling light retracted back into the ceiling.

He didn’t wait, grabbing the dress and running down the steps and out to the CSI station where the man most likely was after the court finalized things. Wei Ying wouldn’t question Xue Yang until come the night without hearing from him. He couldn’t waste any more time. His phone was at home, and Wei Ying would attempt to bring backup if he was informed. Xue Yang couldn’t wait for backup. He would end things right now.

It took him time on itself to find the station, a few strange stares and wrong turns later, he was able to find a main road that he recognized. He matched himself until the CSI station was just down the block, then he put his finger on the pistol grip and prepared the barrel.

Think straight or you’re dead, he told himself, marching forward until he was across the street from the building. As loud as he could, he shouted, “Xiao Xingchen! Remove yourself from the building or I’m offing your officers with each second you waste. You have until the count of ten!” He took aim, ready to shoot. It didn’t take long to cause alarm considering someone screamed, and the security feed could catch him from within, signaling authorities to confront him. He counted to nine in a steady slow rhythm when armed officers walked out of the building in gear, guns raised in his direction.

Xingchen had rushed out of the building, alarm apparent on his features.

“This is how you’re gonna’ take me out? You think I can’t get to you before your team gets me? I’m a perfect shot,” Xue Yang shouted across the street to the other.

Xingchen lost his breath, his fingers gripping against the door. How on earth did Xue Yang get out? Where did he get a firearm from?

“Drop the weapon!” The head officer shouted. Xue Yang didn’t flinch. Instead, he took aim.

“Stand down, officer. I will not count. Stand down,” Xue Yang told the man. To Xingchen he said, “Call off your men before someone loses their life, Detective. Their gear isn’t going to protect their necks.” Xue Yang was positive he could aim directly at fatal areas without missing. His aim was just as good as Wei Ying’s.

“Xue Yang, stop it! You’re not thinking straight!” Xingchen called out, trying to reason with the other. He couldn’t call off his men when there was a “threat” in the way. What would his excuse be?

“Shut up! I am thinking straight! Call off your men! You think I’m afraid to die? I look at death every single day. Every single day, Detective. You think I’m afraid now that my life is in someone else’s hands? Pull the trigger. I dare you!”

An officer shot in his direction but missed just as Xue Yang dodged and held up the dress. Another shot went off, nearly hitting the dress. Xue Yang shot that officer in the thigh or avoid killing. He shot the other officer in the shoulder.

“Call them off, Xingchen!” Xue Yang yelled. Xingchen looked at the two lives in danger with horror. That dress needed to be pristine. It needed to be perfect like the day he had bought it. Xue Yang needed to be just as perfect as when he had met him. Xue Yang aimed in his direction but didn’t pulled the trigger.

Xingchen could see his own men aim as well. Their guns were not automatic. Xue Yang could’ve easily killed five of them before he was taken out.

But that would mean Xue Yang would die too. That would mean Xue Yang would die. Die.

“STOP!” Xingchen shouted.

As if all of hell broke loose and disregarded his order, a stream of bullets went off just as Xue Yang dived into the ground just as Xingchen flew forward.

Everything turned to white noise when the guns went silent. Xingchen was beside his officers, his breath caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat in misery. His fringe blurred his vision just as he captured Xue Yang’s image in slow motion.

Xue Yang got back up and shot another officer, this time, fatal. Despite the gun made to bump the trigger repetitively, he only needed one shot to make the kill.

Xingchen found himself breathing in relief. He turned to his men, his voice almost cracking.

“Stop it! This is an order! That is a civilian!” He shouted, realizing that he had rage. He had pure rage at putting Xue Yang’s life in danger. He could’ve killed his men in that moment.

“Sir, he’s armed,” an officer retorted, taking aim again. Another officer stood in front of XIngchen to keep him from injuries. Even in the state that they were in, Xingchen did not believe that Xue Yang would truly shoot him.

“Xue Yang, Xue Yang, please put down the weapon,” Xingchen said, his expression finally distorted by his frustrations. He could feel himself breaking apart again. His men were trained to shoot. What he said, be damned, they were going to shoot a threat.

“Why did you do it? How could you do this to me? How could you do that to me?” Xue Yang asked, his voice just as miserable when he shouted over the wind.

“After everything I said to you. After our promise. After the gift. Goddamn it, after everything we literally shared. I trusted you. I trusted you, you jerk! Do you know how hard it is to trust someone? Do you know what exhausting part of me pulls me back and tells me to push you away? What miserable little detail in my life tells me that nothing is worth it? Every day it tells me to go, to walk to it, to fucking let it go? Do you know that trust is what keeps me here? Do you know how hard it is to fucking give away? You took it! You took it and goddamn it I gave it to you like some, like some idiot! I hope you ache! I hope you rot and you die and all of your victims haunt you! I’ll haunt you until we’re both in hell and you give it back! Give it back!” Xue Yang screamed, tears falling from his eyes again as he fell down on his knees.

My heart…give it back., he wanted to yell.

Xingchen’s lips parted and his hands began to shake. His feet inched forward until he crossed the battlefield and across the street.

“Stay back!” Xue Yang warned, standing and taking aim again. “Stay back, Xingchen. I swear to God, I will blow your fucking brains out. Stay back!”

“Xue Yang, listen to me, please. Please, I promise. I swear. I give you my oath, Xue Yang. I give you everything right now. I give you my life, please listen to me. Listen to me.” Xingchen continued to walk, trying to reason with him. Xue Yang shot past him, missing on purpose.

“Xingchen, stay back! Stop it! Stop it, you bastard! Stay back, stay back, please, stay back.” Xue Yang dropped the rifle and held his face in his hands. He wailed into the wind, the sound blowing against Xingchen’s, the sound of suffering, of torment, of broken pieces unable to come back together.

He approached him, his hands gentle on Xue Yang’s shoulder. He slowly took Xue Yang’s hands from his face, stricken with tears, sickened with grief. Xingchen felt that way once. He didn’t feel like that anymore. He had another reason to keep his heart together, keep it intact, keep it beating, telling him to stay, giving him hope. He just needed hope. And here he was, making hope cry, making hope miserable.

Oh, what had he done?

He reached over and touched Xue Yang’s chin as the other gazed up at him through his tears. The team lead closed his eyes and bent down to kiss him, their lips meeting in a moment of silence.

Xue Yang wasn’t her. Xue Yang was someone else to his beating heart.

---

When Xingchen released him, Xue Yang thought his tears had instantly dried. He wanted to grip the man’s collar and pull him closer, bring him back, but reason fought against it.

What the hell just happened?

He fount that his jaw had fallen open, his eyes wide. He raised his hand slowly and pointed at the other in disbelief.

“You…what did you just do? Why did you do that?” God, Xue Yang could’ve killed himself for how flustered he suddenly became. His ears were red from the cold. His ears were red from the cold. He told himself in a rhythm that felt stupid all of the sudden. He tried to remind himself how angry he had been, but when he stared up at the other, he became weak again.

“Xue Yang, I just needed you to be quiet and listen to me for a second. I didn’t mean for all of that to happen.”

“You just kissed me, you sociopath. You kissed me! I am a man! Do you know that? Like I’m not dressed under this robe. I can show you. You just kissed a man. Are you insane? Insane. Absolutely insane.” Xue Yang just wanted to hide in the snow. It was his first kiss and it was stolen by a man, and a serial killing liar at that. Perfect. What a perfect way to want to die instantly.

“Because I needed you to stop talking.”

“A simple, ‘stop talking, please’ would’ve worked.”

“You know that it wouldn’t. I asked you like eight times to just please stop talking.”

“You locked me in a room, Xingchen. You have the victims dress. You kept her from me. Are you crazy? Do you want to plead insanity? It will lessen your verdict if I don’t fucking kill you right now.”

“For goodness’ sake, Xue Yang, she was my sister!” Xingchen hissed his whispered, loud enough for the other to understand he was yelling but everyone else couldn’t hear it.

“There. There, I said it. Okay? She was my sister. I’m just…I’m just trying to get her some justice.”

Xue Yang was ghostly silent. Everything was so bright today, he could barely see the other. He thought of better things in attempt to distract himself but found that he was still miserable and the worse possible thing was now the worst possible thing.

“She’s your…sister?”

Xingchen closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes. She was seventeen. Her name was Song Ah-Qing. We’re half siblings. Please, please, just don’t anyone.”

There it went. Xue Yang could feel the rush of anger rush up his spine again and into his fists.

“That’s what this is about? You did all of this because you thought I was going to say something?”

“What did you expect, Xue Yang? You’re a part of the system. The moment they figure out I’ve taken my sister’s case, they’re going to give it to someone else. I can’t have someone else take this case! I need to find Ah-Qing’s killer! I need to bring her some justice. I failed her.”

“You really thought the PAPPU would go blabbing to your superiors or some shit like that? Are you nuts? Fuck your superiors, Xingchen! You kept all of this information, lied incessantly, locked me in a goddamn room over this?”

“It was the only reason why I wanted to stay a detective, Xue Yang. My sister did not deserve to die. I need this job more than anything else. The moment they realize that I took on her case and withheld that, they’ll revoke my badge.”

“That’s your story? That’s your detective story? The reason you’re doing what you’re doing?”

“We all have our reasons, Xue Yang.”

“How about just wanting to do it? I don’t have a sob story like yours. I just do it. These are people’s lives. I don’t need a sob story in order to want to save people,” Xue Yang said carelessly. Xingchen raised both of his eyebrows at this remark then took a backward step.

“That…that sob story is my sister’s life, Detective,” the team lead to said to him, meeting Xue Yang’s glare with serious eyes. The younger detective turned away, walking away from him, back to better people, people who told the truth, who didn’t damage his heart when they saw it beating.

Oh, he forgot the water running at home.

---

In Wei Ying’s opinion, Xue Yang had done the right thing, except for the shooting Xingchen part. And thank goodness, for had it been Wei Ying, the team lead would’ve lost his life right in front of his building. As Xue Yang was retelling the story, in a way, Wei Ying could understand the circumstances, the locking someone up did not grace that same comprehension.

“Everyone’s already talking about how some crazy kid showed up and started shooting the CSI station,” Jiang Cheng said, but in the least, footage hadn’t been caught. He hadn’t been typing away on the keys as usual, choosing instead to listen to the outrageous story with a frown of an expression.

Xue Yang hadn’t told them about the kiss. It seemed irrelevant a detail though to him it was crucial for his actual understanding. He wouldn’t have stopped to listen had it not happened. At this point in time, returning to the thought of their improper goodbye brought shame to him. He did desecrate Xingchen’s sister’s name. A sob story was not correct when attached to someone’s death. It was severe and inappropriate. He wished he had said something else in its place, but considering the words had already left his stupid unthinking lips, he would need to apologize. Hopefully, Xingchen wasn’t so deeply wounded that he wouldn’t forgive him. Xue Yang did after all, forgive the man’s outlandish behavior that brought about the circumstances. Anger simmered in his bones as he played with his fingers to nullify it, rubbing his middle and index finger against his thumb in circles. Xingchen had done all of this because he hadn’t trusted them. Even after Xue Yang had put his trust in the other, the man just didn’t trust them.

“Well, that explains why Lan Zhan’s oath was so crucial. He most likely saw that the moral solution would be to allow Brother Xiao to take on the case, and since he officiated it with the oath, his moral lens kept his lips sealed. But, this doesn’t explain why he made up information. What the hell is wrong with that entire sect?” Wei Ying asked, pursing his lips.

“May I look up on her case now that we know?” Jiang Cheng asked, since he had been under order to follow the CSI direction. With this being said, they were inevitably forced along with what ever it was the CSI wanted to tell them, mostly bullshit, but Jiang Cheng wasn’t going to argue with the chief over something they both knew. They attempted to cultivate trust and that got them nowhere. An almost dead Xingchen, an almost dead Xue Yang, a body nobody spoke about.

Wei Ying nodded in his direction, giving the clear that he wanted from the beginning. The chief then crossed his arms in thought.

“I thought it was funny that Brother Xiao was so interested in giving us information on the cases when he was so reluctant to do everything else. He just wanted to be sure that we wouldn’t find her case ourselves. He gave us all of the files except for her,” the chief said with a sigh.

“Well, as long as we keep this whole thing from Violent Spider, we should be fine,” Xue Yang muttered, though he knew she’d find out regardless. There was no way that story wasn’t going to make the news from simple hearsay, a conversation with an eyewitness perhaps.

After an extended moment, no longer a moment really, just a moment to those who shared the same events for hours, Jiang Cheng had halted his fingers above his keys and pulled up old files.

“Okay, I sent the locked file to Violent Spider and she requested authorization. We have the file,” the tech analyst said, thanking his mom in his head as to avoid having to hack into anything. If push come to shove, he would’ve done it, but ethical was best until it was provoked.

“Song Ah-Qing, age seventeen, body discovered in Huijia Private High School where she attended classes. She had two brothers, one full blood, and one half, a Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen who shares the same mother as her. It’s a cold case from a decade ago. There were no suspects found for the case. This occurred after hours of class, most students already at home. Extracurricular activities had been finished for the day, and the school’s operational hours were mostly finished,” Jiang Cheng was explaining, skimming over words to dictate what happened instead of reading the entire document aloud.

“Gusu Private High is literally one of the best secondary schools in Beijing if not the best. What were her grades like? Can you pull it up yourself?” Wei Ying asked, before they’d need to request more information on the case. That would include waiting.

Jiang Cheng was tapping against the keys again before he brought it up to the big screen. It displayed consecutive excellence as appropriated by students accepted into the academy.

“She took mostly AP classes and dabbled with at least 2 clubs as well as being the principle’s assistant,” Jiang Cheng said.

“It says debate/critical thinking and science/engineering club. Who ran those?” Wei Ying asked, because if the CSI couldn’t get it, they would. Jiang Cheng went back to his keys to pull up different pages when he answered again.

“Oh, look at that, Jinguang-Yao was employed there temporarily to show kids university level chemistry in the science club. He was sometimes invited as a guest speaker to the school for programs,” Jiang Cheng said, just as the chief nodded. Then, a thought seemed to strike both Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying as their eyes met one another. Xue Yang didn’t know anything about private school except the fact that he had gotten a scholarship to attend one his junior year.

“It’s also where Huaisang flunked out of,” Wei Ying said aloud for him.

“Twice,” Jiang Cheng commented.

“It’s also where Wangji taught as a substitute teacher,” came Xingchen, entering the doorway appearing as though he hadn’t slept in days. Xue Yang opened his mouth to speak but bit his tongue and turned away before his words finally registered.

“What?” Wei Ying asked, because he wanted to disregard it completely. That was too much information.

“It was one of the academies he taught at as a substitute teacher. Ah-Qing was advocating for another club with him. She was killed before that could happen. The school board was against the idea, and many classmates voted against its favor,” Xingchen said, recalling the events like a bullet. There was no used being sad about it now.

“Did you know Lan Zhan at the time?” Jiang Cheng questioned, aware that it must’ve been a complicated story to retell, but if they were going to help, they needed more information, something the man made very evident that it was the last thing he had in mind to give away.

“I knew him as the school staff. I had spoken to him a few times. Ah-Qing spoke very highly of him. He taught a temporary course, Criminology 145 at a college level despite only being 20 years old. I thought very highly of him myself. Ah-Qing absolutely loved it, one of the students who was able to acquire university courses before even finishing secondary school. There were about seven students in the class.”

“Did you also know that Jinguang-Yao was teaching at the school?” Wei Ying asked, now a bit confused. He scratched the back of his head and swayed his swivel chair side to side.

“I had only met him a few times, but I was aware that he was there. He had one of his experiments accidentally settle a fire in the basement of the school which deeply upset Nie Mingjue because – “

“Because his brother was there,” Wei Ying said, slowly nodding. “Huaisang couldn’t graduate with the rest of us because he kept failing. He failed his second year there until his brother paid the school to pass him. That’s also where Brother Nie first met Jinguang-Yao who volunteered to be Huaisang’s tutor. I remember telling him to at least let Brother Yao help him so he could get into a good university. Huaisang wanted to go to art school,” Wei was recalling the events though some parts were hazy. He definitely remembered those parts correctly.

“I didn’t know you back then, but I knew Huaisang since middle school. He ended out going to the Beijing’s University of the Sciences after Gusu,” Jiang Cheng told him.

“The important thing is that the first thing Brother Yao did that upset Brother Nie was that he blew up the school with one of his experiments while tutoring Huaisang. Brother Nie was probably thinking, ‘if you don’t know what you’re doing, how can you teach my brother?’” Wei Ying replied. The pieces seemed to fit somewhere, but he wasn’t quite sure where they were pointed.

“Do you think Huaisang would’ve crossed paths with Ah-Qing?” Jiang Cheng asked, though his frown spoke for him: this whole idea was stupid.

“This year, Ah-Qing would’ve been 27. She would’ve definitely met Huaisang if he was with Brother Jin since Brother Jin also ran the science and engineering club that she took part in. I can imagine that Huaisang was also a part of the club. It was only for seniors because of the chemicals used, but Ah-Qing was considered two years ahead and got a word from the principle. She liked it but her focus was criminology. She easily flew through her sciences, and dedicated most of her time with faux cases and terminology,” Xingchen informed them.

Jiang Cheng was still frowning. This whole idea was stupid. Maybe it just happened to have been a coincidence that they were all gathered in the same area and Huaisang was just one of those participants.

“So, imagine someone who was trying his best and instead of excelling, flunks twice while a junior surpasses him without a care. Ah-Qing doesn’t even sound like she had passion for science. She just understood it really well. Her heart was here,” Xue Yang easily summarized, flaring our his palms to gesture towards the office.

“Also, imagine if your student was surpassing you while you failed your own experiments while she dedicated her time to a different class. Lan Zhan was already esteemed during his age. Just think about an upcoming amateur chemist getting overlooked by a twenty-year old substitute teacher whose student was better than he seemed to be,” Wei Ying chimed in, because thinking ill of Huaisang seemed like an odd thing. Huaisang was a rather innocent and dull boy, but it also wasn’t impossible. His brother was Nie Mingjue after all, and if there was anything the older man had, it was a temper. Huaisang could’ve had the temper in a different manner. Maybe Huaisang was more grown up than they thought.

“Okay, but also consider a dedicated student gets murdered one evening for advocating for a club that everyone was against due to sensitive related topics. This was a class on how to get away with murder basically. They used the same ploy to get rid of her, getting away with murder still, a decade later. What class was Ah-Qing killed in?” Jiang Cheng asked, because perhaps it was one of the students who deeply resented her achievements.

“Homeroom,” Xingchen replied, recalling the scene himself.

“What’s homeroom? The start, of course. Little Blind was basically telling you that it was just the beginning,” Wei Ying pointed out. He went over and placed a hand on Xingchen’s shoulder. For the first time since they met, he gave a light squeeze, finally understanding what he had seen. He had seen Xingchen standing over his dead sister the night she was killed; he had been a detective at the time, pretending they weren’t related which he got away with because her surname was different.

“No matter what, we’re going to be at the finish line. We’ll find him,” Wei Ying told the team lead. Xingchen breathed in sharply, looking ahead like the yellow string stood before him, and he could run through, finding the killer, giving her justice, giving himself some peace. When he turned back to the chief, his eyes were determined, and his expression was fierce.

“What happened to Wangji after Ah-Qing’s death?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Where is Lan Zhan anyway?”

“He said he had something to deal with. He’ll be here shortly,” Xingchen replied, finding it odd that they were asking about his partner.

“Why? So, he can get another story in order? Where the hell did he go after Ah-Qing died?” Xue Yang asked. The CSI were always doing something suspicious, if not the team lead for personal reasons, the partner was shady too. Was that for a personal reason too?

Xingchen frowned slightly but replied, “his course was temporary, so he left afterward. We were exactly friends during the time, so we didn’t exchange words. I didn’t see him again until we became partners years later.”

“Yeah, Lan Zhan isn’t the type to exchange condolences. I don’t think he knows how to,” Wei Ying said, his frown mimicking Jiang Cheng’s. Jiang Cheng frowned harder as if to win the battle with their suspicions.

