Chapter 5
It was almost ten o'clock in the evening when Lin Xian emerged from the elevator of Building B in Jinyuan Building. The body of the person who had fallen from the building had been taken back to the police station, leaving only the barrier tape and the chalk outline. The onlookers had mostly dispersed. Occasionally someone would grab a video with their phone to grab attention, but they were stopped by security.
Lin Xian stared silently at the bloodstain behind the isolation tape for a while, then reached out to stop a taxi.
"Handsome guy, where are you going?" The driver was a bald middle-aged man. Even though he was driving so late, his tone was still enthusiastic, which showed that he was a talkative person.
"South Gate of Guanhu No. 1."
Guanhu No. 1 is adjacent to the beautiful Yange Lake, with a very convenient living circle. Land is very expensive, and only the rich or noble can buy property there.
"Okay, please fasten your seat belts." The driver glanced at the tightly wrapped young man through the rearview mirror, turned the car swiftly, and stepped on the accelerator to drive into the sea of lights.
The air conditioner in the car was turned on very high. Lin Xian took off the hat that Lu Chengtian had forced him to wear, then took off his foggy glasses and wiped them slowly.
As if remembering something, he put his glasses back on his thin, straight nose, lowered his head and sniffed his fingertips. The faint smell of incense ash made him frown.
Could it be a coincidence?
He changed his mind and said, "Sorry, we're not going to Guanhu No. 1. Please take a detour and go to Honghua Community."
The driver showed a puzzled look, and instinctively asked out of curiosity, but through the rearview mirror, he saw that the young man who looked as handsome as a magazine model had his eyes closed and was resting.
This was a sign of unwillingness to talk. The driver said nothing more and focused on driving.
Lin Xian seemed extremely tired and didn't wake up even when the car stopped at the entrance of Honghua Community. It was not until the driver kindly reminded him that he realized where he was.
The alleyway at the entrance to Honghua Community is narrow, its old streetlights emitting a dim glow that illuminates a corner of the entrance. The red sign that reads "Honghua Community" is somewhat faded and missing parts, earning it the nickname "Red Community," but passersby rarely spare a glance.
There are many dilapidated buildings in this neighborhood. One building, awaiting demolition, even has a crack down the middle, with a tree growing out of it, creating a rather eerie atmosphere. Those living here are either low-income households on the outskirts of the city, scavengers, sanitation workers, or those who set up stalls early in the morning and come back late at night to barely make ends meet.
Almost no one knows that Editor-in-Chief Lin, who earns tens of thousands of yuan a month, has also bought a property in this rat-hole-like place.
He continued walking at his leisurely pace, his leather shoes making a rhythmic sound on the ground. The night wind blew through the long-untended, overgrown bushes in the neighborhood, giving it a somewhat horror movie-like atmosphere.
The sensor light in the hallway had broken years ago, and no one had paid attention to it. He turned on his phone to illuminate the room and bumped into the woman with wrinkles on her face and gray hair.
"Aunt Zhang, you just came back?" He greeted her, moved aside to make room for her, and turned the light of his mobile phone towards her feet.
Seeing it was him, Aunt Zhang said hurriedly, "Xiao Lin, I haven't seen you for a while. Business was good on Friday night, and we sold over 300 skewers."
"Your oden tastes good." Lin Xian said with a smile.
As usual, Aunt Zhang praised him lavishly, told him to take care of himself, and then went to pack up the things on the tricycle.
Aunt Zhang was only in her fifties, her frail back bent like a shrimp. Her son, working away from home, became addicted to drugs, squandering all the family savings and nearly killing her husband. With Lin Xian's help, her son was sent to a compulsory drug rehabilitation center, and he also helped her apply for minimum living allowances and social assistance. For this reason, she has always been grateful to Lin Xian.
Since becoming a journalist, Lin Xian has rented an apartment in Honghua Community, and later bought it. The comings and goings of these "low-class people" give him a more intuitive understanding of society and help him gain more reliable sources of information.
The old security door creaked, but the interior looked comfortable. He had replaced the original cement floor and tiled walls with wooden floors, added some simple furniture, and switched the lighting to a warm, bright yellow. The house wasn't large, just over 60 square meters, with one bedroom and one bedroom, and a combined living and dining room—but that didn't matter; he barely had time to cook.
There were many outdated magazines, newspapers and books piled on the sofa, and the ashtray on the coffee table was full of cigarette butts.
He hadn't been here for a while, and the room was lingering with the smell of cigarette smoke. He opened the window a crack, and the night breeze brought some fresh air, which also made him feel a little more awake.
Walking into the bathroom, he took off his grey cashmere pullover and threw it aside. The thick gauze wrapped around his left shoulder was dotted with blood, and it hurt sharply with every pulling movement.
Unfortunately, this residence he only occasionally visited didn't have a medicine box, so removing the gauze and replacing it with a new one wasn't possible. He could only avoid the wound as much as possible, quickly showering, wiping the mist off the mirror, and frowning at the dark kiss mark on his neck.
"He must be very disappointed." Lin Xian looked at himself in the mirror, then looked down at the black electronic shackles on his wrist and smiled self-deprecatingly.
