DF Chapter 13
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This year, K City had more rain than usual. At the beginning of May, the sky was unexpectedly blue. The rain was fine like in Jiangnan, and the cherry blossoms in the courtyard had fallen, scattering the ground.
Zhen Yi brewed a pot of tea and sat in a wicker chair by the wooden window, holding her tablet.
She had an apartment, but whenever she faced a difficult situation, she preferred to come to her grandfather’s small house—whether to hear his wisdom or just to quietly sit in this peaceful corner of the university, far from the noise of the city. Today, Aunt Zhang had taken her grandfather for a health check-up, so she was alone.
Browsing the search results for “Yan Ge” she was mildly surprised. Various terms appeared in a jumbled mix: personality, treatment, psychiatry, medicine, neurology, clinical, consultation, physiology, hypnosis, studies… She couldn’t fully understand it all.
What was strange, though, was that despite the countless search results, there wasn’t any official information.
There was a Wikipedia entry, but it read like something written by an amateur, portraying him as a gifted individual. It claimed he had aspired to become a neurosurgeon from a young age, studied medicine in the U.S., and pursued philosophy alongside his neuroscience studies, earning straight A’s. It also said that philosophy made him reconsider life, leading him to explore the human subconscious and the mysterious link between physiology and psychology. Thanks to his strong medical background, he was said to have made significant strides in studying the relationship between the nervous system, mental health, psychology, and behavior—especially in hypnosis and psychiatric treatment.
After enduring the poorly written, clumsy Chinese-English text, Zhen Yi was left speechless: Is this a novel? She even found a long list of jokes and anecdotes about him, which didn’t fit his personality at all. It truly was the age of user-driven encyclopedias.
The old-fashioned telephone rang, breaking the quiet. She slipped on her slippers, got up from the wicker chair, and, still holding the tablet, answered the phone lazily, resting it against her ear. “Hello?”
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a soft voice. “Zhen Yi?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it was the phone, but his voice was especially gentle and low when he said her name.
Outside the wooden window, the breeze rustled the cherry blossoms.
Without much enthusiasm, she responded, “Are you looking for my grandfather?”
“Yes, I had an appointment with Professor Zhen at three. Is he home?”
Zhen Yi frowned. Her grandfather never missed appointments. How could he have forgotten? “He’s here,” she lied quickly without a second thought.
“Thank you.” He didn’t doubt her and hung up.
Given how he surprised her at the police station, at the very least, she should treat him to tea as a thank-you.
Zhen Yi propped open the window with a wooden brace, moved her grandfather’s tea set to the window seat, and refilled the kettle with fresh water. Once everything was ready, the clock read 2:50.
The water in the kettle heated slowly, and the scent of rain lingered in the courtyard.
Sitting in her wicker chair, she opened her tablet, closed all the pages related to “Yan Ge” and opened a folder titled “Lin Ziyi V.S. Tang Shang.”
After leaving the police station that day, Zhen Yi had scolded Song Yi. Her secrecy had caught them off guard in front of Yan Ge. Zhen Yi warned her that if she couldn’t come clean, they should part ways. Song Yi hadn’t come to confess yet, nor had she mentioned changing lawyers. So, Zhen Yi still had to prepare for the next round of questioning from the police.
She guessed the police didn’t have much evidence, otherwise they wouldn’t have kept pressuring Song Yi without any proof. The environment of a club was chaotic, with countless people coming and going, making it difficult for forensic teams to find clues. However, the revelations from the polygraph test were shocking, and Song Yi’s suspicion had escalated rapidly.
Although Zhen Yi still didn’t know the details of Lin Ziyi’s death, her intuition told her it was connected to the recently concluded case.
The only direct contacts still alive from the Tang Shang case were the three accomplices, Tang Shang’s boyfriend Wu Zhe, her sister Tang Yu, and her parents. Zhen Yi had no access to the three high-ranking officials’ children, and Wu Zhe was currently… in a place she couldn’t reach. Her only lead was Yan Ge.
The clock chimed, its deep, resonant sound echoing through the small house. Zhen Yi snapped back to reality—it was three o’clock. As the chime faded, the sound of the courtyard gate creaking open drifted in. Zhen Yi peeked outside.
Yan Ge entered the courtyard, standing by the gate, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. His assistant, holding a black umbrella, remained in the alley and didn’t follow him in.
The fine drizzle floated toward him, and he wore a thin navy windbreaker with the collar turned up, making him look even taller and more poised.
After drying his hands, he walked toward the small house.
Zhen Yi stood up, and just as she opened the door, Yan Ge stepped onto the stone steps and arrived at the entrance. They met face to face, and for half a second, Zhen Yi found herself completely under his tall shadow.
Standing too close, they exchanged glances for a split second before Zhen Yi awkwardly stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
“Thank you.” Today, he wasn’t wearing glasses, and his aura had returned to its usual cool, refreshing elegance.
He sat down at the entry to change into house slippers. As he looked up, his eyes lingered on a pair of black cotton slippers, washed until they were faded—her grandfather’s slippers. Zhen Yi realized her mistake. He raised his head, meeting her gaze in silence, his expression so calm that it didn’t even suggest he was questioning her.
Zhen Yi smiled brightly, flashing her white teeth. “Grandpa’s out, but you can have some tea while you wait.”
“Hmm.” He slipped on the slippers and stood up, entering the house. It seemed to him that she hadn’t changed much—still able to lie without blushing, always smiling openly, as if she were honest and sincere in everything she did.
Yan Ge unbuttoned one button on his coat and sat upright by the window. Zhen Yi took her seat across from him. On the wooden tea table lay an elegant incense wood tea set. Everything—from placing the tea leaves, to brewing, to rinsing the tea utensils—was meticulously arranged without being overwhelming. It was refined and graceful.
“I heard you’re quite particular and don’t easily drink tea,” she said softly, her slender hands skillfully using a tea spoon to transfer the tea leaves into the filter.
Her choice of words—“heard”—felt somewhat distant. And where did she hear it from? She had witnessed it herself.
He didn’t comment.
His family had many traditions and rules. From a young age, he had been taught to follow etiquette and propriety. Those old family customs were deeply ingrained, often making him seem out of place and rigid to others.
He hadn’t explained any of this to her and never shared his quirks. To her, he must have seemed boring and tedious.
When he didn’t respond, she didn’t mind.
They sat in silence for a long time, until he finally broke the ice, speaking as if he were a guest. “I never got the chance to ask—how have you been?”
“Better than ever,” she replied quickly.
Another silence.
After a moment, he asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“If you’re doing well, would that even be surprising?” Her tone was playful, though it was hard to tell if she was teasing or just being lighthearted.
He didn’t overthink it, and she simply smiled. Small talk wasn’t his strong suit.
The water in the kettle began to boil, steam curling up between them before being dispersed by the cool post-rain breeze. The courtyard smelled of cherry blossoms, green leaves, and the freshness of rain, all drifting in through the open window.
“When did you learn this?” Yan Ge asked.
She had always been so lively and noisy. He recalled how she couldn’t tolerate anything quiet, except for him.
“After I came to K City, I learned it from Grandpa. But I’m not a fan of tea. No matter how exquisite or how intricate the brewing process is, I just don’t like it. That’s why I don’t put much effort into it, and my skills are lacking.” Her words were light, with a touch of genuine amusement.
Her head was slightly lowered, a soft smile playing on her lips, as if she were content with toying with something she didn’t particularly like but didn’t quite hate either.