BL Ch114

In the same city, some savored delicacies of land and sea, while others subsisted on thin porridge and rice broth.

Day after day, tasteless broth was spooned to the patient’s lips. Despite its blandness, the patient obediently followed the doctor’s orders, sipping it slowly.

Sun Xingchun appreciated such compliant patients, praising, “Your son’s recovery is going well. His throat’s nearly healed, and the rehab center staff say he’s remarkably determined. A few more months of this care, and he’ll return to normal life.”

The Mu couple thanked him profusely, escorting Dr. Sun out of the ward while asking about post-recovery precautions. This left only Feng Jinmin and Mu Hao in the room, there to visit.

Feng Jinmin, fresh off work and still in uniform, had stopped by a diner near the hospital to buy four dishes and a soup, hoping to treat his apprentice, who’d been on a liquid diet for a month. But he walked in just as Dr. Sun was making rounds and got a thorough scolding.

The veteran captain, a commanding figure at the city bureau, could make rookie officers quake with a glance, giving them nightmares for days. Yet today, an older doctor a generation his senior chewed him out like a child in front of his junior. Though he knew he was in the wrong, his pride stung. The moment Sun Xingchun left, he started grumbling.

“You’ve been bedridden for almost a month and still can’t eat normally? Your recovery’s not that impressive. When you’re back at the bureau, I’m putting you on training—fifty laps around the compound daily.”

Mu Hao’s vocabulary didn’t include “defy the captain.” He nodded earnestly, “Yes, Captain Feng.”

Feng Jinmin, famished after a long day, unpacked the takeout, snapped apart disposable chopsticks, and dug in, lecturing between bites. “Beyond physical recovery, the priority is shaking off the sedative’s effects. Addictive psychotropic drugs can be as harmful as narcotics. You’re lucky Bai Zhiming didn’t actually get you hooked.”

Mu Hao, catching whiffs of shredded pork with garlic sauce and stir-fried garlic shoots with cured meat, swallowed quietly. “Yeah, drugs were their profit tool. They wouldn’t waste them on me.”

“They’re also their murder weapon.” Feng Jinmin’s face grew grim as he picked up some shrimp and egg stir-fry, eating while reviewing the case—a master of multitasking. “New synthetic drugs are highly toxic. Abuse causes irreversible brain and body damage. Know Du Shuyan’s dad? Killed by that stuff.”

“I know, Xiao Ji mentioned it.” Mu Hao paused, then asked, “Speaking of, Xiao Ji hasn’t come by in days. Seems busy. Any new case developments?”

Feng Jinmin gave him a knowing look. “Care so much? Just call him yourself.”

Mu Hao shook his head slightly. “Wouldn’t feel right. I’ve caused him enough trouble. Best not to bother him.”

“That kid would love for you to bother him.” Feng Jinmin left it at that, uninterested in meddling in young people’s affairs. “He’s on a classified operation. Can’t share details until it’s done. Oh, your friend came up with the plan. Old Peng and I thought it was worth a shot. If it’s going smoothly, they’ve probably pulled it off by now.”

“Duqiu’s plan?” Mu Hao frowned, thinking, then said, “Captain, one thing’s been bugging me… Why didn’t the killer finish me off?”

Feng Jinmin polished off half the takeout box, saying, “The task force analyzed this. One possibility: drug traffickers are vengeful. You disrupted their business, they hated you, wanted you to suffer. Another: the Yu family’s old butler watched you grow up, had some attachment, and stopped the killer at the critical moment.”

“I don’t think his influence was enough to sway the killer.” Mu Hao dismissed the second option. “Besides, the killer’s ruthless. Why would he listen? He’d know the risk of sparing me. How could a few words change his mind?”

Feng Jinmin’s chopsticks froze midair. “That’s unlikely, so we lean toward the first.”

Mu Hao shook his head again. “When I was held in their hideout—that rental in Jiangxue District—they didn’t torture me much. Just sedatives, no food or water, occasional beatings to vent. Compared to other cops held by traffickers, that’s nothing.”

Feng Jinmin was equally puzzled.

