Fu Hanzhou's pupils suddenly shrank, and he looked at Qin Ying, and saw vigilance in each other's eyes.
His fingertips unconsciously stroked the folds of his cuffs.
During the years in the art troupe, he watched countless performances. The pink sleeves were mostly worn by Concubine Yu in "Farewell My Concubine" - the lyrics of love and hate in that play now vaguely overlapped with Gu Ping'an's madness.
The appearance of this kind of costume with a feminine smell in a heavily guarded detention center was already suspicious.
He glanced at Qin Ying, who was also tense, and his Adam's apple moved. He lowered his voice and said to Xiao Cheng:
"Notify the art troupe to focus on investigating the cast of 'Farewell My Concubine,' especially those who have taken unusual leave recently or have frequently been in and out of the vicinity of the detention center."
Xiaocheng nodded quickly, and when he turned around, a gust of wind blew up, making a few dead leaves in the corner rustle.
Fu Hanzhou looked at the blurred handwriting on the registration book. The cold wind that leaked in through the gap in the metal door suddenly rushed into his collar, and the wound on his abdomen began to ache again.
The sharper sting came from the memory of Gu Ping'an's eyes showing the same passion and paranoia as at this moment when he was taking his final bow at the art troupe's performance.
Qin Ying looked at Fu Hanzhou's pale face and reached out to support his swaying body:
"Go back to the hospital first. Your wound cannot be delayed any longer."
The footsteps of the three people gradually faded away, and the corridor outside the iron gate fell into silence again, with only the faint sound of electricity from the incandescent lamp above their heads.
After returning to the ward from the detention center, Fu Hanzhou remained silent. Gu Ping'an's crazy laughter and twisted face were still tearing at his mind again and again.
He once thought that Gu Ping'an was just blinded by love and Qin Meihua was just greedy for power, but he never imagined that their malice was so deep and unfathomable.
Those overlooked details suddenly became clear - Gu Ping'an's hypocrisy and cruelty, Qin Meihua's frame-up, and Qin Ying's stubborn eyes when facing doubts, which turned out to be full of struggles.
"What are you thinking about?"
Qin Ying's voice woke him up.
Fu Hanzhou reached out and pulled her to sit beside him, and suddenly remembered Gu Ping'an's hideous smile in the interrogation room:
"If I die, someone will naturally make her suffer a fate worse than death..."
He held her tightly in his arms out of fear, almost melting her into his bones and blood, with a dull pain in his chest that was almost suffocating.
He should have thought of this earlier, should have protected her under his wings earlier. The more gentle the calmness at this moment was, the more it reminded him that someone was watching them closely, somewhere he couldn't see.
Fu Hanzhou took a deep breath and rested his chin on the top of her head:
"You are not allowed to go anywhere. You must follow me closely every day!"
He gripped the pistol at his waist tightly and swore silently in his heart - this time, he would never let anyone hurt her in the slightest, even if it meant making the whole world his enemy.
Qin Ying was stunned for a moment, then looked up at him, somewhat surprised at why he said such a thing again, but she did not object.
She reached out and gently hugged him back, whispering:
"good!"
After what happened in the security department, she has seen the seriousness of the problem.
All she could do was be obedient and avoid trouble.
Two days passed, and the second report did not bring any results. Qin Ying stayed with Fu Hanzhou in the ward, strictly following the doctor's orders.
*
The autumn wind blew dead leaves against the iron gate, and the rusty iron bars cut the twilight into pieces.
Night fell heavily, and the detention center's searchlights swept back and forth over the wall, casting interlaced light and shadows on the open space.
The visitor stood in the shadows, her pink costume with water sleeves swaying gently in the night breeze, and the peonies embroidered with gold thread rising and falling slightly with her breathing.
He looked up at the high wall of the detention center, his palms clenched into fists, and the moonlight fell into his eyes, shining with paranoia.
The searchlight swept across the golden peony on his sleeves, and the light and shadow on his body were cut and overlapped. He raised the corner of his mouth towards the high wall, and his voice was as light as a falling leaf:
"Ping An, if they don't want to do it, then I'll do it."
The wind blew dead leaves past his ankles, but no one responded.
He walked slowly towards the iron gate, his back straight as a pine tree, but his shoulders were soft. His sleeves fell like a ball of crumpled clouds, soft as if he had no bones. Pink satin wrapped around his wasp waist, swaying in a lingering arc under the light and shadow.
The outfit, which should have been gentle and charming, was torn into a strange contradiction by his sharp jawline and the bulging veins when he gripped the letter of introduction.
"Visiting the prison."
The feminine sound was like that of tearing the strings of a guitar.
When he turned around to hand over the letter of introduction, the moonlight just happened to pass over his brow bones - those were a pair of sword-like eyebrows as sharp as a knife, similar to Fu Hanzhou's thick eyebrows, but more slender and cold.
The tails of her eyes were naturally upturned, and her eyelashes cast butterfly-wing-like shadows against her pale skin. Her pupils were as black as ink, and when she stared at the prison guards, they looked like poisoned daggers.
Her nose was tall and straight, but her lips were a sickly red. The old scar at the corner of her lips not only did not spoil her appearance, but instead added a bit of dangerous temptation to her face.
"letter of introduction."
The moment the prison guard took the paper, his eyes were attracted by the silver bracelet on the other party's wrist. It was an old silver item in the shape of a lotus with a tiny "Zhao" character engraved on the inside. The surface had long been rubbed to a shine, and there were dark red marks in the cracks.
It forms a stark contrast with the hideous scar on the Adam's apple above the collar of the costume: on one side is the gentle old times, and on the other side is the resolute heart to die.
Lin Zhao walked through the iron gate clutching the letter of introduction, the silver thread on her costume flickering under the searchlight.
The creaking sound of the metal door opening and closing suddenly pierced the stagnant air, and the damp and moldy smell gripped my nostrils.
This reminded him of that equally sticky night—Gu Ping'an leaning against a wooden box backstage, his military cap brim covering half his face.
"Find a way to embarrass her."
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