“What if Ah-Qing was excelling so much that she was surpassing Brother Lan as well?” Xue Yang asked, the only one who wasn’t going to throw his expression everywhere. His emotions needed to stay intact before he spilled them all over the carpet again.

“She had to have been as smart as me then. No offence,” Wei Ying said, because in honestly, he hadn’t ever met a person at his level if not Lan Zhan who was silent about how intelligent he was.

“At this point, Ah-Qing seems like she can outsmart anybody. Even a decade later, she’s still giving us hints despite having her goddamn tongue cut off. She’s clever and doing what she can with the energy she has as a spirit. She’s starting to fade though. I get her in short outbursts and then she’s gone,” Xue Yang said, causing Xingchen’s eyes to widen.

“What did you just say?” The team lead asked, approaching him. “Ah-Qing? You saw her? You saw Ah-Qing?”

“I saw her the night before I met you for the first time and pretty often after that. I guess she was trying to tell me that she couldn’t speak so she screamed. She appeared exactly when I thought about Chairman Nie. She appeared in the hospital room where you were, but she ran me into Brother Lan and Wei Ying. Then she ran me directly to your house. She might as well run me to Huaisang and Meng Yao to even everything out.”

“Meng Yao?” Wei Ying raised an eyebrow in his direction, giving up his battle with Jiang Cheng. “You know Brother Jin?”

Xue Yang sighed then nodded. “He’s the reason I got a scholarship to get out of Jingshang High. I had run into him one day from school. I knew him because of his Dad, and I kinda’ made a rude comment about the dude which he found funny. I saw his textbooks and we started talking about chemistry, not that kind, but actual chemistry. We hung out after that until I graduated and said I was going into criminal justice. He agreed that we shouldn’t associate with one another in public. It would make him look bad. He wasn’t being malicious about it either, was just being real.”

“That’s why he pretended he didn’t see you when he was being questioned?” Wei Ying thought aloud, nodding to himself until everything made sense. “You guys must’ve been close if he gave you that much money,” he had to add to the punk.

“He had a shitton of money because of his Dad. I mean, his Pa didn’t need to like him, but he certainly still had the money,” Xue Yang said. Recalling it now, it definitely was strange to see the man again, and in a guilty light. He was sure the day was coming sooner or later. Xue Yang knew Meng Yao’s personality well from the years they shared together. If Nie Mingjue made it clear that he didn’t like the chemist, the chemist most certainly made it clear to Xue Yang that the feelings were mutual. He had a quiet sort of hate that he gave the Chairman.

“Xue Yang,” Wei Ying called all of the sudden. “Answer me clearly, okay? Did you or did you not help with his experiments?”

Xue Yang sighed again. “I did.”

“You’re the reason they were successful, weren’t you?”

“I mean, some of them. He ain’t stupid.”

“Definitely not, considering he’ll end out pinning this whole thing on you if he can.”

Xue Yang sat up straighter. “He’s not like that. If there’s anyone he’ll go after, it’s going to be Chairman Nie, not plucking out eyes and tongues of twenty something thirty year olds. Definitely not if they were Anti-Nies too. He’d probably give them all a scholarship.”

“What if he hated him to such an extent that he was going to frame Mingjue and have you as an accomplice without you knowing?”

“I would know if I was an accomplice, Wei Ying. Be real. I didn’t assist him in murder, but I did help him with his chemicals.”

“Did you have access to his lab?”

“I did. He gave me his access card sometimes. I stopped doing it when I went to university.”

“None of this is making any sense,” Jiang Cheng sighed into his chair, slumping down with his neck on the back rest.

It suddenly occurred to Xue Yang that he almost wanted to call Meng Yao and let the man know that the team was looking into him again. It had been years since they last spoke to one another, but they did text once in a while, maybe a few times every few months and during holidays. The last text had come for the new year a few weeks ago. It had said, “Still catching bad guys? Happy New Year, I hope you conquer.”

As ominous as that may have seemed, it was the text that came after his “Lol, yeah. You too,” that made Xue Yang think on behalf of the man again.

Meng Yao had replied, “I don’t catch bad guys. It’s hard to tell who is bad and who is good.”

And then then all of the chemical purchases had gone directly to Meng Yao or Huaisang. Xue Yang really didn’t think that the man was that jealous of a seventeen-year-old at the time, and continued that jealousy enough to kill nine other people. It didn’t make sense. Meng Yao didn’t like Nie Mingjue, and had reason to be jealous of his half brother, which he made clear to Xue Yang, but Jin Zixuan had nothing to do with any of this, and neither did Xue Yang know anything about the man other than the fact that he was married. After listening to what Chairman Nie said, Xue Yang could definitely agree with him. Meng Yao had obvious personal issues, but was he going to murder ten people over a little possible jealousy? Or was this all about his hatred to Nie Mingjue that he would frame him for murder?

Or was this all Huaisang?

Or did Wangji have something to do with this? He was cold like a killer but was that just personality? Xue Yang ran a hand along his face as if to tear it off from overthinking.

“Does it strike you strangely that Brother Lan literally disappeared after her death and said nothing to you? Then he started making up stories when he came back as your partner? Put on the same case?” He asked. In return, Xingchen asked him a question instead of answering.

“If Jinguang-Yao was brought to court would you testify in his favor?” Was the question.

Xue Yang didn’t hesitate. “I would. I would vouch for him.”

“Xue Yang!” Wei Ying yelled, his hand raised as to asked “what the hell?”

“I would! You guys don’t understand how shitty his dad is. The only issues he has are daddy issues, and daddy issues isn’t going to make you kill ten people. Don’t get me wrong, he’s smart enough for murder but I just don’t think he was a part of this specific line of murder.”

“Is this about the scholarship?” Wei Ying snapped, because he knew Xue Yang needed money when he was younger, but this was life and death, not a dollar sign. Xue Yang glared in his direction for the first time since they met.

“This is about having someone’s back who had yours,” because Meng Yao had simply nodded when Xue Yang told him he had killed his adoptive father, because Meng Yao didn’t bring it back up nor did he judge him differently for it. It was almost like Meng Yao wanted to kill his own father too.

“Thinking like that is going to get you killed,” Wei Ying told him.

“Thinking like that is also why you call me your partner.”

---

Xue Yang had gone home early while Wei Ying paced the office with Jiang Cheng sitting across from him. He had known Xue Yang for six years and not once had the punk brought up Jinguang-Yao. Xingchen had gone home because Wei Ying had ordered the man to get some rest. It wasn’t everyday that people forced you to talk about your dead sister and accuse your partner of killing her.

Lan Zhan couldn’t have done it.

“I said Little Blind is an everyone sort of person. Do you see Lan Zhan? He hates God or something,” he said out of the blue, considering he had been so quiet back and forth and back and forth.

“I agree. I mean, not the God hating part, but he’s too cold, except probably when…” He’s around you, Jiang Cheng said, not finishing his sentence.

“You know what else doesn’t make sense? Xingchen said Ah-Qing spoke highly of her teacher and that he himself thought highly of Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan told me that he attempted to work with Xingchen and he declined. Why would you decline someone you thought highly of? Flip like what, 5-6 years later, they’re each other’s partners? So he accepted anyway. What was the point of saying no?”

“This is relevant?”

“I just want to be sure of everyone’s character and to see if everyone is telling the truth. Looking at it now, how old is Ah-Qing supposed to be? Twenty-seven, right? She killed nine people to tell us, all of those twenty-seven year old ghost victims, remember? Little Blind is also killing all of these people to tell us something. Getting back at Nie Mingjue isn’t telling us something. Killing your own antis is too telling. What if it really is Huaisang, Jiang Cheng? What if Huaisang really did do all of this to prove to everyone that he could? That he isn’t stupid? That he can frame not only his older brother who gets at him for everything, use the tools his tutor had taught him and gave him access to, use what Xue Yang had accomplished. And why? To get back at Lan Zhan.”

“What?”

“Lan Zhan was his age and teaching a university course while Huaisang was literally repeating a third year, Jiang Cheng. Why else would Lan Zhan’s best stupid get killed?”

“Why would he make things up then?”

“For goodness’ sake, Jiang Cheng, it was to protect his brother,” Wei Ying blurted out, finally understanding it himself. “I spoke to him and his brother. Lan Zhan doesn’t talk to his own partner let alone have friends to talk to. His house is cold and white like some sort of hospital room people die in. He calls his brother to speak to him because he’s all the way in Shenzhen. He runs a publishing company he wanted Lan Zhan to run with him. Lan Zhan cares deeply about him.”

“What does this have to do with – .”

“Everyone talks about the accomplishments of the Beijing Trio. It was Nie Mingjue who not only became secretary of state but is now Congress Chairman. A mere waitress’ son who started as amateur scientist became a renown chemist. Who was the third person?”

As if something finally clicked, Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. “You’re right. It was a Lan. Lan Xichen! I remember!”

“If Nie Mingjue and Jinguang-Yao got involved in the case, who would get dragged into it? His college buddy of course who would advocate for him. Lan Xichen would get dragged into the case, and plead in for the killer the same way Xue Yang would advocate for Jinguang-Yao. Lan Zhan was trying to keep the line of suspicion from Nie-ge to keep his own brother out of it. If it turns out that neither of them are Little Blind, his brother would be made public for the real killer to see. Two, from speaking to Brother Xichen once, I can see that if he actually knew the details of the case, which he will if he goes to court, he would have Lan Zhan removed at once and attend to the family business. That would not only kill Lan Zhan’s dreams but also put his precious brother in harm’s way. Of course, he was going to make up a story to keep him out of it.”

“That’s fucking insane. That’s against the law.”

“So was concealing information, and Xingchen did that too. They each did it for a sibling. I can understand that, Jiang Cheng. I would do anything to keep you two safe.”

Jiang Cheng exhaled, looking at him seriously. “Do we take Huaisang in for questioning?”

“Not yet. I want to watch him first. If he comes near Xue Yang, I’m…I’m going to kill him, Jiang Cheng.” Best friend or not, family came first.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng stayed in the office that night. He wanted to figure this out. He had called his mother, and assured Yanli that he was doing fine and would sleep soon, even his father had told him to eat something which was unusual. Maybe he was becoming too invested.

But he couldn’t just sit here while Huaisang was possibly working on murdering the next person. He also couldn’t just sit here and allow him to be framed if that was the case. He wrote out numbers again, starting at the patterns and the colors and the shapes and the faces. The longer he stared, the heavier his eyelids seem to fall over his eyes. He began to recognize another pattern about the page, but his intellect was wired by sleep, and the numbers would dance. Perhaps it only made sense because he was tired, and needed rest and maybe something to eat, and maybe to spend more time with Jin Ling where it was no longer border line neglect. He brought up his papers and prepared to dial Wei Ying when he noticed the time. The chief was most likely talking on the phone with that Wangji fellow, so he tried his luck elsewhere.

Xue Yang answered immediately, most likely up watching television instead of doing his homework.

They talked of other things, of where Xue Yang thought his future lied, which was critical for Jiang Cheng if he still considered the possibility of taking on a promotion. He began to wonder if it was still worth the fight to take hold of something that was barely touched by his fingertips but embraced by someone else. Perhaps Jiang Cheng would always be unworthy, the second choice, someone smaller than someone considerably large. He should’ve spoke about the case, but speaking about the case over the phone was unprofessional and dangerous altogether. He could call on the safe line, but he didn’t want to speak about it anymore. He wanted to curl up and rest, and yet, still, he was so far away from home.

            “I know you’re still at the office, Uncle Jiang. Please go home for the night. Get some sleep. We’ll look at it together when all of us gather in the morning,” Xue Yang was saying. The runt gave the impression that he was wide awake. Even in the notion of staying up, Jiang Cheng would lose to him. The older man could barely withstand another second away from his dreams, trapped in the confines of his circadian rhythm, behind curtains, deep in slumber. Fine. He’d lose again for today, but tomorrow, he would come even earlier, earlier than anyone else, even earlier than Xue Yang waking for classes – he would figure this out alone and prove to himself that at least to him, he was worthy.

            He went home and received not a single text from Wei Ying. The chief lieutenant was most likely speaking to Wangji, distracted, uncaring, attempting to add someone to their familial circle when they didn’t need someone else. Maybe Wangji would replace Jiang Cheng too, and eventually Jiang Cheng would dwindle and no one would remember him.

---

            When Jiang Cheng woke up, he felt the stickiness about his cheeks and wondered if it was saliva or tears. He decided that he was gross and it was the former. Stretching, he studied his alarm clock with sleepy eyes, numbers displaying a startling 4h45 in the morning. He would be in the office by 5h30 and no one would stop him, even if that meant two hours of sleep. He tiptoed past a dozing Jin Ling who had fallen asleep by the window nook where Jiang Cheng liked to read thick books with an old man’s dialect and a professor’s vocabulary. They made him feel smarter though his eyebrows would crease with frustration and rise with confusion and not a soul was present who would explain to him exactly what he was reading for he could yet comprehend it.

            With hygiene taken care of, he slipped into a purple button up and a long coat that covered his bottom and brought himself into the winter squall beyond his door. Snowflakes caught his cheeks, bringing a deep shade of red to the pale of his tired expression. He listened to the roar of his motorcycle and drove off towards their office. When he arrived, not a soul was present, of course. He settled into his desk chair, the little squeak that came from the bottom registering his startling descent. With a quick maneuver, he was out of his coat, the coffee machine was brewing, the lights were on, his glasses were on his nose, and the heater thrummed to life. He returned to his desk, turning on his laptop and taking out his notes to reexamine. A quick check on his phone brought a tight lipped smile to his lips. Bitterness couldn’t last so long could it? There it was.

            “I hope you’re finally heading home. Good night! I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Don’t come in too early,” had come in just after Jiang Cheng had fallen asleep. His lieutenant still cared. He still cared, and that frustrated Jiang Cheng’s intellect, brought him in circles that troubled his emotions. Was it hate? Bitterness? Jealousy? Was it nothing at all?

            Jiang Cheng shook it from him like snowflakes from his shoulders and hair. Listening to the storm beyond the office was calming, his chest rising and falling slowly like death arriving after a severe stroke. He thought to call Wei Ying but thought towards the time. Perhaps he shouldn’t act out on his strange obsession with this acceptance. Wei Ying wouldn’t accept him, at least not where he wanted, not as his right hand, not as someone on his opposite cubicle. Jiang Cheng wasn’t as clever as Xue Yang, couldn’t communicate like Xue Yang, couldn’t comprehend like Xue Yang, and his drive had fallen short where Xue Yang’s was constantly fuming.

            Intelligence was contagious and yet theirs had never reached the tech analyst. He scrunched up his face and swore that he would figure this out and be just as good, just as convenient, just as worthy. Maybe even adequate.

            Before eyeing the papers, his thoughts brought him directly to Xue Yang’s relationship with Jinguang-Yao. The entire reason why Jinguang-Yao was successful in the first place was because of the little runt, the reason why he became so renowned, because of the little runt. Where Jinguang-Yao appeared into the public and became so much larger, Xue Yang disappeared into the safety of a secret agency and dwindled from society into an apparition, much like the ones he communicated with. At the same time, Lan Wangji had disappeared from the Ah-Qing case like the ghost he was. A normal citizen, a normal human being would have sent condolences, apologized for a parent’s loss, especially considering the relationship he had shared with the deceased, and yet, Wangji had completely disappeared without a word. Xingchen had never answered the question of why Wangji disappeared. He intercepted with a question of his own. Of course, the man didn’t have an answer. There was no possible way that there wasn’t some bitterness in failing to receive at least a bit of humane courtesy from someone he thought highly of. It’s like Wangji had to reject Xingchen back for turning him down. And still, Xingchen’s character was so strange. Why did he have a secret room in his home with no lock on the inside?

            Now all of the sudden, Xue Yang apparently had a scholarship from Jinguang-Yao. “Having someone’s back who had yours,” was what the runt said, but would thinking like that truly get someone killed the way Wei Ying said? Maybe Jiang Cheng couldn’t point fingers, not yet. He called Huaisang instead, to finally rid of this minute suspicion. Huaisang was guilty of something, but could it be murder? Though it was early in the morning, Huaisang strangely answered though the tech analyst couldn’t remember an instance where his friend had been an early riser. Times changed things, didn’t they? Even worse, Huaisang sounded like he was tinkering with something, a little distracted, a tap of something against a metal tray once in a while while Jiang Cheng feigned a regular conversation. Eventually, the tech analyst approached his topic, not with care, but frank. He needed to know.

            “Huaisang, be honest with me, alright?” He said, looking away from his laptop screen to concentrate.

            “Of course,” untroubled, innocent, not a killer.

            “What drives someone to murder?”

            There was pause, then the sound of objects placed on the tray again.

            “You’re asking me? That’s your expertise! Mine is – .”

            “Not what you’ve been doing,” Jiang Cheng interrupted.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Your brother paid for you to graduate from Gusu, right? You said you’d be an art major so how did you end out going to the University of sciences? How did you end out doing what you’re doing?” None of that made any sense.

            “My brother…”

            “Forget your brother for a second, Huaisang! Why are you trying to get back at him?” Because if Huaisang wasn’t going to be honest, he could easily be arrested for the murder of ten people and nine others as second degree.

            “What? I’m not trying to get back at my brother!” Huaisang’s innocence seemed to disappear in that moment, just pure rage and courtesy all at once, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to yell or not. Good, Jiang Cheng wanted to see that rage, see the Nie blood that was in him.

            “Then why work with Jinguang-Yao? Why are you being his slave?”

            There was another pause, and Jiang Cheng could imagine that Huaisang was gathering himself, either truly speechless or fabricating the way Wangji did.

            “People have different ways pf showing they care. Meng Yao is truly talented, with or without my help, he’ll excel. I’m just trying to help.”

            “Were you or were you not in the basement when the fire happened at Gusu?”

            “I wasn’t, Jiang Cheng.”

            “The Nie that the media was talking about wasn’t you, was it? It was your brother.” Jiang Cheng didn’t need to think beyond that to question why he had done it. When the tech analyst spoke again, it was to say what he suspected. He almost sounded like Wei Ying, confident for once.

            “You’re sabotaging Jinguang-Yao’s progress, aren’t you? You keep running away from us when you see us, because you were scared we’d find out. That fire made your brother’s condition worse, didn’t it?”

            “I don’t know anything.” Acidity.

            “Good night, Huaisang.” Jiang Cheng hung up the phone. He could imagine Huaisang hadn’t slept yet, bent on this revenge. The whole thing was about revenge. Everything was always about revenge. Little things, getting rejected by Wei Ying as his partner. That was the biggest thing to Jiang Cheng but it wasn’t worth it, was it? Would Jiang Cheng get revenge for that? No. Xue Yang and Wei Ying were his brothers. He’d kill for them.

            But rejection was hard. It made people do things that stripped them of their humanity. Sometimes it worked out for the better and you got the dream position, the dream life. Everything worked out if you were Lan Wangji. Looking at it now, flip five to six years later and he was Xiao Xingchen’s partner. But this wasn’t about him. This was about Ah-Qing.

            Jiang Cheng began to scribble away on the papers again. He would get this little girl justice, because something like revenge had taken her life. When he saw Wei Ying later come the day, he would tell him that it was okay to be rejected, that Xue Yang was the right fit and he wasn’t angry anymore.

            Huaisang was pretty simple, get revenge for his older brother by sabotaging.

            Jinguang-Yao was pretty simple, get back at Nie Mingjue for hating him over an accident that couldn’t be helped. Or was this about getting rid of Mingjue for being successful while Jinguang-Yao’s Dad wouldn’t even acknowledge him? About Mingjue rising while Jinguang-Yao struggled in his shameful position?

            Xue Yang was pretty simple, advocating for Jinguang-Yao over a little high school bond.

            Wangji was pretty simple, lying to keep his brother safe.

            Xingchen was pretty simple, doing everything in the name of his sister.

            Jiang Cheng was pretty simple, bitter over a little jealousy that lasted years now.