In his decades as a cop, he’d seen countless brutal methods traffickers used on captives—eyes gouged, skin flayed alive, some forced to watch family executed.

Behind society’s peace lay countless officers’ bloody sacrifices.

The Rain Alley case killer was no softie. He slit Wu Min’s throat, disposed of Huang Hanxiang’s body, and used Bai Zhiming to blow up the search team. So why spare Mu Hao alone? Why keep a half-dead cop locked in a remote mountain hideout? What was the difference between that and killing him?

Only one explanation fit: the killer deliberately kept Mu Hao alive for later use.

Yet when Yu Duqiu found Mu Hao, the killer tried to blow them all up without hesitation. What was the point of sparing him then?

Deep down, Feng Jinmin sensed a third possibility, one he suspected others in the task force had also considered. But it would mean overturning all their conclusions, so he stayed silent, and the juniors didn’t dare speak up.

“I suspect the killer never intended to kill me.” Mu Hao, ever focused on solving cases, cut through the complexity with blunt honesty. “He seemed to want me as bait.”

Feng Jinmin set down his food and chopsticks. “Bait? For who?”

“That night in Yiqing’s alley, before I passed out, I think I heard him whisper something. Duqiu’s watch didn’t record it—time ran out.”

“What’d he say?”

“‘God can’t save you, he can’t save anyone.’” Mu Hao recalled every word vividly. “It felt random, and I didn’t think much of it. But after Xiao Ji filled me in on the past few months, plus what happened on Mogu Mountain, I’ve got this weird feeling… Was he talking about Duqiu? Duqiu’s been called a ‘prodigy’ since childhood, and foreign media used similar terms. Did the killer spare me back then to… kill me in front of Duqiu?”

Feng Jinmin’s heart sank, forced to confront this third possibility, though he resisted it. “Don’t speculate without solid evidence. If you’re right, our entire cause-and-effect chain falls apart.”

The Rain Alley case began last October when a package shipped from overseas was intercepted by police, and the killer’s agent, Wu Min, failed to poison Pei Ming, only to be betrayed. Wu Min tipped off the police handling the package case. Mu Hao, tracking Liu Shaojie, stumbled onto Bai Zhiming. Fearing exposure, the mastermind struck first.

By sheer luck, Mu Hao left critical evidence, which Yu Duqiu obtained. To avenge his friend, Yu Duqiu wrapped up his vast overseas ventures, returned to China in May, settled down, and launched the Themis plan to draw out the snake, aiding police investigations ever since.

The killer, wary of Yu Duqiu’s involvement and resentful of his project, repeatedly targeted him with crimes.

This timeline seemed clear and logical.

But if Mu Hao’s theory held, the killer’s motives became murky and complex—as if he’d targeted Mu Hao to lure Yu Duqiu back to China.

From any angle, Yu Duqiu’s wealth and influence bolstered the police, a disadvantage for the killer.

“Maybe I’m overthinking. Hopefully it’s not like that.” Mu Hao sighed softly. “Duqiu said he’ll steer clear of this mess after. He should be fine.”

Feng Jinmin’s expression shifted slightly. “…Let’s hope so.”

The full moon hung high, the family banquet halfway through.

The host, absent for over an hour, returned to the banquet hall’s center, his suit impeccably pressed, acting as if nothing had happened. He ate two pastries, then ordered the bodyguard he’d just infuriated, “Get me a glass of champagne.”

Bai Zhao replied, “Yes,” and headed to the self-serve bar alone. His eyes, dim and sullen after his harsh “lesson,” lacked their usual spark. His shirt and suit jacket were creased and dusty, as if he’d been kneeling on the floor for hours.

The cellar’s vast wine collection was free to choose from tonight. As he hesitated, a hand reached past, picking for him. “This one’s good. I just tried it.”

Fine wine, but the bottle was open, meaning it could be tampered with.

Bai Zhao glanced at the man. “He’s got a cleanliness obsession. Only drinks unopened bottles.”

Fei Zheng withdrew his hand. “The young master’s got a lot of quirks. How’d he torment you earlier?”

