DF Chapter 14
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Brewing, pouring, rinsing, and serving tea, Zhen Yi moved through the steps with effortless grace. In the end, she presented him with a small, crystal-clear cup of amber tea, placing it in front of him.
“It’s not very well done.” she admitted, knowing that by his standards, her skill was far from perfect. Yet, he still held the small cup in his hand and sipped slowly. Zhen Yi smiled lightly, her dimples showing as she poured herself some hot water into her porcelain cup.
The afternoon at the university was quiet, and the small two-story red-brick house was even more peaceful.
Yan Ge was always an exceptionally quiet person, drinking his tea without a sound. Zhen Yi, on the other hand, usually made exaggerated slurping noises when she drank anything.
The room was filled with the scent of tea, and from outside the window, the faint sound of the university’s class bell echoed—soft and brief, from a distance.
Zhen Yi set her cup down with a soft clink, the porcelain making a light sound against the wood. “We’ve met several times, but I still don’t really know what your profession is.”
“It’s hard to explain.” he replied, using the same words as before, as if he had no desire to let others understand him.
“Si Gui said you’re in research?”
“Mm.”
“Clinical neurology and psychiatric therapy?”
“Mm.”
“So, you’re a doctor, right? But not a typical one—you’re a research doctor?”
“Mm.” He took another sip of tea.
Zhen Yi twirled her small tea cup, thinking over it carefully. The complicated research topics she’d read about on Wikipedia didn’t seem to fit the term “doctor” alone. “Hmm, I think ‘scientist’ might be more accurate.”
“Doctor.” he corrected, his demeanor calm and reserved.
A small cherry blossom petal floated in through the window, landing in Yan Ge’s tea cup, creating tiny ripples. He always sat with perfect posture, his back straight like a ruler. Lowering his gaze to the petal, he asked, “What do you want to know?”
“Professor Yan, did you know about Song Yi’s situation from the start? That she knows the killer and has a troubling past?”
“No.”
“You figured it out midway? How did you do it?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “As a criminal lawyer, I need to detect lies and understand questioning techniques during cross-examinations. I’d love to learn.”
“You’re not working in that field, and I won’t teach you.”
“Oh, now your morals are suddenly restraining you? But you didn’t seem to mind exposing Song Yi’s humiliating secrets yesterday. Wasn’t that inappropriate?” Her voice was soft, but the mockery was unmistakable.
Yan Ge’s deep black eyes met hers for half a second before he calmly replied, “Truth is never inappropriate.”
“Ah, the professor is starting to talk philosophy.” Zhen Yi raised her eyebrows slightly and smiled. She noticed the petal in his tea and poured him a fresh cup, carefully presenting it to him with both hands.
He accepted the tea without further comment.
Zhen Yi rested her chin on her hand and looked at him, offering a “helpful” reminder. “Because of you, she’s now a suspect. Have you considered that the police, under pressure from all sides, might be more interested in quick results than in finding the truth? You’ve probably seen your share of wrongful convictions. This case is complicated—can you guarantee that she won’t be falsely accused as the killer?”
“I can’t.” he replied, meeting her gaze. “So?”
“I’m worried this might damage your reputation, Professor Yan!” She spoke with genuine concern, her brow furrowed as if she were truly distressed for him. With a dramatic sigh, she added, “If I go search for the truth, it’ll benefit you too. You should at least offer me some help, right?”
He took a slow sip of tea and responded, “Since you’ve put it that way, I suppose I can’t refuse.”
“Does that mean you’ll help me?” She held back her excitement, smiling just the right amount—like a skilled negotiator.
“If it involves confidential police records, no.” He wouldn’t go against his principles.
“It’s not.” Zhen Yi said eagerly, handing him a card with an address on it. It was where Wu Zhe was currently staying—K City’s No. 1 Psychiatric Hospital. Yan Ge glanced at it and nodded.
“Thank you!” Zhen Yi beamed. She couldn’t go there herself, but with Dr. Yan’s approval, the situation was entirely different.
Yan Ge then asked, “About the polygraph—you didn’t actually think it was inappropriate, did you?”
Zhen Yi, caught off guard by how easily he saw through her, didn’t bother denying it. “No.”
He calmly set his cup down, handed her a business card, and began fastening his coat. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
“Wait.” Zhen Yi responded, taking the card and suddenly realizing something was off. “Uh, aren’t you waiting for my grandfather?”
“Will he show up?” His tone was mild as he walked toward the door without looking back.
Zhen Yi’s face flushed. He had known she lied as soon as he entered the house. He had known earlier too, but still chose not to expose her, sat down to drink tea, and even agreed to her request.
“Thanks!” she called after him.
Just as Yan Ge was pushing the door open, the post-rain breeze blew in, lifting the hem of his coat. Without stopping or turning, he stepped outside.
That evening, it was Yang Zi’s birthday. Zhen Yi and Si Gui gathered at Yang Zi’s small rented apartment to cook dinner. Neither mentioned work, following the unspoken understanding of long-time friends.
Yang Zi’s laptop sat on a bench at the kitchen door, playing at full volume: One Like Autumn, One Like Summer. The three of them squeezed into the cramped kitchen, washing, chopping, and cooking together without any real coordination, harmony, or order—just the lively, innocent noise of young women.
“Zhen, what is that white stuff you just dumped in? You idiot!” Si Gui scolded.
“Are you seriously not putting sugar in braised pork? Dummy!”
“The sugar’s here with me. You just dumped salt, moron!”
“…Zhen Yi: Why are you holding onto the sugar? You bitch!”
“…Si Gui: Fck you!”
“WITH WHAT?!”
Yang Zi was tasting the fish soup when she suddenly burst out laughing, spitting the soup into the stir-fry, causing oil to splatter everywhere. The braised pork sizzled loudly, and all three of them screamed, jumping back, only to stand at the doorway in shock for half a second before bursting into laughter. The sound of frying oil, bubbling soup, and running water filled the smoky kitchen, while Fan Weiqi’s soft voice played in the background: “My unspoken words, my thoughtless remarks, I can’t live without my darling, and I can’t live without you…”
Half an hour later, the dependable Si Gui presented the first dish, perfectly intact. Holding a spatula in one hand and the plate in the other, she expertly announced, “Dear viewers, here’s one of my two favourite dishes—big plate chicken.” Yang Zi asked, “What’s the other one?”
“Steamed Bun.” Zhen Yi answered with a grin.
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