He was surprised to find that he actually cared about Lu Chengtian's thoughts. After all, in the first few years of his journalistic career, he had helped so many people that he couldn't even count them on his fingers. Many of them were vague in his memory.
But he could not forget the name Lu Chengtian. Because the seemingly miserable yet stubborn young man standing at the foot of the Chengtian Temple, which had withstood thousands of years of wind and rain, had left a deep impression on him.
Lu Chengtian is the kind of person who lives in the gutter but insists on looking up at the stars.
In the ward of the small county town filled with the smell of disinfectant, the sleeping boy unconsciously grabbed his sleeve, revealing the shocking bruise on his wrist, which made the young Lin Xian inexplicably develop a strong desire to protect him.
As the years went by, he had forgotten him.
It was not until he heard the reporter from the public security, procuratorial and judicial departments say at a topic planning meeting that "Lu Chengtian was particularly difficult to interview and did not give us any face at all" that he thought it was just a coincidence of having the same name.
In that restaurant bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, Lin Xian was stunned the moment she saw Lu Chengtian again. The young man, reborn from the ashes of fire, had grown into a sword radiating cold light.
But he also sensed Lu Chengtian's irritability when he was around him. Perhaps it was because he himself had changed beyond recognition over the years.
Lin Xian walked out of the bathroom with a damp sweat on his body. He took out a lighter and cigarettes that he had bought at some unknown time from the drawer of the coffee table. He smoked one cigarette after another, staring at the wooden coffee table for a while, and gradually calmed down under the effect of nicotine.
Then he went straight into the small bedroom, opened the closet, pushed the scattered clothes aside, and revealed a flat wooden board at the back.
He piled the wooden boards together, and inside came a hidden space the size of an elevator.
With a "click", the pale light illuminated the entire dark room.
The walls are covered with photos, scraps of paper covered with words, and intricately interwoven lines like spider webs, recording the underground world he has wandered in for the past eight years.
One photo shows bundles of blue incense sticks and their ashes after burning, with a red pen marking next to them - blue flame-derived hallucinogen, Galan incense.
Could the ashes burned on the roof of the Jinyuan Building before the girl jumped from the building be galan incense? If so, it would explain her suicide... But how did this drug end up in the hands of a high school girl, and a girl from a seemingly poor family?
Lin Xian was lost in thought, but the scent of the kalan incense lingered in his nose, making his breathing heavier. He suddenly became mad, wanting to smell the kalan incense, or even the blue flame.
Lin Xian trembled as he opened a mobile app hidden deep within several folders. He clicked "Start," and the electronic shackle, seemingly as inconspicuous as a fitness tracker, suddenly flashed a rapid blue light. As the current intensified, a burning and stinging sensation whipped the muscles and bones on his wrist, which had been abused countless times. The pain nearly twisted his face into spasms.
Fine beads of sweat oozed from his forehead, but the pain that occupied his consciousness finally made him stop fantasizing about drugs.
The addiction that he couldn't quit was branded deep in his soul, tempting him all the time, but also reminding him all the time - what was the point of all those moments that were worse than death.
Lin Xian took out the remaining cigarettes and smoked one after another, using the smoke to calm the pain that was shaking him.
Another violent coughing fit came. He took a tissue and covered his lips with it. The white and soft tissue was soon stained with blood.
The frequency of the blue light flashing gradually decreased, and he finally stopped torturing himself. He leaned his head back on the sofa and took a deep breath.
His hair was still dripping with water after showering, mixing with the cold sweat on his forehead. The wind that blew in was chilling. He stood up to close the window, but saw a figure walking towards him, and they looked at each other from a distance.
The man was in the dark, but with the help of the dim streetlight, Lin Xian immediately recognized him as Lu Chengtian. He walked with a firm step, and when his eyes met Lin Xian's, he quickened his pace, seeming a little anxious.
Lin Xian cursed softly.
He took the black down jacket hanging at the door, fumbled around in several pockets, and took out a miniature tracker from an inconspicuous inner pocket.
There was a knock on the door at this moment.
Lin Xian opened the door and met Lu Chengtian's bottomless pupils.
He didn't let the other party in, but deliberately played with the tracker in his hand. His voice was a little weak due to the pain, but his tone was still steady: "Placing a tracker on an ordinary citizen without any approval procedures. I can sue you for violating the privacy rights, Deputy Captain Lu—"
"I know. I put the tracker there last time and forgot to take it out." Lu Chengtian looked at Lin Xian with a cold look on his face, his heart not beating.
Lin Xian put the thumb-sized tracker back into the pocket of his down jacket and stuffed it into his arms intact: "Return it to its rightful owner. Captain Lu, is there anything else? If not, I won't keep it—"
Before he could finish his words, Lu Chengtian had already brushed past him, slipped sideways into the door, and closed the creaking old security door behind him.
Lin Xian glanced at the wall clock, her eyes sweeping across Lu Chengtian's nose, reddened by the night wind, and met his deep gaze again. "It's 11:00 PM Beijing time now. Captain Lu isn't investigating a case, nor is he going home to rest. Instead, he's using a tracker to find a middle-aged man's home." Lin Xian leaned forward, almost nose-to-nose with Lu Chengtian. "What's your intention?"