“You’re too nosy.” Bai Zhao chose a bottle with a silver-gray cap, pouring champagne into a flute, the liquid glinting like gold under the light. Then, with his back to the cameras, he pulled out the drug bottle from the kitchen.

Police tests revealed the liquid contained methamphetamine, amphetamine, and ketamine hydrochloride—commonly called “happy water,” a popular liquid synthetic drug. Overuse could cause delirium, auditory hallucinations, paranoia, aggression, even suicidal or homicidal impulses.

Two milliliters was enough for one person; the bottle held at least ten.

Bai Zhao poured it all in.

“This guy’s too sharp. The second Bai Zhao pulled out the bottle, he turned away—didn’t want the cameras catching him.” Lu Qing fumed. “Good thing we’re one step ahead. He’d never guess we already tested it… Hey! Ji-ge, why’re you stealing my food!”

Ji Lin dumped her inedible pancake and sliced into her steak. “You can’t eat all this. Share some. Keep eyes on those guys—can’t let our guard down.”

Lu Qing noticed his odd expression. “What’s wrong? Still mad?”

Ji Lin replied, “No, just… feels like a coincidence.”

“What coincidence?”

“Old Peng told me Du Shuyan’s dad died from an overdose of happy water. It’s not rare among addicts, but I recall Du Yuanzhen died nine years ago, and Fei Zheng… started working for the Du family nine years ago.”

“Holy shit?” Lu Qing’s arms prickled with goosebumps. “What’s that mean? Was Fei Zheng Du Yuanzhen’s supplier? Or… was he the real killer, not Pei Ming?”

“I don’t know… He had no motive to harm Du Yuanzhen. After his death, Fei Zheng diligently helped Du Shuyan run the company for years, no signs of a power grab. What’s his angle?” Ji Lin grew more confused. “I need to ask Old Peng about the details tomorrow.”

The champagne, bottle and all, was set before Yu Duqiu.

Yu Duqiu glanced at the label. “Lanson Noble Cuvée, nice choice.”

Bai Zhao said, “Tastes even better.”

A flicker of understanding crossed Yu Duqiu’s eyes. He drank without hesitation, sensing a distant gaze fixed on his face as he tilted his head back—no need to look to know who.

Amphetamine-based drugs stimulate the central nervous system, causing exaggerated behavior and manic episodes. Ji Lin doubted the ever-flippant Young Master Yu could pull off this act. Sure, he claimed a director friend taught him acting, but no one had seen him perform. The worry wasn’t that he couldn’t act crazy—more that even if he ranted like a lunatic, no one would bat an eye.

After all, going off the rails was Yu’s default.

Thankfully, Yu Duqiu proved him wrong.

The moment the glass hit the floor, its shrill, shattering crash seized every ear in the banquet hall.

Hong Liangzhang instinctively moved to investigate but froze under a chilling stare.

He didn’t dare act, swallowing hard, praying bitterly, “Heaven help us, please, no trouble…”

But his hopes were dashed. Screams soon erupted—from Yu Duqiu’s direction!

A small area cleared in the hall’s center. Under everyone’s gaze, Yu Duqiu, moments ago fine, seemed possessed. His pale face flushed red, his forehead drenched in cold sweat. He clawed at his silver hair, as if gripped by intense euphoria and pain. His light eyes dilated, unfocused, muttering incoherently or shouting neurotically, “Get away!”

Guests nearby nearly toppled, scattering like frightened animals.

Lou Baoguo and Zhou Yi rushed to restrain him but hesitated to hurt him, fumbling. Yu Duqiu shoved them back forcefully.

Lou Baoguo steadied himself, wide-eyed. “What’s wrong with the young master? Full moon transformation?”

Zhou Yi yelled, “He’s been drugged, obviously!”

The last three words shocked the crowd. Some dropped their chopsticks, others shattered their glasses, all wondering who’d be poisoned next.

Hong Liangzhang froze, his dull, cloudy eyes slowly turning to the only man still eating in the dining area—

Fei Zheng, across the panicked, fear-charged air, raised his glass to him with a faint smile.

It was him again!

