Chapter Text
The road ahead was clogged with traffic and people. Police cruisers and luxury cars crowded the expanded parking lot. No sirens blared; only the flashing blue and red bounced back and forth between the old walls of the western-styled, imposing hotel building, making the conspicuous whispering of the nearby crowd audible. Some were chatting amongst themselves in a hushed tone; others clutched their cellphones and gave fragmented replies with:
"He was here."
"No signs of entry again..."
"The police arrived. Maybe this time, they could—"
The speaker lowered their voice before Xie Lian could catch the rest. Not that he needed to—it was rather obvious what they were gossipping about if you're familiar with the news.
The subject remained the same: a priceless family heirloom had vanished from a wedding attended by half the city's wealthy elite—or rather, it had been taken. And of course, the people were more interested in the perpetrator himself rather than the artifact. Xie Lian wordlessly agreed with them—this was precisely the reason he was here after all.
Xie Lian slipped sideways through a hoard of reporters. With every few steps, someone stomped on his feet. Xie Lian didn't even flinch—not that the surrounding people were paying him any mind, too busy with craning their necks for a better view of the entrance or trying to catch a glimpse of an officer emerging from the building.
Progress was slow, but when he finally reached the hotel doors, a uniformed guard immediately blocked his path.
"Sir, this area is restricted."
Xie Lian nodded.
"I know. Here."
He carefully took out a piece of paper of his worn satchel, and handed it over triumphantly.
However, the guard seemed to remain unfazed. He looked up at Xie Lian and said in a passive tone.
"Two cans of cat food and pack of toilet paper?"
Xie Lian was briefly stunned.
"Oh wait, that's not it. Let me..."
However, he was used to this kind of situations already and recovered quickly. A few minutes after, the guard was standing in front of him with a puzzled expression, his open palms containing all sorts of things... To the grocery list soon joined a white resistance band, a digital camera (older model), a comb with a few rubber bands, a pack of bandaids, a laser pointer with a missing cap.
He was about to say something when Xie Lian, eventually, fished out another piece of paper and stuck it under the guard's nose with a smile. The guard returned the friendly gesture with a skeptical draw of his eyebrow—his glance flickering between the paper and the beaming Xie Lian unsurely.
The guard gave him a scrutinizing look, but before he could open his mouth to speak, a shout from inside stopped him.
"There you are!" The owner of the voice was none other than Officer Feng Xin, a young man with powerful but handsome eyebrows, now furrowed, his black eyes shrinking in thought as he looked at the pile of junk in the hands of the guard. "Is there a problem?"
"I hope not," Xie Lian said earnestly, looking at the guard, still smiling.
"Eh, no," the guard said. "Just-"
"If nothing's up, then come quickly." Feng Xin ushered Xie Lian in. "Mu Qing is already done with the questioning, and he's extra pissy today..."
"I'm coming right away!" Xie Lian said, hastily grabbing and stuffing everything back to his satchel from the guard's hold. "I'm sorry for this, and please excuse me—"
Xie Lian bowed and just passed the still dumbstruck guard. But the moment Xie Lian passed the threshold, the man hesitantly turned his way, raising his hand as if reaching after him.
"Hold up, aren't you...”
"No time, no time.“ Xie Lian turned on his heels,waved his hand and walked toward Feng Xin, who was wearing an even bigger frown than usual.
“Showing up fashionably late, huh?”
Of course, the one asking was Mu Qing. He only blinked up from his board, but when he did, his eyes suddenly widened almost unperceptively. “What happened?”
Mu Qing looked him up and down.
"It’s fine, everything is fine," Xie Lian replied. "The bus was a little delayed."
Feng Xin and Mu Qing exchanged a look.
“You ran all the way from the outer districts, didn't you?” Mu Qing asked.
"Just a little excercise." Xie Lian ignored the sore feeling tugging at his lower ribs and cleared his throat.
Feng Xin snorted.
"He got stuck at the entrance."
"The guard?" Mu Qing's gaze traveled to the entrance door.
"Mn." Xie Lian nodded.
"That guy's annoying." Mu Qing concluded.
"Hey, that's not nice." Xie Lian protested. "Anyway, I'm sorry for making you wait. Have you checked?"
Seeing how Xie Lian changed the subject, the two looked at each other again before tearing their gazes away, as if burnt.
“Not yet, we’ve just gained access.”
