"The apple tree in the yard has already borne fruit. I picked one and tasted it—it was so sour it made me want to cry. Are you coming back in July? I’ll save a few apples for you. Yesterday, Grandpa Xu even asked when I’m going to marry his grandson-in-law. Isn’t that funny? Hahaha."
The heartfelt message, full of youthful affection, was recited by the man in a completely flat tone, stripping it of any charm. The officer asked Cheng Liao for her phone.
"If it’s not too much trouble, we’d like to verify this."
Cheng Liao glared at the man, her breath causing her bangs to flutter. He looked at her, his dark pupils reflecting a small image of her. After a moment of silence, he repeated, "I’m very sorry."
Reluctantly, Cheng Liao handed over her phone.
The officer checked the message and confirmed it word for word. They returned to the group, and the girl who had lost her wallet became even more convinced of her suspicions, "You two are in cahoots!"
"That's right, we’re partners in crime," Cheng Liao retorted angrily, "They call us the Charming Thieves, the Adorable Outlaws!"
The man glanced at Cheng Liao, a hint of amusement in his eyes, which quickly faded back to calm.
"Paper and pen." He borrowed paper and a pen from Cheng Liao, quickly sketched something, and handed it to the officer. "The suspect."
Cheng Liao took the opportunity to peek at the sketch. With just a few strokes, he captured the essence of the person. She found it familiar—upon closer thought, it was the middle-aged man she had bumped into on the bus. She remembered the distinct scent of spices on him, particularly a unique pine-like fruity aroma.
The memory sparked a realization in Cheng Liao, and she blurted out her guess, "You should check the spice section of the South City Market. He smells like red peppercorns, which are mildly toxic and only available at that market in Jiangcheng."
The officer was skeptical, "How do you know it’s red peppercorn?"
"Red peppercorn smells very different from black pepper," Cheng Liao explained, "I have a very keen sense of smell. If I’ve smelled a spice once, I can recognize it anywhere."
To prove her point, Cheng Liao sniffed the air near the tall officer.
"You have the scent of sugar, pepper, vinegar, nutmeg, rice wine, and cinnamon on you. So, you had cold cabbage salad and braised pork for lunch, right?"
The tall officer was stunned and sniffed his collar, but could only smell the laundry detergent.
Though still skeptical, the tall officer sent a few colleagues to investigate the South City Market. The troublemaking group was released, and the officer arranged for the bus passengers to file their reports inside.
After providing her personal information, Cheng Liao asked, "Once I’m cleared of suspicion, could you inform my boss? I have no idea how long this will take, and he’ll probably think I skipped work."
The officer in charge of the registration was young, with a round face, and he responded reassuringly, "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!"
When it was the masked man’s turn, he only said one thing: "Sorry, I don’t want to answer."
The round-faced officer was briefly taken aback but didn’t press further and started chatting with Cheng Liao instead, "Can you guess what I had for lunch?"
Although he hadn’t participated in the questioning, he had heard that these two had extraordinary memory and sense of smell.
Cheng Liao quickly identified the ingredients and confidently replied, "Cold noodles! And you had a steamed bun on the side—made with black rice flour, right?"
The round-faced officer gave a thumbs-up, exclaiming, "Amazing!"
Then, lowering his voice, he added, "My Ferrero Rocher chocolates went missing two days ago. Can you help sniff out who took them?"
Just as they were engrossed in conversation, the tall officer walked in.
"We found the thief! Caught red-handed at the South City Market!"
The girl who had lost her wallet had been sitting in a corner, and upon hearing this, she jumped up excitedly. Her eyes briefly met Cheng Liao's before quickly looking away.
The tall officer was clearly thrilled, "Bus theft cases are the hardest to solve—the suspects are always on the move, and the trail often goes cold when checking the surveillance. This quick resolution is thanks to these two."
The two who were praised reacted differently: one remained indifferent, as if it didn't concern him, while the other, Cheng Liao, was all smiles, looking like she had just won the lottery.