            Wei Ying was pretty simple. The simplest man Jiang Cheng had ever met that lived complicatedly. The smartest, most genuine, clever, and pure hearted person who had many many many flaws. He was the older brother Jiang Cheng didn’t have.

---

            Was this case so complicated? Did it have top be so complicated? No. Maybe it was pretty simple. Maybe it was as easy as Ah-Qing being 17 anf Ai-Ling being 17. As easy as both of them being students. Both found on school grounds. Ah-Qing the messiest missing case. Ai-Ling, the only messy case compared to the rest. Ah-Qing, Ai-Ling, both so similar. Both alive when killed. Ai-Ling, like a mirror of the first. Their names even sounded similar.

            This case was simple revenge.

            “Like he’s trying to fix what he’s done,” Jiang Cheng remembered.

            No. This case wasn’t about Ah-Qing at all. This cased followed her the way it followed Xingchen, waiting to help. This case was about Xingchen.

            Jiang Cheng worked quickly, noticing the pattern appear as he studied the numbers in a different light. As the sun was rising, he dialed Wei Ying. The lieutenant couldn’t respond before the tech analyst cut him off.

            “I figured out the pattern,” Jiang Cheng said. His hands were shaking as the numbers danced before him.

            “What?” Wei Ying was rubbing sleep from his eyes, sitting up straight, barely registering how much light had already reached the sky.

            “The first case was seventeen. The second was twenty-three, six years later. 2+3=5 for Lihua. The difference from Lihua and Zhang Yong was 9, flip that and it’s six. 6-5=1. The fourth victim was 24, one year difference than Lihua. The next cases came two years later, marking the 8^th year of the original case. Meifeng is 31, 8 years from Ah-Qing. 3+1=4. You do that twice because of Bao Ru and you get 8 if you add them. You add that to the original and you get 35, the age of the seventh victim, Hung Jia. I figured out what was so strange about Bao Ru, he was meant to throw us off. That’s why the case is so odd. The next string of cases was a year later, marking the ninth year. At this point, Lihua is viewed as “the first case”, we add 9 to her and we get 32 for the eighth victim, Qiuyue. 3+2=5. You subtract five from the nine year mark and you get four. Xiang Xiaosi was four years away from Qiuyue, being 36. Ai-Ling is 17, ten years later from Ah-Qing. All of Ah-Qing’s victims have been 27. 2+7=9. You flip that and you get the 6 year difference from Ah-Qing and Lihua. There were five female ghost victims and four male ghost victims as there were in the original case excluding Ah-Qing. The case began 10 years ago when – .” Jiang Cheng stopped speaking and Wei Ying could hear a shuffling in the background.

            “Oh good, you’re here. Wei Ying, I’ll tell you when you come in later. It’s not good to say over the phone.” Jiang Cheng had gotten so excited, he forgot to use the safe line. Wei Ying went back to bed.

---

            Xue Yang was up early for class, a stretch, a glare at the universe, a tumble from his sheets – he had made his way into the streets when a daunting feeling hitched itself between his shoulder blades. He could feel someone watching him. He turned down a road he wouldn’t have usually used to get to the train station, his eyes catching sight of something amongst the flakes. It zipped behind the wall elegantly, like a shadow that moved naturally along the wall. Xue Yang moved faster, twisting into an alley and up a hunch of the wall, stepping against an peaking air conditioner and hopping across a metal chained gate, dodging the thorny twirls above that threatened birds and boys like him who jumped them. He wanted to free himself of the thin streets and back to civilization before the apparition caught up to him. Apparition or human. He couldn’t tell yet. He wasn’t armed for either of them at the moment, just with writing utensils, excess 0.2 lead capsules filled to the brim, textbooks in pristine condition despite how clustered he was as a person. The farther he seemed to move, the more adrenaline finally brought a frightened throb to his heart. He felt calm, had been chased before, and yet his heart began to shudder. His quick traipse found itself in a run until he dipped by the trees, trying to rid of possible danger to the people around him, but enough where he too wouldn’t be isolated.

Wrong choice. He saw someone dip behind a patch of trees, and so he crouched closer to the trunk he already stood behind. Standing that way for a fleeting moment, elongated by the exasperated breaths that finally caught up to him. Oh God, he was scared. He was scared. Xue Yang turned a bit, trying to grasp a glimpse at the perpetrator. Spirits never made him feel much fear. This was human. This was someone still alive. At least until Xue Yang could get to his arms and shoot their brains out. He cursed under his breath and broke out in a forward run, escaping the capture of the trees and into the street, sliding directly under a vehicle just as he heard the familiar flare of miscomprehended fireworks. The echo never came, just one flare attempting some sort of silent approach. The bullet flew right over the vehicle where Xue Yang had stood just second ago.

            A new decade meant a new approach. Guns were apparently now an option, but at least it was a quick death if Xue Yang found himself captured right in its aim. Little Blind was now coming directly for him, and here he was, under a car, harmless for once in his damned life. His eyes searched for legs farther off, trying to locate where the man could possibly be. He saw nothing just as he crawled from below and back to standing position. He could feel his lungs fall out onto his tongue as he attempted to swallow his drying saliva. The wind bit into his cheeks, slicing at the open confinements of his garments, but he could feel none of it as he ran. Another bullet had not sounded, not even as he ran straight, no zig zags. No. He was trying to test

something, approaching a group of people the way he shouldn’t have, turning behind him in a full circle.

            He still doesn’t want to harm other people. He’s only after me, Xue Yang thought, calming his breathing as he maneuvered into the group of students at the bus stop. Squeezing himself to the front, he ran up the bus treads and watched the windows down the row. He could see no one suspicious, but perhaps that was the point. Little Blind was a man of civilization, hiding behind his humane façade, an everybody sort of fellow, shooting a college kid on his way to classes. Wonderful. There were too many students in the row for Xue Yang to find a seat, and he thanked them for the warmth and the sudden safety. Dialing quickly, he called his partner.

            Wei Ying felt hungry all morning, like something was missing, maybe a limb or two. He drank three cups of coffee with excess cream, no sugar. He downed his breakfast, and downed his lunch early but found himself uncomfortable. When Xue Yang called with the news, he fought the urge to say he knew something was up, but he still wasn’t sure. Something was always “up” but did it necessarily involve everyone? Was this the usual “up” or was this going down, way downhill where no one could stop it in time until it collided with

something?

            “Go to class. Stay there and I’ll come pick you up. Go nowhere else, understood?” Wei Ying ordered. He couldn’t rid of the feeling in the pit of his stomach, and food wasn’t assisting the way it usually did. He was unusually tired, yawning nonstop, sleeping a little too much. Something was wrong, but in general, or with him? Was he getting sick? He waited at home, texting Xue Yang in between classes to see if everything was still okay. He was safer in school than he was with the lieutenant, but Wei Ying would bring arms, would bring walls, would bring control. If only he could clear this – what was this? He paced back and forth, turning from the walls of his kitchen to the front door and back. He pulled his curtains closed and changed twice, then sat down and began to twist the ring on his pinky finger.

            It was calming.

            He leaned into it, pressing an ear against it like something was calling towards him. He could hear it, something was calling him, was bringing him closer. Then he had a vision, another vision of steam of smoke, of hot water running down a strong bare back, rolling down a stubborn set of abs and down the torso until it went down the drain. He could see the hair pressed against the scalp, how the eyes were closed as Wangji stood under the shower head.

            Wei Ying stood up quickly, pulling away from his ring with wide eyes. He cleared his throat and brushed nothing from his clothing. And just like that, he realized what the feeling was, what made him pace, what made him fidget and flare his hunger. Paranoia. Wei Ying was never paranoid, never paranoid unless the situation was no longer in his power. He was chief lieutenant, in control. He would fix whatever it was. And yet, the paranoia spoke differently, brought fear up his spine and took his badge from his breast, cut his pinky finger off and stole his calming gem. Was Little Blind so powerful? Was Little Blind one step ahead of Wei Ying? Were they running a losing trail?

            He was panting, hunched over as perspiration formed at his tempo. Paranoia was never good for his visions; he couldn’t see clearly. He brought his shaking hands to his phone and dialed for Xue Yang.

           “Are you alright?” He asked, trying to calm himself as to not frighten the other. He needed to remember that he was in control. He was in control. They would catch Little Blind. All five of them, together. God, he could barely breathe. He dropped the phone and fell onto the floor, gasping for air as another vision was provoked.

            Blood splatter. So much blood splatter. Thick and crimson against a set of warm walls.

            “Xue Yang!” Wei Ying screamed, his voice panicked and petrified all at once. He gasped from his vision and gripped his phone. “Xue Yang!”

            “Y-yes?” Xue Yang asked, dropping the keys in front of his apartment. He had never heard such a tone in his partner before. It caused him to watch behind his shoulders, stare at the apartment doors down the hall like someone would step out and take his eyes, cut out his tongue, and poison him until he couldn’t call for

help.  

            “X-Xue Yang. Where the hell are you? I’m coming right now.” Wei Ying picked himself from the ground and grabbed for his coat. This would end now. Little Blind would not harm someone else. And if it were Xue Yang, if Little Blind placed a single gloved hand on his partner, he would never utter a single word. His spirit would be so malicious, that hell would send their own agents to arrest him, pull him under the gates, and Little Blind would be nothing but a thought. That was control. If Wei Ying told himself this, flared himself with anger, he would get by. He would speak coherently, dress accordingly, act appropriately, and protect with nothing of fear, nothing of paranoia. Control. Not like the life he had in the streets, not his life before Violent Spider had taken him in. He balled his fists to bring the ring onto his palm.

            “It’s okay. I went home early. I’ve been feeling weird all day. I just wanted to get home. I called a cab, no worries. I’m home now. I’m safe.”

            Wei Ying could feel his eyes tear up, but he nodded to himself. That meant Xue Yang was safe right? That no one was going to take him away, and that Little Blind was still one step behind him. Then why? Why? Why this feeling?

            “Lock your doors. Stay home, Xue Yang. Do not go anywhere. None of us are going anywhere today. I’ll text Lan Zhan and let him know we’re not going out.” With that, the lieutenant breathed and collapsed into his armchair, his phone falling onto the carpet. He rubbed his temple, listening to the armchair creak as he rocked it to and fro.

            Creak. Creak. Creeeak. It was making everything worse. It was fucking making everything worse. He rocked the chair harder, harder, harder. Something. Something needed to register. Something needed to be recognized, something familiar.

            The walls. The fucking walls. The fucking walls in his vision.        

            He stopped creaking the damn chair and snatched his phone from the floor, running out the front door without bothering to close or lock the doors. The paranoia was gone. God, was it too late? Was it too late?

            Xue Yang locked the door behind him and dropped his bookbag. He sighed and brought himself over to his couch to lay down. The day had ended early and yet it felt longer than any other, just a daze of rushed events. He was glad to see it end, reaching for the remote when he saw a familiar shape behind him. The blood in his body seemed to freeze in that moment until he registered who it was.

            “God, Uncle Jiang! You scared the hell out of me! I will never die in peace now,” Xue Yang said, his heart pounding in his ears. He could’ve cried with relief to see the tech analyst. He reached for the remote again to turn on the tv, some sort of normalcy. Uncle Jiang seldom visited, visited Xue Yang even less than he did Wei Ying.

            “Wei Dude said that we need to stay inside so you’re probably going to have to spend the night. No buts! Before you complain about having to be here, hear me out. Someone shot at me this morning on my way to school. I was thinking it was Chairman Nie’s people again but it suddenly struck me that it’s the decade mark so Little Blind has different techniques now. He’s renewing the  whole thing, right? So he doesn’t have to follow his old rules anymore. We should watch out though, he works on impulses a lot, so being indoors is better.”

            Uncle Jiang sure was quiet, just standing there.

---

            Please please please, please don’t do this to me. Please please please, Wei Ying was already crying behind his wheel. He was speeding down the lanes, running red lights. He didn’t bother with his siren, just dodging pedestrians.

            Please please please….

 ---

            Xue Yang flipped through channels a bit before he frowned.

            “Uncle Jiang, at least sit. Why are you just standing there,” he asked, but Jiang Cheng didn’t make the move to come sit beside him.

            “I have homework. Do you want to see it? You always want to see my homework. Here, come sit.” X ue Yang dug into his bag to pull out textbooks. He flipped to the page he was assigned, and waited.

            Nothing.

            Was Uncle Jiang so pissy that he needed to spend the night with Xue Yang?

 ---

            Fucking damn it. Fuck. Fuck! Move move move, Wei Ying thought, waiting for a family to cross the street. He punched the steering wheel and held his face.

            Please. Please. Please don’t do this.

 ---

            Xue Yang tossed his textbook at his bookbag and rolled his eyes. He got onto his knees and twisted around so that his stomach was resting against the backrest.

            “No…” He said. He shook his head. He shook his head again. His eyes began to water, and his lips parted to say something as words failed to form.

            Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything to him, just standing there watching him. Xue Yang’s entire body shook as he looked away, picking up his phone and tumbling from the seat. He tripped onto the floor and crawled towards the door. He fiddled with the lock and fell into the hallway. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. His legs began to pull him forward even as everything became a haze. He turned behind him as though he was being chased, like Jiang Cheng would follow him. Down the stairs, out the front door, out into the streets, out into the snow, in a run. He ran faster than he had ever run in his life, trying to freeze the tears away. He didn’t bother to call Wei Ying, didn’t bother to call anyone.

            He told himself he could still make it. He told himself that they could get away. He told himself many things.

            His body was a sheet of ice as he ran up the steps to the PAPPU building, bursting through the front door just as Wei Ying pulled into the parking lot.

            No, why are you here? Why are you here? Everything’s fine. You don’t need to be here, Oh God. Oh God. God, don’t let this happen. Please don’t do this, Xue Yang thought. His chest was rising and falling enough for two, enough for another that was failing. The building was empty, lights off in the hall, but as they neared the main office, lights still illuminated from within.

            That was a great sign. They made it on time. Logic be damned, they made it on time. They were one step ahead of Little Blind again. They would conquer, the three of them together.

            Xue Yang couldn’t stop his tears from falling as Wei Ying pulled him back. Xue Yang couldn’t stop his tears from falling as Wei Ying approached the desk in the far corner. He couldn’t stop his tears from falling as the chief lieutenant peered over the desk down below. Everyone ignored the blood splatter on the familiar walls, looking as if to validate.

            Wei Ying fell down on his knees.

            Xue Yang let of a whimper.

            Xue Yang took a few steps closer, one foot, then the next, couldn’t tell which was which. He brought himself behind the desk. He crouched down.

            Like this, the two of them sobbed. Three feet apart. Chests rising and falling enough for three.

Chapter Text

It was paperwork. It was the paperwork that crushed the only spirit the lieutenant had left. The cleaning process, the removal process, the reviewing of everything that occurred, none of it stung like signing papers, like determining time of death, like determining cause of death, like watching Jiang Cheng’s body get completely removed, covered in a cloth and zippered in a bag. Wei Ying had never been a religious man, and yet he uttered prayers, squared his shoulders one last time because this would be the end of it. Little Blind would never ever kill again.

            But they said that before, didn’t they? Wei Ying strictly remembered thinking that exact thought right before Jiang Cheng was murdered himself. Right before Little Blind cut off Jiang Cheng’s fucking tongue and plucked his eyes out. Wei Ying wanted nothing more than to reach inside and remove the contact lens he knew would’ve been there. Jiang Cheng would not be a victim. They were not going to call him a victim.

            How the hell were they going to explain this to Violent Spider? There had always been the three of them, at least for a few years now. Being two made no sense now. Being two was insufficient and felt useless, and felt sad, and felt miserable, and felt Jiang Cheng-less.

            Jiang Cheng…Wei Ying thought, suppressing another sob in his throat. He told himself that the entire ordeal could’ve been avoided. He had been so preoccupied with Xue Yang being the next victim that he had forgotten the other, had forgotten that the other had been hunched over a laptop in the office by himself. Vulnerable, Jiang Cheng, all alone and susceptible.

            Why would Little Bling have gone after Jiang Cheng? The man was twenty-eight, not twenty-seven or twenty-three the way he was supposed to be.

            The phone call.

            The fucking phone call.

            Wei Ying punched the desk beside him so hard that one of the legs gave away and the desk stumbled, clumsy. Xue Yang didn’t even start beside him, eyes still downcast, staring deeply at the floor. Wei Ying could imagine that the light around him was now so bright that he could barely look up. Wei Ying looked himself, eyeing around him in case it was bright enough for him to see too, but there was nothing present.

            “Xue Yang, get up. We’re going back to the office,” Wei Ying ordered. There was no time to lose. They could grieve when they caught the bastard, when life returned to them, smashing into their bones and windshields during a rainstorm and everything was depressing, where thoughts returned at the most expected of times and said Jiang Cheng was still gone.

            Wei Ying was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to have power. Then why couldn’t he simply reach in and pull Jiang Cheng free, put him back in his body, bring him back to life, say he was sorry a dozen times until Jiang Cheng pretended to be irritated?

            Xue Yang stood up beside him, following without saying a word. He hadn’t looked up since they had gotten to the office, the chief lieutenant almost thought he would never look up ever again. But, as they got to the door, Xue Yang straightened, his expression hardened, and his shoulders adjusted. He sniffed once and that was the end of it. They had something to do, and Jiang Cheng still had work to do. He would not disappear from their minds. During the car ride, Wei Ying repeated the last bits of what Jiang Cheng had said to him over the phone. He wished he had said more, but it was so early. If he had sacrificed his sleep, had listened deeply, had gotten up and gone to the office to stop all of this before – .

            “Who the hell walked into the office?” He asked aloud, parking the car outside of the building. It was quarantined now, yellow strings everywhere, a few perched officers that Wei Ying couldn’t give a damn about. They were going to let him in whether they wanted to or not.

            “What do you mean?” Xue Yang asked quietly beside him. He looked small again today, tiny despite his attempts to square up.

            “Someone walked into the fucking office when he was explaining to me what he found out. Who the hell walked in?” Wei Ying frowned, walking across the line without flashing his badge. He wasn’t following policy anymore. He had just lost one of his own. Policy was nothing. Policy did not keep Jiang Cheng safe. Policy made Wei Ying sign papers and call the Jiangs. Policy made him listen to Jiang Yanli cry for twenty minutes over the fucking line. Everything was over the fucking line. He couldn’t have imagined Yanli’s grief in real life.

            The officer stopped him, of course, but Wei Ying yanked himself free, tearing the yellow line and stepping across, up the stairs as the officer chased him.

            “Sir, you cannot go in there!” The officer yelled, then spoke into his walkie talkie. Wei Ying almost wanted to scream into the walkie talkie and see if Jiang Cheng would answer. Had they known each other when they were younger, he could picture the both of them in different corners of Jiang Cheng’s house, calling each other Turtle One and Turtle Two, then going to Jiang Cheng’s mom when they ran out of batteries. He could feel his eyes water again, opening the front officer door and walking in. Xue Yang followed behind him as they approached the main office. The lights were still on like bills would continued to be paid without him there.

            “Check the laptop for files. Look for notes he had kept. Get Violent Spider to check the lines for a recording of our conversation,” Wei Ying ordered. They wouldn’t have enough time before the officers charged in in unnecessary excess, maybe with their little guns, screaming their little orders for a big scare. Wei Ying already had his big scare, one that took away his tech analyst. Nothing was scary anymore, definitely not a toy gun in a little boy’s hand. Beside him, Xue Yang followed orders. In the past, Jiang Cheng could’ve easily located the recordings for them, doing it now without him felt like cheating.

            “What about the yoyo?” Xue Yang questioned, picking it up from the top of the desk, right before the laptop.

            “What yoyo?”

            “This yoyo,” Xue Yang answered, handing him the toy. He kept his eyes up as not to see the white tape where Jiang Cheng had been lying. The lieutenant took it from him with a frustrated crease of his eyebrow, then pocketed it. What game was Little Blind playing now? A quick search determined what they were afraid of.