Lin Xian's hair was still damp, and he wasn't wearing glasses. His deep amber brown pupils appeared sharper than usual, but the slightly red corners of his eyes revealed a hint of fragility.
The grey bathrobe was loosely wrapped around the seemingly frail body, revealing a large area of his fair chest and a few inconspicuous scars.
The sandalwood scent that still lingered at the tip of his nose after nine years was now even richer and clearer, wrapped in warm water vapor, filling Lu Chengtian's nasal cavity.
The next second, Lin Xian was caught off guard by Lu Chengtian who grabbed her arm almost roughly and pushed her onto the sofa.
Then, half of his body suddenly felt cold. Lu Chengtian pulled back one side of his bathrobe. His pale, almost transparent skin was covered with a thin layer of muscle, crisscrossed with old scars of varying sizes. On his left shoulder, some damp gauze was seeping blood.
Lin Xian tried to push Lu Chengtian away, but was held down by him: "Don't move, it might hurt a little."
Lu Chengtian took out a plastic bag with a pharmacy logo from his jacket pocket and poured the cotton balls, gauze, disinfectant, hemostatic powder and medical tape inside onto the coffee table.
Then, amid Lin Xian's suppressed gasps, he bit by bit tore off the yellowed gauze that was seeping with blood, revealing the hideous wound on his shoulder that had not yet completely scabbed over.
"Gunshot wound?" Lu Chengtian's pupils suddenly constricted, his gaze like a sharp sword staring at Lin Xian: "How did you get injured?"
Lin Xian closed her eyes and said nothing, her eyelashes, stained with moisture, trembled slightly.
"Even if you don't tell me, I will find out." Lu Chengtian's tone was cold and tough, but he was very gentle when using a cotton ball to disinfect the wound.
Nine years ago, the walls of the old county hospital ward were mottled. Sunlight streamed through the gray windows, and the shadows of the trees in the midsummer wind swayed in the wind over the bed. A nurse was called to the emergency room, and Lin Xian clumsily changed his dressing, causing him to itch and ache, but he endured it with a stern face—a warmth he had never experienced before.
At this moment, even though he had softened his movements, Lin Xian's brows were still slightly furrowed, and his lips were pale, as if he was in great pain.
Lu Chengtian leaned over, disinfecting the wound while blowing gently, but his thoughts had already jumped to the night when Lan Yan was intercepted at Pier No. 2, and the drug dealer who abandoned the speedboat and jumped into the sea.
The cool air flow did indeed ease the pain. Actually, to Editor Lin, this little pain was like a piece of cake; he did it on purpose.
Lin Xian finally opened his eyes and met Lu Chengtian's sharp, handsome profile, carved by time. His tone was unusually serious: "Captain Lu, if you're doing this for that so-called favor from nine years ago, there's no need to do that. I can't even count the number of people I've helped. If everyone was like you, the people who would take care of me in my old age would probably line up all the way to the end of my life."
Lu Chengtian paused for a moment, then neatly wrapped the wound with gauze, tightly taped it with medical tape, and pulled the bathrobe he had pulled to the side back into place—being extremely careful to avoid touching Lin Xian's skin.
Lin Xian noticed this detail and his eyes darkened slightly.
Lu Chengtian gathered the blood-soaked gauze and other debris on the table and threw them into the trash can. His eyes fell on the crumpled blood-stained tissue, but he quickly withdrew them. "Who you save is your business. How I treat you is my business."
Looking at Lin Xian's misty eyes, Lu Chengtian seemed to have made up his mind and asked, "What kind of difficulties have you encountered in these years? Why did you end up with someone like Zhou Mubai..." He hadn't thought of the right words. "Hanging out," "hanging out," and "mingling together" didn't seem to be appropriate, so he changed the subject: "How much do you know about Lan Yan?"
Lin Xian seemed extremely tired, and looked at him with half-open eyes: "You have so many questions. If you suspect me, you can arrest me at any time as long as you have sufficient evidence."
"I can catch you right now." Lu Chengtian said word by word.
"Then you'd better think it over carefully." Lin Xian stood up and glanced at the WeChat message, which was sent by Chen Fei.
"I'm tired. I'm not as young and strong as Captain Lu." Lin Xian dragged his lazy steps towards the bedroom. "We should investigate what kind of incense that high school girl named Liu Yaoyao burned before she died."
"Wait—" Lu Chengtian called him from behind.
Lin Xian paused for a moment, but didn't stop. "My humble abode is simple, so I won't keep you here. See you tomorrow on the front page, Captain Lu."
The sound disappeared behind the closed bedroom door, leaving only the lingering scent of sandalwood.
The room suddenly became quiet.
Looking at the full ashtray on the coffee table, Lu Chengtian frowned and poured the cigarette butts into the trash can.
Then he rummaged through the garbage bag, pulled out the blood-stained tissue, put it in a sealed bag, and took the garbage away.
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