As they stepped out of the police station, the masked man called out to Cheng Liao.
Cheng Liao had mixed feelings about him—partly embarrassed, partly admiring, but mostly curious.
She stopped and looked at him hesitantly.
"I think it's necessary to warn you," he began, stopping in front of her, "that the person you like has recently been in frequent contact with someone else."
Cheng Liao's heart skipped a beat. She looked up at him, her disheveled bangs now tucked back, revealing a widow's peak on her forehead.
"His most commonly used adverb is 'very.' In the 32 posts he's made on WeChat Moments, he almost always uses 'very' for emphasis—very good, very fast, very timely. But in his most recent post, he used the colloquial term 'quite.' This suggests that the person he’s frequently interacting with often uses that term, and his language is being influenced by them. That's the first point.
"Second, he recently changed the tablecloth on his dining table to a light color. Based on his previous posts, he's a very practical person. Light-colored tablecloths stain easily and are hard to clean, making them more decorative than practical. It's likely a gift from a woman.
"Lastly, in one of his recent photos, a corner of a bill was pinned under his laptop, and the bill included an order for Tiramisu. He doesn't like sweets, so the dessert was probably ordered for a woman."
His analysis was so clear and logical that Cheng Liao found herself unable to refute it.
Lowering her head, Cheng Liao stared silently at the worn, red rain bricks beneath her feet, worn down by time.
The excitement of solving the case quickly faded away. She kicked at a small stone on the ground, watching as it rolled away.
"Here, take this."
Cheng Liao looked up to see him holding out his hand with a piece of fruit-flavored hard candy.
She took it, unwrapped the orange paper, and popped the candy into her mouth. A slight bitterness spread across her tongue. She asked in a barely audible voice, "Is it grapefruit-flavored?"
"Yes, grapefruit-flavored," he repeated, with a slight pause between "flavor" and "ed."
"What kind of grapefruit?"
Cheng Liao asked instinctively, knowing that there are many varieties of grapefruit—like Yuhuan, Shatian, and Guanxi Honey Grapefruit.
He was momentarily taken aback, a faint light flickering in his dark pupils. "Maybe it's 'Nice to meet you.'"
At 4:55 p.m., Cheng Liao finally returned to the office. To prepare for her team leader's wrath, she had taken an aspirin earlier.
She rehearsed the conversation in her mind:
"How did the interview go?"
"Not quite successful yet, but Sheng Jingchu’s assistant, Xiao Qi, did leave me his contact information!"
"Why are you back so late?"
"Well, it’s quite a story… Then… I went to assist the police with an investigation. Good citizens love their country and have a duty to help with investigations. Here, this is the officer's contact number."
After practicing a few times in her head, Cheng Liao nervously headed up to the 16th floor, where the video editing department was located.
As soon as she stepped onto the 16th floor, she sensed that people were watching her, not just glancing but also whispering. Could it be that her little setback had reached the top and the department head already knew?
Feeling embarrassed and self-conscious, Cheng Liao returned to her desk. As soon as Yan Xiao, who sat across from her, saw her, he jumped up in excitement.
"Cheng Liao!"
His shout was like a thunderclap, instantly silencing the entire department.
The department’s "flower," Linda, sauntered over with a coffee cup, a cool smile playing on her lips. "Who would have thought?"
Her gaze swept over Cheng Liao’s face, then down to her chest, and finally to her hips before she clicked her tongue twice. With a twist of her slim waist, she turned and headed for the break room.
Cheng Liao couldn’t decipher her meaning, but from any angle, those clicks of the tongue didn’t seem like a compliment. Deciding to ignore it, Cheng Liao turned to Yan Xiao, who gestured for her to come closer and turned his laptop toward her.
"Here, take a look."
The large, bold headline on the webpage immediately caught her eye—"Sheng Jingchu's Mysterious Girlfriend Revealed."
Scrolling down, there was a photo.
In the photo, the man was wearing a mask, his head slightly lowered, and his hand extended toward a girl opposite him.