            “Everything in the laptop’s erased. Everything on our laptop’s are gone too. There’s nothing relevant in his drawers and all the thumb drives were taken. I’ll call Violent Spider now to see if she can get the recording,” Xue Yang said. He could imagine that the news had already gotten to her and she was borderline livid. As he dialed, he saw the chief walk towards his desk and dig in the drawers.

            “Bastard didn’t take mine. Jiang Cheng wasn’t the only one with notes,” Wei Ying said, pulling out his crumbled, half explained pattern. If he sat long enough, he could get the numbers Jiang Cheng had gotten. They could still figure this out.

            “Besides, Lan Zhan and Xingchen still have their own thumb drive. We didn’t lose everything. Chin up,” Wei Ying said, attempting a smile. It was a broken thing but there nevertheless, and Xue Yang took a deep breath on sight of it. The punk smiled back, giving him a thumbs up. When he dialed Violent Spider, she spoke before he could.

            “Get out of the office now. Phone calls were made and there was an alleged sighting before Jiang Cheng’s…before Jiang Cheng. Get out of there now,” she ordered. Her voice was severe, like she was standing up while speaking, almost like she wanted to run and get them, stuff them in her car back into secrecy.

            “What do you mean?” Xue Yang managed to ask just as the doors flew opened and the entire office was flooded with armed men, some by which appeared as though they had personally withdrawn from the army to be there.

            “Wei Wuxian, you are under arrest for the murder of Jiang Wanyin,” the main officer said, must’ve been a general. Xue Yang nearly dropped his phone just as Wei Ying approached him. His lieutenant held a solemn expression, a frightening sort of neutral that caused his partner to shiver. He handed him the notes and cell phone, then gestured to the door with his chin. What ever the fuck they were talking about wasn’t going to get Xue Yang involved.

            “I’m willing to straighten this out,” Wei Ying told them, putting his hands above his head. “Make room for my partner to leave before my people are called in. Point any gun in his direction and you’re dead, understood?”

            There were reluctant expressions before some arms were lowered, some kept their aim on the chief. Xue Yang gave him one last glance as Wei Ying nodded, and disappeared back into the front yard. He walked past Jiang Cheng’s motorcycle and could feel his stomach curl under itself. He touched the hand grips like he could sensitize Jiang Cheng’s warmth still there despite the winter air and snow. He slipped his hands back into his pocket to find the yoyo there. Wei Ying moved faster than anyone he had ever met.

---

            Wei Ying sat across from another officer, his leg crossed over the other, his patience finally dwindling with every second he heard of the clock above. Who kept a clock in the interrogation room? They wanted him to see just how long he had been in the room. It was bordering five hours now.

            “You’re fucking kidding me. What the fuck do you mean someone spotted me enter the building? Who are they? You didn’t think that maybe they were lying?” Wei Ying asked, his neutrality dissipating faster than he had meant.

            “You were spotted at 5h58 in the morning, and spotted leaving around 6h34. Plenty of time for you to murder Jiang Wanyin,” the man answered. Wei Ying couldn’t even remember what the man looked like and he sat in front of him.

            “First off, at 5h58 or whatever other specific fucking number you’re going to give me, I was fucking sleeping. At around 6h34 or 6h35, I don’t give a damn what time it was, I was on the phone with Jiang Cheng, yes, but I was at home in bed. I am not a morning person.” He could’ve broke the man’s teeth in that moment. What witness fabricated some story about him being there? Not many people looked like Wei Ying.

            “There is no documentation of your phone call. You’re lying again.”

            “I’m not lying. You’ll know when I’m lying because I fucking tell people when I’m lying. I have no reason for lying and certainly no reason for killing my own brother, you idiot. While you have me sitting here for no fucking reason, I could be out there finding out who took his life. You’re a moron. You’re truly a moron. Let me out. I’m not sitting here another second.”

            “You’ve been arrested, Wei Wuxian. You’re not going anywhere but to your trial.”

            “I’m not going to your stupid trial, moron! I’m tried to cooperate with you, mind you, that’s not something I usually do. I spoke to you cordially and now you’re getting on my nerves. You’re either going to let me out or my superiors get involved.”

            “There is nothing your superiors can do to help you.”

            Wei Ying snorted. If this man thought that Violent Spider would sit quietly as her people were being accused of killing one another, they had another thing coming. On the downside, it seemed that Little Blind was able to rid of the conversations on the line which meant that they’d need to work the numbers over again. From what Jiang Cheng said, it was more simpler than they had thought. If only Wei Ying was more awake when he had called.

            “There’s nothing you can do if there’s no witness,” Wei Ying told him. “I assure you there was no witness.”

            “You’ve no alibi for your whereabouts.”

            “Because my alibi was killed!” The lieutenant slammed his fist against the surface again before leaning his back against the chair once more.

            “What was your reason for – “

            “I’m going to crack your neck, officer.”

            “Now you’re threatening a – .”

            “You should be terrified of me right now. I’ll haunt the shit out of you, you complete moron. Wait until I’m dead. You better hope I get the death penalty.” With that, Wei Ying looked at the wall the remaining of the interrogation, saying nothing else as he waited.

            Nightfall had fallen and Wei Ying was in a cell. It was certainly better than being out in the streets during the winter all those years back. Apparently, his trial was in two days. He was not going to be here for two days while Little Blind plotted his next move. Obviously, Little Blind was one step ahead of them, so much so, that he found an alleged eye witness who was willing to do as he told them, someone who was just as against the system as he was.

            Wei Ying was not going to sleep. The last time he did that, it caused Jiang Cheng’s death. He’d stay awake until they found Little Blind if he had to. Still in his attire for he refused changing until they found him innocent, he sat on the floor like he was raised there, obedient for once as he simmered underneath his skin.

            Come the morning, maybe mid-day, he could barely tell how long he had been seated when the cell door opened.

            “I don’t know what you did, Wei Wuxian, but this isn’t over,” the officer told him. Wei Ying decided he didn’t want to remember his face so he didn’t look at it. A few steps out of his cell, down the hallway, past the main office window, he walked back towards civilization. Eyeing the door before him, Wei Ying unlocked the cuffs holding his wrists behind him with a pin he had in one of his rings, and handed it back to the officer. The chief approached the door, took out his badge and authorized it himself.

            “You!” The officer called out.

            “I told you I could’ve left when I wanted but I was willing to work with you,” Wei Ying said, turning around to look at him. “You, Officer Wen, should watch your back. I don’t forget faces.” And with that, he walked forward, meeting Xue Yang in the main lobby, bumping fists like nothing was wrong. Xue Yang returned his phone and gave him a spare of clothing to change into.

            “The media’s been going crazy over your trial,” Xue Yang was saying as they approached the cab after the lieutenant had changed.

            “What actually happened?” Wei Ying said, straightening his hair with his fingers. He hadn’t showered yesterday and the strands were already beginning to oil. Jiang Cheng couldn’t get at him for being so flamboyant if he was dirty. He needed to be pristine.

            “Random dude named Su She swore by god that he saw you go in and out of the building which didn’t happen. Violent Spider forced him to acknowledge that he was lying and since he was a “witness,” she had him killed. No witness, no trial. They had to drop it.” Xue Yang said, having had been in a separate van the entire time this mysterious Violent Spider did her work.

            “Su She? What’s the point of going out of his way to make me look guilty? What’s he got against me?” That didn’t even make any sense. Wei Ying had never met the guy in his life.

            “I looked it up and it looks like he went to private school with Wangji. His grades weren’t that great though.”

            “That definitely doesn’t make any sense. I don’t have anything to do with that. Dude probably flunked out like Huaisang. If you have anyone to be ass hurt towards, it should be Lan Zhan, not me.”

            “Maybe that was the…well, nevermind.”

            Wei Ying placed two hands on his ears all of the sudden as another vision came through. Again, the same as before. He could see Lan Zhan in the shower, bare as the water poured on his back. He blinked twice and the vision was gone. He caught sight of the time and found that it was 18h32. What ever relevancy that had, he didn’t know.

            “What? What did you see?” Xue Yang questioned, looking closely at his expressions, a bit of concern on his own.

            “Nothing important. I’m just wondering how this whole story’s going to quiet down now that the case is dropped. My name’s out there now. I was trying to keep it away,” the chief answered with a sigh. He looked out the window absentmindedly.

            “I was working on locating Huaisang while you were there and he’s completely M.I.A,” Xue Yang said, pulling out paperwork. It displayed the last places Huaisang’s signal were before his cell was cut off. The time was documented when they went to the Nie estate in which Chairman Nie stated he had no idea where his little brother could’ve gone. The next step had been Jinguang-Yao’s laboratory by which the man stated he hadn’t seen him for a few days. Huaisang had apparently stated that he was “working on a big project.” Xue Yang had sent people to check the clubs Huaisang usually frequented and he was reported to have not been spotted for a few days.

            What big project was Huaisang working on?

            “I’ll locate him. I swear to God if it’s him. There’s no way he could’ve done it,” Wei Ying said.

            “Wei Ying…”

            “Jiang Cheng had known him for years, Xue Yang, years! He wouldn’t have killed his best friend.” Before Xue Yang could answer, Wei Ying’s phone rung again, a call from Wangji. Xue Yang bit his tongue and looked out the window.

            “No, I’m not really okay, but who cares? We have work to do, Lan Zhan. Yeah, everything was erased. I’m going to need to make copies of your thumb drive. Jiang Cheng had most of it. He annotated everything. It’s gone,” Wei Ying was saying. Despite how quiet the car was, Wangji’s soft spoken voice couldn’t be heard on the other line while Xue Yang strained to listen.

            “No, really, don’t think about it. I’m fine. I got fucking arrested over some Su She dude. Violent Spider got him so it’s fine. You don’t know him either? Well, shit, me neither. Pointless. We’ll meet you tomorrow. I need to go over everything again. Yeah, okay. See you,” and with that, he hung up, resting his head against the neck rest. The hours had already descended and Wei Ying was ready to go home. Now, he had to worry about Huaisang or not at all. What if he ended out getting him involved and he hadn’t done it? But what if he failed to bring him to justice after fucking killing his best friend?

            Mind above matter. He had to think, furiously think, go through his old notes and figure out what it was. Killing Jiang Cheng was out of the option, meaning that Little Blind must’ve worked on impulse again. Had Jiang Cheng figured it out? Was it over the phone call? What was the yoyo for? Frustrating.

            Xue Yang placed a calming hand on his chief’s shoulder and tried for a lowly smile, something that was still complicated to paste onto his face. Xue Yang felt eons away from smiling ever again, but he wore it like a magnet, switching the opposite end so that it quickly zipped back under his nose and he could offer something like encouragement. Wei Ying had just been arrested, meaning Little Blind had coaxed this Su She guy to see something that wasn’t true. He was persuasive and manipulative, and most likely someone who could offer reward. There wasn’t much on Su She besides the fact that he was pretty pathetic academically, but surpassed Huaisang in some degree. The man hadn’t been held back twice.

            Xue Yang’s phone dinged for a message from Meng Yao. He snuck a look without alerting his chief, and frowned deeply after it was read.

            “Very sorry to see him go,” it read.

            Su She or Uncle Jiang? Came Xue Yang’s thoughts. He stared deeply into his screen like Meng Yao would offer some light on the matter, but the man was never in the position to do something like so. It was just like secretive people to be secretive. He contemplated answering with a question, but perhaps that’s what Meng Yao wanted. Xue Yang had fallen for that many times already, and wasn’t prepared to make a habit of it.

            “I guess you were informed,” Xue Yang replied instead. Then added, “it couldn’t be helped,” because he wasn’t going to discuss Jiang Cheng’s death with anyone. The topic had already reached the news, that which was covering Wei Ying’s arrest, and enough was enough. It was no surprise that Meng Yao had heard of Uncle Jiang’s death, but it would’ve been a different matter if they were talking about Su She.

            “It could’ve. Always a tragedy to see friends go,” Meng Yao replied. It wasn’t like him to reply quickly, so Xue Yang waited, trying to seem as though he wasn’t eager to get answers from him.

            “Was he a friend of yours?” Xue Yang typed, because Jiang Cheng surely was not an associate of Jinguang-Yao’s.

            “Of sorts,” Meng Yao replied. Xue Yang determined that they were speaking of Su She and not his uncle. Jiang Cheng didn’t know Meng Yao in the least, not even these “sorts” that was mentioned. What was Su She to Meng Yao? The only tie could’ve been Gusu. Could Meng Yao had also tutored Su She as well as Huaisang? Did Meng Yao simply make a habit of tutoring failures? Except in the case of A-Qing who easily could’ve surpassed him?

            “Where is Huaisang?” Xue Yang blatantly asked. In return, Meng Yao returned to taking a basket of moments to answer. The car had driven Xue Yang home again, and would return Wei Ying to his destination. As much as the two could’ve used time together, there was something about the separation that needed to happen. Wei Ying’s arrest hadn’t secured that separation. They had never felt more determined and a part of one another in order to pull him free from the bars. Now, now they needed some time apart to think, and to reestablish if they were actually alright or not.

---

            Xiao Xingchen went to visit Ah-Qing’s grave at last. He seldom visited, unable to face the gravestone and the name printed above. Song Ah Qing, like a memory that couldn’t go away. And of course, it wouldn’t, not until the case was finished and Ah Qing could breathe another in another life.

            He knelt down before the stone and placed his palm on the cool surface, taking a sharp breath. He sat as if to wallow in his sudden sadness, the breeze above him sending chills between his clothing and its thin fabric. He wanted to be cold, just like her, below the dirt floor. Not even skin protected her bones anymore. She’d be chilled and gaunt, still in a thick slumber within her casket.

            He could almost feel his misery like bile in his throat when something suddenly caught his eye. Before the grave were plum blossoms, neatly placed and beautifully chosen. Xingchen stood up so quickly, he thought his spine would crack. He instantly grabbed for his gun and pointed straight, then around him, taking in his perimeters.

            There was no one present.

            But someone had been.

            Plum blossoms, a symbol of winter, but signaling the coming spring. He remembered these flowers, remembered Ah Qing’s laughter around them. In her small desolate home, Xingchen would visit and plant these exact flowers with her. He remembered how miserable it’d seem to make her older brother, how he seemed to hate everything Xingchen did in favor of his half-sister.

            Had Little Blind come to visit the grave now that a decade had passed?

            But how could Little Blind have known about these flowers? The only ones who knew were the dead, little Ah Qing and her older brother Song Lan.

---

            It was 18h32 when Xue Yang was on the phone with Wei Ying. He was taking an early shower and Wei Ying was still drying his hair, an annoying blow dryer on the phone line so that neither of them could hear anything.

            On Wei Ying’s end, he was glad to feel clean again, the oils ripped from his scalp and strands. He was running a hand through his hair when another vision came. It was water dripping down calves and into the sewer like someone cleaning the guilt off of their skin, but he knew it was Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan had nothing to be guilty about. The scene continued, panning over to a clock to show the time: 18h37, when an explosion was heard abruptly. The cacophony sounded off in his ears enough to tear his eardrums, causing him to drop his blow dryer and phone. He was about to run to the porch to check what had happened when his visions displayed a completely desecrated house. It could’ve been a nice home, a beautiful one at that, humble and decorated lightly. Then the entire front was in shambles, the house crumbling down.

            He breathed and the image was gone. He could feel that creeping feeling up his arms and legs once again, that nauseating paranoia that he hated. The house wasn’t familiar to him though. It wasn’t Jiang Cheng’s house, wasn’t his, wasn’t Lan Zhan’s and wasn’t Xue Yang’s apartment complex.

            His stomach sank. He looked at the time.

            “Xue Yang. Xue Yang, oh my God, Xue Yang. Xue Yang, what does Xingchen’s house look like?” He asked.

            “What kinda’ question is that? It’s like any other house. It’s nice though, been there only once. There’s a lot of flowers and shit that are dead now because it’s winter and everything but I can tell in Spring, it’d look really nice. He has blue curtains,” Xue Yang replied, dropping his phone into the tub water by accident. Thank goodness his phone was waterproof. He reached down to get it when he felt a hand. Suppressing a scream, he pulled his hand out of the water and pulled the basin stop to let the water out. He stopped out of the water, peering inside suspiciously like he accidentally sat on someone. He turned towards the mirror to see Ah Qing behind him. She was gone in an instant.

            That was not a good sign. The last time she had done that, he was in the shower, like today, and had gone to Xingchen’s house to accuse him of being a killer. He checked the time, 18h35. Xingchen should’ve been in the shower at this time too, with his abnormal repetitive schedule.

            “Xue Yang! Xue Yang where did you go?” He could hear Wei Ying’s voice from the tub where he had dropped the phone. Going to retrieve it, he placed it to his ear.

            “I can’t get in touch with Xingchen. Oh my God, Xue Yang. Call him. See if you can get him. I’ll call Lan Zhan to call his house phone or something.”

            “What? What for?” Xue Yang asked. He hadn’t exactly left Xingchen on good terms, per usual. Why bring him up now that they were miserable?

            “Xue Yang. His house is going…his house is going to blow up in two minutes. Get him on the fucking cell and make sure he’s not in his house. Give me the address. I’m heading there now.”

            Xue Yang’s heart sank. He checked the time again and tried to remember where Xingchen’s bathroom was located. It was in the front, a place that would collapse first. He hung up after giving the address, without another word and dialed as fast as he could.

            Message.

            He called again.

            Message.

            Swearing, he pulled on a robe and ran out into the streets. He had to get there first.

            He’d never make it. He’d never make it.

            Wei Ying called Wangji who was unable to get in touch with Xingchen. They called the house phone with no response.

---

            Xingchen’s phone was on vibrate in the living room.

Chapter Text

Xue Yang hadn’t a clue where he was going. He ran where his instincts instructed him, sliding every so often on the protruding ice sheets embedded in the sidewalk. He wasn’t very much a religious person, but he found himself praying.

            Don’t let it be like this, please, he begged, harsh wind drying out his sensitive skin. He could feel his wet hair begin its icicle stages, stabbing into his cheeks and collarbones. The cold didn’t matter as his adrenaline pushed him forward, something falling apart and confident all at once. He no longer felt like a man, not even a boy, just a wisp of a creature keeping himself together with prayer. He couldn’t remember the words to any of them, just a tangle of syllables that wouldn’t matter if he didn’t make it.

---

            Xingchen had his things laid out in the washroom, but something had tugged his attention back to his lock room. It was the place he had always locked himself inside, was previously Ah Qing’s room until he had the things removed because they were too painful to look at. He would have a colleague lock him inside until he could bring himself together and act accordingly. Grief did many things to people.

            What was it doing to the PAP?

            He had heard of the news, hadn’t the courage to reach out to Xue Yang especially given how they had last parted ways. Would it be offensive to speak to Xue Yang, offensive to console him, offensive to say “I recognize the pain you’re feeling,”? He didn’t only recognize that pain, it had made him unethical and wild almost. It made him lose his control. Would it do even worse to the PAP?

            He trudged slowly toward the door, somewhere he hadn’t stepped since he had promised to be a better older brother, the brother that would no longer wallow but get justice. This room, a sacred room now, the walls of his emotions and the casket of the deceased, was where he had locked Xue Yang. It felt so selfish now. The justice he wanted to get seemed so selfish now.

            But how by heaven did Xue Yang get out of the room? Xingchen had always needed to make phone calls in order to have someone unlock it. Approaching now, he unlocked the door with a questioning brow. He had stalled to this point, figuring out what the little ruffian had done in order to get out. He didn’t want anything to do with this place anymore.

            Returning was akin to visiting the grave, and he was strong enough for both now. Xue Yang couldn’t have locked it again, but there it was, locked. He found his hands sturdy as he inserted the key and pulled the door open, his feet taking him forward.