“Then, if you let me…” Xie Lian began." Feng Xin, can you lend me some rubber gloves?"
Before anyone could stop him, Xie Lian ventured to the windows, looked out, examined the space below the windows ill and the folds of the drapery. He lifted every piece of floral arrangement and golden cuttlery, then felt the material of each forniture, opening up all the cabinets.
The witnesses were being questioned, but since it was nearly over, more eyes were glued to his figure.
The victim's family who had paid a small fortune to lend out the place, seemed to be horrified. After a while, the mistress, the mother of the groom, couldn't help but ask.
"Ehm, Officers... This person..."
Taking a whiff of the red roses, Xie Lian unbotheredly put the bouquet aside on the table. An octagonal white porcelain vase with blue mountain scenery was placed there. He peered inside but found nothing strange.
Mu Qing didn't even bother looking up from his notes.
"Give him five minutes." Feng Xin replied through gritted teeth.
"U-understood." The woman stammered, puzzled as she continued to watch Xie Lian dissecting the wedding cake.
In the end, it only took him four and a half minutes to snap his fingers together.
"Does the stolen artifact have a special container?"
Mu Qing's pen paused.
Feng Xin's expression darkened.
They both knew that look on Xie Lian.
"I-it does." The mistress said with a tone of surprise. "But... but why would the thief put the hairpin back in its rightful place?"
Ah, a hairpin then. Xie Lian nodded to himself. A precious hairpin of the groom's heritage, bestowed upon the chosen girl from generation to generation.
"Can I see it?" Xie Lian asked.
A carved rosewood coffer no larger than a jewelry box sat on the pedestal, its brass fittings polished to a gleam. Inside, the crimson velvet lining lay hollow, preserving the faint impression of where the headdress had once rested.
When Xie Lian looked at the rustic design, his eyes lit up. He carefully lifted the box and turned it over in his hands. His fingers traced the carved wood, pausing at every groove and corner as though searching for something only he could see.
The room watched in bewilderment.
Then, to everyone's horror, Xie Lian tossed the heirloom box into the air.
A collective gasp erupted.
The groom's mother swayed on the spot.
Xie Lian caught the coffer neatly before it hit the floor.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"You couldn't have warned us first?" Mu Qing snapped.
"Sorry." Xie Lian sounded unapologetic. He tilted the box toward the ballroom lights, reaching under the brim. Then, he flung the box upwards. From the sounds of it, the mistress nearly fainted. On the bends of dark wood, near the brass clasps, something white, no bigger than a fingernail, peeked through.
Xie Lian carefully picked at it, the rubber gum gloves teasing the edges but only fiddling with it. Unceremoniously, he rolled one of them down and used his fingers to get out whatever was stuck inside.
"Detective, contamination—" Mu Qing warned.
"I know," Xie Lian assured. Pinching the object gently, Xie Lian drew it free and exhaled a soft sigh.
It felt like Xie Lian let loose the breath everyone else was holding. Now the distrustful looks have changed to curious glances. One of Mu Qing's men from the precinct offered a plastic bag, and Xie Lian put the container in without taking his eyes off the thing lying on his palm, as fragile as a wing of a butterfly.
Nestled against Xie Lian's palm was a white paper flower. Delicately, he unfolded the flower petal by petal, taking care not to crease it further.
“Is it legitimate?” Mu Qing asked, stepping forward.
“It seems real." Xie Lian nodded, deep in thoughts. He turned around to meet all the expectant eyes. He announced with a serious expression. "It's him."
"Fuck," Feng Xin cursed.
There was a loud crack from behind—now, the mistress truly had fainted.
ꫂ⊱˖𓍢ִ໋❀.ೃ以直报怨，以德报德࿔‧༉.❀˖𓍢ִ໋ꫂ⊱˖𓍢ִ
Why did you faint? You hadn't even seen what's on the inside... Xie Lian muttered to himself. With bold, black characters in traditional Chinese stood... only it could have been in any other language. The strokes were so chaotic that no ordinary person could read them—luckily, Xie Lian wasn't considered an ordinary person in any sense, so he stared at it for a time before he started to mouth the depicted words slowly.
"Repay kindness with kindness."
Xie Lian was tending to the mistress, offering up a glass of water that he ordered from the kitchen.
The madam took it with trembling hands, cautiously taking a sip.