Jia Jin parted the crowd, clearing a path for Yu Jiangyue. Before rushing to her frenzied son, she subtly glanced at Bai Zhao, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Her resolve hardened, and she ordered Jia Jin, “Clear the hall! Call a doctor! Now!”

“Yes!”

Worry creased her brow. Even the unflappable Director Yu looked so shaken, hinting at a crisis beyond imagination. The few calm guests filming the chaos joined the panic.

Now disheveled, clothes askew, Yu Duqiu looked up, baring a sinister grin. Like many drug-addled addicts, he charged the crowd in a frenzy.

Men and women screamed, fleeing in all directions.

The familiar scene sent Hong Liangzhang’s mind back to the night Yu Wencheng died—similar pandemonium, universal shock.

He’d been in the guest wing, not witnessing Yu Wencheng’s fall. Hearing of his death, he couldn’t believe it. He’d only swapped one tiny pill, hoping Yu Wencheng’s mental breakdown would warn his young master to back off, steer clear of trouble.

Yu Duqiu, tormented by mental chaos in childhood, would never want to relive it.

But Hong miscalculated. He hadn’t foreseen Yu Wencheng’s accident, nor that it would fuel Yu Duqiu’s vengeance, like a spirited stallion charging uncontrollably. He yanked the reins desperately, but the momentum was unstoppable.

One wrong step, and every step after went astray.

The path ended in a chasm of sin, his grandson already dragged in. Would he watch another child he cared for suffer?

The old man’s gaze cleared, fear and hesitation fading. He turned, dragging heavy steps with his hunched frame, blending silently into the fleeing crowd, leaving the banquet hall.

The clamor receded like a tide, a joyful Mid-Autumn reunion turned into a farce. Young Master Yu became the absurd protagonist in everyone’s gossip, his crazed video spreading rapidly through private channels.

Under the bright, lonely full moon, a new undercurrent stirred.

In the deserted banquet hall, Yu Jiangyue dismissed everyone, citing the need to stabilize Yu Duqiu and prevent injuries.

Zhou Yi and Lou Baoguo found it odd, wanting to stay for the doctor, but Jia Jin, grinning, ushered them out. “Trust me, there’s nothing Director Yu can’t handle.”

The vast hall, bathed in crystal chandelier light, held only three figures.

Twenty minutes later, Bai Zhao received a new email and summarized, “Fei Zheng wants to meet tomorrow.”

“Told you my acting was flawless. I know mental breakdowns too well to mess it up.” Yu Duqiu, hair neat again, poured himself a drink, toasting the cameras. “To infiltrating the enemy, Captain Ji, Miss Lu.”

Yu Jiangyue pushed his wrist down, raising a brow. “Not explaining?”

“Can’t tell you now, but I’ll spill everything once it’s done.” Yu Duqiu pouted. “Thought we’d wrap it up today. I even planned a victory party.”

Ji Lin said through the earpiece, “I knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but he trusts Bai Zhao now. That’s a breakthrough. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get Du Shuyan’s evidence.”

Yu Jiangyue couldn’t hear them but pieced together enough. “This scheme with the police—it’s about Xiao Du, isn’t it?”

Yu Duqiu replied, “Yeah, your favorite godson and the daughter-in-law you once favored are now my enemies.”

“That’s unexpected.” Yu Jiangyue didn’t press for details, pouring herself champagne, lost in the lingering taste and memories. “When Xiao Du lost his father, he nearly lost the family business. Your grandfather, for old times’ sake, helped him out. I’ve done what I could over the years. As for Lingya… she insisted on marrying you, and no one could dissuade her. I figured, since you didn’t care who you married, I’d grant her wish. At least, tied to our family, no one would dare bully her or her brother.”

Yu Duqiu said, “You were so good to them, and now they’re turning on your precious son.”

Yu Jiangyue ignored his rare whining, turning to Bai Zhao. “Since they’re enemies, going alone could be dangerous. I’ll arrange some people to go with you, ready to follow your orders.”

“Thank you, Director Yu.”