            He thought he would feel it just then, that grief, that unbending hideous sorrow that clouded everything, blurred everything, masked everything. He didn’t. Instead, he found a soft smile under his nose as he peaked up to see a rather small jagged opening in his ceiling that only the ruffian would’ve thought of doing, and only the ruffian would be able to squeeze through. He decided to follow it, follow the trail Xue Yang had made considering another whole stood above his bed that he had thoroughly ignored until now. He could imagine the ruffian climbing through, swearing under his breath and punching the walls until he was satisfied. All in a fit of rage, while Xingchen had done what he had done in a fit of grief.

            Emotions did so many things. He had almost forgotten to use all of the others. Today was a good day. Today he could wear a smile. Today, he was also going to climb into ceiling and be Xue Yang, was going to practice other emotions, was going to see what he put Xue Yang through, because now the ruffian was feeling his grief. He wanted to collect that rage, all the ones Xue Yang had dumped into the vents. He wanted to feel things the way Xue Yang did, with a single touch.

            Wei Ying was swearing again. This could not repeat itself. What the fuck was Little Blind doing? What the fuck was Little Blind doing? Why was he going after the entire team now? Was it Jiang Cheng? Had Jiang Cheng gotten it? Were those stupid little fucking numbers the reason why he lost his life? Something as easy as a few incoherent numbers placed together until they made sense? That was worth a life? That was worth another life? That was worth that much?

            He sped along the streets with a skid, his purple siren sounding off from above the vehicle. On the phone he asked, “did you get him?”

            “I didn’t. Trying to get the nearest colleagues to his home,” Wangji was saying. He demeanor appeared calm, but his throat clogged up with the thought of losing his partner despite their distance. Xingchen meant a lot to many people, just as much as he meant so little to others.

            “I’m fifteen minutes away. I’m not going to fucking make it,” Wei Ying said, driving faster. If he could pull it to a 50 mph, he would’ve, but pedestrians littered his proximity. Despite many people dodging his path, not many adhered to his purple siren. Many found themselves confused.

            Purple was the color of the PAPPU.

            And the PAPPU were a myth.

            Should they move or should they stay?

            Wei Ying beeped. If they weren’t going to listen to authority, they would listen to his impatient ass.

---

            Xue Yang didn’t need to arrive to hear the explosion go off from afar. He could see the smoke toss its body into the naked sky, blackness and darkness, like sin. He dropped down onto his knees to griped at his face to muffle a sob. There wasn’t time. There was no more time. His ears began to ring from the explosion when he pulled himself back to his feet to the house.

            He at least needed a body.

            He needed to see that face one last time, even if the skin was pulled away from flames. Even if the eyes had been pulled out and the tongue cut clean. Even if his beautiful expression was reaped from its safe portrait, he needed to see it.

            “Xiao Xingchen,” he whispered, walking as the house neared. Firetrucks sounded off from afar along with flashing red and blue. They could take the flames out but could they extinguish it from a dying heart? Could they make everything go away?

            Could all of this just end?

            No, no, he didn’t want to see the body. No he couldn’t just look at it all burned away. No he couldn’t just fucking look at the missing eyes and tongue. He wanted to see Xiao fucking Xingchen as perfectly as he had met him. He wanted the portrait. He wanted something normal for once, he wanted it.

            Xue Yang could see Wei Ying’s car pull up.

            God, the house was in flames. The entire front had collapsed and the back was beginning its crumbling stages.

            Wei Ying actually placed a hand on his lips, his expression falling as the ceiling gave away. He pushed himself to walk towards Xue Yang, pulling the brat into his chest, covering his face. Two in a row. Two in a goddamn row.

            He tried again to call, but the phone went straight to decline, having had been cut off from the explosion. Behind him, Wangji arrived, his steady legs walked towards Wei Ying but then he briskly turned. At if something had struck him, he brought himself towards the building, brought himself before the fire and attempted to submerge inside. Wei Ying’s eyes widened. He released Xue Yang and chased after, Xue Yang adjusting to what had happened. He ran after, the three disappearing behind the walls just as authorities ordered them away.

            Inside, the fire burned their eyes despite the open roof ahead. Xue Yang climbed over debris and fractures of the home in order to climb up “the stairs” that no longer existed. He could see the bathtub had crashed into the living room. He scrambled over quickly and touched its hot surface as if Xingchen would appear. He attempted to lift the compartments crushing it, lift the ceiling bits and roof tiles. The skin from his hands began to scream, singing as he touching the scorching ruin. He could barely make anything out, let alone a body, but he would find it. He was going to find Xingchen no matter what. He didn’t care what grief was doing to him, he wasn’t leaving.

            “Brother Xiao!” Wangji called out, his voice louder, audible. There was a pain in it that wasn’t there before.

            “Xingchen!” Wangji called again, lifting what ever he could. When his scarf caught flames, he pulled it from his neck and continued his work.

            “Xingchen!” Wei Ying called out. He didn’t know if he should go left for Wangji or right for Xue Yang. God, they were visibly falling apart, crawling under the debris like they wanted to die with the team lead.

            “Xiao-ge!” Xue Yang was crying, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the burn in his eyes or hopelessness catching up. There was nothing there. As he lifted in his rush, he could feel something crumble ahead, dropping onto his hand. He cried out in pain, pulling his hand out with all of his strength, the skin pulling away. When his hand retracted, he couldn’t even feel what his eyes took in. His pinky was so far pulled to the left of his left hand that he could pull it off if he had wanted. He stared back at it, blinking a few times maybe because it was shocking, maybe because the smoke was starting to get in his eyes, maybe because his eyes were watering so much. It didn’t matter. It was already broken.

            “Brother Xiao!” Wangji called again, as if to bring Xue Yang from his trance. The stern man went farther into the house, where the devastation was beginning to meet severity. His eyes were fogged up with hope, searching desperately despite the falling debris. As the remaining parts of the roofing began to collapse by the front of the house, he was barely able to dodge. Wei Ying took a hold of his wrist and pulled him closer, away from damage and back to just a moment of clarity.

            “Lan Zhan! Can’t you hear me calling you?” The chief asked, something like anger and worry in his tone. He leaned in closer to meet the other’s gaze, forcing him to meet his.

            “Stop it! I’ll look. At this point, we’re all going to fucking go down with the fire. I’ll look. Get Xue Yang and get out of here,” Wei Ying ordered.

            “Xingchen…” Wangji replied, quietly.

            Behind him, Xue Yang evaded as wall collapsed and window panes fell down. He rolled against the damage of the household, coughing as he took in a lung full of toxic air. It this was Little Blind’s next scheme of poisonous air, it was taking its toll on him. He began to crawl below, taking in whatever oxygen he could muster.

            Wei Ying nodded at Wangji, hoping the man would listen to reason. The only one who seemed suitable to do anything with a clear mind was the chief. He had no attachments to the team lead, and still held just a bit of resentment that now felt inborn. He could get along with the man, definitely didn’t want to see him dead, but he wouldn’t lose his life over it. Jiang Cheng reverberated in his head and would not allow his life to be taken before managing some sort of peace again.

            Xingchen unfortunately, was not worth Wei Ying losing. He had to win for Jiang Cheng. He had to get everything back. He had to end this. And that’s what his grief was beginning to do to him.

            He erased images of Xingchen in his head, holding just the one to remember what the man looked like. Looking once at Xue Yang, he exhaled his partner’s emotions from his nostrils and breathed in the remaining oxygen. Lan Zhan headed towards Xue Yang as he was ordered, Wei Ying walking away from both of them.

            Fate was not in the flames.

            He could hear Xue Yang’s refusal in the background as the fire ate up any other sound, the crackling of wood and shattering of glass. As he climbed across fallen cases catching fire, he listened to the sound of descending doors. Soon, the explosion would ignite another one, all the pipes going together, gas system going together, heating going together. Something would trigger the other, something big would catch up, all the smaller remains dying in the overcast.

            Ignoring the thought of the stove altogether, he tracked to the back of the house where the fire had yet destroyed but began its tracks. Before his eyes could settle, firefighters burst into the front door. The chief almost thought to hide in case he was chided or carried out. He moved instinctively quickly, hoping they would cast their attention on the fire. Of course, the firefighters first searched the perimeters for survivors. Of course, they called out to him when they saw him dart from their perception.

            In his run, the fresh ceiling above him settled, falling down from above him. Wei Ying ran forward, barely missing the rubbish as it descending, cracking the floor. He could yet turn around to examine the damage as the ceiling upstairs descended as well. The house was falling apart.

            Wei Ying needed to get out.

            But he heard coughing.

            He wondered if it was himself, then looked in the direction of the coming firefighters shouting orders he could barely hear. He could still make out slight coughing, choking almost before his instincts told him to dig. Cutting fingers against the sharp edges, he pulled the pieces free before he found a slightly agitated team lead. The chief could understand losing everything stored in the home, all the precious memories and material objects that held all of those emotions. He could not however, read Xingchen’s agitated expression well.

            The man looked simply confused.

            “Xingchen! Get up, your house is on fire! Can’t you see?” Wei Ying barked, pulling the man to his feet. Xingchen stood up with a slight limp, coughing a few more times, but he looked in pristine condition for someone who should’ve been directly in the way of the explosion.

            All images of Xingchen returned in that moment and Wei Ying could’ve hugged him for it. He was alive. He was alive and that’s all that mattered. Little fucking Blind was still one step behind them. Somehow Xingchen managed to evade the main ignition, somehow Little Blind had fucked up.

            Wei Ying felt giddiness build in his stomach. He could’ve danced if his lungs weren’t patrolling the fires itself. Quickly, he gripped the older man’s wrist and pulled him out the back door.

---

            Xue Yang was in tears and his goddamn hand felt as though he had submerged it into acid. He winced at his memories and eased into denial.

            This could not be happening right now. That’s what it was. This whole thing wasn’t happening. He sat in the dead grass on his knees, the stance of submission. He was just being helped to his feet, helped towards the ambulance for oxygen and to check his damages when he saw Wei Ying’s familiar form appear with another silhouette. He managed to make out the familiar head of black hair, the strong build, the steady stride though it now adorned something unconfident, some sort of limp. He couldn’t mistaken the glow from the man even with his eyes closed.

            Suddenly the light before him diminished and a smile found its way on his face. He pointed, pointed like a child in their direction waiting for them to greet him. Laughing, he collapsed into the gurney, allowing the medics to assist him. Everything was finally fine.

            Xingchen was okay. He had an ugly limp, but he was perfectly fine, and all Xue Yang had to do was lose a finger. He’d lose an arm too if it meant the man would always be okay beside him.

            The distance was finally defeated as the ruffian sat upwards, hair soaking wet, pointing in every direction on his head. His fringe fell upon tired jade eyes, his body sitting upwards though frail, weakened by the aggravations of the day’s odd events. His arms reached outward and wrapped around Xingchen as he approached, the ruffian’s chin on his shoulder. He could feel Xue Yang’s breath on his neck, steady or uneven, he couldn’t tell. All that mattered was the heat of their bodies meeting one another, shaking the cold away, putting out the fire, making things better.

            Today, they were all survivors.

---

            The following few days were spent practicing healing and ordinary endeavors that caused at least a few complaints from the brat and Wei Ying himself. They decided that Xingchen would stay with Xue Yang and they would keep each other safe considering they had been targeted. With that business officiated, and apologies given to Xingchen about the loss of his home and belongings, the jade green dress included, it was time to pace themselves.

            At least at this point, the shower scenes of Lan Zhan made sense, though the chief hated how ambiguous the visions were. Every time something happened, one of the boys were in the shower. It was simply a premonition of Xingchen’s house explosion. Apparently, at 18h30, the man went to take showers every day.

            “So, what happened this time? Why weren’t you in the shower?” Wei Ying asked. It was pointless to act professionally cordial now. He wasn’t going to greet the man for all the time they spent apart and for constantly disturbing his partner. They were seated in the CSI office considering Wei Ying refused to step back into their own office until the case was clear. Under his storming thoughts, he twisted the ring on his finger repetitively.

            Xue Yang wondered if the chief could hear it, the calling in the ring. Xue Yang never wanted to touch it ever again, awkward. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with, and his chief was obviously the same, obsessed with it.

            Xue Yang couldn’t remember what love felt like, what it sounded like. He thought his father would give him love, but that resulted very well, if he could say so himself. The man was dead, where he should’ve been. Some people just deserved to die.

            “I decided to investigate the gaping holes Xue Yang put into my ceiling so I climbed in,” Xingchen responded, instead of saying that he was in search of the ruffian’s rage so he could fuel his own. Xue Yang laughed from across the seat, his eyes on his missing pinky. Everyone had found the act grotesque at best, and yet it had amused the ruffian substantially that he now had nine fingers, the number that represented eternity. Little Blind might’ve tried to kill him, and now he had become everlasting. Xue Yang could never die.

            “Is that in the back of the house?” Wei Ying questioned, finding the practice a little odd at best. Xingchen nodded his answer respectively.

            “So, LB must’ve known you showered at that time everyday and thought to put the what ever the hell he put in your house, in the bathroom probably. It caused the demolition of the face of your house but the back remained intact until the fire casted it to ruins. That’s when you fell from the ceiling, after the bottom ceiling fell? You lucky bastard,” Wei Ying snickered. It was a strike of luck that even Little Blind couldn’t have predicted. Thank goodness Xue Yang was a destructive little midget.

            Xingchen smiled politely across from him, but a laugh hid under his nose. It seemed they were all on good terms again. Death did that to people sometimes.

            “Where’ve you been over these weeks? Y’know, since I got arrested and everything,” the chief said, sitting criss-cross on the hard seat across from Lan Zhan’s seat.

            “I actually just went to visit Ah Qing’s grave,” Xingchen replied, causing everyone to grow quiet. Wei Ying however, was not going to lament sad topics, so he responded with a smile as natural as any other.

            “Wonderful! I’m happy for you. You should come with us too when we visit Jiang Cheng’s grave. We’re all going to leave white and purple flowers. How was the visit?”

            At this, Xingchen’s smile became genuine. He eased in his seat, dropping his shoulders comfortably.

            “I wanted to discuss that with all of you actually. When I went, I saw plum blossoms on her grave.”

            “Oh? It is February. Spring is coming soon,” Wei Ying responded, then paused. “But it doesn’t sound like you lef them there.”

            “Exactly. I haven’t been to Ah Qing’s grave for nearly a decade. I used to plant plum blossoms around her house all the time. No one could’ve known that,” Xingchen said. He looked in Xue Yang’s direction to find the ruffian smiling at something beside him. He held his left hand then curled his fingers around something. The expression on his face was so genuine that something moved inside of Xingchen’s stomach. Was someone there?

            Wei Ying grew very quiet, looking in the same direction. He couldn’t see anything but he sucked in his lips as his eyes began to water. He didn’t need to see to know who was present. It’s like he never left them.

            Xue Yang had curled his hand around Uncle Cheng’s who had eyed the missing finger with disdain. He could only stay so long before his spirit faded again. If Xue Yang could, he would push Jiang Cheng into the light of his perception and free him. But,  Uncle Cheng wasn’t going to leave so easily. When he turned back towards the others, he saw the chief drag a thumb under his eye to erase evidence of tears.

            “Is there someone who could’ve known?” Xue Yang asked in Uncle Cheng’s place, because he was sure the man had questions that he couldn’t ask considering the notion of his tongue. Little Blind must’ve known that Xue Yang could speak to spirits, as well as believe it.

            “Only Ah Qing and her blood brother could’ve known,” Xingchen said, trying to ease them from their pain.

            “What was it? Song something, Song,” Wei Ying snapped. “Song Lan. I remember talking to Jiang Cheng about it. He looked up his background and it looked like Song Lan was, well.” Wei Ying wasn’t sure how to really talk about someone’s death lightly.

            “Yes, he’s deceased. He was involved in an accident that sent him off of Guanyin mountain years ago. They never found his body but they think he had fallen into the ocean and was…well, he was devoured and malformed. We wouldn’t recognize him even if we found him.”

            “He was filed missing around 12 years ago and now it’s a cold case. There is a possibility that he was killed during this alleged accident, but he could also just be missing, excuse me,” Wei Ying pardoned himself. This was Xingchen’s family they were talking about.

            “I don’t think so. A part of me feels as though, well, you’re correct that it was most likely an alleged accident. Song Lan was very depressed. He was just as depressed as his father after the loss of his mother. She died giving birth to Ah Qing.”

            “And his father…?”

            “He committed suicide.”

            “You think Song Lan followed in his father’s foot steps?”

            “I do. Song Lan and I never argued but he also never acknowledged my presence when I came to visit little Ah Qing. The two weren’t very close because he was so torn from the loss of his parents. His father committed suicide roughly around when Ah Qing was five or six.”

            “Where is Brother Nie?” Wangji randomly asked, but his thoughts seemed to have been elsewhere. Wei Ying had almost forgotten considering Little Blind was out of his mind lately, acting out on more impulses than usual.

            “I tried calling him and Chairman Nie but I get nothing. Chairman Nie says he has no idea where ‘that little moron’ went, which is problematic, because Chairman Nie always knows where Huaisang is. He makes sure he knows everything he’s doing,” Wei Ying answered. God, his feet were falling asleep. He unbuckled them and swung them over the seat just to find them completely numb.

            “What happened Ah Qing then?” Xue Yang asked, trying to keep notes the way Uncle Cheng did. He didn’t realize it was so complicated. His style of note taking was completely ambiguous where only he could understand it, whereas, Uncle Cheng’s was utterly coherent and well written.

            “I took custody over Ah Qing before Song Lan’s death. I had learned of my half sister after her father was declared dead. They weren’t the greatest pair. Song Lan was a very devastated man, half of who he probably was before I met him. I always decorated their house with plum blossoms to brighten up their mood, but he was a pathetic creature really, and not in a rude way. He just wasn’t much alive. I spoke to him about custody over Ah Qing because I was afraid she was being neglected. He tore out all of the plum blossoms then after the custody case, he committed suicide,” Xingchen looked away, staring at the floor like he could recall all of it. He could still remember Song Lan’s plain features and dead eyes, remember the naked rawness in the man’s voice.

            “You can’t blame yourself. He was already a bad way,” Wei Ying said. “You could’ve only made it better or it would’ve stayed the same. Losing your parents, losing your parents is hard.”

            Wangji nodded quietly. Xue Yang stared at his feet. They were a lot shorter than Wangji’s. Xingchen nodded once.

            “I try not to, but I feel like it could’ve been different. I could’ve done something for him. I couldn’t even visit his grave. I have no right. I took Ah Qing from him.”

            “It doesn’t look like Song Lan liked Ah Qing very much,” Xue Yang told him. He kept halfhearted notes though keeping tabs on the dead didn’t seem like something the CSI would do. If Song Lan was still a wandering spirit leaving flowers on graves, Xue Yang certainly hadn’t run into the man. If he was truly upset by the measures of Ah Qing’s death, he would follow her spirit, and Xue Yang had seen her enough to suggest that the man was not following her.

---

            Xue Yang woke up with a start as officers kicked his door down. Before he could register what was going on, he saw cuffs link around Xingchen’s wrists as they gave him his rights. Xingchen was barely awake as it was early in the morning. The sun had just become an apparition in the sky, touching the curtains in a way that reminded them that it was not in such a tranquil time that someone ought to be arrested.

            And why the fuck was Xingchen being arrested?

            “What are you doing?” Xue Yang hollered, standing in the hall with his gun pointed.

            “You are holding a convict in your home. If you know what is best, you ought to lower that weapon before you’re in serious trouble, kid. You’ve a license for that?” The officer asked. To Xingchen he said, “you let kids play with your weapons too?”

            Xingchen found the entire ordeal outrageous. Just yesterday, these men would’ve been under his authority. Just what on earth did they think they were doing?

            “He is a grown man and can speak for himself. He does have a license, Cadet. What is your reason for arresting me?” Xingchen demanded, though he followed obediently as not to create trouble.

            “You are under the arrest for concerting a repetitive tampering of evidence.”

            “What? He didn’t tamper any evidence,” Xue Yang retorted.

            “Kid, concealment of evidence is the same as spoliation of evidence. When you go to university one day, you’ll learn that.”

            Xingchen’s eyes widened.

            “What do you mean?” he asked as his heart began to beat rapidly within him. He could hear it over his rapid breathing.