"Detective... what... what does it all mean?" she asked in a trembling voice.
The title felt odd after the disdainful glances the madame regarded him with, so much so that Xie Lian first hadn't even realized she was talking to him. But after making sure she was alright after collapsing, the woman seemed to have warmed up to him a bit. Xie Lian replied.
"It's hard to say yet. The phrase 'Repaying enmity with kindness' is originally from the Dao De Jing chapter 63: 'Deal with the difficult while it is still easy; deal with the great while it is still small. Repay enimty with kindness."" Xie Lian mused.
“Of course it’s something you would know." Mu Qing rolled his eyes, but Feng Xin quickly shut him up with a death glare.
"What's your problem?!”
Mu Qing looked hurt and averted his eyes. "What? I didn't say anything wrong."
Xie Lian only hummed absently, long accustomed to their antics. Feng Xin and Mu Qing weren’t officially partners, but due to their long-time experience and successful work rate, they often got stuck together. The real mystery was, who was more annoyed by this between the two?
To anyone else, the black, uneven strokes looked like the drunken scribbling of a madman, impossible to decipher.
Still, Xie Lian caressed his chin between his thumb and pointer finger, turning things over in his head at the speed of light.
"I was just wondering… Even though the original phrase 'Repaying enmity with kindness' is from the Dao De Jing, there is also a second variation of it after the Analects of Confucius. 'Repaying kindness with kindness—repaying enmity with justice' ."
Mu Qing guessed, "Do you think there is a connection?"
"It could be," Xie Lian replied. "An ancient family heirloom that was even mentioned in the media—the older relatives fussed over it so much they set it in the lobby so guests could take photos of it. Being of extreme value naturally caused the security to be unusually tight around it. Perfect phantom thief bait. But Crimson Rain Sought Flower not only worked his way through it and hid his calling card imperceptibly in the strictly surveyed wooden box inside the glass case but also made the silver hairpin disappear right off the bride's head—making her lose face in front of the whole gathering."
Why did you do all this? Xie Lian pondered.
Feng Xin drew his brows together. “What does it mean?”
“It means…” Xie Lian stared in front of himself for a few minutes, then gave emphasis with a fist slammed into his palm. “Madam… can I ask, did the hairpin originally belong to the bride?”
She raised her head, eyes filling with tears.
“No, it… it did not," she admitted, and continued with a hushed voice." But we don't talk about her."
“Talk about who?“ Mu Qing interjected.
The woman shook her head, fixating the carpit.
"Please understand. It's too painful for my son...and I'm a mother. I can't watch him suffer, don't you understand?"
Seeing that she refuses to cooperate, Xie Lian beckoned Feng Xin and Mu Qing closer.
"I wonder if the bride knows all this. Come on, let's ask her about it."
However, Feng Xin seemed to be reluctant to move. Xie Lian glanced back over his shoulder and saw him being rooted in place, wearing a complicated expression.
Xie Lian asked, puzzled. "What's wrong? Aren't you coming?"
"...do we all need to go?" Fen Xin mumbled.
"The bride's in hysterics," Mu Qing drawled. Looking at Feng Xin's troubled expression, the corner of his lips tugged into an imperceptible smirk.
"What about the groom?" Xie Lian tried.
Feng Xin shrugged. "Since the whole building is under lockdown, he returned to his room. I heard the family is demanding compensation."
Mu Qing's eyes were cold. "Compensation? They're already accusing her side of staging the whole thing."
"Alright, then let's split up. I'll go talk to her; you guys can take the groom."
However, none of them believed that they'll end up meeting the two at the same time when they enter the corridor. The bride was tugging at her hair, angrily spitting, stomping and throwing accusations at her significant other.
"Of course you know—you’re all over this because it belonged to her!”
Xie Lian blinked.
Well, this seemed important.
He stepped forward and offered a polite smile.
"Hello, Miss—Madame," he corrected. Xie Lian didn’t know what to say, since “Congratulations on your wedding” felt grotesque under these circumstances.
The bride looked at him suspiciously, "Who are you?"
Xie Lian drew in a breath.
"I'm Private Investigator Xie."
ꫂ⊱˖𓍢ִ໋❀.ೃ以直报怨，以德报德࿔‧༉.❀˖𓍢ִ໋ꫂ⊱˖𓍢ִ
After doing all of the paperwork the police required him to do, Xie Lian was heading home.
