Red wine poisoning case 1.3
At 4:17 a.m., the rain gradually subsided.
Fan Jinci sat in a single chair by the window, his fingertips tracing the edge of the scalpel, his grey-blue eyes like two unextinguished ice lamps in the dim light. He hadn't truly closed his eyes for three days—not because he didn't want to, but because he dared not.
Sleeping pills would make him lose his vigilance, and he knew better than anyone the cost of losing his vigilance.
Those deliberately forgotten memories always turn into claws in his dreams, tearing apart his carefully constructed calm.
His temples throbbed, and the muscles in the back of his neck ached. But when he closed his eyes, he could hear the electrical hum of the laboratory, the clanging of chains, and…
"Fan Jinci".
Yu Yan's voice suddenly cut in, deep and warm.
Fan Jinci looked up and saw Yu Yan standing in front of him, wearing only a loose black vest, the lines of his shoulders and neck like knife-carved shadows in the dim light.
"Go to sleep," Yu Yan said, not as a request, but as an order.
Fan Jinci's fingertips unconsciously pressed against the scar on his wrist: "Don't worry about me."
"I'm going to interfere anyway."
Yu Yan suddenly bent down and scooped him up from the chair. Fan Jinci instinctively raised his knife, but the tip stopped half an inch from Yu Yan's throat.
Because Yu Yan simply picked him up horizontally.
"You...!" Fan Jinci's breath hitched, and he almost dropped the scalpel.
Yu Yan strode towards the bed, his arm muscles tense, and pressed him firmly into the quilt. Then he covered him with his whole body, holding his wrist with one hand and pulling the quilt over him tightly with the other.
"Close your eyes." Yu Yan's breath brushed against his ear, carrying an irresistible sense of pressure. "I'll guard you."
Fan Jinci's eyelashes trembled.
He should have pushed that reckless detective away, he should have held a scalpel to his artery to warn him not to cross the line, he should have…
Ke Yuyan's body temperature was too hot, like a ball of fire, scorching his cold skin slightly.
He suddenly felt very tired.
Fan Jinci didn't know when he fell asleep.
In the hazy moments between his thoughts, he felt Yu Yan's fingers gently brush aside the stray hairs on his forehead, his fingertips brushing against his tense brow, as if smoothing out some unseen crack.
“…Yu Yan.” He murmured unconsciously, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.
"Hmm?" Yu Yan's breath hitched, and he tightened his grip on her arm.
Fan Jinci closed his eyes, his eyelashes casting dappled shadows beneath them: "Now that you've solved this case... I'll give you a gift."
Yu Yan's heart skipped a beat: "What gift?"
Fan Jinci didn't answer; his breathing had already become steady. His forehead rested against Yu Yan's collarbone, like a weary bird that had finally found its nest.
Yu Yan looked down and, by the moonlight from the window, saw the butterfly-shaped scars on his wrists—not fully healed, as if they might flap their wings and fly away at any moment.
He lowered his head as if possessed and kissed the deepest wound.
"Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'm here."
Sunlight pierced through the heavy curtains, casting golden spots of light on the floor.
When Fan Jinci opened his eyes, he found that he had actually slept until noon—and he had no nightmares, no startling awakenings, and not even a cold sweat.
He paused for two seconds, then realized he was still being held in Yu Yan's arms. The arrogant criminal police captain was fast asleep, his chin resting on Yu Yan's head, his arm around his waist, like a domineering guardian.
Fan Jinci gently moved his hand away, and when she got up, she found her scalpel placed neatly beside her pillow, the handle still warm from Yu Yan's body.
He looked down at Yu Yan for a while, then took out a small velvet box from his pocket and placed it on the bedside table.
Inside the box was a silver butterfly brooch, with tiny engravings on its wings:
"For the most annoying detective."
In the corridor, Li Weimian was leaning against the window, fiddling with an old-fashioned radio. Seeing Fan Jinci come out, she pressed the headset, and her voice was transmitted directly to his ears through an encrypted channel:
"Ryan Howard is not dead."
Fan Jinci paused in his steps.
Li Weimian tapped Morse code on the window frame with her fingertips:
"There were twelve bodies in the basement, all of whom had been injected with neurotoxins—the same kind used in the 'Butterfly Project'."
She raised her eyes, her gaze sharp as a knife:
"The most terrifying thing is... one of the corpses is your clone."
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