            “You are being arrested for concealing your relation to Song Ah Qing and are not a suspect of her murder.”

            Someone had ratted him out.

            It couldn’t have been Xue Yang. It couldn’t have been Wei Ying either. They weren’t snitches. He thought to Wangji and desperately prayed that he hadn’t given up on him. That all of this hadn’t become too much.

            He looked deeply in Xue Yang’s direction and pleaded with his eyes.

            Everything will be okay, it said. Despite what he was feeling, despite the world flashing between his eyes, despite the cuffs on his wrists and bowing in order to get into the police vehicle, despite his relation becoming public, despite losing all of his colleagues’ respect, despite losing everything, it was going to be okay.

            Xue Yang called Wei Ying immediately afterward, the only man who could make this better. He could bring reason to this. He could figure out what was going on.

            “It wasn’t any of us, Xue Yang. Lan Zhan is connected to it. If Xingchen get convicted of spoliation, Lan Zhan will still be an accomplice. It wasn’t any of us. We need to figure this out now.”

            “I’ll vouch for him,” Xue Yang said quickly. He almost wanted to bite his tongue off for offering something unheard of. Wei Ying would rip his head off for being such a disaster. If Uncle Cheng was still there, he might’ve switched as to have him as his partner instead and Xue Yang would be fired. He would be fired for putting the entire sect in danger by appearing in court. The PAPPU had always been safe because it was hidden. Not a person knew, only the souls.

            There was a pause. So quiet, it was dead.

            “Me too,” Wei Ying said.

            Xue Yang held his face in frustration. “Are you sure? Violent Spider will kill us.”

            “Hopefully she gets to us before LB does. We’ll vouch for him.”

            “Seriously?”

            “Seriously.”

            This was it.  It was settled. The PAP Paranormal Unit were going public. They could split the teams up, but Xingchen was their partner no matter what. They would go out together. 

Chapter Text

            Likely, there was argument that Wei Ying was certainly not going to have. One couldn’t label it as such if he wasn’t going to fancy taking part. What he said was final, unfortunately, for many, but what he said could also prove to be solid. The fact of the matter was, Xingchen’s case could very much drag Wangji into it, the way the sect had intended. It was easier to promote someone by demoting another, being rid of them entirely. As apt and able as Xingchen was, he wasn’t going to be very significant a creature behind the bars the way Wei Ying could most likely take himself. Even Xue Yang had a better chance at survival in a place so ruthless. Most of those people put away most likely recognized Xingchen, maybe seen him in a regret.

            They were going to go about this without the knowledge of Violent Spider, less she negate Wei Ying’s absolutely solid standing and override him the way only she could. At the moment, the words would play in the chief’s mouth, everything he could say, how he could support Xingchen’s good standing. He hadn’t known Xingchen well, and for a rather long period of time, he hadn’t exactly cultivated trust. He wasn’t going to make things up. He could easily pave the truth, still support the man, with the gross details of their pathetic relationship. Some things were complicated. Wei Ying wasn’t going to lie to make it look better.

            Beside him, Xue Yang thought about everything detail he could fabricate in order to make Xingchen appear better than he likely was. It didn’t matter that he was lying in the face of court. He knew exactly what Xingchen’s character was, and it was brutally broken and beautiful all at once. Xingchen was slightly toxic. But the courtroom didn’t need to know that, and Xue Yang didn’t need to know that either, so he didn’t think about it.

            Everything felt pretty weightless until Wei Ying needed to carry the weight of Chairman Nie’s words in his ear, an obnoxious phone call that creased the chief’s eyes into a somewhat glare, pointed at nothing in particular but circumstances.

            “Do nothing reckless,” Chairman Nie had said, and the words tasted like medicine. Wei Ying was not yet ill enough for it, but he was growing sick of people around him. He purchased some distance from Xue Yang into he spoke harshly into the phone, his knuckles white with frustration. What these people weren’t going to do, was assume he was a puppet and moving in the direction by which they pointed their authoritative fingers. Wei Ying had a clear head, cluttered sometimes with distractions that came together in the end to form something coherent. He didn’t need another voice giving him reason.

            “You’re going to tell me where exactly Huaisang is. If not to question the purposelessness of his disgusting behavior, I’m as worried about his safety as you are.” But what Wei Ying didn’t said out loud stung on his tongue. He could even keep Huaisang safe from himself. Safe from all of this. Everything could end.

            “I don’t take you for a man who rallies the innocent to breed guilt, Wei Wuxian. If not to simply interrogate the simplicity of my brother, you mean to enable him defenseless. Just remember that I stand behind him, even in the dullest degree, I stand purpose,” Mingjue said into the phone.

            “You Nie’s just don’t stop, do you? It doesn’t matter who gets involved. You’re so self-centered. Where is he, Chairman?”

            “Come by for dinner,” Mingjue said, and with that, he simply hung up the phone without a proper farewell. Wei Ying excused himself, ordering Xue Yang to clear up his thoughts in order to pronounce some degree of professionalism in the face of the court. The court room was sure to pick them apart, especially on the preface that the PAPPU weren’t exactly the most ethical of approaches. He didn’t wish a stutter on his partner, didn’t take Xue Yang for a stumble, but a blind man could be made to see certain things that weren’t before him.

            When he approached the Nie household, the guards easily gave him entrance, as long as he didn’t wave orders around with his shiny toy gun, he was as cordial a welcome guest, as anyone who had visited every week. Wei Ying bit back revulsion, inhaled to keep from losing his short fueled temper, and brought himself down the halls in a respectable manner. On sight of Huaisang however, that respectable approach lamented and his temper found its way to his fists. He felt his fury rush to his cheeks as he gripped him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. Huaisang, as expected of him or whatever façade he decided to adorn for his audience, released an unconfident yelp.

            “What did you do, Huaisang?” The chief growled, for it was least likely that Mingjue took himself in the CSI’s affairs. The man would have rather gone into the depths of the PAPPU’s concerns, but approach it without such a dramatic entrance. Huaisang was a student of the arts. He would incessantly be dramatic. Sleuthing wasn’t something Older Brother did, he would have someone do it for him. He didn’t know if Huaisang would be the one.

            “I don’t know anything!” Huaisang replied, his voice catching in his throat, a gasp before he could recognize exactly what was happening.

            “Huaisang, for fuck’s sake, how long until you do? How long are you going to do this/ Why do I have to look for you? Search around and ask on behalf of you?”

            “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Brother Wei! I’m just trying to figure out –.”

            Wei Ying interrupted him. “Why did you turn Xingchen in?”

            “I didn’t! My brother saw the files that I requested under his name. I was just going through them, and it linked back to Brother Xiao. I swear, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

            “You meant for something to happen, Huaisang. Why’re you running from me? Huh? What’s your reason? Why is Little Huaisang so fucking shady?” Wei Ying’s face was inches from the other’s, a glare so deep, the layers of Huaisang’s eyes could’ve easily been peeled away from the malice. Wei Ying was fed up with lies. He was, for once, he was finally tired of thinking.

            Huaisang’s jaw dropped. Did Jiang Cheng fail to say what he had figured out before his departure? Why was Brother Wei treating him like this? Like they shared so little?

            “Don’t you dare say you don’t know. The only one who doesn’t know anything is me,” Wei Ying said, tightening his hold. Huaisang’s feet were no longer touching the floor. He was sure his ribcage would rip through his chest with the pressure that forced him against the walls.

            “No,” Huaisang managed, his chin pointed so high, that his eyes were forced to look upon the ceiling. He could barely level Wei Ying’s hands from his neck to breathe. “No, Brother Wei. Jiang Cheng – .”

            Huaisang was the last person who was allowed to say that name right now, not until Wei Ying figured out what was going on.

            “He’s dead, Huaisang! He’s fucking dead, so can you knock it off? Can you stop acting innocent, like I see right through you! Someone had to die for it. Someone had to fucking die so I can finally see you.”

            “Exactly,” Huaisang bit back. “That’s how it has to be.”

            Wei Ying scoffed, loosening his grip. “You may act like a shadow, may act like no one will see you tracking in the dark, but you’re a fucking nightmare, and people never forget those.”

            Huaisang’s pulled his lips into a straight line. Did he deserve this? He certainly didn’t think so. At that moment, he almost wished something would make Wei Ying stop talking.

            But if Wei Ying ever died, Huaisang would try to bring him back to life.

            “Run,” Wei Ying ordered, dropping Huaisang completely. “Get out of my sight. If I find out you’re tied to this, I’ll find you. Until then, I don’t want to see you again until I’m dead. Go.”

            Huaisang didn’t need to think on it. He pulled himself together, not even straightening his ruffled clothing or steadying his rapid heartbeat. His feet brought him away from one of the closest friends he ever had. Did years do that to people? Or circumstances?

            Why wasn’t Wei Ying understanding Huaisang’s circumstances?

            Wei Ying wondered if he should’ve taken out his shiny toy gun and shot Huaisang in the back three times, one for each of them. But would Jiang Cheng have wanted that? Would Jiang Cheng have wanted it even if Huaisang had killed him?

            What? What was Huaisang trying to hide?

---

            There were goddamn reporters everywhere with their bush microphones, one nearly finding its way in Xue Yang’s face as Wei Ying walked with him through the crowd from their vehicle. It seemed pointless to wear the germ masks over their faces seeing that the court session would be televised, at least to a certain degree, but they wore it nevertheless. Beside him, Xue Yang curled the four fingers of his left arm around Uncle Cheng’s perfect five. He could still feel him, though he wasn’t supposed to touch them. The light receded though, when he touched Uncle Cheng, some peace of mind.

            Word around them had been passed amongst one another, something along the lines of a myth finding face. The PAPPU were coming from the naked ashes, a phantom cousin to the ever real CSI, now dipping their unethical hands into the corrupt. Some stories were supposed to remain stories, passed from one tongue to another, spoken around school children and university students. It was an amusing pastime of theirs, to speak of things unheard of, something fascinating, and here it was, becoming ever real, breaching that little path they decided to avoid, and coming into view. The PAPPU had not only lost a member, but one had been accused of murdering him and was acquitted, and now they were going to vouch for the corruption within the CSI. What was more physical then watching a law’s standards break?

            They were real. You could touch them. There they were.

            Uncle Cheng faded again, and Xue Yang fought the need to sigh his dejection. He had forgotten everything he needed to say, and he was forced to wear a suit. His tie was tight, so tight, he wished it would take the rest of his oxygen from his lungs and he’d be blue in the face. Then he’d simply follow Uncle Cheng and they could leave together.

            Wei Ying squeezed his shoulder. Xue Yang hadn’t realized he had been shaking, but under the slight pressure of the squeeze, his spine straightened. He looked into the silver gaze of the other and eased into a breath, one that brought oxygen into him, and exhaled to keep him alive. He would live on.

            When Xingchen was escorted out, his eyes did not reach Xue Yang’s. The last thing the man had wanted was for the two of them to appear here, to stand before the room, the jury, and pronounce something under his name.

            Don’t, he had thought, and thought again, and thought again. He thought it until his head spun, and his stomach reminded him just how hungry he was. He wouldn’t eat. He never wanted to eat ever again. He could stomach none of this.

            Xue Yang had taken to the stand when he was called on, his eyes downcast less the light above his head became too bright again. He wished Uncle Cheng hadn’t faded away, standing right next to him to offer what little comfort Xingchen had refused him. What Xue Yang had to say was short, short in length, short of anything that was expected. As he took to the stand, he could see faces line themselves with shock. Yes, he appeared rather young and was, yes, he was still a student, and yes, he looked like a living fool up there on the stand. It wasn’t what anyone had expected of the PAPPU, to hire kids. Xue Yang could show them that he wasn’t as young as they thought him to be.

            “A cycle starts with many things,” Xue Yang said. “Even the cycle of justice takes you in a certain degree. You either go clockwise or counterclockwise, left or right, no uncertain tracks, a curve or an angle, no pictures. I’ve drawn a picture for you. I’m a visual learner. I drew a mental image of Detective Xiao Xingchen the day I met him. He was an emotional palette. You know when you see blue and you’re sad? You know when you see white for glory? You know when you see black for darkness? The past. The past can be a place of a tragic dark glory. It’s the place you hurt. Ask yourself why you’re hurting a man who has been hurt in the past. Ask yourself why glory is different for every person. Ask yourself what all of these years mean to one misdemeanor. Ask yourself why you condemn an angel as a devil when it falls from the sky. Remember you cannot take its wings. You’re all wrong. All of you. And my partners deserve better than that.” Without another word, he took himself from the stand and returned to his seat. He could feel tears well up, sticking to his lashes. Quickly, he wiped them before they could roll down his cheeks, a feather with echoes. Everyone could hear it.

            Xue Yang looked around for Uncle Cheng. Was he watching them still? Did he fade so much he could no longer see them? Did sadness make you overthink those things? He looked down towards Xingchen who kept his eyes averted, staring deep into hell like he could see the gates. Xue Yang would climb down there and pull all of them out. They were shooting for glory, nothing below it, definitely not hell, not there.

            “Thank you, Detective Xue. The defense calls on Wei Wuxian next to take the stand,” a man in a grey suit said. Wei Ying flicked his hair from his eyes as gasps filled the room. Of course his name was still fresh in everyone’s memory, having had “murdered” Jiang Cheng just a week previous. Wei Ying wondered at appearing before them, have the cameras zoom in on his face and insecurities. His suit was black the way he hadn’t intended, but grey wasn’t going to touch him. Grey was the color of the dead. He hoped that Jiang Cheng would still be purple in death, in his purple coats or lavender button ups.

            God, why was this even fucking happening?

            He walked to the stand and took his oath the way he was supposed to. Xue Yang almost appeared worried in his seat, worried at that sharp tongue behind the chief’s lips, worried that the chief might’ve been too truthful. Wei Ying was an honest man. When he spoke, the crowd grew irregularly quiet, a voice that was tangible and reflective.

            “I was not graced with a loving relationship with Detective Xiao. We had our differences and I unfortunately am made to state that it wasn’t for the better. We’ve known each other a short period, had worked together an even shorter period, and certainly had our share in disagreements. Together though, we breached sensitive areas that many would strain to face. Alone, I made Brother Xiao look at them. Yes, not just a detective but a brother to me. Alone, I forced him to feel that hurt again, those sensitive areas not so just sensitive, but painful. Wax on wax off, he did not raise his words against me. I do not vouch in his doings, to say that it is correct. Is it my place to deem what is correct? Correction is subjective, fellow Jury. Morality, your Honor, is questionable. And what each one of you have done is ask the same questions, unyielding and pervasive, same questions, failing miserably to climb beyond the conservative gate. You lot then, have no moral. You simply think that you are correct, and that, that is questionable. I stand here today to speak on behalf of a cherished colleague who is wrongfully being imprisoned – incorrect. Morality – incorrect. There are instances that those things no longer matter, moments that you are rendered incapable of seeking rationale, but you still know what is right, really right, to you. Last week, we suffered a great loss. Last week, I lost not only a comrade but a brother. I was then wrongfully accused of his murder under the name of a systematic order. Last week, I proved that order incorrect without that required professionalism. Today, I have been wrongfully placed here to vouch for someone wrongfully convicted. Today, I am afflicted. Today, this very system has wounded me, an unarmed citizen. You’ve raised your weapon at the innocent and you aimed at a child’s heart.” Wei Ying looked in Xue Yang’s direction as his partner stifled a sob.

            “But most importantly, you shot at me, and I will not be a victim. Instead of shooting at your comrades, yes, we are your comrades, you need to realize just what we’ve lost, what we endured collectively. How many innocents will you put away? Today will not be another one of those days. Let us free, your Honor. Free him. Let us free so I can find out who the fuck turned my brother into a victim. He will not die a casualty, and we will not be treated as another graph percentage, another number. You failed at your job, you failed to give the deceased their peace, and now you’ve ruptured ours. Allow us to walk from here today and find out who did this to our family. Ten years later, it can be done, but it will be done together. You will not be given another chance to fail us again. I, Wei Wuxian, Chief Lieutenant of the PAP Paranormal Unit vouch for Detective Xiao Xingchen’s good character. I, Wei Wuxian, vouch for Lan Wangji’s good character. You will leave my family out of this. We are innocent, and the real offender is watching you disgrace the nation. Little Blind is not in this courtroom, remember that. Only us.”

            As they were made to exit, a series of purple smoke bombs blurred the entire entrance to the court building. Wei Ying didn’t need to think to know that it was Violent Spider’s doing as a car pulled up the curb, dodging rapid reporters, maybe a camera that was crushed under the wheels.

            “Get inside now,” a female voice said. Her tone was furious, all throat and glares as the two ducked their heads and stepped inside. His hair was long and black, pulled into a high bun the way Jiang Cheng always did. Her eyes were almond, her nose slightly pointed, her lips small and full. She looked like the spitting image of Jiang Cheng, or the other way around. Why else would Jiang Cheng look like her?

            It was only then that Wei Ying had realized, opening his mouth to speak but choosing the opposite. He pondered it, what it was like to lose a son? Similar to losing parents.

            “He’s fading,” Xue Yang said, a low whisper that even Violent Spider could not make out. Wei Ying wished he could see Jiang Cheng’s reflection in the reflection of the car windows. He only saw himself, only the present. The future was fading.

---

            Xiao Xingchen was freed but demoted to a regular Detective. His rights to the case were still negated less his badge was taken from his breast pocket. It was a minor thing in Wei Ying’s perception. Rules could always be broken, and if the man didn’t know how to do it, Wei Ying could simply teach him. All the same, a demotion was just something official on paper. In his eyes, the renowned Xiao Xingchen was still team lead of their entire department.

            Wangji looked up from where he sat, gazing at Wei Ying’s nonchalant smile, a regular thing on the man’s face despite the worse of occasions. Wangji had been placed on desk duty and his brother had been informed. At the very least, the team was still together. Maybe one day, their sector of the CSI would be demoted so low that they would too, become a myth, something that was or could be, but not quite. They were wounded but alright, they were still partners.

            “I can’t tell if you’re irritated or not. At least look irritated, I mean, it’s desk duty, Lan Zhan. If you want, I can help arrange the papers,” Wei Ying joked, punching him in the shoulder. Wangji didn’t move the way he usually would. He felt where their skin had met and sat quietly.

            “I’m a little concerned about Xue Yang returning back to classes so soon. Will that be alright?” Xingchen asked. They were attempting to relocate all of their things to their new office, considering someone else was to take Xingchen’s place. Wei Ying had sat in the swivel chair and kicked his legs through the hallways until he arrived at the new quaint office.

            “You’ve spoken to Huaisang, haven’t you?” Wangji questioned instead.

            “Yes and yes,” Wei Ying said, though he had to admit a part of him mused at having had been caught. He spun repetitively on the chair until Lan Zhan approached and held the edge of the backrest with his palm.

            “Something should be done,” Wangji told him, though he wanted to sit in the same seat, spin until his thoughts numbed and there was nothing of this. He wouldn’t need to think, just spin and spin and spin and think of how his ring was on Wei Ying’s finger and he didn’t feel inclined to ask for it back. His mother was surely watching from heaven, and here he was spin spin spinning.

            “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying called, bringing his attention to him. “Push me,” the chief said, a wide grin on his face. There wasn’t an ounce of Wangji that was going to have him push the chief lieutenant around the office, but his hands itched all of the sudden to do something. He ignored all of it. Spin spin spinning, he told himself. His mother was watching in heaven, and Wei Ying was swimming on the surface of hell.

            Wangji knudged the back of the seat forward, just a bit so that Wei Ying slid across the office with a shout of glee. He assured himself that people in hell could sound that way sometimes, happy, innocent, wonderful. Beautiful. Then he approached the chair, and nudged it again.