On his way back, he made good use of the grocery list, and even had some spare money to buy the evening paper. This was no ordinary newspaper though—the Communication Matrix held surprisingly accurate information about the recent news—Xie Lian suspected someone from the police must be leaking to them.
But what grabbed Xie Lian's attention was something different: the journalist even developed a habit of formatting the titles of the Crimson Rain Sought Flower articles as an idiom, something Xie Lian found rather clever.
Today's headline followed such structure as well:
A public symbol of tradition; a private betrayal of trust.
By 'Nangong'
Police have launched an investigation after the theft of the Silver Phoenix Hairpin, a valuable family heirloom, during a wedding attended by members of the city's business and political elite.
According to preliminary findings, there were no signs of forced entry and no immediate suspects have been identified. Authorities have not commented on speculation linking the incident to the notorious phantom thief known as Crimson Rain Sought Flower.
The Li family declined to provide further statements while the investigation remains ongoing.
The Silver Phoenix Hairpin has been passed down through generations of the Li family and is traditionally worn by the bride during the wedding ceremony.
The theft has drawn additional attention online due to the heirloom's connection to the former fiancée of Li family heir. Archived engagement photographs from three years ago show the bride wearing the same hairpin before her wedding to the Li family.
Several months before the scheduled ceremony, the woman died in what was officially ruled an accident. Following her death, the engagement was quietly dissolved and the family largely avoided public discussion of the matter.
As of publication, police have not announced any arrests and continue to appeal for information.
Right off her head, huh? Xie Lian smiled, amused.
He involuntarily touched the pocket on his shirt, right next to his heart. Using two of his fingers, he pinched and pulled out the folded white flower with that devious handwriting.
He winced, as if looking at it gave him pain, still, he gently rubbed the paper between the pads of his fingers.
Despite it being evidence, the police district long issued a documemt to let him take the evidence about Crimson Rain Sought Flower home.
The ride was long to the outskirts but the bus stop wasn't too far, so Xie Lian only had to walk a few-hundred meters to reach the old apartment complex he currently resided at. He began to climb the stairs and only stopped af the second floor to give an auntie the pack of toilet paper she asked for.
Then, he continued to the top floor.
"I'm home." Xie Lian announced, returning to his aparment.
No one greeted him, just silence.
Suddenly, a flash of white appeared on the floor. Xie Lian actually heard the audible rumble before he had seen the distracting ball of fur twisting her sleek body, butting her head repeatedly to Xie Lian's ankle to get his attention. He tried to side-step the claws chasing after his loosend shoelaces, as he wiggled out of his shoes and put them aside. Now in socks, he waddled with Rouye being right under his steps relentlessly, mewling loudly.
"Shh," Xie Lian hushed the cat as he set the groceries on the kitchen counter with a thump. Ruoye immediately jumped up as well, sticking her head into the sack.
"Hey, patience." Xie Lian chided.
He opened a can of catfood and washed his hands immediately after by the sink.
The newspaper article remained open on his phone and he quickly read through it once again as he pressed one hand on Ruoye's back, carassing absentmindedly, palm following the curve of her graceful spine.
The words former fiancée lingered in his thoughts.
After a moment, he stepped onto the narrow balcony.
The evening breeze was cool. Reaching behind his head, he pulled loose the tie securing his hair. Dark strands tumbled down past his shoulders in a smooth cascade.
Across the courtyard, one of the neighborhood aunties looked up from hanging laundry.
"Aiya, Xiao Xie!"
Xie Lian blinked.
"Hm?"
"You should have been an actor."
Xie Lian let out a slow, embarassed laugh.
The aunty chuckled as well and waved goodbye.
Xie Lian stepped back from the balcony and reached inside the pocket of his white shirt and took out the whitw flower.
His eyes lingered on the unruly caharacters one last time: Repaying kindness with kindness.
Opening the drawer beside his desk, Xie Lian placed it inside. The drawer was already half full, white paper flowers resting side by side in neat rows, each folded identically, yet each bearing a different phrase.
Xie Lian shook his head while closing the drawer. Reason told him that he was being ridiculous—the paper flowers were calling cards possibly intended towards the media. But Xie Lian found them clever-precious, even-and collected them as if a tiny voice in his heart whispered they were meant for him.
The thought itself made him smile.