Chapter Sixty: A False Alarm

When Kang Ge heard Zhuang Fukai’s question, he simply sat there, an inscrutable faint smile on his lips, saying nothing. Yan Xue, by nature straightforward, could have easily answered this herself, but being forthright didn’t mean she was careless with her words. Seeing Kang Ge playing mysterious and inscrutable, she too remained silent.

At first, Zhuang Fukai anxiously waited for an answer, but to his surprise, the two of them responded with nothing but silence. This situation made the young man’s face grow even more sallow, beads of sweat forming at his temples.

“How many years would I get… for something like what I’ve done?” After a while, he could no longer bear the silence. His voice trembled, his face ashen as he changed his line of questioning.

Seeing that Zhuang Fukai was truly panicked, Kang Ge finally sighed. “You’re lucky. What you added to Xu Wenrui’s water dispenser before wasn’t enough to threaten his life, so it doesn’t constitute a crime. If he were still alive, once this incident came to light, he could have filed a civil suit against you, demanding compensation for his losses. But now that he’s gone, that’s unlikely.”

Zhuang Fukai stared straight ahead, his entire being frozen, as if turned to stone. After a long moment, he snapped out of it, shock overtaking the deathly pallor on his face.

“You mean… I’m not in trouble? Then why didn’t you say anything earlier? Were you deliberately trying to mislead me?” he asked urgently.

Kang Ge replied candidly, “Yes, I wanted to teach you a lesson, to let you realize just how close you came to committing a crime. The difference between right and wrong is often just a single thought, a single step.”

“You weren’t willing to accept the risk of failing to secure your postgraduate spot, but you were willing to risk staining your life with an indelible mark?”

Zhuang Fukai blushed crimson under Kang Ge’s admonition, the blood almost seeping from his pores.

“I’m sorry, I truly understand now. I regret it deeply…” He bit his lip. “I used to work part-time to support myself and managed to save a little, not much, but I’d like to use it as compensation for Xu Wenrui’s parents. Whatever they want to say or do to me, I’ll accept, since I was the one at fault. If I had another chance, I’d never do it again!”

“That’s a good idea,” Yan Xue advised, “but wait until Xu Wenrui’s case is closed. Right now, his family’s mental state probably couldn’t withstand another blow.”

Her concern for Xu Wenrui’s family was not entirely selfless; at this sensitive time, Yan Xue’s advice was more about protecting Zhuang Fukai. Imagine—Xu Wenrui’s mother, having just lost her only son, suddenly learning of this before the case is resolved. How could she believe Zhuang Fukai had nothing to do with her son’s death? In her grief and anger, if she or another family member acted rashly, it would do more harm than good, and might even put Zhuang Fukai in danger.

Hearing that the concern was for Xu Wenrui’s family, Zhuang Fukai quickly agreed.

After their conversation, Kang Ge and Yan Xue took Zhuang Fukai back to K University. He looked dispirited, listless. Kang Ge didn’t say anything, nor did Yan Xue try to comfort him.

A mistake is still a mistake. Even if it doesn’t amount to a serious crime, even if the victim is gone for unrelated reasons, one must still face the responsibility and moral condemnation that comes with it.

After sending him back, it was already late. Kang Ge and Yan Xue planned to find somewhere for dinner, but it was the peak of the evening rush. After thinking it over, they decided to park and buy something from a nearby fast-food place to eat in the car, saving them the wait for a table.

Yan Xue wasn’t picky and had no objections to this arrangement. After parking, she was about to go with Kang Ge to buy food but was stopped.

“Just wait here. It’s no big deal—no need for you to go. I’ll get the food. Take it as me looking after you, and give me a rare chance to act the gentleman!” He waved her off with a smile.

“If you put it that way, I’ll gladly accept! Thank you!” Yan Xue sensibly didn’t insist.

As it turned out, even during the dinner rush, fast food wasn’t that fast. Yan Xue waited in the car for quite a while before Kang Ge finally returned, looking a bit windblown.

The parking spot was only two or three hundred meters from the restaurant—not far—but the place was packed, the wind outside was strong, and dusk was settling. By the time Kang Ge came back, carrying two paper bags, he looked a little disheveled—quite unlike his usual neat self.

“This wind is something else—it feels like the Wind Demon herself will show up any minute!” Yan Xue said, taking the food from his hands.

Kang Ge straightened his wind-blown coat and rubbed his ears. “This level of wind is nothing for me, but inside the restaurant—crowded and noisy. Lucky you didn’t come with me. Otherwise, your ears would be ringing like mine.”

“How can business be that good?” Yan Xue was surprised.

“You’ve no idea. That building is full of after-school classes. Just as I got there, all the kids were getting out. The place was crawling with little ones, running and shouting. Hard to imagine such tiny bodies could produce so much noise! Waiting in line, I even fantasized about a new form of torture: if you had a suspect who refused to confess, you could cuff him to a chair in a children’s play area, surrounded by kids, and let him stew until he broke.”