---

            Regardless of the circumstances, because circumstances became so crucial, Xue Yang had still attended his classes, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the hallways. Heads would turn to gaze in his direction the way he had avoided when he first enrolled and everyday after that. Despite Violent Spider’s efforts, people had recognized him from the footage. They looked at him differently, curious or afraid, withdrawn or too invested. The professor didn’t look at him knowingly anymore, expecting him to know the answer but keeping quiet. Everyone in all simply wanted to avoid him, and he was alright with that. It was during a transitioning to another class that someone had taken to cutting the back of his bookbag, laughing as his things spilled out, reminding everyone just how human he was. Xue Yang had seen the worse from his father, no amount of bullying ever harsh enough, no amount of pain could beat the ones that came from his father’s palms. Fire on his cheeks where they still burned.

            Xue Yang bent down to pick everything up, his scattered pencils and textbooks, thin notebooks, erase butts. His hand traced over Uncle Cheng’s whose hands were going right through the objects. His fingers could not touch them, could not help. Xue Yang quickly swallowed his pain at noticing something so obvious, and picked the things up quickly. One of his pencils were rolling away. It wouldn’t matter. It was just a pencil. He watched as Uncle Cheng flew slowly after it, reaching with his tangible fingers, watched as the pencil rolled right through his fingertips. Running after it, Xue Yang grabbed the pencil and shoved all of his things in the outer pocket of his bookbag. Not everything fit. Nothing was fitting. His textbooks were too big and his pencils were falling on the floor again and his hurt was so big it was coming out of his mouth and his stupid hands were shaking and Uncle Jiang was fading again and he was alone and couldn’t swallow any of it. Goddamn that textbook, it was heavy all of the sudden, heavy like his heart, full like his heart. He could feel them, those emotions, not bottled up but written all along the pages.

            How dare someone do that to him? How dare he? With the textbook, Xue Yang took it and swung it at the student who had cut his bag. Both hands on the bottom, he swung repetitively, up and down, up and down, wherever he could touch skin. How dare someone remind him of his pain? How dare they ridicule him for everything he’s been through? He could hear the student scream, could see flustered arms and kicking legs. He felt many hands drag him away as he threw the textbook into the ground.

            “Calm down! Cool it!” Voices were yelling at him. Xue Yang was being dragged across the hall, pressed against the wall as he coiled up and gripped his face. He wanted to wail again, palms over his eyes so he’d never see again, over his mouth so he’s stop sobbing, over his nose so he’s stop breathing. He was done, the textbook on the floor like am empty thing. There was nothing left in his heart. He almost forgot not to kill.

            “Get away from me,” Xue Yang said into his knees. He took his gun out to scare them away but pointed it at himself. It felt safer when the light was so bright. He just wanted to walk into it. Maybe Uncle Jiang would follow.

Chapter Text

Xue Yang had gotten home from school, hopping out of Wei Ying’s car and up his steps. He approached his door to find it unlocked. The closer he was, an odor was left behind that nearly incapacitated him. He instantly covered his mouth and nose with his shirt and stepped out.

            “Xiao-ge!” he called under the muffle of his sleeve. He tried a few times, his eyes watering from whatever spilled from the doors. No one answered him.

            His blood rushed to his head almost instantly, his feet tripping over one another as his back hit the wall opposite. He tried again many times before concluding the worse. Before anything, he rushed back down the stairs, nearly falling over treads and burst out the door for fresh air, just in time to wave Wei Ying back as the wheels began to move. The car screeched to a stop, Wei Ying beside him in an instant, pulling him straight as he sucked in clumsy puffs of air. The odor smelled rancid and itched his throat instantly.

            In a half hour, the two sat on the edge of the pavement, knees close to their face. Wei Ying suffered it because he was tall. Xue Yang simply rested his chin on his knee caps, Wei Ying’s hand on his head, a constant phrase every five minutes that repeated the same notion, “he was going to be okay.”

            They waited patiently for the building to be evacuated, for men in hazardous suits to file into his apartment and come back with the news.

            Was he dead? That was the question. Xue Yang had gone off to class and left Xingchen alone while the man had a limp, but did the limp so debilitate him that he was rendered unable to defend himself? But poison was not an entity you could face with your fist, nor was it something intelligence could fathom in such an outburst. God, was he alive?

            Xue Yang could’ve run into the building, pulled the whole goddamn complex apart if Wei Ying’s hand wasn’t on his head, saying something along the lines of “he was going to be okay.” Stupid phrase. Stupid everything. He stuffed his face into his knees and exhaled, looking deeply into the floor.

            “Thankfully there was in one in the building,” a man ended out telling Wei Ying, because Xue Yang had tuned the world out, and the floor seemed like an interesting distraction.

            “What do you mean? There should be a young man in there, about the age of thirty, short black hair, has a limp. You didn’t see anyone in there?” Wei Ying asked, Xue Yang finally looking up. He stood up instantly, looking from Wei Ying to the man back to Wei Ying then the man as if all of his hope had disappeared or it dumped back onto his shoulders. He couldn’t differentiate it just then.

            “Stay put,” Wei Ying ordered him, for it was written on his little face. The world was black and white as Wei Ying neared the building.

            “You can’t enter just yet,” the man told him. Wei Ying was not accustomed to being told what to do, so he simply ignored the man, pushing past to get inside. Xue Yang was accustomed to being told what to do. By Wei Ying. So, he “stayed put.”

            Wei Ying held his sleeve over his mouth and nose as the team attempted to clean up the residue. He stepped inside despite their protest, and noticed something at the edge of sight. Making his way over to it, he retrieved something that scrunched his face, pulled his brows down into a frown. He didn’t like frowns, and certainly didn’t like what was in his hands.

            A yoyo.

            No. No, Xingchen was absolutely not okay.

---

            Although Xue Yang paced, there needed to be a simple recap of the events. They could get it if he could sit down and think straight. He wished Uncle Jiang’s spirit was strong enough to speak to him, despite the removal of his tongue. He wished Uncle Jiang’s spirit was strong enough to give him clues. He wished Uncle Jiang was strong enough to appear at all and stop waiting for him, making sure he wasn’t going to follow. The light was bright, but goddamn it, he was going to figure this out and walk away from that shit forever.

            “Okay, let’s review. I know you two are deeply affected, and I get it, not to your levels, but I get it,” Wei Ying told both Xue Yang and Wangji. Wangji had been staring at the tips of his shoes as though that was going to give him answers. In reality, his thoughts were not as panicked as most would imply. He was a rational man, and a rational man thought.

            “Why would he kidnap Xiao-ge?” Xue Yang asked, biting his bottom lip. Xue Yang didn’t like to think when he could panic instead. He looked at Wangji as if the man knew the answer, then began to nervously tap his right leg. Up and down and up and down and up and down.

            “Think, Xue Yang. We can figure this out. Start where we began,” Wei Ying ordered.

            “It’s not Xue Yang that’s no longer thinking,” Wangji said

            “Wonderful. That’s just another brain that’s not working,” Xue Yang commented, for the only rational one seemed to be Wei Ying.

            “That wasn’t the implication,” came Wangji. “The one who isn’t thinking is Little Blind.” This comment, of course, caused the younger of the two to stop tapping his feet and offer his attention. Wei Ying merely nodded.

            “Really think, Xue Yang. He wouldn’t have just abducted Xingchen for no reason. He thinks too much for that, but now he’s way out of character,” his chief told him. Xue Yang nodded like he understood, until he finally did. His eyes widened as if to prove it, then he sat up straighter, almost enough to stand up.

            “That’s bad,” he said.

            “It is. We need to work quickly. He’s breaking his pattern because he’s panicking,” Wangji told him.

            “And if he’s panicking, he works on his impulses, which means –,” Wei Ying was interrupted.

            “He’s going to kill him,” Xue Yang finished. He sucked in air, too much to stomach at once, then ran to one of the desks to retrieve his notes. They needed to start from the beginning if they were going to figure this out. There was only three of them now.

            “Fuck the pattern real quick. We already know he’s going to kill Xingchen.” Wei Ying went to go sit in Xingchen’s desk, less flamboyant than before, but there nevertheless. The seat was cool, like he belonged on it and wasn’t there, exactly the way it was.

            “We need to figure out where he’s keeping him. The notes won’t help with that,” the chief said next, kicking his feet across the surface. It helped him to stretch, encompass himself with every detail. “Alright, team. Lay down the facts. What type of person is LB?”

            “He works on his convenience. With all of the victims, he has always worked with his convenience and tries not to inconvenience others in the act of doing it,” Xue Yang spat what came to mind first.

            “He has a guilty conscious about the killing,” Wangji said next.

            “In this respect, he’s actually a pretty good guy if you give him the chance. He will try to make the situation convenient for him, and not affect anyone around him, right? Of course, in that case, it means he doesn’t give a damn if he inconveniences us,” Wei Ying recalled, watching Xue Yang write free hand.

            “This whole thing is one big game to him. Hence, the fucking yoyo,” came the brat. He wrote faster though he could type 90 words a minute. He had always been fast with his hands, a little slower now that there were only 9 sticks jutting out from his knuckles.

            “You’re right. So, if it’s a game, we’re going to be going around in circles.” This was Wei Ying.

            “Or up and down,” Wangji said. Wei Ying kicked his feet off of the table and stared in disbelief at the other man. Xue Yang frowned, then stopped writing. He raised an eyebrow but remained frowning, an organic sort of an expression really.

            “Xue Yang, you don’t get it? Think about it, the yoyo is fucking blue. What does blue represent,” asked the chief.

            “Sadness? Grief?”

            “But up and down?”

            “A yoyo is a hiking term,” Wangji spoke for the younger of the three. He watched while realization played on Xue Yang’s features. The urchin dropped his notebook entirely, having the habit of spewing out information quickly when it hit him.

            “Blue blazer! People who don’t go the main trail but take a side trail to get to the same location, but the yoyo implies that we’re just going back to where we started. We’re yo-yoing on a blue trail. We’re not getting any real results.”

            “Only, we are. Think about it, convenience? He’ll make his situation convenient for him, which means he’s going to buy time. It’s going to be far away. What else does he do?” Wei Ying asked, though the question was rhetorical.

            “He uses trinkets so he needs plenty of space. Where ever Xiao-ge is, it’d need to be spacious.”

            “It’s isolated so other people won’t get hurt,” Wangji added. “He also works to seclude his victims then to showcase them later on where we would be able to find it.”

            “Exactly, which means that it’d need to be a public place. But why use a hiking term, right? Because he’s going back to what he knows. Little Blind always does what he knows. When he trails off of what he knows, he’s panicking. So, what does he know?” Wei Ying specifically asked this question to Xue Yang, because something about Wangji told him that the man already knew. Xue Yang juggled air between his cheeks, until they turned red. His thoughts flip flopped from one incident to another, a mirage of all the victims. He felt like a child again, not knowing what the adults did. He would not allow his years to speak for him, wracking his brain for anything that could’ve assisted. Why use a hiking term? For distance and to give another clue about the game, of course. They had exhausted all of their options, so that would’ve represented the blue blazer, but they were still yo yoing. The only one who didn’t yoyo was Uncle Cheng who must’ve figured it out. Jiang Cheng who won the game. Jiang Cheng who was not part of what was “known” to Little Blind. Where did people hike? The woods. National Parks. Official Trails.

            And fucking mountains.

            The Mingjue act had protected the Guanyin Mountain after one of Meng Yao’s tricks. It wasn’t the first time their names were brought up. Little Blind only did what he knew, and had involved the two in the scheme. It just so happened to be the mountain Song Lan allegedly flew off of. Allegedly.

            “Xiao-ge’s being held at Guanyin Mountain,” Xue Yang finally said out loud.

            “Get in the car. We can’t risk him knowing we’re coming. We do this alone,” Wei Ying ordered.

            “Always have,” Xue Yang replied, but when he looked to his right and Wangji was grabbing his bag, then to his left where Uncle Jiang appeared for a quarter of a second, he managed a smile. Not always.

---

            “Why would he want to do this?” Xue Yang asked as they armed themselves. The drive up to Guanyin mountain was a steep one, pushing them left and right, and nearly clean off the trail to their demise. The car heaved forward reluctantly, Xue Yang thanking his seat belt, Wei Ying not wearing one, Wangji quiet. There was much to think about.

            Xue Yang didn’t want to think about it.

            “People have odd ways of showing they care, Xue Yang.” Wei Ying’s eyes showed grief, but his expression was solemn. He was a quiet like no other.

Chapter Text

Uncle Cheng was no longer present, just the feeling of him close by, fading ever slowly. Xue Yang closed the door softly, though Wei Ying slammed his as if it would take the tension from his bones. The chief looked straight ahead, the “CAUTION” signs littering the area. Along the way, a large red, “NO TRESPASSING” and “QUARANTINE ZONE” could be seen. They easily bent under the tape, easily ignored what they read, easily stepped up the trail to the opening, where ever that may have been. Every silent step lead to one sounding off by the kick of dried mud and the roll of pebbles beneath their shoes. Xue Yang turned behind him, having had walked behind the rest, waiting for something to jump up at him.

            “Calm down, Xue Yang,” Wei Ying said, without turning around. Maybe the sounds were only coming from Xue Yang. When he trotted behind them, he didn’t hear a sound from their feet. Of course, Wei Ying would notice. Wei Ying noticed everything in time.

            They finally found the opening, just a bare space with a bleak front. There was nothing like a door, just a cave with an open mouth, haunted by the overgrow of bushes. Xue Yang could feel the warmth of his glock hung on his belt. Inside, he knew Xingchen lived and breathed, maybe for just another second. Wei Ying would get there on time, no matter what.

            Xue Yang walked faster to catch up, faster until he was walking in front of both of them, his glock in his hands, held upright by his head in case he needed to shoot. His footsteps became silent, his heartbeat steady, his hands still shaking. Xingchen needed to be alive. It wasn’t what he was telling himself anymore, just honesty, truth in its bitter core. He bit into it and tasted bland saliva.

            They walked into the naked darkness until the trail became lit with dim lamps strung up inside. Even Little Blind needed to see. With lamps swinging to and fro in the air, Little Blind almost seemed vulnerable, like a human being, like he could be afraid of darkness, like he didn’t want to be isolated. There must’ve been a reason for it, the killing, had to be. It wasn’t done for no reason. It was deliberate, personal. Who was the closest person in Xingchen’s circle?

            Song Ah Qing.

            Who else?

            Lan Wangji.

            Who else?

            What did this have to do with Huaisang? With Meng Yao? With Chairman Nie? Did Huaisang do it? Did Meng Yao do it?

            “Maybe the better question is to ask who was closest in Ah Qing’s circle,” Xue Yang whispered, just loud enough where the other two could hear.

            “Clever,” Wei Ying said.

            “Or not at all,” Wangji replied to Xue Yang, speaking at the same time.

            “Interesting,” came the chief, hands behind his back. He trusted Xue Yang too much, trusted the kid to point the gun and shoot before his instincts would tell him to take cover. Xue Yang held the gun tighter, turning the corner.

            The light of the lamp distorted their shadows, haunted men stalking down a dark corridor, something like death in one of their hands. Xue Yang looked in every direction for Uncle Cheng but didn’t see him, the warmth of his spirit gone. A shiver rushed up his spine, but he quickly swallowed it.

            And Song Lan.

            Perhaps Song Lan didn’t very much like Xingchen, but he definitely seen the man enough, maybe even on a daily basis since. That was enough to maintain a space in someone’s circle, enough for grudges to become apparent, enough to plot someone’s weakness.

            If he was miserable and the only person he had left was Ah Qing, wouldn’t anyone be upset after their sibling was taken away by a stranger? If Xiao-ge got custody and it so devastated Song Lan to the point he faked his death just to come back for revenge, he was prepared to take everything. But what if it isn’t about taking everything from Xiao-ge but about Ah Qing too? What if Ah Qing preferred Xiao-ge’s company because he was an actual brother to her? Xue Yang thought. That would mean that Little Blind also killed Ah Qing for leaving him, while simultaneously getting Xingchen back for taking what was his even if he never showed signs of wanting it. So he cut off their tongues maybe because he never got to say what he wanted, and gouged their eyes out because he couldn’t bare to look at it?

            He put the contacts in, because Ah Qing had white eyes. That much, Xue Yang could recall about the little girl.

            This was personal. It was beyond personal. It was family.

            Something sunk into the floor as Xue Yang took a step. His heart fell out of his stomach. Behind him, Wei Ying instantly grabbed his arm to steady him.

            “Xue Yang…” he called, like he was holing his breath. He looked down at where Xue Yang’s foot was still positioned.

            “Oh no,” was all Xue Yang could manage. Everything he previously thought, dispersed in his mind. It wouldn’t matter now that this whole place was going to blow up.

            “It’s okay,” Wei Ying told him, squeezing his shoulder.

            “Wei…Wei Ying.” Xue Yang could feel his eyes glaze over. They didn’t necessarily fall from his lashes, but they stung nevertheless.

            “It’s okay, Xue Yang.” With that, Wei Ying placed his foot down next to the other and applied pressure to keep the rock in the floor.

            “Wei Ying,” Wangji said suddenly. He was standing beside them, his expression blank, but his eyes were just a bit wider than usual. Wei Ying chuckled without looking up. To Xue Yang he said, “move your foot.”

            “Wei Ying,” the two of them called him.

            “Xue Yang, remove your foot.” Wei Ying ordered him again, his eyes down cast.

            “I’m sorry, Wei Ying. I’m sorry.” Xue Yang’s voice shook, his tears filling enough to nearly spill. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t cry no matter what. Crying meant defeat. He would not be defeated. He wanted to avenge Uncle Cheng. He wanted Wei Ying to be proud. He wanted to see Xiao-ge again.

            “Wei Ying, remove yourself,” Wangji said. There was an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. The chief chuckled, then shook his head, still not looking up. He was just staring at the damn rock in the floor. That damn rock ruining everything, all their plans, all of their happy endings.

            Xue Yang wanted a happy ending like no other. He wanted days that didn’t remind him that he killed his awful father. He wanted days that didn’t remind him that Uncle Cheng was murdered. He wanted days where Xingchen looked into his eyes and told him everything would be okay. He wanted to hear Wei Ying over the phone talking about something very very very boring about Wangji. He wanted those things. This fucking rock was going to take all of that.

            And now it was going to take Wei Ying.

            “Brother Wei,” Xue Yang called. “Please, please, please move your foot. Don’t do this.”

            “Listen to me,” Wei Ying finally looked up into his green eyes. “You find him, Xue Yang. And you get him out of here. I will hold here for as long as I can. I’m sure it’ll start spraying what ever the hell and take this whole place down. Remember? It’s impulse. He works on impulse, but he calculates everything.”

            “I know who did it,” Xue Yang sobbed. His words came out a blurry mess, like ink in water, like words trying to find themselves on the line.

            “Me too, little man. Me too,” Wei Ying said sadly. He patted Xue Yang on the head, then sent him a smile the boy would never forget.

            “I’ll leave once you get Xingchen out,” the chief lied. It was what Xue Yang wanted to hear so he ran

forward, leaving them behind. Wei Ying didn’t have enough time for him to waste.

---

            “You are sacrificing yourself,” Wangji said. It wasn’t a question but a statement, and it was stale, like everything about the situation.

            “I guess you could say that,” Wei Ying said, cocking his head from side to side like there was nothing else to do but wait for the gas to arrive.

            “Why?”

            “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

            “Sacrifice isn’t noble.”

            “Far from it, Lan Zhan. But you know what it does? It saves that kid’s life. You’re going to go ahead. You’re going to watch Xue Yang’s back.”

            “I will.”

            “Good.”

            There should’ve been more words than this. Wangji felt like Wei Ying would’ve said more. The real Wei Ying would say something else, would joke, would belittle the situation. He wasn’t saying anything.

            “Hey listen,” Wei Ying finally begun. “I knew Jiang Cheng for a while now. He’s like a brother to me.”

            “I understand.”

            “Do you, really? I guess Xingchen is like a brother to you too. But I’m not talking about the kind where you sign a paper and you’re partners, Lan Zhan. I mean it. Jiang Cheng was like a brother to me, a younger brother. He still had so much to learn, and he was so…I don’t know what it was. He just felt so much, y’know?”

            “Yes.”