“We’re family, no need for formalities.” Yu Jiangyue smiled, smoothing his wrinkled jacket. “Duqiu and Lingya’s engagement was nonsense. If I’d known about you, I’d never have let it happen.”

“I know.”

Yu Duqiu muttered, “Why do I feel like… I’m the outsider?”

“Enough chatter.” Yu Jiangyue glanced at her phone lighting up. “Jia Jin says the doctor’s here. I’ll handle it—gotta keep up the act.”

Yu Duqiu bowed. “Farewell, Director Yu.”

Yu Jiangyue tapped his forehead, adjusting his collar to hide bite marks on his collarbone, saying pointedly, “I don’t care what you’re doing, but don’t go overboard or underestimate the enemy. Bai Zhao, my son’s reckless. Sometimes you need to rein him in, not indulge his antics.”

Bai Zhao’s face flushed, and he replied softly, “Understood… It won’t happen again.”

Yu Jiangyue left, and Yu Duqiu pinched his red cheeks. “Pretty slick, playing the good boy for the mother-in-law. Weren’t so tame when you were bullying me earlier.”

Bai Zhao stiffly changed the subject. “Think I’ll get evidence tomorrow?”

Yu Duqiu pondered. “Probably not. Fei Zheng’s more loyal than I expected. I thought we could buy him off, but he’s unmoved. I don’t get it—helping Du Shuyan… isn’t about money?”

Ji Lin, on the phone, fell into thought at those words.

Yu Duqiu’s original plan was to invite Du Shuyan and Fei Zheng to the banquet, with Bai Zhao gaining their trust. But Du Shuyan, cautious and timid, wouldn’t fall easily, so they’d separate them, starting with Fei Zheng.

Why would a killer willingly serve under someone? Protection and money. If Bai Zhao offered equal or greater benefits, why wouldn’t the ruthless Queen switch sides? Then, using Fei Zheng to extract Du Shuyan’s confession would be safer.

But their first step failed.

The finish line was in sight, but without passing the Queen, no one could take the King.

“Looks like we need a bigger lure to make them slip.” Yu Duqiu said.

Bai Zhao asked, “Got an idea?”

“Didn’t you hear him? He wants me ruined. I’ve already ‘fallen’ today. Time to arrange the ‘disgrace’ to grant his little wish. Just gotta drag Feihua into it—hope he doesn’t come at me with a cleaver.”

Ji Lin sensed his plan. “Once your ‘reputation’ cracks, it’s hard to mend.”

“Reputation’s just a snail’s shell, weighing me down.” Yu Duqiu stood, striding from the hall’s center to the wall, yanking a cord!

The silk draped across the ceiling collapsed, countless pink and white rose petals raining down like a sudden blizzard, dazzling the eyes, choking the breath.

What should’ve been a romantic scene turned overwhelming as petals kept falling, piling past calves, as if to bury those below, stirring suffocation and unease.

In a moment’s distraction, Bai Zhao was trapped, unable to move through the mounting petals.

“Evil isn’t always defeated by justice—sometimes it’s a greater evil, like me, the mad king.” Yu Duqiu stepped through the rose petals, returning to the hall’s center. “See, The Roses of Heliogabalus. My art consultant, Jing… designed it. Planned it as a celebration after catching them, to show my taste trumps their Lamb of Atonement. Shame it didn’t work out, sigh.”

Ji Lin groaned, “Can’t you channel your competitive streak somewhere useful?”

Yu Duqiu grinned unrepentantly. “I’ve gotta beat them at everything. They pissed me off. Right, Bai Zhao?”

The man called out stretched a hand, pulling Yu Duqiu toward him. Yu Duqiu stumbled, falling onto him, both collapsing into the soft, fragrant sea of roses, petals splashing like water droplets.

Yu Duqiu’s earpiece fell, vanishing into the floral tide. Too lazy to search, he cradled Bai Zhao’s head, kissing his lips. “Be careful out there. Come back safe. Oh, like this celebration? We could do it for our engagement party.”

Bai Zhao brushed petals from his silver hair. “No roses. I want poppies.”

Yu Duqiu smiled. “Deal. Poppies from all five continents, all for you.”