Yan Xue shuddered at the thought. “That’s too cruel—utterly inhumane!”

“I’m only joking. If I really did that, Chief Dong would be the first to crack my head open!” Kang Ge handed her food and a drink. “But maybe next time I’ll try just recording the sounds in a play area—should have the same effect!”

They were both starving after a long day. Yan Xue dug into her meal with gusto, eating heartily as was her habit.

Halfway through, she noticed Kang Ge watching her. She paused, touching her lips self-consciously. “What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, just watching you eat is such a joy—it’s like you can feel the happiness food brings.” Kang Ge’s eyes curved with his smile. “I’m not picky about clothes or what I live in—so long as I’m comfortable, it’s enough. But I refuse to compromise on food, especially when I have a good appetite and want a proper meal, only for my companion to nibble a couple of leaves and declare themselves stuffed. When we first got paired up, I was a bit worried—girls, after all, often care about their figure, which is understandable. But now, I have no such concerns. That’s even better!”

Yan Xue waved her hand. “You don’t need to worry about that! No matter how much I care about my looks, I care more about staying alive! In our line of work, maintaining physical strength is essential. I’d never risk my life or anyone else’s for vanity! But while we’re here enjoying our meal, I doubt Zhuang Fukai will have much appetite for a while. He was really frightened today. Judging by how tense he was, he’s truly been tormented by his conscience these days—not faking it.”

“It’s a price he has to bear. Even if it wasn’t something deadly, putting laxatives in a classmate’s tea just because you’re unhappy or afraid of competition is unacceptable. Like I told him, it’s one thought, one step away from disaster. Luckily, he’s timid and his conscience isn’t completely lost—otherwise, things could have turned out much worse.”

“If he had crossed that line, we would have closed the case today!” Yan Xue joked. She didn’t particularly dislike Zhuang Fukai or wish he was the true culprit—she just wanted the case solved and understood.

“Today wasn’t wasted. Not only did we teach Zhuang Fukai how wrong he’d been, but we also gained something.” Kang Ge finished eating, cleaned up the wrappers, and tossed them into a bag. “Some clues in an investigation are out in the open—caught on camera, in photos, or bank records. Others are hidden, buried in the human heart. No action happens without reason; there’s always a thought process, some psychological drive behind it. People in similar situations may act similarly, their inner journeys alike, though everyone’s moral boundaries differ, and so do their actions.”

“So, tennis and table tennis—they’re different sports with different courts and rules. But if you sit in the stands watching tennis, you can guess what a ping-pong table looks like, how the ball moves, even how it’s served or where it lands—there’s plenty to ponder.”

Yan Xue nodded thoughtfully. Whenever Kang Ge launched into these enigmatic metaphors, she always needed a moment to reflect, but afterward found them quite intriguing.

“Looks like our next step is to dig deeper!” she said to Kang Ge.

He nodded mysteriously. “Exactly. But we can’t just blindly dig. Like archaeology—you dig deep when you must, and focus on details when needed!”

The “fast” in “fast food” didn’t just refer to the serving speed, but also to how quickly one could eat. They soon finished their meals. Just as they were about to leave, a video call request popped up on Yan Xue’s phone—from her mother.

Yan Xue was momentarily taken aback. At this hour, her mother should have just gotten off work, possibly visiting her own parents, running errands, or cooking before heading home. Normally, her parents knew she was busy and kept irregular hours, so unless it was urgent, they’d just send a message and wait for her to reply.

This time it wasn’t a normal call, but a video call. This made Yan Xue’s heart race. She hurriedly signaled Kang Ge not to start the car yet.

“My mom just started a video call. I’m worried something urgent’s happened. Give me two minutes!” she apologized.

Kang Ge nodded understandingly, prompting her to answer quickly. Yan Xue hit “accept,” and her mother’s anxious face appeared on the screen.

Both her paternal grandparents were in poor health, and only her maternal grandmother was still alive, her spirits waning year by year. Yan Xue’s first thought was that something had happened to one of the elders.

Her parents were both busy people, caring for aging relatives, while troublesome family members in their hometown often added to their burden. Yan Xue often worried that such a lifestyle was too much for her parents, now both in their fifties.

“Mom, what’s wrong? Is something going on at home? Don’t worry—tell me slowly!” Seeing her mother’s troubled expression, Yan Xue’s heart leapt, fearing something terrible had happened.

Her mother scrutinized her through the screen. “Xiaoxue, where are you? Are you alright over there?”

“Me? I’m fine! I’m at work, just finished dinner, and may have to work late. What is it, Mom? Why do you look so pale? Did something happen at home? Did something happen to you or Dad?”