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“Is that a problem?”

“Not really,” Lin Xian replied, shaking his head. “I just didn’t expect the team to be on such a strict schedule. I thought I’d be able to go home.”

Ji Lin chuckled lightly and gave Lin Xian a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Now that we’re working together, I can be honest with you. Keeping you here all the time is also a way to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Lin Xian laughed. “Is someone out to get me?”

“Not exactly,” Ji Lin clarified. “It’s to help prove you’re not the murderer.”

“Earlier, I mentioned we don’t have any solid leads on the deaths of Xu Yun and Tang Xin,” Ji Lin continued. “You were the last person seen at both scenes, you knew the victims well, and somehow, you ended up benefiting from their deaths. That makes you a suspect.”

“There’s no evidence you did anything wrong, but from the police’s point of view, when a case isn’t progressing and you’re connected to both incidents, it’s natural for them to be suspicious.”

“By staying here, if we solve the case while you’re with us, great. If not, and similar incidents happen while you’re here, it’ll show you couldn’t be involved. That should clear your name.”

Lin Xian didn’t answer right away. This was unexpected. He had thought if Ji Lin was behind this, he’d brought him here to catch him slipping up. But it seemed Ji Lin was keeping him close under the guise of protection, watching him day and night. It felt less like a precaution and more like house arrest.

“Are you planning to handcuff us together next? Maybe even share a bathroom?” Lin Xian joked, tossing his black notebook onto the table. “Do you think this is some kind of magical death notebook?”

“You’ve been watching too much TV,” Ji Lin laughed. “Try to see it from my point of view and the pressure the Donghai police are under. The public is unhappy with their lack of action. They need to show they’re doing something.”

“You won’t be completely restricted. If you need to go out, that’s fine, but I’d prefer to come along. That way, if something happens, I can vouch for you.”

“I hope you stay focused on catching the killer. The sooner we do, the better it will be for both of us.”

“Alright,” Lin Xian agreed. If he was stepping into the lion’s den, he might as well understand Ji Lin’s motives. Both were pretending, both were watching. Staying close might actually be to Lin Xian’s advantage.

As Ji Lin tried to figure him out, Lin Xian was also sizing up Ji Lin. It was a battle of wits, seeing who could piece the puzzle together first.

“I’ll go get my stuff now,” Lin Xian said, preparing to leave. “I’ll be back tonight. It’s hot, so I won’t need much.”

At home, Lin Xian didn’t bother with clothes but instead checked every paper on his desk and in his drawers. Normally, he would have burned them immediately, but he couldn’t risk leaving anything for the police to find during his confinement. He burned nearly everything, leaving only a fake invitation to the Genius Club and a wax seal stamp bearing the club’s logo.

Should he destroy these too?

He hesitated. The fake invitation was his only lead on the Genius Club, and the seal was authentic, matching what he had seen in his dreams. “Better keep them, just not here.” He stashed them in his backpack and headed to MX Company.

Once there, he made sure to destroy any potentially incriminating documents and drafts in his office. After seeing Zhao Ying Jun leave, he took the invitation and seal up to her 22nd-floor office.

The door with its double locks swung open, and Lin Xian stepped into the pristine office. He knew its layout better than anyone, having organized it himself. He tucked the invitation and seal into a file box in a corner cabinet, a place Zhao Ying Jun never checked.

Everything set, Lin Xian headed to the Donghai Police Station, his backpack in tow.

…

Standing at the doorway of their shared dorm room, Lin Xian was speechless. “We’re rooming together?”

Ji Lin indicated the hotel-like setup with two large beds and all the necessary amenities, including a private bathroom. “Is that a problem?”

“I thought we’d each have our own room,” Lin Xian mumbled. “I’m not used to sharing with guys.”

“Do you want me to find you a female roommate?”

“Your jokes are weird.”

“If it really bothers you, I can put up a curtain between the beds.”

“No need,” Lin Xian dismissed the idea and dropped his backpack by the window bed. Complaining was useless; this was Ji Lin’s domain. He glanced sideways at Ji Lin as he closed the door and settled onto his bed.

The cat-and-mouse game was about to escalate.

“I’m going to freshen up,” Lin Xian announced, picking up his toiletries and heading for the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he mulled over his new reality. He had been meticulous so far, but one thing that might catch Ji Lin’s attention was his habit of waking up at 12:42 a.m., a peculiar and uncontrollable habit that a sharp detective like Ji Lin would surely find odd.

So, Lin Xian decided to stay awake past 12:42 a.m. to avoid raising any suspicions.

…

Later that night, Ji Lin lay on his bed, hands behind his head, eyes shut, while Lin Xian, wearing headphones, scrolled through his phone, waiting for 12:42 to pass.

“Aren’t you sleeping, Lin Xian?” Ji Lin rolled over to look at him.

Under the glow of his phone, Lin Xian could see Ji Lin’s alert eyes and the dark circles beneath them—he was clearly a night owl.

“You’re up too?” Lin Xian removed his headphones and propped himself up. “Am I keeping you awake?”

“Not at all,” Ji Lin sat up as well. “I just can’t stop thinking about the case. Something doesn’t add up.”

“What’s bothering you?”

Lin Xian turned off his phone, plunging the room into darkness save for the moonlight streaming through the curtains, which softly illuminated Ji Lin.

“I don’t understand why the killer schedules the crimes at exactly 12:42 a.m.,” Ji Lin shared. “Both Tang Xin and Xu Yun died at that precise time. What’s the significance?”

“Hard to say with killers,” Lin Xian replied casually. “Maybe it holds some personal meaning for them, like how some leave symbols at their crime scenes.”

“It’s more than that,” Ji Lin countered. “Setting a specific crime time draws attention and could give away their next move. It’s risky.”

“What do you think it means, then?” Lin Xian inquired.

“It might be a ritual or a challenge for someone,” Ji Lin paused, then added, “My parents also died at 12:42 a.m.”

“Really?” Lin Xian was taken aback. He hadn’t expected this or considered the deeper implications of the timing. “Was it an accident?”

“No,” Ji Lin shook his head. “It was a shooting. They were murdered on their way home at that exact time. After that, I was left an orphan until a well-known figure adopted me.”

“Ji Xin Shui,” he said, locking eyes with Lin Xian. “Ever heard of him?”