The intense lighting gave the image a washed-out, overexposed look, but the girl’s face was clearly visible. The rounded jawline, tightly pressed lips, and a deep dimple on her left cheek facing the camera were unmistakable.
Instinctively, Cheng Liao glanced down at her clothes—a blue short-sleeved shirt with a small fox embroidered on the upper left pocket. The fox’s head was above the pocket, and its tail below, making it look like the fox was diving into the pocket.
There was no mistaking it; she knew this outfit too well from seeing it every time she looked in the mirror—it was her own.
"Well, well, look at you!" Yan Xiao playfully punched Cheng Liao. "Spill it—how did you hook up with him?" She blinked mischievously. "Or have you been involved with him for a while?"
The other colleagues, now snapping back to reality, returned to their tasks, though their ears were keenly attuned to the conversation.
Cheng Liao pointed at the screen, still in disbelief. "Is that really Sheng Jingchu?"
"Naive girl hooks up with mysterious boyfriend—turns out he’s a Go star!" Linda commented as she returned with her coffee, her red lips curving into a sly smile. "This is like something straight out of an old Korean drama from ten years ago."
"Go ahead and call your boyfriend. Shout at him, 'Are you really Sheng Jingchu? How could you be Sheng Jingchu? Your deceit has tainted the pure love we shared!'" Linda added, clearly amused.
Ignoring Linda, Cheng Liao sat down, ready to call Xiao Qi. But before she could figure out what to say, the team leader appeared, his face as stern as ever.
"Come with me."
Meanwhile, Sheng Jingchu received a call from Xiao Qi while he was on the road.
"Mr. Sheng, should I contact the media to have the story retracted?"
Sheng Jingchu’s fingers paused on his screen. The photo, taken from just the right angle, made it look as though they were holding hands.
Rubbing his brow, he decided there was no need. "Leave it; it’ll blow over soon enough."
The acacia trees along the road extended their slender branches, with clusters of flowers hanging down. Occasionally, green petals drifted down, scattering across the road. Dust swirled in the sunlight, mixing with the sounds of traffic and the relentless chirping of cicadas—just another ordinary scene of life.
Strolling leisurely, Sheng Jingchu headed straight down Qiyuan Road for 423 meters to the Xie Hanzhou Go Dojo.
The children inside were noisy and boisterous. Sheng Jingchu lingered at the entrance for a moment before turning back the way he came.
Stationery shop, repair shop, grocery store, and a baby supplies store—all familiar landmarks from his youth. He had come to the dojo to learn Go at the age of six and left at sixteen. So many years had passed since then that the shop signs had long since faded. He looked up at each one, feeling a sense of comforting familiarity.
Only one shop was new, its sign gleaming with fresh paint and large, bold characters: "Uncle Cheng's Eatery."
The owner, Uncle Cheng, was lounging in a rocking chair, scrolling through his phone. His white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his round belly.
Seeing Sheng Jingchu, Uncle Cheng grinned. "From the dojo?" A dimple appeared on his tanned, ruddy left cheek.
Sheng Jingchu paused, then nodded.
"Come on in," Uncle Cheng invited.
The small shop, barely 20 square meters, had a few tables inside. Uncle Cheng chose a spot for Sheng Jingchu to sit.
"This is the best spot for feng shui. Look up—it's out of the direct airflow from the air conditioner but still catches the cool breeze. And over there, it's the farthest from the kitchen, so you won't smell the cooking oil. Most importantly, it faces north, which is associated with water, and water brings wealth." As he spoke, he handed Sheng Jingchu a menu. "What would you like to eat?"
The names under the signature dishes section were unfamiliar—"Battle of Tianyuan," "Go Sage in Hand," "Contending for the World," "King of Showa," "Fame Across the World."
Uncle Cheng tapped a few items on the menu with his thick fingers. "The 'Contending for the World' and 'King of Showa' are popular. The kids learning Go love them. Want me to bring you those?"
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