            “And…losing all of that feeling because he sat down one day and figured this whole thing out. This whole thing that doesn’t even have to do with him in any way, it’s a waste. Such a fucking waste. Jiang Cheng died because of this. My brother was killed because of this. Do you understand?”

            “I do.”

            “Take this,” Wei Ying dug into his suit pocket and took out a blade. Wangji simply stared at it, taking it in his hands, watching the light dance off of it.

            “When you see Little Blind, you will use it. You have to. You have to do this for me. I’m…”

            “You will leave with us.”

            “I don’t –…Of course. Of course, I’m leaving with you guys. Just, just go, okay? There’s no time to waste.” Wei Ying smiled at him, no teeth, jut a hidden thing.

            Wangji thought about his life in front of him. That emptiness. With Wei Ying in front of him, he could’ve stood there. He could’ve counted the seconds until their demise played before their eyes. He could’ve died with him.

            But the blade was in his hand.

            And he had a job to do.

            “Wei Ying,” he called one last time, because he ached to say it. His stomach plummeted inside, but his mouth opened to speak it. “Wei Ying, return my ring to me.”

            Wei Ying’s expression dropped instantly.

            “What? At a time like this, you want the ring back? That’s your priority? You realize lives are at stake but you want your stupid ring back?”

            “That is not what I meant.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that.

            “Just go.” It was already too late. The anger already rushed into Wei Ying’s mouth. But he needed Wei Ying to understand. Needed him to understand why he should return the ring. That ring was all he had left. What his mother told him, all he had left. He needed Wei Ying to return it. He needed the last image to be a smile. He needed Wei Ying to survive in his memories. He needed him in that ring.

            He needed Wei Ying. Needed him not to tell him to leave.

            He was taking too long to respond.

            “Go! Forget the fucking ring. Just go! Your precious partner’s life is in danger!”

            “That is not what I meant.” Why wasn’t Wei Ying listening to reason? This was so much more than the hope they clung to. This was about Wei Ying letting go. This was about Wangji holding on.

            “Lan Wangji!”

            “Wei Wuxian!” Wangji could’ve broken everything in that moment, listening to his name like a foreign thing in Wei Ying’s mouth. He could’ve killed someone. He could’ve put the blade in Little Blind’s heart.

            He turned and walked away.

            The ring was still on Wei Ying’s finger like a promise never made.

---

            When the explosion went off, Wangji knew the room had filled with gas, that Wei Ying could no longer hold on. He only remembered the pain of the ceiling falling on top of him, scrapping off his back. The world turned black. Then it turned blue like the yoyo.

---

            Xue Yang ascended the stairs, neatly carved steps in the cave. He could hear Xingchen’s voice. He was so close. His heart was in his throat again, on his tongue, ready to say things that he never had the courage to say. Then the cave exploded right below his feet, right above his head, all around him. The cacophony filled his ears with a ringing like no other, an echo over an echo. He slammed into the ground, large boulders falling over upon him. He strained to see as the debris clouded his vision, just squinting until he made out Xingchen’s form, tied to a chair.

            “Xiao-ge!” He called, but it sounded like a cough in everything he actually wanted to say. He continued to cough, choking on the dust. His body jerked forward, trying to reach him, but something pinned him, held him back. He couldn’t feel his left arm. He was lying flat on his stomach. Everything hurt just to look towards the left where a large boulder now trapped his arm underneath. He tugged, crying out when the pain shot throughout his body.

            “Xiao-ge!” He called again.

            “I suppose you would be the first to show up,” a gentle voice said. It wasn’t malicious in the slightest, like a melody or a soft fragrance in the air. Xue Yang had to bite his lower lip to keep from shouting out in rage.

            “YOU BASTARD!” He screamed, slamming his right fist into the cave floor. He felt the sharp pebbles bite into his flesh.

            “Very colorful vocabulary towards someone you’ve never met before.”

            “I don’t need to meet you to know who you are, you psychopath! You’ll never get away with this!”

            “Oh? Do you know me? You’re wrong, Xue Yang. I’m no psychopath. Psychopaths don’t think. They don’t plan. They,” he pondered to think. “They work on impulse.”

            Why was this person standing in front of him? Why? Why was it him?

            “Of course, I know who you are. You’re the spitting image of him,” Xue Yang said through gritted teeth.

            “Oh, right. I get that pretty often actually. Quite the compliment if you ask me.”

            “You are literally crazy.”

            “Say that which you will, but you will not be able to stop me, I’m afraid. I have much to do, Brother Xue, and you very much appear to be stuck where you are. How is it that you think I will not get away? Brother Wei has combusted with the trap he set off, and you have fallen because of it.”

            “Xichen…” Xingchen said, his voice weak. It was only then that Xue Yang noticed his bloodied eye. It was then that he noticed how not there it was. Just a socket of red.

            Xichen suffered a smile, turning towards his victim as Xue Yang recoiled.

            “Xiao-ge!” Xue Yang called out, tears instantly streaming from his eyes. “Get away from him, you monster! How could you do that? What have you done? What did we ever do to you, you, you.” He couldn’t find words, just choking on his words and pulling with all of his strength to loosen from the rock. He couldn’t move.

            “You don’t get to speak to me, Brother Xiao. You’ve made a grave mistake see,” Xichen said, almost as if he was sulking quietly.

            “Xichen. Xichen, listen to me,” Xingchen was trying. “Xichen, I told you everything. I told you.”

            “And I don’t believe you, Brother Xiao.”

            “You want needless revenge, Xichen. I didn’t, I didn’t,” Xingchen began to sob. His arms were tied behind the chair and his body was bound with thick straps. His legs were tied and strapped to the chair legs.

            Xue Yang’s world was falling apart. None of this made sense. How could it be Wangji’s brother? How could it be?

            “I didn’t turn Wangji down because I didn’t think he was good enough.”

            “He idolized you by the way,” Xichen said, without a care. He was wiping a small scalpel with a blue towel.

            “I-I know,” Xingchen’s chest heaved. He took in a deep breath to steady his words, allow them to manifest coherently. “I turned him down because I didn’t want Ah Qing going down the path that I did. It had nothing to do with Wangji.”

            “You’re a liar, I’ve noticed. Do you know what happened after you turned down Wangji? He completely isolated himself, Brother Xiao. He was so distraught and no one could see it. He spent the next six years trying to prove himself to you. But you know, I needed to help him. I needed you to see just how great he was, that it’s an honor for you to work with him.”

            “You,” Xue Yang was stuck for words. He fought the vomit coming up his throat, a salty burn. “You, you did all of this, killed all of those people, because Xiao-ge turned Brother Lan down? That’s it? You’re so ass hurt that you –.”

            “Watch your words, Xue Yang. When the predator has the weapon and the victim is defenseless, he can be quite cruel,” Xichen told him, his eyes stern, but his face ever gentle. There was a calming madness about staring into his eyes.

            “I am not your victim!”

            “Of course, not. You were supposed to be. I was going to take Brother Xiao’s world from him as he did Wangji, but you’re a clever boy. You knew I was chasing you. I decided to go for the source. You may not be my victim, but Brother Xiao always has.”

            “Why are you doing this?”

            “I’m doing this for my brother. Because my brother deserves it. All of it. He deserves everything, and Xingchen couldn’t see that. Couldn’t see how hard my brother worked. How esteemed and accomplished he was, because he was so surrounded by his own merit.”

            “That’s not true, Xichen. Please, please don’t do this. Just stop, please. It’s okay. It’s okay to be wrong.” Xingchen tried again, groaning when his wound pained him with movement.

            “I’m not wrong. I would do anything for him, don’t you understand? Just like you would do anything for Ah Qing. Just like you would do anything for Xue Yang and vice versa. Wangji would die for me –.”

            “But he wouldn’t kill for you! He’s not like you! He’ll put his life on the line, but he knows what his morals are! You put him in front of every god damn thing, but have you stopped to think how about how he felt? How he would feel if he knew you did this?” Xue Yang slammed his fist into the ground again, blood rushing to his head.

            “And he’ll never find out.”

            “I didn’t come alone.”

            “You brought your team? See if they’ll stop me in time.” With that, Xichen stabbed the scalpel into Xingchen’s other eye, ignoring when the man screamed out in pain, trying to kick and flail his arms.

            “No! No, stop! Stop it!” Xue Yang shrieked. He listened to the sickening tear of flesh, as the scalpel dug in and took out the eye, laid it on a tray. He listened to Xingchen continuing to scream, his agonized moans, and a sob on his tongue. Red poured down his cheeks, dripped from his chin, strained his previously perfect attire. It was the same shirt Xue Yang had seen him in before he went to class. If he had stayed, this would’ve never happened. If he skipped classes to stay with him, this wouldn’t have happened.

            If if if. If didn’t help. Xingchen was blind. Blind. He would never look in Xue Yang’s eyes ever again with that vibrance. He was as good as gone.

            But he was still alive.

            Please. Please all of you. Ah Qing, Lihua, Zhang Yong, Xiu Ying, Meifeng, Bao Ru, Jia, Qiuyue, Yamei, Xiaosi, Ai ling, please. Please I’m begging you. Send me your strength.

            “You never thought that the one person who would stop you is the person you’re hiding from?” Xue Yang asked.

            “I have nothing to hide, Xue Yang. I’m doing this because I believe in it. Because Wangji deserves it. He deserves more than you think.”

            Huiling, Bai yu, Xia, Ing Fa, Ruan You, Lifen, Liu Ting, Renshu, Liwei, send me your strength, please.

            “Then show yourself.”

            I give you everything. Just make this end.

            “I’m right here, Xue Yang,” Xichen replied, a smile.

            I’ll do what ever it takes. Take my blood. Take my arm. Take it. Take it, and give me Xiao Xingchen. I write my name in blood. Take it!

            “I will not kill you.”

            “I believe that it is because you cannot. You –.”

            Ah Qing, I give you my arm. Save your brother. Make this end. Make it end. Make it end! Make it end! Ah Qing, rise! All of you rise! Save him!

            Xue Yang screamed as the pain scorched through his body, his entire arm lighting up as if it was on fire. He pulled himself free, listening to the tear of flesh, the laceration of bone, the tissue ripping. He pulled forward, screeching as he detached from the rocks, flying forward, a girl in a green dress appearing behind him. Her eyes bled profusely red, red on her cheeks, her chin, her mouth, her dress. She shrieked.

---

            The malevolent energy swirled around Xue Yang’s body as he staggered for balance. He ran straight forward, the spirits rushing past him, their arms outstretched like claws. Diving towards Xingchen, they flew past him towards their murderer. Xichen’s eyes widened, the scalpel falling from his fingertips. He turned to run, but not quick enough. The energy pushed him into the air directly into a blade, held out, ready to pierce him.       

            It did not pierce his heart.

            It appeared on the other side of his abdomen, a tiny blade. Xichen spit out blood just as the spirits disappeared, turning to ice from his younger brother’s eyes. He could smell Wangji before he could see him, like sandalwood and a river’s tide. He turned with a sad smile, the blade still in his flesh.

            “Wangji,” Xichen called him. “Wangji, looked what I’ve done.” For his brother’s entire back had been torn away.

            “Brother,” came the reply.

            “Wangji, how are you?”

            “You’re bleeding.”

            “Yes, I see. You’ve stabbed me, haven’t you? Silly as always, aiming in the wrong place.” Xichen’s voice was amiable, kind even, but his expression was distorted by his sudden exposure. It was a broken thing on his thin face, a kinder more gentle Wangji, one that would do anything for the other.

            “Did you hear everything?” Xichen asked, the last of his hope in his chest.

            “I did.”

            “What will you do, Brother?” Xichen took his brother’s hands and squeezed them.

            “You did all of this…for me?”

            “I did.”

            “Killed my student. Killed nine other innocent people. Killed Jiang Wanyin. Killed…You killed Wei Ying.”

            “I did not mean for Wei Ying to get hurt, Wangji.” Xichen’s expression was suddenly dark. He hadn’t meant that. Wei Ying was clever enough to avoid all of his traps so why now? Why had he thrown his life on the line?

            “Why did you do this?” Wangji asked, despite knowing the answer.

            “I did this because you are my brother.”

            “You killed someone else’s brother.”

            “Wangji, I –.”

            Wangji snatched his hands back. “You don’t get to do that for me.”

            “Wangji –.”

            “Forgive him, Wangji,” Xingchen said as Xue Yang unstrapped him. He fell into the ruffian’s arm, weighing heavily on him.

            “No.” Because Xichen would have to live with that. Let him. Wangji was not going to take his life. Not an eye for an eye. Just look where that had gotten them. He turned away from his brother and went to help the other two to their legs. Above them, the building rumbled as if hungry for flesh. The land beneath their feet began to give away, vibrating cracks along the path.

            Xichen winced and pulled the blade free.

            “Wangji, follow me. I’ll get you out of here. The explosion had disturbed the building,” he told his brother, reaching out for him. Wangji stared at him, his eyes blank before he nodded. Because the only one who knew the way out was Xichen. Because everything that mattered was already gone. He helped the two, walking down a crooked path, Little Blind in front of them, showing them the way.

            The cave began to collapse behind them.

            When Wangji saw the light of the sky above him, he handed Xue Yang the blade and turned, ready to go back in.

            “Wangji, where are you going? You can’t go back in there,” Xichen said. Xue Yang held the blade up to force him back.

            “I need to find him,” Wangji replied.

            “Wangji, Wangji, he’s dead. He couldn’t have survived that –.”

            “I will find him,” Wangji said, final. He turned back into the building. He found a limp in his stride, his entire back just raw flesh. He didn’t wince, just stoic as he tore through the halls, stepping over rubble and stone. He covered his face with what sleeve he had left, the stench of poisonous gas finding its way to him, and the after math.

            At last, he saw a thin body in a red blazer twisted among the rocks, the eyes still open.

---

            Xichen had turned himself in. He was not granted the mercy of the death penalty. He had received a life sentence and seventy-two years after that, what ever that meant legally. Xue Yang awoke from his hospital bed, coughed at least eight times, before he attempted to look at his left arm.

            It wasn’t there.

            Just bandages that laughed at him. He started to laugh with it, laughed so hard until the nurse came in. Then he continued to laugh because Uncle Jiang always held his left hand. Not only was the pinky gone but now it isn’t was gone.

            He squinted, expecting the worse.

            The light was not there.

            Everything was okay. Somewhat. He was okay. Xingchen was… Wei Ying was… Wangji was… He stood up, rushing past the nurse into the next room, finding Xingchen awake, an IV stuck to his arms, bandages over his eyes, but his tongue still intact. Still there to beautifully greet him, bring tears to his own eyes.

            “Xiao-ge,” Xue Yang breathed. “Xiao-ge, how are you feeling?”

            “Xue Yang!” Xingchen happily said. Xue Yang glanced at the board, apparently it was four days later. Had Xue Yang slept so long?

            “Xue Yang, I’m so happy to hear you. Come sit. Sit beside me.” At his request, Xue Yang seated himself.

            “How’re you feeling? Does…does it hurt?”

            “Not at all, not with the IV. I feel perfectly fine. I just…I just wish I could see you.” 

            Tears brimmed at Xue Yang’s eyes again. They didn’t wait, just falling down his pale cheeks. He let out a quiet type of wail, where it was clear someone was crying but they were making means to obscure it. That was the type of crying that Xue Yang would do for the rest of his life. He would never allow Xingchen to see him cry. Hear him cry. All he could do now was hear.

            “Xue Yang…Xue Yang, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

            “You’re not. You’re, you’re eyes, your eyes, Xiao-ge. Your eyes.” Xue Yang sniffed, wiping his eyes with his good hand.

            “But I know you’re there. I hear you, and I’ll never forget the sound.”

            “You can’t see me anymore. You can’t, you can’t see anything anymore.” Xingchen reached across and took Xue Yang’s right hand. His other hand reached for am empty limb, finding air. He frowned for a moment.

            “Give me your hands, Xue Yang. I promise I won’t let them go.”

            “You have it,” Xue Yang said. There was nothing more he wanted to tell Xingchen then to never let him know that.

            “Your other hand, Silly.”

            “You…it’s okay, Xiao-ge.”

            There was a silence. Then blood began to stain Xingchen’s bandages.

            “Your other hand, Xue Yang. Give it here, please,” Xingchen repeated, blood soaking where his eyes should’ve been. His lips began to quiver, as he groped around for the hand.

            “But, but I still have my right one, Xiao-ge. I’ll always be here. Don’t let me go. Don’t let me, don’t let me go.” Xue Yang choked on his words again. He felt coughs erupt from his throat, his shoulder shaking vehemently. He pressed his face against Xingchen’s chest and sobbed where the man could hear him. Like this, it hurt a little less. Like this it brought Xingchen;s eyes back. Brought his arm back. Gave Wangji his brother back. Gave Xingchen his sister back. Gave Xue Yang a father. Like this, it made him forget Wei Ying was in a coma.

6 years later

            Wangji entered room 106B to find it empty. His eyes physically widened larger than he ever thought they could. He opened the bathroom door, searching behind the curtains at least three times before he realized Wei Ying hadn’t faded into the pale grey fabric. He was in the hallways at once, asking for nurses, demanding doctors, had shoved at least one EKG machine out of his way. “Discharged,” is what they said. He walked faster and faster, chasing the wind in front of him, one step ahead. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, chasing the minute hand on the clock. He ran across the lobby, opening the door and tore into the parking lot, chasing the blink of a second.

            A tall thin man stood in the parking lot with his back to him. His hair was long and black, his shoulders wearing an eccentric red blazer, his shoes were garnished with jewels.

            “Wei Ying,” Wangji called, his arm outstretched. Wei Ying turned around, his complexion better, his eyes vibrant, his smile everlasting. He smiled with teeth, waving his arm above his head.

            “Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! Look at me!” He ran over, grinning in the taller man’s face. “Look, I’m better!” Like a year never left him, like he was still twenty, still full of life.

            “Oh, right!” Wei Ying dug into his pocket to pull out scented lotion. He jammed his pinky finger in it, stuck his tongue out as he wiggled the ring around the tight draw of his skin.

            Wangji couldn’t have been happier to see him. A smile drew on to his lips, a quaint little thing under his nose. He breathed in the scent of Wei Ying, a spell in the naked sky, an evil incantation. When Wei Ying offered him the ring back, on a palm soaked with lotion, he swallowed the spell and he cast it.

            He took it in his hands, wiping it off on his sleeve, looking at it sparkle under their gazes. Then he dropped down to one knee and offered it back.

---

            Xue Yang escorted Xingchen through the lobby, an unsure look on his features. They followed behind Wangji in the penitentiary, ready to visit. “One person at a time,” is what the guard had said. They decided that Wangji would be first, but he wasn’t quite sure.

            “I’m going in with you,” Wei Ying said. The ring sparkled on his finger, a blue light under the glare of the ceiling.

            “Of course,” Wangji said.

            As they entered, despite the rules, the guard pulled Wangji to the side.

            “Where do you think you’re running off to?” He yelled, attempting to slam Wangji into the wall. Wei Ying was at his throat at once, shoving him against the main office speaker booth. He held him there.

            “Why are you attacking people all of the sudden?” He demanded, releasing him, and patting his hands on his pants as if the deed itself had been dirty. He definitely wasn’t supposed to pin other men.

            When the guard turned, Wangji held up his badge, immediately earning an apology from the other, along with a fluster of incomprehensible lines.

            “A-apologies, Brother Lan, but it seems…”

            “Show me his room,” Wangji said. They followed behind the guards to cell 59C on floor five.

            The cell was empty.

            Wangji looked out of the window his brother must’ve looked out of for the past six years, trapped behind bars that shunned him. He saw an open blue sky. A vast world was going to welcome his brother back.

            “What does Xue Yang see?” Wangji asked, finding that his brother had left the sheets completely straight and folded.

            “A light.”

            “What kind of light?”

            “The kind you walk into when you die.”

            “Is Jiang Cheng there?”

            “Waiting for us.” Wei Ying smiled. “Until then, my Love, look down. That’s where the clues are.”